#she has to be the one doing the protecting and the saving

[brain-in-the-stars]

what immediately became one of my favorite things about ISAT is the party's so blatant yet natural characterization and subtext

because each one of them incorporates very recognizable archetypes while naturally breaking them down through the dialogues, mannerisms and other little details they deliver as the story progresses ever since the very first moment they're introduced

Mirabelle is not merely an anxious and shy damsel in distress, but a powerful, responsible, empathetic and very strong-willed gracious lady who leads the team and was the chosen one to protect Dormont and defeat the King! she's a multilayered heroine in development, who still deals with insecurity and figuring herself out while being a brilliant and gifted fighter

Odile is not merely a grumpy intellectual "elder", she's actually incredibly caring and aware of the others emotions and social situations in general, REALLY far from being self-centered or ignorant. her interests are not only limited to logic and rationality, but includes various subjective concepts as well! she also has an excellent sense of humor AKJDADJKDLJDA

Isabeau is not merely a handsome face in a brainless head! he's an outstandingly attentive, smart and brave defender, seems to have great memory (in high contrast to Siffrin-) as he is ALWAYS giving out useful information and clearly has high levels of emotional intelligence! not to mention how, although he's a very manly character, he doesn't seem to display a trace of toxic masculinity as he is not afraid to be vulnerable, fashionable or affectionate

Bonnie is not merely a naive angry child, they're a hardworking kid who's always trying their best to be as helpful as possible to their caretakers, keeping full grown adults well fed with the meals they prepare all the while they're doing their best efforts to save their sister from being eternally frozen...

and Siffrin... where do I even begin? do I even need to elaborate? to me, they're simply one of the most intriguing and puzzling main characters ever (in the best way possible!), who's a constant enigma even though we're playing through his pov and, therefore, reading their thoughts. one of the best uses I've ever seen of the memory loss trope. although he's supposed to be the party's comic relief and is capable of being very witty and smooth, he's HEAVILY emotionally charged and goes through some trouble interacting socially, frequently taking things too literally and not knowing how to handle more complex emotions. they can be silly from time to time, but they're not to be underestimated too, showcasing many skills and how reliable they can be early on

everyone's individuality is extremely well portrayed and it only gets better as they complement each other so well. they feel like actual people and are THE found family, y'know, it's pretty challenging to not get charmed so easily </3

[somnoir]

Our darling mother

Wraith and Specter were mortal enemies with the same powers. Perhaps the same species. But with very different aspects.

The Justice League knew very well that their newest member of the YJ was part of a species that was known to earth as "Ghosts". Denizens of another dimension that essentially posed as the interdimensional afterlife. Where should manifested into something else, born of ectoplasm and such.

Specter had a hybridisation of ghost constitution. Being half human and all. However, unlike most ghosts, her special powers typically made her as fast as speedsters. Her speed, accompanied by her ghostly abilities, made her scarier than most speedsters.

Then there was what was considered to be her arch nemesis.

Wraith was what one called an independent criminal. He wasn't affiliated with anyone. Occasionally worked with some rogues but that was only to his own benefit. Batman and Cyborg had identified his goals (or what they could consider to be his goals). The destruction of an entire government organisation along with something else. Perhaps slaughter.

Specter had been familiar with such a villain.

"He's... Not so bad. Not really. His heart is in the right place but his execution of it is cruel." Specter said, "Some ghosts have been experimented on before and Wraith almost became one of them... None of us ghosts like the G.I.W. but Wraith is determined to slaughter not only them but their associates too."

"Meaning?"

"If you have a connection to the G.I.W. then you won't be spared from his wrath... The last time he tracked down one of their scientists, he killed the man's wife and mother."

Batman grimaced, looking at the glitches out picture of Wraith. He could compare the man to be around Jason's height—or taller. Specter had reported that Wraith was a fair bit older than her.

While Specter was a ghost that was best with speed, Wraith was destructive power. Strength in it's most dangerous form. He was capable of leveling mountains and summoning fireballs bigger than the daily planet sculpture.

The last time they fought Wraith without Specter, Superman and Wonderwoman were immediately shot down. Hell, even Batman was struggling after the bastard decided to play dirty. Batman quickly decided Wraith was an enemy after the ghost targeted Red Robin—as if knowing Bruce would immediately falter when one of his children were in immediate danger.

But there were times when some of them couldn't help but not blame Wraith. Not when they had failed to save ghosts who were being tortured and vivisected. Not when it was Wraith who frees them all.

(Bruce knows damn well that Jason seemed to be more inclined to Wraith than any of them.

"He's protecting his people, old man." Jason had once said.)

It's another crisis. Another fight. Lex Luther has apparently joined hands with the GIW. And broadcasting live was a ghost missing their limbs and trapped inside a tube of glowing green.

Before anyone could even say a word, the watchtower shook. Specter didn't seem surprised but her eyes were colder than the ice she conjured.

"Why the fuck is Wraith outside?" Barry warily muttered, already preparing for a fight once they saw the ghost hovering outside. He wasn't attacking, cursing, or doing anything else. He was just floating, staring at Specter.

"Ellie." Wraith growled, eyes glowing red while Specter's eyes shone venomous green. "You gonna keep playing hero, Polaris?"

Specter growled back, "Let him in."

They all shot her a confused look. Batman should be asking questions. Superman should be refusing. Wonder Woman should be demanding for a reason. But the two ghostly beings were staring at each other like they finally agreed on something.

Constantine slowly lowered the forcefield that kept ghosts out and some ghosts in. Wraith floated through the glass of the watchtower and stood before Specter—towering over her.

"You gonna admit it?"

"I already agreed with you that the GIW were trash—but that doesn't give you the right to arbitrarily take the lives of those that weren't involved in their operations!" Specter yelled.

"So what? We keep them alive then someone's gonna come back to avenge their damned souls. Might as well wipe 'em out before they can come back to bite our asses!" Wraith yelled back.

"Dante! Mom didn't fucking raise you to be like this—"

"OUR MOTHER IS BEING BROADCASTED BY THOSE BASTARDS! OUR MOTHER IS IN THEIR FUCKING CAPTIVITY!" Wraith—Dante snapped, pointing to the screen where Lex Luthor went on about the ghosts. "Our mother has been missing for two months and the GIW had him. It's because of that krypton obsessed fucker that I failed to track him down!"

"IF YOU HAD JUST LISTENED TO ME AND LET ME TALK TO THE LEAGUE—"

"—YOUR LEAGUE IS FUCKING USELESS—"

"—MOM WOULDN'T—

Batman gritted his teeth, "ENOUGH!"

Everyone fell silent, unable to speak any further. It was hard processing all this.

Wraith and Specter were siblings... Their mother was the ghost in captivity. The two of them have been searching for their mother for months.

Constantine choked on whatever drink he had, letting his own flask fall and staring at the screen in suddenly horror. "Shit... SHIT! THAT'S THE FUCKING GHOST KING!" He screeched, pointing at the screen as realization struck him like lightning. Then he pointed at the two Ghosts, "And you're... Holy—"

"Ellie, you and I both know how this will end if mother isn't save within the fucking hour." Wraith snarled, "The realms will go to war."

"Spec?" Conner murmured softly, trying to see if their friend would actually—

But then Specter looked resigned, a little regretful, but also cold. Like she was prepared to fight them all. Slowly, but damn surely, she was walking towards Wraith and standing beside him.

"Specter." Diana narrowed her eyes.

"I'm sorry." Specter bowed her head just a bit, "But my brother is right... If the King of the Infinite Realms is not saved within the hour... There will be war. As your friend, I am inclined to warn you that you will not win. Not when the Realms' warriors were once yours. We have our Kryptonians. We have fallen demigods. We have many more than that."

Everyone's breath hitched.

"So please... Please help us." Specter pursed her lips. "Because I don't want a war... But I want my mother safe."

"My sister speaks for herself," Wraith scoffed, "I don't give a flying fuck about you people. But Luthor did something to block me and now I can't track them. Since you're all heroes, I suggest you get to work... Or else I'll lead the ghosts myself to burn your world down."

Teeth—sharp and eldritch. Glowing red eyes turned to Bart Allen—the boy from the future flinched away, as if horrified.

"You speedsters seem familiar with me." Wraith chuckled, "Know that I will not hesitate to eviscerate this world like the other timelines."

High King Phantom was retrieved from the secret facility Lex Luthor and the GIW created with an anti-ecto forcefield that had them go undetected by other ghosts. Constantine and the Supers were quick to find it and tear it to bits.

Wraith did not go to war. Specter thanked them and promised that there will be no war.

Danny was very concerned as to what the hell his children got up to during the months he was gone. Clockwork happily told him how his children developed fratricidal tendencies.

[razorblade180]

9 Days of Lancaster Day 2: Jealous Ruby

The bustling streets of Vacou

Jaune:Alright everyone, single file line. No need to push or shove. You’re all going to the same place one step at a time.

Nora:*watching* He’s really gotten a lot of mileage from taking those traffic jobs.

Ruby:I think he appreciates the organization and structure of it all. *sips drink*

Yang:Better him than me. Be it driver or pedestrian, I fear my road rage has taken my tolerance for bullshit away.

Weiss:One, tolerance? Two, you don’t get road rage. You just have rage.

Yang:Why do you feel the need to pick me apart every chance you get!?

Weiss:Careful. You might prove my point.

???: Mr. Arc!

A little boy and his green eyed mother approach the young man. Without hesitation, the child holds up a drawing of Jaune with an extra big sword and muscles.

Jaune:Hey, Zach! Aww, is that me!? Quite the artist.

Zach:Thank you for saving me last week!

Jaune:Of course! Gotta look after one another. Remember, don’t away from mommy next time.

Cynthia:That’s right! You scared me half to death. It was fortunate Vacou has no shortage of talented heroes.

Jaune:It was nothing really.

Cynthia:Oh you’re too modest. This little guy is my world, and you’re the wonderful man that protected it. Quite literally a knight in shining armor.

Ruby stared at the raven haired older woman in yellow. She was quite tall. Almost Jaune’s height. Something about the way she carried herself made it clear she was late 20s or early 30s, yet her flawless tan skin and youthful grin made the idea of her having any children a surprise.

Ruby:Who’s that?

Nora:That’s Cynthia. Jaune saved her kid last week when a few Grimm snuck in. Not only did he kill it, but shielded Zach from an oncoming car that was attacked.

Yang:Damn. Maybe I should take traffic patrol?

Weiss:I’ve seen her before. She gave Jaune a pie last week and thanked him. Now I understand why.

Yang:That’s where that apple pie came from?! I knew it was too delicious to be store bought.

Blake:You can taste the difference?

Yang:Of course. There was love in it.

Ruby:Love? Pfft, maybe admiration. Gratitude for a hero and stuff.

Yang:Yeah, but like… look at them.

The two were still having a conversation. Nobody could make it out but they were laughing alongside the child. Cynthia even went as far as to touch Jaune’s left arm, and he made no move against it.

Nora:Oh, bold approach. I respect it.

Ruby:Guys, they’re just talking.

Blake:He might be. She’s pretty close to him. Physically I mean.

Yang:You think he’ll take the bait? Get a bit more than a pie?

Weiss:Yang, grow up. Jaune isn’t like that anyways.

Yang:It’s not like he’s leveraging the situation. Plus he’s been isolated for a long time. If anything, he’s out of his depth, but clearly in his element. Who knows, maybe he has a taste for older women now? What do you think Ru- Ruby?

Nora:Yeah she started walking over after your pie remark.

In no time at all, the redhead weaved through the crowd and made it to Jaune. Instead of calling his name, Ruby didn’t think twice about surprising the three of them by suddenly taking his right hand as she made herself known.

Ruby:Hey, sounds fun over here.

Jaune:Oh hey! Finished early? Cynthia, this is-

Ruby:Ruby Rose. Fellow huntress.

Zach:Wooooah!

Cynthia:Oh wow! I know you. Everyone knows you! I mean that speech was really something. Jaune, you didn’t tell me you knew such a celebrity around these parts! Must take a load of worry off working with someone like her.

Ruby:I should be the one praising him actually. He’s pretty reliable.

Cynthia:Isn’t he!? You should’ve seen him last week. *squeezes his arm* He’s got quite the muscle, and knows how to use it haha!

Ruby:Hehe oh I know… He is my partner after all.

Cynthia…Oh? Is that right?

Jaune:Yeah. Ruby and I have been through practically everything together. I can’t count how many times she’s saved me.

Ruby:And vice versa. Yep, lucky to have you by my side. Speaking of which, I need you. *leans on him* We have another mission together.

Cynthia:…

Jaune:Oh? Already? Okay. I’m technically not done with this one though.

Ruby:It’s okay. Yang volunteered to fill in. Cynthia, Zach, sorry to steal him away from you but duty calls. *grins*

Cynthia:Oh, no problem. A hero’s job is never done. We can have dinner another time. My treat of course. After all, you have my number.

Ruby:!?

Cynthia:Feel free to give me a call whenever you get back. Zach would love to hear all about it, and I can give you a fresh dessert.

Ruby:.. *looks down*

Jaune:That does sound pretty nice. Thank you, but…I think I have to decline.

Ruby:Huh?

Cynthia:Oh? It really isn’t a hassle. I’d hardly say it’s the least I could do for you.

Jaune:Perhaps, but right now I’m pretty tangled up in some crazy situations. Like you said, a hero’s job is never done. The last thing a hero should be doing is attracting danger to innocent civilians. I’ll save Zach any day of the week, but better to have him in no danger to begin with, right? *smiles*

Cynthia:R-Right. Of course…

Zach:Does this mean you’re not coming over?

Jaune:Sorry, lil man. *ruffles hair* I wanna keep you nice and safe by fighting the baddies. Meanwhile you keep your mom nice and safe by sticking with her. Can you do that for me? I’ll show all my friends your awesome picture and make sure to hit a monster for you!

Zach:Really!? Coooool! It’s a promise! I’ll be extra good! Then I’ll be hero too.

Ruby:You already are one kiddo. Welp, we should get going. It was nice meeting the both of you.

Ruby immediately walked away with Jaune in tow, not looking back once as she put distance between him and Cynthia. She glanced over at Yang, pointing at her specifically, then towards the spot they left.

Ruby:Have fun on traffic patrol!

Yang:Wha-hey! I wasn’t being- and she’s gone. Would any of you like to maybe-

Nora:Nope?

Weiss:Should’ve kept quiet.

Blake:At least it’s half a shift.

Yang:…

Jaune:Umm, Rubes? We don’t have to walk so fast. Is the mission that urgent?

Ruby:Huh? Oh! Uh, sorta? I just think your talents are better used on active hunts. Keeps fighters healthy and stuff, so…*red* try to leave the civil tasks to others if you can.

Jaune:…I can delete her number.

Ruby:…That’s your business. Not mine. It’s not like I have a say in who you socialize with.

Jaune:Doesn’t mean you can’t express an opinion. I’ll listen to what you have to say; you know that. *squeezes hand* So, be honest with me.

Ruby:*bright red*…. I don’t think you should get caught up with Cynthia. Just a personal feeling I guess. So… deleting her number would probably be for the best.

Jaune:Hmm, is that so? Good thing I never saved it to begin with.

Ruby stops walking immediately. She whips her head around to see a cheeky grin on the boys face that gets her face hot the same it does when she feels caught being mischievous. She can’t evil speak. Ruby can only make varying degrees of frustration before giving up and looking away entirely. Still, she gripped his hand tightly.

Ruby:Name your offer to never speak of this again.

Jaune:Hmmm how about… one delicious apple pie?

Ruby:…Alright. Mark my words, it’ll be the best you’ve ever had.

Jaune:Heh, I know~

[venusmcflytr4p]

Uninterrupted

Synopsis: James Potter x Lupin!Reader, Make it Up part two. Modern AU. After  Sirius and your brother Remus catch you and James together, you and James go back to your flat and continue what was interrupted.

Part 1

WC: 3.4k

Content Warnings: 18+ MDNI, porn with plot, protective older brother Remus (reader is 20 marauders are 22), angsty James, oral f! receiving, unprotected piv, headlock doggy, creampie. Let me know if I missed any!

Author's note: I wrote this part also sleep deprived, once again, I apologize if it's not the best

The drive home is silent, save for Lily’s music playing faintly through the speakers. Your head rests on James’s shoulder, and his hand sits in your lap, entwined with yours as you trace circles on his hand. 

He’s anxious. In the decade you've known James Potter, he’s rarely faltered. James has always been larger than life, bold, and confident. But now he looks quietly out the window, expression unreadable.

When the car slows in front of the building, you pull your head off of his shoulder, you reach into your pocket, and take out your keys and slide them into James’s hand. “Jamie? Can you unlock the door? I’ll be in in a minute, I just want to thank Lily,” you say as he still looks out the window. 

“Yeah, no problem, Love,” he replies quietly. You both step out of the car, and you pull his face to yours to kiss him gently. His brows furrow, and he reaches to stroke your cheek gently. 

When he walks away, you turn to Lily’s car and open the passenger door. “So,” Lily starts as you sit down. “Tell me what happened.”

“Well, James and I are together,” you admitted.

“I gathered that much,” breathed out a chuckle. “But why did you urgently text me to drive you home, and why is James moping?”

You take a deep breath. “Remus and Sirius kind of… caught us? And Remus was pissed, which I mean, I guess was expected,” you say rubbing your eyes gently. “That’s why James and I have been trying to keep it secret, because I knew Remus wouldn’t like it,” you explain. “But I’m almost glad it’s out in the open now. At least when it all blows over, James and I won’t have ot hide anymore,” you faintly smile at the idea.

“You think it will blow over?” Lily asks, not accusatorily, just concerned. 

“I know Remus. My brother has always had a temper, but he loves me and he loves James. Once he sees that we’re both happy, he’ll be okay,” you say confidently. The sound of the engine rumbles through the car.

“And you are?” Lily asks with a soft smile, already knowing the answer.

“I am,” you say, and it's true. James has made you laugh more in these past few months than you thought possible, and loved you more than you thought you deserved. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’m happy for you, babes,” Lilly says fondly. “I hope it all works out for you. And for what it’s worth, James has seemed different recently, less unsure and more mature.” You smile sheepishly and lean across to hug her. 

“Thank you, Lils,” you say into her shoulder. “For picking us up, for always being there, and being so supportive.”

“Don’t even mention it. I love you,” She replies, hugging you fiercely.

“I love you too,” you say, squeezing her one last time before letting go. You step out of the car and wave Lily off as she drives away.

You walk through the door to your flat and close it behind you, kicking off your shoes and placing them where you always do, just to find James’s right next to where yours go. The sight sends warmth shooting through your chest as you imagine this becoming routine. 

Suddenly, the kettle starts whistling, and you turn to the kitchen, where James has two mugs set out as he pours the water. “You didn’t have to do that, Jamie,” you say, smiling. “I could have made it.”

“I know, but I wanted to make it up to you for the trouble I’ve caused,” he says earnestly, handing you your mug.

“What trouble, James?” You ask as you take the mug. With your free hand, you grab his hand and bring him to the couch. You set your tea on the table and tuck your legs underneath yourself as you sit.

“I feel like I’ve ruined everything,” he whispers. His eyes look so sad, like something has broken. You bring your hand to his face and gently stroke your thumb along his cheek. He leans into your touch as his eyes flutter closed. “I just feel so naive to think I could have you both.”

Your heart aches for him as he opens his watering hazel eyes and stares at you like you’re all he knows. You catch his lips in a sweet, comforting kiss as his first tear falls. You taste the salty tear when it trails between your lips. You rise to your knees so you’re hovering above him.

“James, my love,” you say as you pull away. His brows furrow at the loss of contact, and you tilt his chin to look at you. “You haven’t ruined anything,” you assure, holding his face gently between your palms. “He’s only mad because he thinks he has to be. He’s my big brother, and he’s always looked out for me.” James’s throat bobs as he swallows. “I’m his sister, and he loves me, but you’re just as much his brother,” you punctuate your words with a kiss.

“So you don’t think he hates me?” James asks timidly as he searches your eyes.

“Remus is all bark, no bite. And all he really wants is for us to be happy,” you say, suddenly growing nervous at your assumption. “You’re happy, right?” You ask sheepishly. Your hands start to fall from his face when he catches your wrists, holding them steady.

“I am, Love,” he presses a kiss to your palm. “You make me so so happy,” he smiles for the first time since Lily dropped you off. Your lips tilt into that downward smile that James loves so much, and you kiss him fiercely. He takes his hands that were holding your wrists and tangles one in your hair as the other pulls your neck closer to him to deepen the kiss.

“Jamie,” you breathe his name out like a prayer, and he groans into your mouth. You smile against his mouth and throw your leg over his lap to straddle him. “Y’know, I’m still quite upset at Sirius for interrupting us,” you whisper against his lips between frantic kisses.

“Is that so, Love?” James taunts. “ I feel like we can remedy that,” he smiles and tugs on the hair at the base of your neck gently to expose your neck. He grazes his lips along your jaw and kisses down your neck. Your hands shoot to his hair and massage his scalp as he nips and bites where your neck meets your shoulders. 

Warmth shoots to your core, and you begin to rock your hips against James’s already hard length. His hands leave your hair and find their way under the back of your shirt, sliding up your back. James lifts your shirt over your head and presses his palms flat against your back, pushing your chest closer to him. His lips attach to the soft skin of your chest.

You’re holding the back of his neck with both hands for balance as you grind your hips on his lap, desperate for friction, and James Potter has never been one to deny you anything. His hands find purchase on your ass and he guides your pace as he helps you rock back and forth. He pinches and squeezes your ass while his mouth leaves marks all over your neck and chest.

“Jamie,” you whine. “I need you.” He looks up at you through his fogged glasses, and you smile as you pluck them off his gorgeous face. You set them on the side table and reluctantly pull yourself off his lap. He takes your outstretched hand, and you lead him to your bedroom. The tea is long forgotten.

You flick on your bedside lamp, and you feel James, his shirt discarded,  press up against you. His hands slide up your hips, momentarily stopping so he could pull you flush against him. His cock presses against your ass and you feel your arousal building. 

James’s hands leave your hips and trail along your sides, making you twitch as he teasingly brushes his fingers up your ribs. He unhooks your bra and lets it fall to the floor. His lips move to your neck, and you tilt your head to give him more access. One of his hands snakes around to your neck, where he gently traces his fingers down the column of your throat, down your chest to between your tits, and further down your stomach until he reaches your pants.

He gently pushes past the waistband and your panties until he reaches your leaking cunt. “Already so wet for me, Lovie,” he says between kisses. “Want me to make you feel good?”

“Yes, Jamie, please,” you whine when he slides his fingers through your wet folds. “Need you, James, please.”

“Lie down for me, love,” James tells you, and you do. Your head rests against your soft pillows, and James places his body over yours. His lips graze from your jaw, down your neck and chest as he kisses greedily down your body until he reaches your waistband again. He looks up at you for permission, and when you nod, he wastes no time in pulling your pants and panties off at once, leaving you exposed. 

He gently bites and nips at your thighs, working closer and closer to your heat. “You’re so beautiful,” is what James says before delving into you. He licks a stripe through your arousal all the way to your clit, savouring every drop. 

You reach for his head and grab a fistful of hair when he continues his work on your cunt. He plunges his tongue in and out of you, bringing his thumb to your clit where he rubs small, intentional circles over your most sensitive spot. “Jamie,” you moan his name, and it sends him into a frenzy. 

He moves his tongue to lap at your clit, relishing in your whines of pleasure. Your tug on James’s hair, trying to pull him closer, and when he gorans into your pussy, you cant help but moan lewdly. “Ohh, God, James, please!” You cry out. He brings his fingers to your entrance and plunges in, curling in just the right way. A choked gasp escapes your lips. 

He pumps in and out, curling his long fingers each time to reach that perfect place deep inside you. His tongue continues the assault on your clit and you feel the waves of heat deep in your abdomen burn hotter. “Jamie, please, ‘m gonna cum,” you warn. 

He removes his face, but continues to pump his fingers. “It’s okay, beautiful,” he tells you. “Let go for me, Love.”

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and keeps a grip on one of your thighs. He smiles against your clit when he feels your pussy clench around his digits. One of your hands grips the comforter of the bed while the other is still tangled in his hair, and you tug even harder as the coil in your stomach unravels. 

Your shaking thighs clench around his head when he continues to work you through your orgasm. He slows his fingers inside you and pulls out. After lapping up your juices, he climbs back up your body and kisses you feverishly. Teeth clashing, his tongue infiltrates your mouth and skims along your bottom lip before he bites on it. His clothed cock rubs between your legs, making you sick with desire.

“Mmm, Jamie,” you rasp. “Lie down. You make me feel so good, it’s your turn.” James hasn’t always been good at following directions, but for you, he’ll do anything. 

You unzip his jeans, and beneath them, his hard length presses against the confines of his boxers. You rid him of those as well, and his cock hits his stomach. The tip is leaking precum and throbbing. You wrap your hand around his girth and pump your hand a few times, making James a writhing mess beneath you. He bucks up into your hand a couple of times before you finally throw your leg over his lap and position him at your entrance.

When you sink down onto him, you moan simultaneously. His hands immediately reach for your hips as you adjust to his size. Your hands roam up his muscular chest, and they stop at his neck. You lean down and kiss him slowly, before you sit back up, leaving him chasing your lips, and you begin to roll your hips.

You slide up and down on his cock, juices squelching with every movement. Your tits bounce as you move, and James reaches up to caress your tit. He rolls a nipple between his fingers while his other hand guides your movements on your hip. “Fuck, love, you feel so good,” he pants.

You both are breathing heavily, and lewd moans escape your lips, only encouraged by James’s own whines of pleasure. “Oh fuck, yes, Jamie!” you cry out, throwing your head back when he brings his thumb to your sensitive clit. Your hands that were steadying you on his thighs are suddenly intertwined with his as you continue to ride him.

You look back down at him, and his eyes are tightly closed in bliss. They flutter open when you remove your fingers from his and run your hands down his arms, stopping when you squeeze his biceps. “Fuck, baby,” you moan. “I want these arms locked around me.”

James’s lips quirked up as you slowed your movements. You slide off of his dick, his hands steadying you as he sits up with you. He turns you around and lowers your chest to the pillows, so you’re kneeling in front of him.

He positions himself at your entrance again and pushes in, fully sheathing his cock inside you. He pushes in and out a few times, getting you used to the angle. He bucks his hips against your ass as he watches himself slide in and out of you. The sight itself just about undoes him.

He controls the pace with his hands settled firmly on your hips as he pulls you against him with every thrust. You moan his name over and over with every buck of his hips.

Suddenly, he bends down with you, his chest pressed against your back. He wraps an arm around your neck, pulling you up with him. His other arm presses against the wall behind your headboard, caging you with the headlock he has you in.

He thrusts his hips against your ass enthusiastically. Your eyes are half hooded in pleasure, as his hips slam into yours, and the coil in your stomach begins to tighten. 

The new angle hits the perfect spot, making your vision go fuzzy. You open your mouth to moan, but it’s muffled by James’s arm. You can’t help but sink your teeth into the muscle as he continues fucking you. 

He pumps in and out repeatedly, hitting that spot that makes you see stars at a relentless pace. As your teeth sink more into the muscle, you know there will be a mark. James’s breath in your ear is all you can hear besides your own heartbeat thundering in your ears as your vision starts to go white. 

He pulls out of you suddenly, leaving you breathless and craving the fullness of him being inside you. “Jamie, what-” He turns your face to meet him in a kiss over your shoulder.

“Lie back down, Lovie,” he tells you, before finally letting you go. He sits back on his feet while you lie back down. He parts your legs and positions himself back between them. The weight of his body over yours is grounding before he pushes into you again. He bottoms out with a moan complementary to your own. 

“Oh, fuck!” he groans into the crook of your neck. His hand slides up your leg, raising your thigh to get a better angle. Once he has the angle, he thrusts ruthlessly into your squelching pussy that’s leaking your combined juices. 

You wrap both your legs around him and lock them together by your heels, giving James better access. He moans shamelessly in your ear, each sound bringing you closer to your orgasm. Your own wanton sounds fill your room. 

James suddenly picks up pace, sending you barreling towards the edge. “James!” You moan breathlessly. 

“I know Love, it’s okay, cum for me,” James reassures as he continues his pounding thrusts. Your walls clench around him, bringing him close to his own edge. You dig your nails into his back, clawing at him ravenously. “Fuck, I love you!” he cries out. It sends you over the edge as shockwaves ripple through you. 

He fucks you through your orgasm at the same relentless pace until seconds later, you feel James’s release pulse inside you, filling you up. His thrusts grow slower until he stills inside you. “I love you, James,” you whisper in his ear after he’s stilled. He picks his head up to look at you, and all he does is smile like an idiot. Your idiot.

He catches your lips in a tender kiss, then presses his forehead against yours. “I’ll be right back, Baby,” he says before sliding out and disappearing into the other room. He returns with a warm facecloth and a glass of water. James helps you clean up a bit before you slide under the blankets together.

James lies on his back as you lie on his arm. Your hand rests on his chest, and you can feel his heart beating beneath your palm. You look up at him to see his brows furrowed in thought. “It’ll be okay, Jamie,” you encourage.

“Y’know, I think you’re right,” James says, looking down at you sweetly. “You know him best after all.” You share another kiss, and you roll over with James following your movement, so that his chest is pressing against your back. Your eyes flutter closed, and you hear James’s breathing slow.

You feel yourself being lulled to sleep by your own exhaustion and the sound of James’s soft breathing when your ringtone suddenly blares. You shoot up and reach your nightstand to be greeted by your brother’s name and picture. James had woken up too and rubs the sleep from his eyes. 

“Rem?” You answer the phone. “Do you realise what time it is?” you ask. It’s too early to be considered morning and too late for it to be night. James is now sitting up, fully alert at the mention of Remus’s name.

“I know, I’m sorry, Bubs, but I had to call and talk to you,” Remus says through the phone. “Padfoot and I talked after you left, and he made me realise I might have been overreacting.”

“Wow, is Remus Lupin apologising after less than 24 hours? This might just be a first,” you joke as you look at James.

“Don’t push your luck, Bubs,” Remus warns, but there’s no bite to his voice. You both chuckle a bit, and you turn to look out of your window. After a silent moment, Remus speaks up again. “Are you happy?”

You turn to look at James with his hair messier than usual from sleep and glassesless. He furrows his brows in confusion, and you scan over his face, as if you were memorising every detail. “Yeah, Rem. I am happy,” you finally say. James’s face lights up, and you can’t help but grin.

“Then I’m happy,” Remus concedes. “Tell James he’s welcome back home anytime,” Remus adds. “I love you both.”

“I know, Rem. We love you too. Please don’t ever forget that.” James presses a kiss to your shoulder from behind you. 

“I won’t. Goodnight, Bubs,” Remus says.

“Goodnight, Rem,” you say, smiling. He hangs up and you set down the phone.

“Well? What did he say?” James inquires. You lay back down, facing him.

“Exactly what I said he would,” you reply. “And also, you’re welcome back home whenever you want,” you brush your thumb against his cheek. James contemplates for a moment.

“I’m glad I’m welcome home again,” James says. “But now that we don’t have to hide anymore, I might stay with you for another night.” You smile brightly at him, “If you’ll have me.”

“James Potter,” you kiss him. “I’ll always have you,” you say, your breath mingling with his. He flashes you his roguish grin and pulls you closer. You fall asleep wrapped in each other’s embrace.

[maybejj]

the boys are separated for the first time since charlotte passed away and rafe doesn’t understand.

from my fractured ties universe. read story here

warnings: grief, mention of a dead parent

notes: rafe is 7 and jj is 5 in this blurb! they are also brothers in this universe for anyone new reading 🫶🏻

rafe didn’t know how he felt. or rather, he did he just didn’t know how to explain it. his little mind couldn’t comprehend such a huge change in his life so suddenly.

charlotte had just passed away and ward didn’t hesitate to pack up rafe’s things out of the room he shared with his little brother, jj.

jj and luke had watched the whole time ward muttered to himself and snapped at rafe to help him gather his belongings.

ward would mutter things like,

“we don’t have all day.”

“the cuts dangerous, son. i should’ve got you out of here a long time ago.”

“strong boys don’t cry.”

and normally, rafe would stick his chest out and agree with his dad. he’s the oldest, he had to be strong. he was strong. his little brother was watching, he couldn’t let jj down.

but this time? he was sad.

his mom was gone.

forever.

at least, that’s the way ward explained it to him and now rafe couldn’t stop thinking about never seeing his mom again. or how he wouldn’t share a room with his baby brother anymore. who was going to save jj from the shadow at night? that was rafe’s job. he couldn’t protect jj from ward’s house. and now jj was all alone too. he didn’t have rafe or their mom. just like rafe didn’t have jj or his mom either.

rafe just wanted to go home. with his mom. with his baby brother. even if jj was super annoying it felt wrong not having him close.

he remembers his mom sitting him down a couple weeks ago and saying, “this island isn’t kind, rafe. one day you’ll understand that. they think jj is… less than you because he has a different dad and that’s not true my sweet boy. you have to remember that. so when the boys in town pick on him, it’s up to you to watch out for him. to remind them that he’s not less than. and neither are you.”

he still didn’t quite understand what she meant because he had always seen jj as his little brother. nothing else ever came to mind but he had heard a few new terms in the last couple of days that was making his mind start to question.

ward and rose kept muttering “pogue” and “kook” and he didn’t know what those words meant but he knew “pogue” couldn’t be anything good with how his dad basically spit the word out of his mouth like it tasted bad.

rafe didn’t know what to do with himself. he felt lost. scared. alone. and the room he was currently in, his new room, felt uncomfortable.

there wasn’t a huge toy box in the corner stuffed to the brim. there wasn’t a fort in the middle of the room him and jj built one night while they were suppose to be sleeping. there wasn’t a bookcase full of his favorite books. he even missed jj’s orange lava lamp that use to be on their shared nightstand.

it all just felt wrong.

but ward told him this was where he would be staying. this was his home now.

but rafe knew it wasn’t. it couldn’t be.

because his little brother wasn’t here.

his mom wasn’t here.

and they wouldn’t be.

no matter how much he wished for it.

tagging my fractured ties babies: @yesshewrites1 @bee-43 @xoxo-ada @imsiriuslyreal @marleymarleymarleymarley @freyawhitexxx1 @arabellamaybank @papercranesandinkstains @onelonelybitch @pr3tty-pink @xoxosblogsblog @justdamnpeachy @laniirackssss @okay1723 @anacamofficial @always-reading @luvrclub @partywithjay @niaunoffical @moonywhisp3rs @mariamadison6-blog @wrtzia @jaes-last-words @faephoria @lmaowhatt @voidangxls @reeseswirl @isinpfortvdmen @hotvampdragon @jjslvt @smokahontas-113 @starkeyslove @yourmomdotcom42069 @moustacherryismyhusband @barnesboo1967 @akobx @emelia07 @stanseventeen @st8rkey @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @ilovedrewstarkey27 @certifiedjjsimp @kittluzbills

[tryandbehappy]

I’m still absolutely shocked they decided to kill Nick and not just kill him, but do it in a way where we’re not even allowed to grieve him. Like… they gave him the most tragic arc, and then started trashing him in interviews as if we wouldn’t notice? I’m sorry, WHAT?

How do you tear down a character you deliberately wrote as a victim?

Let’s go over what this man went through. He was recruited as a teenager. A teenager. Came from an abusive, impoverished home. A violent father, a messed up brother, a mother who abandoned him and we know that mother fact because they themselves wrote it in season 6, right when they were laying the groundwork to destroy him!

Then he ends up in Gilead and it doesn’t take long for him to realize how horrific it is. We saw how he looked at the commanders. That wasn’t ambition. That was someone trapped. «once you get in bed with the government it’s not so easy to get out” .you can’t just waltz out of Gilead. That’s desertion. That’s a death sentence inside and outside as a war criminal.

And what would he be running to? He has no one. No family. No home. He’s been in Gilead since he was a kid. He doesn’t know how to live outside it.

he meets June. And this man — I don’t even know how — keeps his humanity intact. In this hellscape, somehow, he becomes this emotionally grounded, fiercely loyal, gentle, loving person. He supports her. He protects her. He never tries to control her. He never demands anything. He sees her, hears her, respects her, loves her as she is even when she doesn’t choose him. That alone? Is already a miracle.

they go further. They marry him off. Give him a child, just to tie him further to Gilead. And it works, because they wrote him as someone who values loyalty probably because it’s something he never had growing up. And now? They want us to believe he’s a monster?

HOW? How does that make sense?

He was left completely alone because he tried to save her. Because he never stopped. He was almost executed. He was covering her tracks. He was planning an escape. He had fucking passports. She betrayed him because he chose his life not Gilead. And they’re trying to act like he was just another Gilead commander who got what was coming to him?

Are you fucking serious? They stripped this man of any chance from the moment he was born. And now they want to frame his death like it’s not even tragic? Like we shouldn’t care?

I don’t get it. Are they psychopaths or just completely forgetful of the character they wrote? Did they forget they introduced his mother story in season six? Did they forget they gave him that broken, lonely backstory?

I just don’t understand what kind of emotional reaction they expect from us. Are we supposed to cheer for this ending? Like Lizzie was SO FREAKING EXCITED to tell us to film ourselves. all I see is the most heartbreaking, unjust death in the whole fucking show. And there’s nothing glorious about it

Nick Blaine is the only real victim. Everyone else got a redemption arc, or safety, or closure. He got none.

And I’m here thinking WTFFFF?????

[killcel]

Misty Quigley is the complex character of Yellowjackets; an unnecessarily long essay of my thoughts that no one will read probably

[SPOILER ALERT] Misty Quigley from Yellowjackets is arguably one of the most interesting complex characters I've ever seen.

She's written in both the kids and adults timeline EXACTLY like a serial killer. Walter points this out in season two. At first, you can blame what happened in the wilderness for Misty's actions, but as time goes on within the show, even just the pilot episode, you start to realize that Misty has always been somewhat deranged.

Misty is the only character whose face is shown in the entire pit girl scene, she takes off her mask to reveal a sort of sadistic smile on her face. This is right near a scene where she, as a nurse, takes pain medications away from a patient. Your first thought of Misty is 'this woman is absolutely insane.' Still within the pilot, while all the characters are at a party, Misty is sitting alone, watching a rat drown. She doesn't attempt to save it, just observes it's downfall.

As season one goes on, we begin to notice that Misty is definitely a loner. She doesn't have many people that care about her and uses people around her for a purpose before dropping them seemingly. But she becomes elated as soon as the other Yellowjackets need her help. In the kids timeline, Misty is portrayed as the weird girl. One of her first scenes in the wilderness is her chopping someone's leg off, immediately followed by her getting *excited* to tell him. She proceeds to break the plane's transponder, the only thing that could have rescued them, until she realized she's needed.

Teen Misty is portrayed as a sympathetic character. She wants to be included and shows genuine sadness around not being included. A lot of the characters tend to think of her as sad or pathetic in a way, despite her having proven multiple times that not only is she competent, the majority of the Yellowjackets would have been dead without her. Misty isn't valued or treated as good as the rest of the girls, she's *needed*. If they had anyone else that knew medical care as well as teen Misty, Misty would not have made it to the adult timeline.

In the adult timeline, the same rules apply. Misty isn't appreciated, she's needed.

That all being said, Misty is a calm, collected, character that we hardly see breaking down. Misty truly cares for very few people, we see this while she works as a nurse both in the teen and adult timelines. She's not a bad person because of this, but she has very little empathy or regard for life, unless it's a life that truly matters to her. Crystal, Nat, and Caligula all show this. When Misty cares, she cares deeply.

Not only this, Misty is an extremely charismatic person and an extremely good liar. The reason no one likes her is she freaks them out. She's managed to charm a lot of characters or simply manipulate them into doing exactly what she wants them to do various times. Jessica Roberts is the prime example of this, also Lisa in season three. Girl gets exactly what she wants from people, whether they care about her or not.

Misty Quigley is the one Yellowjackets character that has gotten away with murder at least twice in the adult timeline. None of the other characters have been able to clean up after themselves or go unnoticed as effectively as Misty. Misty is never asked about the murders, never accused, never convicted. The one murder she is accused of was Shauna's, not hers.

And yet Misty isn't to our knowledge, a Serial Killer. She kills with intent, and purpose, and seems to pick her victims on a basis of protection rather than personal interest. She only kills if she feels she absolutely has to.

Adding onto this, Misty is a citizen detective. Misty is *known* to SOLVE murder cases. She's considered to be extremely reputable in the citizen detective community. She works as a NURSE. She's not just a killer, she is also one of the people who the world needs MOST.

Misty is also the only character who doesn't pretend like what they did in the wilderness didn't happen. Yes, she keeps it a secret for the rest of her team, but she seems like the only living Yellowjacket who not only has made peace with who she is, she actively embraces it. She knows damn well what she did as a Yellowjacket in the wilderness, and she doesn't try to hide that aspect of her personality.

Strangely enough, she's also the only Yellowjacket who isn't seen by the majority of characters as *just a Yellowjacket.* In the adult timeline, the majority of characters that encounter Misty outside of the other Yellowjackets view her as completely separate from it. We see this with Walter especially - Misty is a Yellowjacket. But with Misty, that's seen as just another bullet on a long list of things that Misty is. Taissa Turner is literally elected SENATOR and the only smear on her name anyone can come up with is "She's a Yellowjacket." Shauna Shipman has been reduced to a Yellowjacket, even though she's a mother, a wife, and so many more things. The only other character who has risen above this title is Melissa, who literally had to fake her own death to do so.

Misty is not a good person. There's no question in anyone's minds about that. But she never tried to think of herself as a good person, which is the one thing allowing her to rise above and beyond the title of 'Yellowjacket.' Misty is essential, she's charming, she's absolutely fucking deranged. But one thing that no one ever says about Misty, in the entire story, is that she's a Yellowjacket.

TL;DR: Misty Quigley has never denied who she was as a person, making her the only Yellowjacket that has never been reduced to "Just one of the Yellowjackets."

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk. If you want me to do intense character analysis on anyone else (Doesn't have to be Yellowjackets) let me know!!

[respectfulrebel]

I don’t have the vocabulary to articulate properly just how fucking riveted I was while reading this, so please accept these as visual representation:

"There are things that I can do to you that are worse than death," he reminded the man.

Scary Noah is hot 👀 what is wrong with me

As soon as his large form appeared in the doorway, you lunged at him. Your foot roughly pistoned into his chest to force him back and then you jumped down, kneeing right between his legs. Dante groaned in both pain and anger as he doubled over to grab his shriveled balls. This was it. Your chance to run.

The way I held my breath during that scene 😩

Noah would come after you, right? He would continue to protect you. He would pull you close and tell you everything would be okay, that he would never leave your side again.

...right?

YEEEEESSSS HE WOULD AND HE IS 😭

Dante murmured after tucking his face into the crook of your neck and deeply inhaling your scent. You grimaced as you tried to turn your head as far to the opposite direction as you possibly could.

Disgusting 😭 get your filthy hands off my girl 😡

The longer you were captured, the more you began to lose hope. Perhaps Noah wasn't coming for you after all. Maybe he figured you being taken was a blessing because it was one less headache for him to have to deal with.

Baby nooooooo 😭 he’s coming, he loves you 😭

"Nick?" You squeaked out when you finally were able to make sense of the familiar face in the doorway.

NICK?????????

"I'm going to be straight forward because I don't have time to linger." Nick sighed, as if he was upset his little game had been disturbed. "I know where she is and who's keeping her. I'll tell you everything if you help me with one simple task."

Plot twist of the fucking century. Nick saving the day was not something I saw coming 😳

"No, not her father. He has his hand in this, sure, but he's not the one calling the shots."

I FUCKING KNEW IT 😭😭😭😭😭

His top goal was to get you out safely, though. After that, he would go on the much needed rampage to prevent this from ever happening again. No longer would you have to run and hide behind a fake identity. You could live the life of freedom you rightfully deserved. Noah was going to make sure of it, even if he had to die trying.

🥺🥺🥺 No dying, please 🥺🥺🥺

Noah wanted to argue with him but he knew Jolly was serious about keeping their main operation going.

What is the main operation????? 😭😭😭 I can’t wait to find out 😭😭😭😭😭

Nicholas had skirted around telling Noah what he was even doing on the yacht to begin with. He would only smirk and change the subject, but something was telling Noah that Red had something to do with this. You couldn't have one egotistical asshole with an agenda without another there to impede.

Ahhhh all of those unanswered questions are burning a hole in my braaaainnn 😭

Killing didn't used to come naturally to him; his first time taking a life still haunted him periodically. But when he was trying to protect someone he cared about, he would take on the task without a second thought.

There is definitely something wrong with me cause I’m like 🥰🥰🥰 he protects 🥰🥰🥰👉🏻👈🏻

His heart was pounding within his chest, his eyes frantically searching for the door Nicholas had described.

Yeah, dude, same, my heart is also pounding in my chest 😭

He immediately grabbed it with one hand, the other retrieving his gun before he simultaneously layered the two on Hawk's face. Pillow first, his fist pressing down into it, then he fired the gun straight into the fluff to muffle the sound.

😳😳😳😳 why is this hot

The moment your wrists were free, you threw your arms around Noah and practically jumped into his body. His own arms circled around you, holding you as close as possible. Burying your face into the crook of his neck, you fought back your tears the best you could. You were just so damn happy to see him. It was impossible to even put it into words.

Sobbing 😭😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Noah was cut off by a body filling the doorway, a gun pointed in your direction. You jumped and immediately backed into Noah who grabbed your waist, your breath catching in your throat. Even Noah was tense against you, until you both settled upon realizing it was Jackson standing there.

JESUS, that fucking scared me 😩

"You think I know which way east is?"

That made me giggle cause same 🤭

You kept a brisk pace, Noah still trailing close behind. Just as you were about to glance back at him, a shot rang through the silence, followed by a sudden groan of pain.

WHAAAAT? Noooooooooo 😭😭😭😭😭😭

You glanced down to see your own shirt stained from where Noah's injured side was pressed against you. Your eyes widen with fear, a sob threatening to break free. No, no, no. You couldn't lose him. You refused to. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Noah didn't deserve this. None of the people helping you did.

Stooooopp nooooo 😭😭😭 he’s gonna be okay, he’s gonna be fine, he has plot armour, right??????

「 ON DISPLAY 」 noah sebastian ⨯ f!reader

▷ chapter six

noah is your neighbor and your new favorite view thanks to his lack of curtains. you're pretty sure he prefers it this way. but the man you've created in your imagination is nothing like reality and you soon find yourself falling prey to a past lifestyle you had been desperately on the run from. trigger warnings : language, smut, violence, mention/flashbacks of abuse, alcohol and drug use, sexual harassment/assault (nongraphic). word count : 9k

masterlist

a/n : sorry for the super mega delay :') extra sorry for the barely there proof reading/revisions of the last half :')))

NOAH POV

“I'm only going to ask this one more time,” he breathed out with irritation, a hammer filthy with blood dangling at his side. “Where. The. Fuck. IS SHE?!” 

The man tied to the chair flinched and cried out in fear, his words gurgled and incoherent from the pool of blood constantly filling within his mouth. Noah had made sure of that happening when he pried a couple of his teeth free, yet he still received no answers despite his more grizzly methods. This guy was good, but Noah would break him eventually. They always broke. 

Unless he broke first. 

When no answer was given, he swung the hammer down-no hesitation-until it smashed the bones of the man's right hand with an astounding amount of ease. It was the third wack he had taken, his attempts to make sure the guy never even held a pencil again quite thorough. All of this gore could stop if only he gave him the answers he so desperately needed. A truth he had told the guy multiple times, though his kindness was only met with a hardened stare and silence - other than the howls of pain. 

The scent of blood - metallic and copper-like - filled the air, and Noah wasn't one of those sickos who enjoyed the smell of death. It was all part of the job, though. A small price to pay to keep things running smoothly. 

Muddled senses aside, his mind was on one thing and one thing only right then: you had been taken. How had this happened when he had been so cautious? Guards, cameras (something you were not knowledgeable of), a persistent fucking need to hear your voice every half hour or so. Where had he messed up? Maybe he had been too lacking with the guards when it came to allowing them to watch you from their cars. He should've demanded they remain by your side always no matter what sort of threats you gritted out to them. 

Something had flown under the radar. Or rather someone. And now you were gone. Noah could feel his chest tightening as he turned away from the ragged man to begin pacing before him again. His head was pounding and his heart rate had yet to cease from beating wildly within his chest. This felt like the few times he had done those powdery white lines and regretted it each time. Noah knew he was too high strung for it but had that stopped him? No. Just as knowing better about you hadn't stopped him from making a dire mistake either. 

Noah groaned as his phone vibrated within his pocket. He snatched the device and immediately brought it to his ear after connecting the call. 

“What?” He hissed, his anger and annoyance radiating in waves. 

“No hits from the tracker on her phone. The last location was her apartment, as we already knew.” 

It had been pointless to even ask for your phone to be tracked because these guys weren't amateurs. They were going to cover their bases when kidnapping someone like you. 

“Fuck!” Noah loudly erupted, the hammer he held dropping to the floor, forgotten. 

“I'm trying to check all the security cameras in the area but the roads were fucking packed. I keep losing them.” The guy explained, his voice wavering. He was obviously scared of Noah’s outburst, even from over the phone. 

“What kind of car?”

“Black SUV. Looks like an Expedition, maybe an Escalade. These city cameras are fucking shit so it’s hard to tell.” 

Noah nodded to himself as he stored that information away. “I need you to find any and all information you can on her dad. All his properties. Businesses, houses, fucking bicycles. All of it. If his name is on it, then I need it sent to me.”

Without waiting for a response, Noah ended the call and tossed his phone aside. He then took in a deep breath before turning back to the man bound to the chair. He was who had tried to stop Jackson from going into the apartment building once all hell broke loose. Jackson was good but often underestimated because he was young and looked even younger, so the man had made a mistake by thinking Jackson wouldn't be able to take him down. A big mistake judging by the bullet holes in his shoulder and thigh that were dripping blood onto the floor still. 

“Tell me something useful and all of this can end.” 

The man chuckled before spitting a mouthful of blood to the floor to join the ever growing puddle. “By way of death, yeah?” 

“Depends on what sort of information you give me.” Noah shrugged, the gun he had tucked into the back of his pants now held firm in his hand. “Tell me a location and maybe you'll walk free.” His gaze then fell to the wound on his leg and he grimaced, head tilting to the side. “Well…maybe not walk.”

“There's no point when you're already too late. She's probably back in his hands as we speak and if she doesn't agree to what he wants, she's dead.” he slurred.

“What does he want?” Noah’s brows furrowed, though he was pleased to be getting something out of the guy. 

“What do you mean?” The guy groaned as he shifted in the seat, his mangled hand attempting to move as well but the ropes were too tight and continued to bite into his flesh. “He wants her! That's all he's ever been after!” 

Noah stared at the guy for a long moment, remaining silent as he did, jaw tense. He was thinking, trying to formulate a plan to get you back once he had even an inkling of a location. As much as he wanted to just go in guns blazing, he knew that would be the stupidest idea. 

“Tell me where he's keeping her,” he again demanded. “I'm beginning to grow bored.” 

That meant he would kill the guy shortly if he didn't prove himself to be useful. Maybe he would extend his life a little longer, though it wouldn't be much of an existence when tied to a chair and bleeding out. 

“You're going to kill me either way,” the guy again spit blood out, red drops dribbling down his chin. “So I think I'd rather know you're struggling to find her once I die than help you.” 

Noah growled as he quickly rushed the last few steps to the guy. He had the gun pressed to the side of his head, the safety off but not yet cocked. “There are things that I can do to you that are worse than death,” he reminded the man. 

When the guy didn't say anything, Noah angled the gun down and fired into his uninjured thigh without a second thought. The man cried out in pain, his body tensing and writhing against his restraints in a vain attempt to free himself. It was useless. They both knew he would bleed out in minutes now. 

“Where is her father keeping her?!” Noah grabbed the man by the back of his hair and jerked his head back at a sharp angle. The gun was pressed under his chin, promising a hasty execution. 

The guy laughed between his sharp gasps of pain. “They said you guys were in the dark over here but I didn't think it was true. Not with the reputation Karlsson and King has,” He took in a sharp breath before continuing. “You're really a let down when compared to how they talk of you.” 

Something inside Noah snapped. He forcefully pushed the man back after shoving into his chest so he hit the ground with a thud, and then before another word could be said, he fired a single shot into the guy’s head. 

READER POV

The air was damp and stale as you took in a deep breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Anything to halt the nausea creeping up. That, plus the slight rocking that was contributing to your sickness, instantly told you that you were on a boat. You had always been the type to get sea sickness since you were a child, so much that it had angered your father during vacations. 

You weren't sure how much time had passed since you woke up the first time. That was when your panic had been in full force. You had yelled and screamed, tried to pry the handcuff off your wrist so many times that lacerations now bleed around the tender skin of your hand. All of your attempts had gone unnoticed, or whoever was lingering around didn't care enough to come check on you. 

Slowly your eyes fluttered open again as the sickness worked its way higher in your esophagus. Fuck, you were going to throw up. But then you'd be stuck with the stench of it and that would only make this whole situation a million times worse. Nope. You had to swallow it down. 

You groaned as you turned on the twin sized bed, the handcuffs connected to the headboard keeping your arm at an odd angle for so long that your shoulders were sore. It just went along with the rest of your body that was also in pain thanks to the brawl with Hawk. At least you could no longer taste blood but the sharp pain every time you moved your mouth told you that your lip was split. Wonderful. 

“Good mornin’, sleeping beauty.” 

Another groan escaped you, but this one of pure annoyance. You would know that voice anywhere. Hell, you were well acquainted with the majority of Vane and your father’s men. You could probably pick their elbows out of a lineup. 

“Dante,” you heavily sighed. “Can't say I'm happy to see you.” 

“As feisty as ever. That's no way to speak to me, though, princess. We go way back.” 

You shot a glare at Dante, your face otherwise expressionless. He was completely deranged if he thought you were even minimally happy to see him. 

“Can we just get this over with? Tell me what you want, why I'm here, yada yada.” 

Dante took a couple of steps further into the room until he was standing at your bedside. You resisted the urge to shrink away from his looming presence because you didn't want to show any weaknesses. No vulnerabilities. Nothing he could feast on. 

His eyes trailed your body and your stomach instantly churned again. Gross. Why were the men employed around you always such creeps? 

“I don't know. I think I enjoy seeing you like this more.” He reached out to brush your tangled hair back and your skin burned beneath his touch. It was nothing like when Noah touched you. There were no butterflies or lingering excitement. All you felt was disgust. 

Dante smirked before his fingers gripped your hair and your head was forced back. You winced as the pain splintered through your scalp, your jaw clenching so hard you thought you would shatter your teeth. 

“Boss isn't here yet so he would have no idea we played a bit,” he lowered his voice. “Doesn't that sound nice, princess?” 

“Fuck off!” You kicked out a leg but your foot only brushed his thigh before he stepped out of the line of impact. “Touch me and I'll fucking kill you.” 

Dante laughed from deep within his gut. He pushed your head away when he released your hair, his laughter fading to amused silence. “I was going to offer you some breakfast but I think I'll let you starve down here a bit longer.” 

Stomping away, he slammed the door behind himself, leaving you alone with your nausea. 

When the door opened again you knew at least three hours had passed because of the minutes you had counted. Your bladder was ready to burst and your mouth was so dry that drinking the ocean water sounded pleasant right then. 

“Are you going to be nicer this time?” Dante grinned down at you but he was already leaning over to unlock your wrist from the cuff without your response. 

“Bathroom break. I don't want to have to clean up your piss if you go on yourself.” 

You rubbed your raw wrists as you sat up, completely ignoring his statement. Dante then grabbed your arm and forced you off the small bed, a shove to your back placing you in front of him. 

“Walk.” 

“Okay, asshole. Find some goddamn patience.” 

Dante chuckled. “I really hope he knocks that smart mouth of yours right off.” 

The journey to the bathroom didn't take too long, but your lack of sea legs had definitely extended it by thirty seconds. You occasionally stumbled into a wall when the boat rocked one way, then went straight for the opposite wall when it righted itself. You really fucking hated boats, even nice ones like this. 

“You have three minutes.” Dante pushed you into the bathroom and promptly pulled the door closed before you could protest. Lucky for him you really needed to pee. 

After finishing your business, you hesitantly approached the bathroom counter. You didn't want to see your reflection. You knew you looked horrible. You didn't need a mirror verifying that for you. So, you kept your eyes down as you washed your hands and continued to try to concoct a plan. 

Could you use anything in the bathroom to defend yourself? No, it didn't look like it. You doubted a toilet paper roll would cause any damage. Your eyes frantically flitted around the bathroom in search of something, anything that could help you. You refused to believe that you were helpless to these men. Never again would you let that happen. 

“One minute!” Dante yelled, a bang on the door accompanying his countdown. 

Maybe all you needed was the element of surprise. 

You quickly stepped back into the small room that housed the toilet and climbed up onto it. You crouched, preparing yourself to attack when the moment arrived. You knew you only had seconds now before your time was up and Dante would storm in to drag you out. 

And that's exactly what happened. 

“Come on!” Dante again yelled, but when you didn't emerge, he didn't hesitate to invade the space. Since the area was small, he would find you. You weren't trying to hide necessarily, you just wanted to best him, even if only a little bit. 

As soon as his large form appeared in the doorway, you lunged at him. Your foot roughly pistoned into his chest to force him back and then you jumped down, kneeing right between his legs. Dante groaned in both pain and anger as he doubled over to grab his shriveled balls. This was it. Your chance to run. 

You bolted for the door, ignoring Dante’s demands for you to get back to him. Like hell were you going to do anything that he said. 

As fast you could you ran down the hallway, up the stairs, and onto the main level of the…yacht? Right, you knew you had recognized this boat. It was the exact one you had spent your childhood on with your family, back when you were too young to be sold to Vane and you were none the wiser to the horrible things your father was in control of. 

It had been quite some time since you were on the yacht last, but you still remembered bits of it. For example, you knew this door you were heading for would take you through the galley, then out into the dining room. As you pulled the door open, you were hit with a sweltering heat from the ovens and stoves being on in preparation for a meal. 

“Jesus,” you murmured to yourself. Just as you were about to exit the galley from the opposite door, you paused. Sitting there, as if waiting for you, was a long chef's knife. 

“Don't mind if I do.” Grinning to yourself, you snagged the sharp knife and then exited the galley. Your breathing was uneven and heavy as you tip toed through the formal dining room, your gaze shifting all around in case someone decided to jump out at you. But oddly enough, the yacht was mostly empty. You hadn't even seen a singular employee, which was unusual. 

There was then an intense shove on your back that sent you stumbling forward into the living area and down to your knees. The knife that had been in your hand was knocked away, a boot coming down to apply pressure to your wrist. You were too shocked to even realize what had happened until you looked up to see Hawk standing there, sporting a few injuries of his own. 

“Glad to see our last encounter had some lingering marks,” you laughed. Deep wounds were still present on his face from where you had shoved the bits of glass into. It may have hurt your hand like a bitch, but you knew it caused him more pain than yourself. 

“I'm really going to enjoy making you bleed,” Hawk threatened as his boot twisted down onto your wrist, forcing a cry of pain from you. 

“Hawk! No!” Dante came stumbling in a few seconds later, still nursing his bruised balls. “You heard what boss said. He doesn't want any more marks on her.” 

With Hawk temporarily distracted by Dante, you were able to reach over his leg with your free hand and snag the chef’s knife. You didn't even think as you sunk the blade into his calf, immediately causing him to stagger back and yell. Blood gushed from the wound, staining the previously pristine white carpet you were lying atop. 

“You fucking bitch!” Hawk erupted while applying pressure to the deep wound. “I'm going to fucking kill you!” 

Dante was suddenly yanking you up and wrestling the knife from your grasp. You grunted and fisted your free hand, aiming it right for his jaw. The hit landed, but not as hard as you would've preferred. It barely even fazed him. Dante bent your wrist to the side and you gasped from the pain shooting up your arm, the knife falling to the floor once more. He huffed in annoyance before pushing you back onto the couch, somewhere you couldn't cause anymore damage. 

“Quit your fucking hollering,” he spat at Hawk while pushing his sweat dampened hair out of his face. 

“Let her stab you in the leg and let's see how much you yell!” 

Dante ignored Hawk, his sights instead set on you. “Hawk wasn't lying when he said you were quite the fighter now.” He deviously smirked. “I like this grown up version of you, princess.” 

“Yeah? Well, I still hate you.” 

The insult only caused Dante’s smirk to grow. He was just as sick as the rest of them. 

“Come on.” Dante reached forward and grabbed a handful of your hair to yank you up from the couch, now dragging you back down to the underbelly of the yacht where you had been before. 

“Let go of me!” You yelled while trying to retrieve your hair from his fist but his grip was relentless. “I can't wait until Noah finds me and kicks your ass. And he will find me, you know. Just you fucking wait. You're going to be so sorry.”

The words continued to spill from you, though you weren't even sure how true they were. It's what you wanted to believe. Noah would come after you, right? He would continue to protect you. He would pull you close and tell you everything would be okay, that he would never leave your side again. 

…right? 

Dante laughed before dropping you down onto the twin bed. You tried to kick him away, but he easily overpowered you. Both of his hands held your wrists down, his face mere inches from your own. There was a fire in his eyes and you weren't ready to find out what that would lead to. 

“You think your precious King is going to come for you? I thought you were smarter than that, princess.” He smirked, his breath warm and unsettling as it crossed your skin. “You don't really know who he is, do you? The sort of things he gets into?” 

As his grip loosened on your wrists, you thought you were going to be released, but all it did was give his hands the ability to trail down your arms in a way that made your stomach turn. 

“I hope he does come,” Dante murmured after tucking his face into the crook of your neck and deeply inhaling your scent. You grimaced as you tried to turn your head as far to the opposite direction as you possibly could. “Then I'd get to see your face when you realize that he's also one of the bad guys.” 

Click. The cuff had been secured around your wrist again, keeping you from leaving the bed. 

With that, Dante forcefully shoved himself away from you and stomped out of the room, slamming the door on his way. 

X X X 

You weren't sure how much time had passed this time. Even counting down the minutes had lost its appeal since that's all you had to do. No other form of entertainment was provided to you. Meals had been brought to you twice, both of them left mostly untouched at the end of the bed. And when Dante came for your bathroom breaks, or sent one of his little lackeys, they were now going into the bathroom with you. At least they turned their backs, unlike Dante who held intense eye contact with you throughout the duration.  

The longer you were captured, the more you began to lose hope. Perhaps Noah wasn't coming for you after all. Maybe he figured you being taken was a blessing because it was one less headache for him to have to deal with. You sucked in a sharp breath as the thought burrowed its way into your mind, immediately causing you to feel the effects both emotionally and physically. 

Your stomach turned, your hands shaking. Tears burned behind your eyelids but you didn't want to let them fall. Unfortunately, you were only but so strong. A couple managed to slip down your cheeks, though you quickly wiped them away before they could saturate the flat pillow. 

What the hell was the hold up, anyway? How much longer would you be kept beneath the boat, just waiting to find out what the fuck was going on? 

The sound of murmuring voices outside the door caused your eyes to spring open. There had only been one person coming in and out at a time, never two. You strained to hear what was being said, but you couldn't make anything out. The voices grew louder and more urgent until fading off as they walked away, or so you assumed. 

You were just about to close your eyes again when you heard the door unlock and open slowly. You squinted through the dim light in an attempt to see who it was because the movements didn't sound anything like Hawk or Dante. They were much more heavy handed and footed compared to this new visitor. 

“Nick?” You squeaked out when you finally were able to make sense of the familiar face in the doorway. 

Nicholas stood there unmoving and expressionless, though his bright eyes were locked on you. Sitting up, you tried to pull your wrist from the cuff again, your panic once more settling in. Was he here to help you? Or had he been working for your dad all along? 

“Nick!” You whisper-yelled, your tone pleading. “Please let me out. Please.” Your voice cracked and the insufferable tears began pooling again, your vision becoming blurry from the amount of them. 

He still had yet to say a word. He merely stared at you, blinked rapidly a few times as if he was trying to make sense of what he was seeing, and then slowly backed out of the doorway. 

“Nick! Don't leave me here! Please!” Your begging was useless, though. He had quietly closed the door, leaving you alone again, but now with just your sobs to keep you company. 

NOAH POV

Too much time had passed. You could've been taken anywhere at this point, but that didn't mean he was going to give up. 

There were men all around the city checking up on leads, scoping out your father’s properties, and reporting back on anything that was even slightly interesting. He refused to let this end in tragedy. 

Noah’s jaw tightened as he watched the footage of you being taken again and again. You were limp as you were tossed into the backseat of the large SUV without a second thought, like you were nothing more than a tedious basket of laundry. He recognized the man in the grainy footage because he was one of the three who had come to Jolly’s office that day in search of you. He wasn't the one who spoke, but instead the large one to the left that Noah had easily pinpointed as the muscle of the group. 

This was his fault. He should've done more to keep you safe. He should've kept you closer, but he had been scared. Allowing you in would've meant dropping his walls and barriers, subsequently revealing the true means behind Nocturnal. That would've only put you into even more danger. 

Shaking his head, Noah promptly exited the screen that held the footage. His elbows then propped up on the desk, his hands scrubbing over his face in both exhaustion and annoyance. He had barely slept a couple of hours since you were taken and it was really starting to catch up to him. Jolly had demanded he sleep but it was no use. As soon as his eyes would close, he’d be haunted by images of your face. Of how scared you must've been. Of how alone you probably were now. And that's only if you were still alive. 

No. He wouldn't allow himself to think like that. 

The irritating sound of his phone ringing brought him back down to reality. He heavily sighed, but ultimately snatched his phone up and brought it to his ear to answer. 

“What?” 

“Her dad owns a few yachts,” the guy opened the conversation with. 

“And?”

“And a couple have been docked at the marina for about a week now.” 

Noah sat up a little straighter, his brows knitting together as he thought. That was definitely interesting since you were from the other side of the country. Why would your father’s yachts be here? 

A banging at the door caused Noah's eyes to flick upwards, but he made no move to answer it yet. Only Jolly knew the code to get inside, so he already knew it wasn't him demanding his presence. 

“Send me what you have on the yachts and the marina.” 

Ending the call, he crossed his office to the door that was again being pounded on. Noah slid his phone into his pocket, the same hand clutching the top of his gun that was tucked into the back of his pants, just as he swung the door open. Standing beyond the threshold was not a face he was expecting to see. 

“Ruffilo,” he breathed out with disdain. 

Nick smirked, his own expression full of amusement. “That was a shitty greeting.” 

“Well, I'm in a shitty mood.” 

“Girl troubles?” 

Noah's eyes narrowed in on him, both of them falling silent as they stared the other down. He knew something. But what sort of information could he possibly have? 

“What do you want? How did you even get up here?” 

Nicholas shrugged, one hand shoved into his pocket, the other twisting around the Zippo lighter in his palm. He never went anywhere without that damned thing. “The door was open so I just walked in.” 

“You walked in?” 

“As one does when a door is unlocked, yes.” 

Noah heaved a breath of pure annoyance before turning away from the door, silently telling Nicholas that he could come in. 

“What do you want?” He repeated, his voice more stern this time. He was in no mood to play games, especially not with Nicholas. He always had an affinity for mind games and that was the last thing he needed right then. 

“I think I could have some intel you'd find…appealing.” Nicholas grinned as he closed the door and then wasted no time in making himself comfortable on the couch. He leaned back into the cushions, one arm extended over the top. 

“But, I want something in return for it.” 

“Of course you do. What makes you think I want anything you have?” 

Noah was bluffing. He probably would've given Nick anything right then if what he knew pertained to you. Although, he couldn't let on how desperate he was. 

The smile Nicholas wore only extended until it took up the majority of his face. There was always something so sinister about this particular expression and it made Noah’s skin crawl. Fucking psycho, that's what Nick was. 

“I'm going to be straight forward because I don't have time to linger.” Nick sighed, as if he was upset his little game had been disturbed. “I know where she is and who's keeping her. I'll tell you everything if you help me with one simple task.” 

Noah raised his brows, awaiting whatever it was Nicholas could possibly want. He wasn't in the mood for these dramatic pauses of his. 

“Help me kill Red.” 

Well, that wasn't something he had seen coming. 

“You want to kill your own grandfather?” 

Nicholas shrugged in a nonchalant manner, his lighter opening and closing a couple of times. “He's in my way. And you know how much of an asshole he is.” 

Oh, Noah definitely knew. He also knew that Red had been his top target for years now, ever since his parents had died. He could've killed him many times but none of those moments had been right. They easily would've landed him in prison or dead as well, and he didn't want either of those things to be the outcome. 

Taking in a deep breath, Noah nodded. “Fine.” 

Appearing visibly taken back, Nicholas opened his mouth to speak but then promptly closed it to further contemplate. He spoke only after a few long seconds had passed. 

“That's it? You'll help me?” 

“Yes.”

“You're not even going to ask me why or question me more to see if my intentions are true?” 

“No, because I don't care. All I want is the information you promised me.” 

Noah eyed his former best friend, waiting rather impatiently for him to come forth with whatever he knew. When Nick didn't yet speak, Noah again let his aggravation be known. 

“You're telling me what you know before I help you with Red,” he exclaimed. “I'm already wasting time that I don't have.” 

Nicholas appeared as if he wanted to argue but he bit back his retort. Good. This meant he knew what was good for him. 

“Park Cove Marina,” Nicholas sighed, eyes rolling. “The yacht she's on is called The Genevieve. Poetic, huh?”

If he had been in a better mood, Noah probably would have chuckled at that. Did this mean your choice of alter ego at Nocturnal was done with a purpose? He made a mental note to question you on it later once you were safe and in his arms. 

“There's about five men on board, all with instructions to keep her locked away in a room beneath the boat. They've been told not to harm her, but…”

“But?” Noah could feel the heat within himself rising. He was going to kill anyone who laid a finger on you. If you had suffered even a mere paper cut, someone would pay. 

“But we both know how headstrong she can be. All injuries are superficial, though.” 

You weren't dead. That's the main thing Noah chose to take from Nick’s reveal. But just because you were currently unharmed, didn't mean it would stay that way. He had to move fast, with or without backup. 

“Weapons?”

Nicholas shrugged in a nonchalant manner. “Your usual handguns and knives. Nothing automatic from what I saw.” 

“What's their objective?” 

“Why the fuck are you talking like a military asshole?” Nick looked his childhood friend up and down with a grimace before he finally continued. “They're waiting for their boss to get there. I don't know what's taking him so long but I'd say you have…maybe until tonight to get her out.” 

“Her father is here?” Noah previously assumed the man had sent his little worker bees to get the job done.

A smirk ticked up Nick’s lips and he adjusted his position on the couch, one hand tugging at his suit jacket to try to make himself seem more casual. All of his motions were robotic; learned from studying people to make himself appear more normal. Noah saw right through it. He always had. 

“No, not her father. He has his hand in this, sure, but he's not the one calling the shots.” 

X X X 

It hadn't taken Noah long to put everything together. With a little more prying of information out of Nicholas, the big picture was slowly coming along. He had placed a new target on your father’s head, one he would get to eventually, but there were a couple more in front of him that needed tending to since he wasn't an immediate threat. 

His top goal was to get you out safely, though. After that, he would go on the much needed rampage to prevent this from ever happening again. No longer would you have to run and hide behind a fake identity. You could live the life of freedom you rightfully deserved. Noah was going to make sure of it, even if he had to die trying. 

And he truly meant that. 

Hidden beneath the cover of the deepening night, Noah peered up at the yacht from across the marina. He knew this wouldn't be difficult once on the boat, if what Nick said was true about there only being five or so men, but not being seen ahead of time was the true test. He didn't want to give these assholes any time to call in backup. 

“Are we set?” Jackson questioned as he exited the car to stand by Noah’s side. It was just the two of them. Jolly had opted not to join, claiming he needed to tend to things at Nocturnal. Noah wanted to argue with him but he knew Jolly was serious about keeping their main operation going. Jolly wouldn't let anyone get in the way of it, not even his closest friend and partner. 

“Just waiting for the ‘okay’ from Nick.” 

Nicholas had skirted around telling Noah what he was even doing on the yacht to begin with. He would only smirk and change the subject, but something was telling Noah that Red had something to do with this. You couldn't have one egotistical asshole with an agenda without another there to impede. 

Against better judgement, Noah had stopped questioning him on it. For now. He would get the answers he was searching for, even if it meant having to use force to get them. Nick was tough to crack, though. Psychopaths didn't react to threats or pain the same way a normal, law abiding citizen would. But until it came to that, Noah was going to have to trust Nicholas. After all, your life depended on it. 

Just as the realization dawned on him, his phone vibrated in his hand. A message came through from Nicholas, exclaiming to him that the coast was clear. Nick was to be their lookout until they made it onto the yacht. After that, he would have to continue to play the part so as to not draw suspicions onto himself. 

Didn't bother Noah one bit as long as Nicholas stayed out of his way. 

“Let's go,” he murmured to Jackson, nodding his head in the direction of The Genevieve. 

The pair stuck to the shadows, the sound of the boats rocking atop the water helping to shield the sound of their footsteps the closer they drew to their destination. It was a quiet night other than that, with only the faint sound of music drifting down the long dock. In the distance Noah could see lights from another yacht, one that was more than likely hosting some sort of party, or whatever it was rich pricks did to show off their wealth. This party was also of no concern to him. Maybe it would assist in their cover in the long run. 

With his hand clutching his gun, Noah’s sights remained set on your father’s yacht. His anticipation was rising the closer he got to the boat because that meant he was closer to retrieving you, so he had to take deep breaths to keep his heart rate at a normal level. He needed to leave his adrenaline for when the inevitable fight would begin. 

Circling around to the back of the yacht, he remained on the edge of the dock with Jackson right behind him. They would separate once on the boat. He lifted a hand to signal to Jackson to halt so he could listen for any sounds of people around. When he figured it was clear, Noah carefully stepped onto the rear of the yacht, and headed for the narrow staircase to take him to the main level. 

Dim lights were on, but that was the least of Noah's concerns. He was more focused on the pool of blood on the white carpet in the living room area. His jaw tensed but he quickly averted his gaze back up to what was in front of him. He couldn't dwell on the possibility of that being your blood. He needed to focus on the mission and worry about your potential injuries later. 

“Take the right stairs and go up,” he commanded of Jackson. “I’m going to go down and find her.” 

Jackson gave a swift nod and then disappeared to the right side of the yacht, his position crouched, gun extended out in front of him at the ready. Only when he could no longer see him did Noah continue his way to the left, down the long hallway-like cut that would bring him to the stairs to head down. Just as Nicholas had explained. 

He had just turned towards the top of the staircase when a voice sounded through. It was a faint murmur, but it was getting louder as if they were climbing the stairs. Noah pivoted to the side and pressed himself flat against the wall. As soon as the man was in view, Noah jutted his elbow out, the collision impacting the man’s nose and sending a rush of blood out immediately. He didn't give the man time to figure out what was happening, though. Noah had tucked his gun away and had the man in a headlock before he could even call out for help. He tightly squeezed around the man's neck, cutting off all air flow. The man slapped against his forearm, but every hit became less impactful until he fell still in his arms. 

Killing didn't used to come naturally to him; his first time taking a life still haunted him periodically. But when he was trying to protect someone he cared about, he would take on the task without a second thought. 

After slowly lowering the man to the floor to prevent any sounds from calling attention to himself, Noah continued his trek down to the underbelly of the yacht. This would need to be faster than planned because he didn't want to risk anyone stumbling across the dead body above. His heart was pounding within his chest, his eyes frantically searching for the door Nicholas had described. He said it wouldn't be locked because you were handcuffed to the bed and there was no threat of you escaping. Idiots. They should always lock the door from the outside when holding someone captive. Thankfully their stupidity would benefit him. 

READER POV 

If this told you anything, it was that you'd never last in prison. Solitary confinement? What a joke. You'd be ripping your hair out before the door was even locked. You didn't mind being alone when it was in a comfortable space such as your apartment or even Noah’s, but you were the exact opposite of comfortable right then. You were terrified. Annoyed. Confused. In pain. You had tried prying your hands free from the cuffs again after seeing Nicholas and obviously that hadn't worked out in your favor since you were still trapped. 

Dried blood now stained your wrists, the wounds you had created throbbing and stinging with every move you made. So, you tried to lay as still as you could. Your senses were already beginning to dull from all the other pain you felt within your body. Your shoulders, hips, face. Your fucking dignity. How weak did you have to be to not even be able to take a couple of days of being trapped? 

Sleep came and went, or maybe you were passing out from lack of water and food, but you were trying your best to stay alert. The last time you let it overtake you, you had woken up to one of Dante’s henchmen stroking your face and ogling your chest like a starved man. That was just great. Now you couldn't even go to sleep to pass the time because there was no telling what these Neanderthal-like creatures would do to you. 

“He's not coming,” you whispered to yourself. Your eyes squeezed shut and you angled your head to bury it into the single pillow you had been given. There was a tingle in your throat as you tried to hold back your tears, your jaw clenched tight enough to cause an ache in the muscle. “No one's coming.” 

Fuck. You needed to snap out of it. This wasn't you. You weren't the type to wallow in your pain and give up. You were better than that. Stronger. You may have been broken in the past by these men, but you sure as shit weren't going to let it happen again. 

Taking in a deep breath, you winced as you sat up the best you could, your arms slowly shifting to a downwards angle to help ease your tight shoulders into the position. Okay, problem number one: you needed to get the handcuffs off. But how? The bed frame wasn't the newest but it wasn't like this was some rundown boat. It was still in good condition, no weak spots, so you wouldn't be able to break it without enough leverage. And that wasn't something you were going to get in this position. 

Honestly, you had even contemplated somehow breaking your hands so you could squeeze them through the wrist openings, but that plan was quickly shot to hell. Not only would you need your hands to further escape, but you also didn't have the means to break your hands like this. Or the guts. 

Unfortunately, your brainstorming could only go so far because it was interrupted by the door abruptly swinging open. It crashed against the wall, the sudden sound causing you to jump and turn, eyes wide. Two bodies tangled together, grunting, throwing punches and desperately trying to pull free a weapon. It took you a moment to comprehend what was happening, but once you did, there was a flutter in your chest and a grin spread across your lips. 

Noah. 

He had actually come for you. He was fighting Hawk, though. This couldn't be good. Not when he had a good eighty pounds on Noah, if not more. You yanked at your restraints in another vain attempt at freeing yourself. There was no way you were going to let Hawk take Noah down right in front of you. Fuck that. 

Noah slammed Hawk to the floor as the thought crossed your mind, his fist connecting with his nose hard enough to send blood flowing from it. The bone made a deafening crunch sound that was vulgar enough to even make you wince. Hawk’s eyes drooped as he struggled with Noah, trying his best to land hits of his own but Noah somehow managed to block every single one. He was fast and smart, easily anticipating every move Hawk was about to make. 

Wild eyes glanced your way before dropping to the pillow bunched at your side. “Toss me that,” he breathlessly requested, nodding to the pillow. 

You shook your hands to show that you weren't able to really do that, but you then groaned and shifted around uncomfortably until you could kick the pillow just enough to send it falling to the floor within Noah’s reach. He immediately grabbed it with one hand, the other retrieving his gun before he simultaneously layered the two on Hawk’s face. Pillow first, his fist pressing down into it, then he fired the gun straight into the fluff to muffle the sound. It was still loud enough to make you yelp with shock because everything was happening so fast and you hadn't really registered what the hell was going on. 

But…at least Hawk had grown completely still. 

Your eyes were still wide, breathing heavy as you stared at the pool of blood growing beneath where Hawk remained. 

“You just…he’s…” you stammered over your words, heavily swallowing. Fuck, you were actually going to be sick this time. 

“Yeah,” Noah shrugged after pulling himself to his feet and rushing over to you. He didn't say anything else before he grabbed your jaw and pulled your face to his, your lips connecting in a forceful kiss. You ignored the sharp pain from your busted lip because just having Noah there made everything feel so much better. What pain? All you felt was warmth. 

The kiss didn't last long, but it was just enough to give you the taste of him you had been craving. Noah pulled back to gaze down at you, his eyes softening when he took in the bruises and cuts on your face. The look was fleeting, quickly covered with a blazing anger. 

“We need to get out of here,” he murmured. Noah released your face and glanced at the cuffs securing your wrists. He cursed under his breath in ever growing annoyance. 

“Do you know where the keys are?” 

“Um…” you tried to rack your brain and then slowly dropped your eyes to where Hawk’s body rested. “Try his pockets.” 

Noah didn't hesitate to step back over to Hawk’s lifeless body, immediately digging through his pockets. He was moving quickly as he emptied both front pockets with no luck. Then, he shoved Hawk over on his side like it was no big deal, just a dead body, so he could search his back pockets. 

“Got ‘em,” he breathed in relief. 

The moment your wrists were free, you threw your arms around Noah and practically jumped into his body. His own arms circled around you, holding you as close as possible. Burying your face into the crook of his neck, you fought back your tears the best you could. You were just so damn happy to see him. It was impossible to even put it into words. 

How he had become so important to you in such a short time, you would never know. 

Noah's hands tightly clasped your lower back, then secured at your hips before running up your back, like he just had to touch you wherever he could. You could feel his fingers trembling and while you weren't entirely sure why, something told you it was the anger he was experiencing. Not because of you, but for you. 

“I'm okay,” you repeated into his neck again and again, reassuring him as much as you could of the statement. “It'll take more than a few cuts and bruises to keep me down.” 

“I'm so fucking sorry,” Noah breathed into your hair just before planting a kiss to the top of your head. 

You shook your head, refusing to let his apologies settle. “Let's just get out of here, okay? We need to go before my dad shows up.” 

There was a depth to Noah's eyes as he blinked at you then gave a shake of his own head. You could tell there was something he wanted to say, but for whatever reason he was holding back. You weren't sure if it was something you needed to question right then, not when survival should've been your top priority. 

“We can talk about it later but you should know now that it's not your da–”

Noah was cut off by a body filling the doorway, a gun pointed in your direction. You jumped and immediately backed into Noah who grabbed your waist, your breath catching in your throat. Even Noah was tense against you, until you both settled upon realizing it was Jackson standing there. He released a sigh of relief, though you were very aware of the blood that coated his black jacket and stained his jeans. Shit. 

“How many?” Noah asked as he began to take inventory of his ammo. He casually passed a knife your way without a word, your fingers shaking as they secured around the hilt. 

“Two,” Jackson responded between his labored breathing. 

Noah gave a single nod. “Same. That means there's hopefully only one more wandering around.” 

Their voices sounded miles away because you were staring down at the knife, silently wondering to yourself if you'd be able to kill someone if it came down to it. Just because you had previously stabbed Hawk in the leg didn't mean you had the guts to bury the blade somewhere more lethal. 

“We should work on getting off the yacht instead of searching for him,” Noah continued, to which Jackson gave a nod of agreement. “Let him live to send that asshole our warning.” 

Hands were then smoothing over your shoulders, fingers digging into the sore muscles hard enough that you nearly moaned from the sensation. Noah’s body crowded your own, his hands slowly working their way up your neck until he was cradling your jaw again. His touch was soft, much softer than it had ever been. 

“Are you okay?” 

You took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, shrugging simultaneously. “Ask me that once we're somewhere safe.” That wasn't necessarily an easy question to answer. Physically? Yes, you were fine, just sore. Mentally? Eh…

Noah mimicked your deep breath with one of his own, the worry evident in his eyes. You were thankful that he opted not to press the topic for now. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed your forehead, the scent of him encompassing you. 

“You're to stay between me and Jackson, okay? Move quickly but quietly. Once we're off the yacht, I want you to bolt east. You'll see my car. Don't look back, just run. Can you do that for me?” 

“You think I know which way east is?” 

Noah tried to fight his smile but it peeked through enough to cause a smile of your own to form. He shook his head as he ran a hand over your hair, lightly brushing the messy strands back behind your ear. 

“You never fail to amaze me,” he teased, and you both softly chuckled. 

Jackson bounced impatiently in the doorway. “We gotta go.” 

With a final look Noah guided you forward with a gentle press to your lower back. Jackson took the lead, his stance something from an action movie. You were impressed but you also felt very under prepared. Maybe even a little useless. What the fuck were you supposed to do if something happened? Get all stabby? You tried to ignore the 'brought a knife to a gunfight’ line that was hindering your thoughts. You kept telling yourself that you'd be fine. Jackson was obviously heavily trained and Noah wouldn't let anything happen to you. Unfortunately, you were more concerned about something happening to them. 

“Breathe,” Noah whispered from behind you, leading you to realize that you had been holding your breath as the three of you took to the stairs. “Can't have you passing out.” 

Jackson paused at the top of the steps, a hand held back to signal for you to stop as well. He looked back and forth before motioning for you to continue, so you did. One foot in front of the other. The knife held close at your side, ready to defend yourself. 

Thankfully you made it through the yacht without incident, though there was something eerie about the silence. It didn't feel right. You felt as if you were being watched, and not just by Noah behind you. Was it really this easy? You refused to believe it because things were never this easy for you. Not when it came to your father. 

A shock rippled through you as you jumped from the yacht and onto the dock. Noah had told you to run but you couldn't seem to get your legs to obey. It felt wrong to leave them behind. That's not how you wanted to be remembered–as someone who ran. You kept a brisk pace, Noah still trailing close behind. Just as you were about to glance back at him, a shot rang through the silence, followed by a sudden groan of pain. 

No! 

Noah bumped into you, nearly sending both of you toppling to the damp dock. Your first instinct was to immediately turn and reach for him, and what you saw was a pained expression written all over his features. He was grabbing at his side with one hand as the other aimed his gun upwards, a few rounds firing out towards the yacht. You were too focused on helping him stand, along with the help of Jackson, to even think about looking up to see who remained. 

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Jackson took most of Noah’s weight that he couldn’t support himself, but what was given to you was far more than what your overly exhausted and dehydrated body could properly manage. You winced from the heaviness draped over your shoulders, though you refused to give up. If it had been you, Noah would've slung you over his shoulder and carried you to safety without a thought. You could at least manage to be his crutch. 

“How far is the car?!” You whisper-yelled at Jackson. More shots sounded around you but none must've hit, thank fucking god. 

“It's not far. You're going to get into the back and stop the bleeding. I'll get us out of here. Okay?” 

The bleeding. 

You glanced down to see your own shirt stained from where Noah’s injured side was pressed against you. Your eyes widen with fear, a sob threatening to break free. No, no, no. You couldn't lose him. You refused to. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Noah didn't deserve this. None of the people helping you did. 

“He’s going to be okay,” Jackson continued when he caught sight of your face and the tears welling in your eyes. 

“I've had worse,” Noah then groaned between a sharp gasp, his brows knitting together. 

Once the three of you had finally made it to the car, Jackson helped you haul Noah into the back, where you also took up space. Then, he was off, flooring it through the marina to get you all to safety. 

“I don't know what I'm supposed to do!” You loudly announced as Noah began helping you lift his shirt. There in his right side was a bullet hole weeping blood, the crimson staining your hands from your attempts to press against it to halt the bleeding. 

“Just find something to help stop the bleeding,” Jackson exclaimed in a tone that was far too calm for this situation. Fuck, he was good under pressure. Not something you could say about yourself. 

Doing a quick glance around, you didn't see anything of use. Noah's car was insanely clean, unlike how yours used to be filled with clothes and forgotten water bottles. Your eyes fell to your shirt and it was suddenly ripped off your body, the fabric pressed firm to Noah’s injury. 

“I need you to tell me if there's an exit wound.”

“What?” You had no idea what Jackson had just said. The sound of your own blood was rushing through your ears, fingers sticky with blood still trembling while pushing the fabric of your shirt firm into Noah’s wound. He was pale, his eyelashes fluttering across the top of his cheeks when he didn't even have enough strength to keep his eyes open anymore. 

“An exit wound!” Jackson repeated louder, needing to be heard over your near hyperventilating-level panting. “Did the bullet come out?” 

Your eyes frantically searched Noah’s body and you shrugged, the question being too much with everything else overworking your brain. “I don't know! Fuck! I don't think so.” 

Jackson didn't say anything else, but you did believe you felt the car lurch forward slightly to indicate him pressing harder onto the accelerator. 

“Where are we going?” You questioned through your sniffles and tears that you hadn't even realized had started falling. 

Jackson took in a deep breath before he responded. “Nocturnal.” 

“He needs a hospital!” 

Why the fuck would you guys need to go to the club? You knew going to the hospital with a gunshot wound wasn't the most ideal, but you were willing to risk everything to make sure Noah made it through this. Police interrogation be damned. 

“Everything he can get at a hospital, he can also get at Nocturnal. Trust me.”

Well, it wasn't like you had much of a choice.

▷ tag list

@bloody-spades

@simpforromance

@koffemilk

@traffordonna

@oobleoob

@mentallyillbartender

@respectfulrebel

@lilsugacubeot7

@missduffsblog

@lacy1986

@aprosiacperson

@mayaslifeinabox

@dravenskye

@blvckmvgicwoman

@badomensls

@trvshdxddy

@concreteangel92

@moostress19

@happyclifford

@lolidontknowanymore

@shaydayhere

@flowery-mess

@wheels1193

@thelavenderdaisy

@palesworrdsman

@bruce9818

@bridemassacre

@lonelydragonlady

@jaded-and-hollow-souls

@geminigirlfromfinland

@cheyyyyr

@guacinyourarea

@latenightmusiclover

@acatatonicpeace

[otp-after-dark]

Final THT thoughts: What Could Have Been.

As a long-time fan of the book — and the book version of the Nick/Offred relationship — I’m honestly sickened by the ultimate message this show chose to send. Atwood’s novel isn’t just a dystopian masterpiece —

it’s an empowering, ahead-of-its-time feminist work that dared to show how women can be brave, sexual, flawed, and still worthy of love and freedom.

It’s about reclaiming power in the most personal and political ways. And Nick and Offred, as written in the book, are central to that. Their relationship is not just romantic — it’s radical. It’s about desire in a system built on oppression. About choosing for yourself, when everything else is chosen for you. Offred’s relationship with Nick was not an escape — it was a reclamation. A choice. A refusal to be broken.

“I did not do it for him, but for myself entirely.”

And this was never just about desire — it was about safety, intimacy, and resistance in the harshest conditions. It was about what it means to find a corner of love in a world built to erase it:

“We make love each time as if we know beyond the shadow of a doubt that there will never be any more, for either of us, with anyone, ever. And then when there is, that too is always a surprise, extra, a gift. Being here with him is safety; it’s a cave, where we huddle together while the storm goes on outside.”

As a woman who has embraced desire, fire, and freedom in her own life, I really despise the message this show ultimately landed on. Instead of honoring the complex, layered love story between Offred and Nick — one born of resistance, defiance, and mutual recognition — the show punished June for her desire, her rage, her grief. It pushed her into a narrative of guilt and “healing” that felt hollow, and worst of all, erased the feminist power of her relationship with Nick.

And let’s be honest — the show completely lost its footing when it ran out of source material. Season 1 was gold. And there are moments in Seasons 2–4 that still shine. But the further it drifted from Atwood’s vision, the more it lost the nuance, the fury, the purpose. Instead of sharpening its message in the wake of our current political climate, it softened. It sanitized. It forgot what made the story dangerous and important.

And in that unraveling, they did Nick so dirty. He was one of the most compelling, quietly radical characters the show had — a man who chose love and rebellion from within the system, who risked everything to protect June, not because she needed saving but because he loved her as she was. His emotional repression, his deep moral conflict, the way he operated in the shadows — it all built up to a portrait of someone torn apart by love and war. It's shameful we never got to see his shift into his real Testament-style characterization — not just the man who loved June, but the man who helped take the system down from within.

“More likely it was ‘Nick,’ who, by the evidence of the very existence of the tapes, must have helped ‘Offred’ to escape... A number of Mayday operatives are known to have infiltrated the Gileadean power structure at the highest levels... Nick must have been at the same time a member of the Eyes, as such chauffeurs and personal servants often were.”

That’s who he was — a double agent with everything to lose and a deep, dangerous, unwavering love at the center of it. The show gave him crumbs. The book gave him purpose.

Through it all, Max Minghella gave one of the most nuanced, understated performances on television. He brought depth, longing, and an aching restraint that said more in a glance than most characters said in a monologue. For the show to sideline him, to reduce him to a narrative obstacle, to not even give his arc closure — it was not just a disservice to the character, but to everything Nick symbolized. He was part of the heart of the story, and they let it go silent.

What makes that even worse is how the show treated Serena. A woman who was not just complicit in Gilead’s violence — she was architectural to it. She helped build the system that enslaved and raped women. She abused June physically and psychologically. And yet, the show bent over backward to give her a redemption arc. It tried to frame her as a mother, a victim, even a potential ally — and in doing so, tried to sell us a version of female “sisterhood” that’s frankly insulting. You don’t get to brutalize women and then claim solidarity. The fact that Serena ends in a place of relative peace while Nick is treated as a monster? That’s not justice. That’s a betrayal.

The power of what this story could have been lives on in the moments they couldn’t erase. The quiet tenderness. The resistance that looked like a hand on a belly. The truth of a kiss shared on a bridge in a burning world. The bridge kiss will live on in infamy.

I will always love Season 1. It understood what this story was. Some of 2–4 had glimmers of that brilliance. But ultimately, The Handmaid’s Tale betrayed its own thesis. It punished the very kind of woman the book celebrated — angry, passionate, morally complicated — and tried to redeem the kind it condemned. And that’s a shame.

[macknshift]

SOPHIA JARVIS STARK, GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!

A/N: a little drabble based off of an edit i made for my tiktok that i couldn't post as a caption bc tiktok needlessly censors anything and everything EVER like let me say Fuck i am Twenty One (21!!!) years of age u dumb fucks!!!!! but anyways no enjoy this lol

Sophia feels kind-of stupid, liking him. Unintelligent, even. He's contractually obligated to protect her (he showed her the contract the night she figured out he was Comet,) and yet, she's developed a big—no, a honking—crush on him.

The worst part is that she has not a soul to consult about this. She's never read about this situation, and sure, her friends have crushed on the superheroes that have saved them, but this is worse. So much worse.

And it leads her to right now, where she's terribly in her head about everything while she's dancing with Leo in this weird mixer for the R&D interns (and her, Peter and Harley, since they're not really interns but they've grown to be in that little category.)

It's important for her to remember that he lied to her. He lied to her. (Technically, almost everyone she knows lied to her, but that's a bone to pick with them.) They were never meant to be friends, and him actually being an intern was only a cover-up for the whole bodyguard-thing, and he was looking after her as a pre-req to being an Avenger. It hurt when she found that out, and yet, she still wants—no, needs— to be with him. It's fucked, really.

But they're slow-dancing now and he can't stop staring.

"I am sorry, Soph. I'm serious." She's infuriatingly bad at staying mad at him. It's too difficult with his stupid puppy-dog eyes—

"I know you are. I just don't want to be hurt by you, alright?" Sophia steps a bit further back from him. She feels like cracking a joke about 'Leaving room for Jesus!' but this isn't just something she can joke her way out of. This is Leo. "Not any more than you have already."

Looking down at her feet, for the first time in her life she feels clunky in her cherry-red heeled boots that normally feel like the closest thing to her actual feet. Moving step-by-step to the music, she tentatively waits for some kind of reaction from him.

Here's the thing. She knows that her room in the penthouse is 32 floors away, and that the elevator takes .2 seconds a floor, and while he could still run through the entire building in that time, it would give her a second to not feel like she's breathing autonomously. Like there isn't something wrong with her.

"Soph, that's not going to happen," he finally says. Pleads, even. "I know that I fucked up bad. I should've been honest with you, and I know I made everyone else keep the secret for no good reason, just, I need you to know that's not gonna happen. I don't know how to prove it to you, but I'm going to try. So so hard."

He cups her cheeks as the song in the background continues to play—It Isn't Perfect But It Might Be (her pick, go fuckin' figure!)—and she feels like the only person to ever exist. Ala Rihanna, for some reason, he's making her feel like she's the 'only girl in the world'. In reality, she's in a room with her (terribly) drunk coworkers/employees (which category do they fall under in something like this?) and the music is just a tad bit too loud, and Leo's looking at her like he wants to kiss—you know what? Maybe—just maybe—this feeling is anxiety! She sure is nauseous, with all of this eye contact that for anyone else, it would be thrilling. It's taking her out of this moment, just wide-eyed and blank stares, when he finally interrupts her spiralling.

"You look ready to leave, huh?" He makes this little dopey smile and she feels herself blushing like a little schoolgirl. Fuck her! "Plus, it might be better to talk about everything...away from other people."

"Okay."

"Okay," and without any warning, he lifts her bridal-style, taking her to the elevator. If she wasn't so focused on how strong she was, she probably would've heard the other guys in the room hooting-and-hollering as they turned away.

^^^ the edit btw!!! (for my non-tiktok mackinators)

[maaruin]

Even though I fundamentally disagreed with Andor Season 1's message and even back then called it "the Anti-Star Wars", I quite liked it because it managed to convey what it wanted to say very well. Season 2 - not so much.

So here is how I'd fix Season2 if I wanted it to still have the same message as (as far as I can tell) Tony Gilroy intended. This message is Luthen's ideology: To defeat fascism you have to abandon your morality and dedicate your entire life to the cause.

To show this in the season, we make the following changes:

Season 1 was Luthen taking Cassian and Mon Mothma under his wing. Season 2 would be about them reaching the level where they demonstrate that he has nothing left to teach them.

Center the entire season around the events on Ghorman in 3-2 BBY. (We can have the crucial events that happened during Leida's wedding instead happen during the traditional celebration of the birth of her first child. Would also give an opportunity to show some consequences of Mon Mothma arranging the wedding even though she thinks it is bad for her daughter.)

Don't absolve Cassian from the morally questionable things Luthen does. Cassian is Luthen's man on Ghorman who builds up the resistance in the expectation that this will lead to the massacre, which will then lead to open rebellion against the Empire.

Bix leaves Cassian because if this. He crossed a moral line that she cannot follow him accross in good conscience.

Luthen is captured by Dedra after Mon Mothma's extraction. Have their conversation present their perspectives explicitly: Both wanted to Ghorman massacre to happen. Dedra thought it would help the Empire, Luthen thought it would help the Rebellion. Both explain why they think so and it becomes clear that Luthen is the one with a better grasp on long-term developments.

The emotional climax of the season should involve Cassian, so he is the one who is tasked by Mon Mothma with eliminating Luthen to protect the secrets of the rebellion. There needs to be a risky option for Cassian to get Luthen out alive, but he decides to not take it and instead choses the save option to kill him.

To make this even more gut-punching: Cassian does this mission together with Kleya. (We do still have the flashback episode of Luthen and Kleya.) Kleya wants to take the risky option of getting Luthen out alive because of the personal bond they share. Cassian kills her to be able go through with the save option of killing Luthen.

This way, we get Cassian where he is during early Rogue One personality wise, we get Luthen's ideology vindicated, and we have a more tight plot.

[epiphanyepica]

Thoughts on Prince's Gambit, Chapter 13

Are the Vaskians that took Damen and Laurent being paid by the Regent?

Factoring in how what he does can help or hurt Laurent has become a default state for Damen. Aweeee.

Oh, so Laurent and Damen didn't mean to get taken by the riders who attacked Tarasis? So, was this just a spectacular failure?

OOF.

Oh god, Damen and Laurent are in real danger and Damen knows it.

Looking for Laurent is an instinct for Damen now 🥺.

Oh no, is there going to be more attacks and warmongering while Laurent and Damen are away?

Laurent trying to talk to the leader and getting BITCHED slapped.

Oh my god, Damen, KILL THEM ALL.

Laurent using his wise mouth for GOOD. Love to see it.

Damen just listening to Laurent and doing what he says 😭. That's lowkey kind of sweet. And he did it without question.

Oh god, the clan leader’s going to hurt Laurent 😭 Damen do something!

I'm sorry, what now?

The clan leader DOES NOT want to punch Laurent. He wants something far worse and far more violating.

DAMENNNNNNN.

OH MY GOD, YES, DAMEN. HE JUST CHARGED THEM. HE WAS SO ANGRY THAT THE GUY WAS TOUCHING LAURENT.

OH, HE'S SO IN LOVE WITH LAURENT.

“The man had laid hands on Laurent, and Damen was going to kill him.”

YESSSSSSSSS.

Damen legit blacked out from the pure rage he felt at that guy touching Laurent. Omg.

Oh god, Damen knows these men are probably going to kill him then assault Laurent and kill him after.

Oh no, Damen don't despair. Miracles happen sometimes, you know. And there's this beautiful thing called plot armor.

Laurent do SOMETHING. Damen's going to get killed!!!

My first instinct is that Laurent offered his body up to the clan, but to be honest, would they even care if he offered that up? They were going to take it anyway.

OH GOD. HE TOLD THEM TO DRAW OUT KILLING DAMEN. WHAT FHE FUCK, LAURENT.

I mean… I get it was to buy time, but damn.

Damen being beaten to a pulp, but when he's taken away, he's just “seriously annoyed”, goddamn, what is this guy MADE OF.

Ooh, he should use Veretian sword fighting to throw them off their game since they'll expect him to use Akielon tactics. Wait, does Damen actually know Veretian sword fighting that well?

He could just overpower them with his general skill.

Damen knowing that Laurent isn't all that scared of their situation and that he held himself confidently enough that Damen isn't worried about getting to him as fast as he can.

Oh, they're a match made in heaven. Laurent can keep Damen from getting easily betrayed and Damen can protect Laurent’s physical blind spots while Laurent is getting into politics and mind games.

POWER COUPLE OVER HERE.

Love that Vaskian women are the traditional warriors in their culture.

Ah, yes, Damen's own purpose, aka: worrying about the wellbeing of his dashing Prince Laurent that is readily becoming one of his only purposes.

I love how I said that this was clearly not a part of Laurent's plan, but it LITERALLY WAS. Mostly.

I'm sorry I ever doubted you, you diabolical babygirl.

Laurent taking Damen's left side because he knows Damen is weak there and it's the best way to protect him (and himself) 🥺. Oh, he loves Damen, too.

LAURENT MIGHT HAVE BEEN COMING TO FIND DAMEN, BUT DAMEN’S TOO IN HIS HEAD TO REALIZE THAT THIS COULD BE A VERY STRONG POSSIBILITY.

Okay, fine, Laurent probably had other, more tactical reasons for being there, but I think Damen's presence there played a large role nonetheless!

Damen just casually saving Laurent from the guy on the horse. I'm sure Laurent would have been fine on his own, but Damen wasn't taking any chances and I love it.

Halvik casually talking about how Laurent's too itty bitty to breed great warriors, but at least he's PRETTY. I know that's right.

Also, she said, “I'm sure your woman will not be displeased” and, uh, I am unsure if there ever will be a woman, Halvik.

Apparently, Laurent has long eyelashes like a COW. LMFAO. Halvik is great.

Laurent knowing that Damen's in no condition to be “servicing” at the “coupling fire” and stepping in with the “this bitch is mine tonight,” I love to see it ❤️.

I'm so glad these Vaskian women aren't like the crueler parts of Veretian nobility.

Laurent is too good at avoiding having sex with Damen, LMAO.

If I was Damen, I might start taking it personally.

If Damen stood, he would take the tent with him, LOLOLOL.

The tent too small for Damen big body 😭🤗.

Laurent would not be joining him until morning, well, you just jinxed it, you dumb lovable oaf.

Can't wait for Laurent to show up 😘.

ANNNNNND Laurent just showed up, LOL. Right on time for some cuddling.

LAURENT'S LOOKING AT DAMEN LIKE HE'S CAUGHT HIS ATTENTION? DAMEN AND HIS LOINCLOTH? OH. OH. OH.

“Here's to Vaskian hospitality,” aka, Laurent is definitely suddenly getting the hots for Damen.

Oh, look at them sharing jokes and dry humor 🤗.

OH, OH, they're flirting!!! AND THEY'RE SO CLOSE TO EACH OTHER (they literally have to be, that tent SMALL).

OH, even Damen knows the mood is flirtatious.

Laurent being Laurent about how he's not itty bitty, but that Damen's just fucking massive.

Laurent is Damen's thornbush that pricks him, but he loves it anyway 😭.

Laurent backtracking and letting Damen go to the coupling fire after all, but Damen just says, “no, I don't want a woman.”

HE WANTS YOUUUUUUUU, LAURENT.

Damen expecting a salve and then Laurent pressing a cloth of ice up to his chest and Laurent going, “were you expecting a salve?” Like he's not just reading his mind at this point 🤭.

Laurent also pressing the ice to Damen's chest himself was, uh, a choice for sure 😏.

Laurent seemingly feels bad about telling the clansmen to make it hurt, and then just casually drops the “since I can't throw a sword,” and OH. MY. GOD.

He's hopelessly in love with Damen and Damen is hopelessly in love with him.

Oh god, I just got back to my old thinking and it's going to be SOOOOO bad when Laurent finds out that Damen is Prince Damianos.

Of course, Damen just has to dissipate the moment. Of course.

Bitch, the call IS STILL coming from inside the house. ANSWER IT.

Oh wait, no, this time it was Laurent pulling away. Okay. Well, I guess it's a two-calls ringing situation over here.

Laurent getting Halvik to not use her weapons on raiding Akielos for Damen, oh, oh.

I had to delete a fucking note because I misread the paragraph and now I'm disappointed because I thought Laurent got Halvik not to raid Akielos 😡.

Bitch did NOT do that.

Oh, is the whole thing about being angrier at someone else going to apply to Damen and Laurent? Laurent being angry at Prince Damianos, but more pissed off at his uncle?

Laurent openly saying how Damen's in his confidences. Like, yeah, it's obvious and he's said something like it before, but I love it every time he says it.

What's the something more Laurent wanted to say??? COME ON.

Laurent and Damen both looking at each other. Oh, they both so down bad.

[vefania]

I was reading TBOSAS again and I remembered that in Freud's (yes, Freud, I know, don't leave yet) psychosexual development theory— which says personality develops through a series of stages in childhood, each focused on a different erogenous zoneand associated with specific developmental conflicts— there's the phallic stage, which happens around ages 3-6. Specifically in the fact that in that phase, the Oedipus complex (for boys) or Electra complex (for girls) can appear, where the child becomes unconsciously attracted to the opposite-sex parent and sees the same-sex parent as a rival. The “resolution” of that conflict is leave the incestuous attraction to the mother and the identification with the same-sex parent: "If I can't have my mother, I can become like my father and get a woman like my mother." (Ew, I know)

What does this have to do with TBOSAS, you might ask? Well, I reread the part where Dean Highbottom talks to Snow about his mother and...

We don’t know a lot about Crassus Xanthos Snow, but what this little fragment implies (if we take the dean's words like an absolute truth) is:

Snow’s mother was a young, hopeful woman looking for freedom or love and was unable to see the man Crassus really was and ended up trapped with him, out the pan into fire (o de guatemala a guatepeor como dicen en mi rancho)

Crassus probably liked innocent, vain women and probably saw them as fragile things to possess or protect.

So, if this is the relationship that Snow grew up seeing during these years of the phallic stage (his mother died before he was 8 and the war was over, but he was mature enough to remember her), then he outgrow it in a distorted way, because if the father you admire is a manipulative, treacherous bitch, then it's not a resolution at all.

Anyway, he absorbed that dynamic —powerful man, delicate woman, admiration, protection, control— without understanding it. He didn't want Lucy Gray because she’s his mom or because he has some unresolved childhood horniness. He wanted her because she lets him play that dysfunctional male role: he gets to be the one in charge, the one who saves, the one who gets gratitude. (Not in a dominant daddy way tho)

And the last part? When the dean basically says Lucy Gray is the complete opposite of Snow's mother, because Lucy Gray is not childish and naive and she can see the type of man Coriolanus is before he can trap her...

Of course, it could just be that Snow is just a manipulative madman by himself and doesn’t need a Freudian framework to be awful, but it’s still interesting to theorize how these childhood dynamics might have shaped his perception to love and power and I have nothing better to do rn so 😭

[minugasakuranohana]

What if...

Mori decided to give Elise a complex personality after Stormbringer because of that thing about 2k+ lines of code

[CODE; 1] A program of at most 2,383 lines that some researchers had come up with

In Yosano's flashback and after the war Elise was like a doll and did what Mori said. She didn't show up in Fifteen and Stormbringer. The first time when Elise acts like canon version of herself was in the Dark era.

In "Fifteen", Mori finally gets the support of the mafia after a year of being in limbo. In Stormbringer he has fully settled into his role, he knows he can rely on his experience and his people, Mori's in a stable state. Also the final fight in this light novel is a confirmation of Mori's leadership skills. And so the strength of ability grows.

Yosano and Dazai are Mori's important ones but it's Chuuya who makes him feel better. His loyalty, interest in being taught to lead the organisation, bravery, strength, confidence... His struggle for his own humanity.

Elise and Chuuya, they're a bit alike, aren't they? So do Mori and N. But with all the disrespect for the Human Soul and a level of cruelty, workaholism and intellectualization as an attempt to escape from their feelings and problems, Mori, unlike N, is gradually making connections with his surroundings and changing little by little. He lets Yosano go (probably after Fukuzawa won the fight), finds Chuuya's parents and offers Kouyou to leave if she feels better that way (but her trauma prevents her from leaving). He also seems to have no intention of bringing Yosano back (there's a good chance Atsushi was implied in the deal in the DOA arc). Mori has never worked ��for a job.” His goals are pretty clear: to protect what he cares about, his city, to fulfill his ambitions (nothing can take that away from him). After Fifteen Mori always says: violence is not the only way, he's always in a search for the best solution. Even during the war, he came up with an idea that was the opposite of N's: it was about saving his soldiers, not making another weapon that could kill others.

That's why Elise's identity creation is fundamentally different from H's work: it's a manifestation of the creative power of the soul. Maybe a wounded soul, but a living soul.

@morilovern1, @plinko-mori and everyone, any thoughts?

[ladsgirlmelxia]

Caleb's Dark Secret (Yes I damn hope I am wrong)

**SPOILERS FOR LATEST MAIN STORY UPDATE** So with the latest LaDs Main Story Update I feel like with Sylus freeing her, and she still not remembering anything, there is more to it than we probably think. Cause yes we knew that MC loses her memories after she is killed and reincarnated again. I was wondering why she didn't remember Sylus, since he even mentioned that this time she should remember. So I made up a pretty wild theory, which I honestly HOPE is wrong, cause damn that would make Caleb really dark and manipulative (my poor baby boy) Okay here we go.. What if Caleb was the one, who made MC forget after the rescue / escape and it was him who erased her memories? And this is actually the reason why he never dared to approach her. He took this big part from her, kind of selfishly (or hopefully to help her) but nonetheless he thinks he is not worthy of her / thinks she will hate him once she finds out the truth. A few ideas / hints which point to that 1. She doesn't remember the escape / Sylus saving her, although it is pretty clearly mentioned in the story that this time she should remember. What if Sylus and Caleb fought cause Sylus wanted to take MC with him (save her). The fight Sylus' Evol against Caleb's Gravity / Black hole one, together with the accident of Xavier's time travel, caused the chronorift catastrophe. After this Caleb erased MCs memories to make sure she would stay with him and not search for Sylus 2. This is the reason why Caleb never dared to remind her, try her help remember the labs, even though she would remember their strong connection. He was scared to trigger anything that might make her remember and she would remember Sylus and then go look for him. That's also why he wanted to know what she had found out in the N109 Zone, I think he definitely knows that Sylus is there. 3. Caleb knows how to "swallow" the chips signal to protect his memories with MC, what if this was not his first attempt in doing something like this. Only the first time he thought he could "hide" the memories in a created black hole but instead erased them in MC. 4. Caleb erased her memories to save / protect her. A child this deeply traumatised won't find much sleep, will scream etc. I can imagine MC having horrible first nights after the escape and he just wants to ease her pain and so he erases those memories that cause her so much pain. If this is true, why not erase his as well though? Cause if none of them remember, they are defenseless, they won't recognise former ever people or even scientists from those labs. So Caleb takes in all this pain and suffering to remember just so MC has a chance on a better life / a new beginning (my fav interpretation and I can fully side here with him)

So this was all I had to write to this topic. I know it's far fetched and this also implies like before there is any actual dating happening, I think Caleb will have to do a confession, since he mentioned a few times his sin. And I havea very bad feeling this might be the story around his birthday card, finally coming clean with MC. And if she can accept him with his darkest side, then he might finally be confident in doing the next steps with her. Anyway sorry for the angst and trauma :D I am super excited to see how it's coming all along.

[kirinjaegeste]

Continuation of this ^_^

--

“Ha!” They both stared at Izuna after his outburst. “Oh, wait you're serious.”

Tobirama turned back to the kid, like Izuna wasn't even there. “And Madara attacked your village?” Obito nodded. Tobirama seemed to hesitate, then asked, “Do you mean our village?”

Izuna about laughed at that too, when Obito nodded. “What! Why would an Uchiha live in a Senju village?”

Obito looked like he didn't want to answer, so Tobirama did for him. “Are you saying the Uchiha and Senju make a village together?”

“Where are you getting all this craziness from?” Demanded Izuna, then rounded on the kid. “And why are you agreeing with him?!”

“It was peaceful for a while! After you died, Hashirama and Madara finally made peace and built the village together. Then other clans started to join until we were known as one of the Great Shinobi Villages. Then Madara felt like the Uchiha were being taken advantage of, and when he tried to rally them against the village, they turned their back on him because they were tired of war and fighting, so he left. Then he came back and attacked with the Kyuubi and nearly destroyed everything!”

“So why exactly did you come back?” Asked the Senju. “You said you didn't mean to send the Kyuubi after the Uchiha, but you're surprised Izuna is alive. If saving him wasn't your goal, then what are you really doing here?”

The boy hesitated, then seemed to deflate with sorrow. “Because Madara attacking the village with the Kyuubi led to Hashirama and Mito creating the jinnchuriki.”

“The jinju-what?” Slurred Izuna and oh, things were looking dizzy again.

“Jinnchuriki are people who have the tailed beasts sealed inside them.” The boy explained, grabbing hold of Izuna’s elbow to steady him. He looked at Tobirama, like the conversation was between them and Izuna wasn’t even there. “Hashirama sealed the other tailed beasts and gave them to the other nations as a sign of peace.”

“Well that just sounds irresponsible.” Commented Izuna. Tobirama snorted.

The sorrow returned to the kid. “Then there was a World War where my friend was kidnapped by another shinobi village and made into a jinnchuriki. They wanted her to return to our village to let the beast loose and destroy it but…” he went quiet and started to tear up. Izuna could figure out the rest from there. “She sacrificed herself to protect everyone. I thought, if there were no jinnchuriki to begin with, then maybe it would save her…”

Tobirama sighed. “If you’re messing with time, then you might not get the results you’re wanting. Especially since it seems you went too far back.”

Izuna had to take a moment to register what he just heard. And it was really hard to concentrate when everything was moving and his head was filling with cotton. “Wait, do you actually believe him?”

Tobirama ignored him. Again.

Obito seemed to be doing the same, as he continued to address Tobirama. “Yes, but I may not have messed it all up.” He started to fiddle with the sleeve of his cloak. “Madara went crazy with grief when his brother died.” He motioned to Izuna. “Maybe if he doesn’t, then Madara will never attack the village.”

“Why are you looking at me?”

“And you think this will stop Hashirama from creating the jinnchuriki?” Asked Tobirama. Obito nodded. “You know there are consequences to changing the timeline. This could lead to larger repercussions.”

“I said I didn't have a concussion.” Spat Izuna.

They ignored him. How dare.

“I know! I know! But you don't understand how crazy Madara gets! When he attacked the village, Hashirama thought he killed him, but he survived! Now he's on about some way to throw the world into a dream like state, saying it'll bring peace or something. I believed him at first, I wanted to, just to have Rin back. But it won't work like that, she'll just be a figment of the dream, it won't actually be her…”

“What changed your mind?”

Obito looked like he started to visibly sweat. “So I uh, used one of your scrolls, probably one you haven't made yet, it could bring people back, but not really to life…”

Tobirama looked like he knew exactly what he was talking about. “How would he even accomplish his dream world?”

“It's a type of Genjutsu, somehow using the Moon.”

“I've heard of that!” Izuna interrupted, and oh, now they look at him. “It's on a tablet, but you have to have the Mangekyo Sharingan to read it. It's the Tsukuyomi. But there aren't instructions on how to do it…” He thought.

“Why wouldn't there be instructions?” Tobirama asked.

“Who said that? Are you reading my mind?” He genuinely asked.

“You said it out loud.”

“Oh.”

--

I actually have a 3rd part, this opening is longer than I thought lol