#this is bound to end in catastrophe

[angelinabowtie]

Me when people on the poll think satans fashion is good

[howtofightwrite]

If you’ve already answered this, I’m sorry. How much of a liability is long hair in a fight? I mean it probably depends on the skill of the fighters and the tendency to grab each other’s hair as well. Is long hair still dangerous if it’s tied back?

Not that much more of a liability than having long hair in any athletic or otherwise hazardous situation. The biggest risk is the hair getting in your face (which yeah, keeping your hair bound will reduce the risks.)

The irony is, the risk of an experienced fighter grabbing your hair is probably lower than the risk of them grabbing you some other way, simply because hair offers no joint control. If someone wants control over your head, they're better off grabbing your head directly, rather than trying to tug on your hair in the middle of a fight. Also, if someone is going after your head, they have to get past your defense. That's not something that's likely to happen unless the fight is going very poorly for you.

The liability with long hair isn't in the fight itself (at least not when anyone knows what they're doing), it's in the ambush. It's when the fight begins with them getting a hold of your hair. Especially from behind. As I mentioned, it's not as good as getting a solid grip on the target's skull, but, for someone who doesn't know what they're doing, it is an easy way to grab onto someone.

Similarly, if the victim doesn't know what they're doing, they may not understand how little control their attacker has over them, and that the only leverage their attacker has (from grabbing their hair) is the ability to inflict a bit of pain in the scalp.

There's a logistical problem with grabbing someone's hair. As mentioned, it doesn't really control them, so you're giving up one arm to mildly inconvenience them. You now only have one arm which you can use to attack or defend yourself. They have two arms that they can use to attack or defend themselves. Meaning, they have one hand to deal with your remaining arm, and another hand free for unrestricted strikes to your face. This is not a good position to be in.

Outside of hand to hand, the biggest danger is simply getting hair in your face. Which you would have had to deal with on a daily basis anyway. In that case, yes, binding it will take that out of the equation entirely.

So, how much of a liability? On its own not much. There are other potential situations where it could cause catastrophic problems, like if the hair gets caught in heavy machinery, or something similar. In that respect it's more of a liability in an industrial setting. It still means keeping your hair short, if you're expecting to fight, is a good idea, but it's not the end of the world. If you do have long hair, keeping it tied back (ideally in a bun), means it's very unlikely to be a problem at all. The end result is that while it's not a major problem, it is one that can be easily dealt with ahead of time, and probably should be, because while the risks are fairly limited, there's no reason to leave them unaddressed.

-Starke

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[mentallyinvernation]

AU where Hob gets into an accident that causes him to lose his memories, so Dream has to explain their relationship. Except, because it’s Dream, he explains it really poorly.

This starts with Hob waking up on his second day in hospital, very confused to find a lanky goth perched on the end of his bed (who’s quite possibly an angel, he’s not sure). And the goth just goes ‘Hello, Hob Gadling’ which sounds infinitely better than what the nurses have been calling him (Bob Galden). Hob feels right. Especially when this stranger says it. The only problem is, he doesn’t recognise this cute goth, and cute goth is just sat there staring at him like he’s waiting for Bob - Rob - Robert - Hob to explain what’s going on, which is insane, because how is Hob supposed to know that when he’s the one in the hospital bed with amnesia. The nurses told him he has amnesia, anyway, so he relays that. The stranger looks stricken by such news. Hob apologises for not remembering the strangers name, and asks if they’re friends or something, which is apparently the wrong thing to do, because suddenly the stranger is standing up - there might even be tears in his eyes, it’s hard to tell in this light. But the prospect of this stranger leaving makes something horrible and scared twist in his gut, so he begs him to stay. This is the only person that’s visited the hospital in search of Hob. The only person that knows him - knows Hob Gadling. And Hob Gadling very much needs someone who knows Hob Gadling right now, because he sure as hell doesn’t.

Now flipping back over to dream, he’s catastrophically reeling from the fact his human doesn’t remember him, and unpacking whatever feelings he might have about that sounds mortifying. So, he’s opting to just abort himself from the situation altogether to save himself the grief (disclaimer: it would not save him from the grief). Except, he can’t leave, because Hob is begging him to stay, looking lost and terrified, and there are Certain Thing’s he needs to know. So, Dream sits back down. He explains that Hob is immortal. He explains they met in 1389. He explains their shared curiosity of life brought them together. He explains they attend centenary dates because they’re bound in an arrangement that’ll last until the end of time unless Hob decides otherwise. (‘As in, Til Death Do Us Part?’ Hob asks, sounding vaguely horrified, vaguely awed, and Dream doesn’t think that’s an inaccurate assessment, so he nods). And it’s not that Dream is rambling, because Dream of the Endless does not ramble, but he can’t seem to Stop Talking all of a sudden - like part of him hopes his words might guide Hob’s memories back into the light. So, he keeps going until there’s nothing left to say, and once he’s finished Hob’s staring at him with wide eyes.

“So, we’re married.” Is what Hob takes from all that.

Dream’s too stunned to correct him.

What’s worse, is Hob just accepts that as reality. He spends a solid minute - a minute - fumbling over the initial shock as he processes that information, before taking the lead on Dream’s silence. He launches into a rant about anything and everything his two-day old memory has to offer, smiling again, and then dares to ask questions about their life.

And Dream just sits there internally screaming about the whole thing.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Kinktober Day 22: Tentacles + Overstimulation

Pairings: Ran x reader

Warnings: Male!reader, Eldritch god!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Ran, tentacle fucking, overstimulation, sorcerer AU, college AU

Genre/Format: Smut; Oneshot

Prompt List by: sakuyaserenitykira 🧡

Author's Note: This takes place in the same AU as the one from the day 6 prompt with Inui. Though the reader is a different supernatural being and this is set 100s of years later

The prologue is pretty plot-heavy, and the whole thing is much longer than I intended for it to be. But I think it's worth it <3

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

Ran Haitani's boredom has landed him in some rather unfortunate situations before, including a couple trips to the hospital. Never in a million years did he predict that he'd end up in this particular situation though...

-

It all started with a leather bound book hidden within the library's basement. Ran had snuck in there a few days ago in a fit of boredom, mainly searching for some hidden porn stash that he assumed would be down there. To his dismay, no such thing existed. What he did find was an old, dusty book with several symbols etched into the leather cover. Cocking a brow in curiosity, he shoved the book under his jacket and left in a hurry, the fantasy of finding some ancient spell book or magical journal ran rampant in his mind, though deep down he knew that those things didn't exist

Later that day, he flipped through the pages in secret, locking himself inside of his dorm room and quickly becoming engrossed with the content between the papers. It was filled with what looked like legitimate spells and...summoning spells? This concept intrigued him more than anything else written in the book. Skimming through the different summoning rituals, he landed on one that piqued his curiosity greatly. “Warning: Careless summoning of The Immortal Unknown (praise be to him) could result in a catastrophe that will destroy humankind as we know it. DO NOT ATTEMPT UNLESS AN EXTREMELY EXPERIENCED SORCERER” was scribbled on a sticky note. The modern dialect was a stark contrast to the ‘Medieval speak’, as Ran called it, that the book was composed of

“Hmph. Like this crap is even real.” Ran scoffed, slamming the book shut and hiding it under his pillow. Promptly flopping onto the soft sheets to settle in for a nap, wrapping a soft blanket around his body and soon descending into the realm of dreams

Ran's eyes fluttered open, panic quickly sinking in as he realized that he was underwater. Unfamiliar ruins and sunken ships were scattered around the ocean floor. In front of him was a cave, unfathomably massive and pitch black inside. He gulped as he stared into the abyss, his eyes burning from the salt water surrounding him as he was unable to look at anything else, his stare transfixed on the cavern before him. As a deep rumble shook the entire ground, the abyss seemed to stare back as a pair of large red orbs lit up, glowing and yet casting no light onto the cave's walls

Every last cell in Ran's body tried to move, to swim away from whatever the hell this thing was. Yet he remained immobile, floating effortlessly in the cold waters as the orbs stared through his puny being. Then, in a split second, a growl echoed and whatever creature had been concealed within the black shadows of the cave suddenly lunged forward. It's form revealed in an instant, but not long enough for Ran to process what he actually saw as he immediately sat up in his bed, gasping for air

Sweat spilled down his forehead while his heart raced uncomfortably, a strange sense of dread filled his mind. This feeling compelled him to walk over to the window that pointed out towards the ocean just across from the college campus, a shiver crawling up his spine as he stared outside, almost in a trance. Ran swallowed dryly, wiping the sweat from his brow and turning to sit on the edge of the bed, switching his bedside lamp on with a shaky hand. He glanced back towards his pillow, suddenly remembering what was hidden beneath the soft cushion. Shaking his head, he stood up and grabbed a snack from his stash, swiftly devouring the food before tossing the wrapper onto his desk. Then hesitantly returning to bed, seeing as his nap lasted several hours into the night already. ‘Might as well go back to sleep.’ He thought to himself, crawling under the covers properly and soon drifting off once more

-

The next few days went by normally, save for a bit of paranoia and spacing out the morning after his strange dream. Hanging out with his younger brother and their friends mostly took his mind off of the dumb book and weird dream, laughing at various things and discussing their plans for the big Halloween party that was only two nights away

Though, the closer that the holiday approached, the more compelled Ran felt to actually perform the strange ritual with the warning note. I mean, it's not like anything will happen, right? Magic and summoning ancient gods or whatever, that's all fake shit. Nothing's gonna happen. At least, that's what Ran told himself. Concocting up a plan on how and where this is going to go down as he dashed back to his dorm room to study the ritual again

He settled on performing the ritual on Halloween night for reasons that he couldn't quite place, though he didn't bother to question why as he was far too caught up in making sure that everything would go perfectly. Already thinking of an excuse as to why he would have to ditch the party and stay in his room all night long. “I'm sick.” Ran said aloud, the idea coming to him naturally. He'd just pretend to be too sick to go out that night. It was perfect!

After hours spent studying the pages of the book and brainstorming every step of his master plan, Ran had everything he needed set up for this night to go off without a hitch. Snatching his phone from the bed, he quickly texted his brother explaining his ‘predicament’

-

Sent at 3:47 - Hey dude

Sent at 3:47 - I feel like shit rn. Think I caught a stomach bug or something

Sent at 3:47 - Gonna have to skip the party 😔

-

Sent at 3:49 - What? Seriously?

Sent at 3:49 - We never miss these things

Sent at 3:50 - U need anything? Everyone will be out ya know

-

Sent at 3:51 - Yeah I know

Sent at 3:51 - I'm so mad

Sent at 3:52 - But I can't even make it out of bed rn

-

Sent at 3:52 - Jeez

-

Sent at 3:53 - Just wanna sleep it off

Sent at 3:53 - Party extra hard for me ok?

Sent at 3:53 - Tell Izana I said sorry for missing his party

Sent at 3:54 - 😭😭😭

-

Sent at 3:54 - Sure thing

Sent at 3:54 - Hope u feel better

-

Sent at 3:55 - Thanks 👍

-

Yes! Perfect! Now that Ran was successfully exempt from having to leave the dorm, he would have plenty of time to prepare this ‘summoning circle’ that the ritual called for. With a few substitutions of course, since the actual spell called for all of these strange herbs and crystals and shit. Ran opted to use whatever supplies were available to him. Which resulted in a crude symbol on the floor created with pens, highlighters, notebooks, snack wrappers, and whatever else he could find. It's not real anyways, who cares what the thing is made of?

As nighttime approached the sounds of heavy footfall could be heard around the building, signaling the departure of nearly every student as they left to either join the most popular Halloween party, or hang out with a couple of close friends and watch horror movies

Taking a deep breath, Ran read the contents one last time, beginning the ritual by laying down in the center of the summoning circle. Next came the chant, which he comically mispronounced seeing as it was written in Latin and he was unfamiliar with the language. After finishing said chant, he tossed the book out of the circle and waited

There was a strange sense of excitement to this. While Ran didn't really believe in magic or demons or any of the legends passed around the campus, the prospect of finding an ancient book that could prove all of his doubts wrong was... thrilling. He wanted something to prove him wrong, wanted to have a supernatural experience just for the hell of it. Somewhere deep in his heart, he wanted to believe in all of those things. And as his eyes closed, sighing in boredom, something peered up at the young man laying in the middle of this symbol. It's form slowly rising from the ground in silence....

“And what do we have here?” A velvety voice said, peering at the human with glowing red eyes. Ran immediately jolting awake at the sound of someone else's voice in his closed room. Upon seeing your form, he scrambled to sit up and back away, hitting the side of his bed

“What the hell are you?!” He shouted, fear washing over his features as his eyes scanned your body. Your eye twitched at the rude question, scoffing at him and retorting, “I am The Immortal Unknown, but you, rude creature, may call me Y/n.”

Ran stared at you in disbelief, you were so close to appearing as a normal human...ok maybe not that close. The several large, red tentacles sticking out from behind you did kind of shatter that illusion... As did the glowing red eyes, needle sharp teeth, and strange echoing voice

“Tell me, dear human, for what reason have you summoned me tonight? And what compelled you to create my hallowed circle out of disgusting plastic...? Do you even know who I am?” You sneered, fangs flashing when the light of the candles illuminating the room hit them

“Are we playing 20 questions? What does it matter what your stupid circle is made out of? You showed up anyways.” The sarcastic comment made your blood boil, a scowl quickly gracing your lips as you stepped towards him

“Insolent fool. My domain is situated in the ocean, the same place your kin have decided to dump your filthy garbage.” You began, taking another heavy step forward while your tentacles writhed behind you. “You pollute MY habitat and then dare to mock me by summoning me with that same garbage?! Incompetent cretin. I should rend your weak flesh from your bones right this second.” In an instant several tentacles shot towards Ran, wrapping tightly around his limbs and torso, one of them squeezing his throat as he was lifted into the air before you

“Sh-shit–!! R-relax...'s not like I expected that dumb spell to even work...how was i supposed to know I'd summon a fish?!” Your jaw practically dropped to the floor, eyes widening in disbelief at such a disrespectful display. The tentacles suspending his body tightened painfully, if you hadn't been holding back they surely would have snapped his bones by now

“Your kind used to be much more respectful. I recall a time when your people worshipped me, and rightfully so. Don't tell me this is how you treat your deities these days?” You crossed your arms as you stared down the human, enjoying his pained gasps and struggling

“Maybe if you weren't so arrogant....ow fuck...maybe someone would give a shit about you.” At this point you had heard enough, sending another tentacle towards him, but this time shoving it right down his throat. An action that caused him to immediately gag and writhe around within your grasp, shaking his head while the appendage caused his mouth to stretch around its large circumference. You smirked at the display, tilting your chin up triumphantly

What happened next was quite different from what you anticipated. As the slimy tentacle ungulated within his wet cavern, Ran moaned around it, his eyes rolling back while his tongue moved against the appendage hungrily. You blinked in surprise at the strange display, cocking your head to the side in mild amusement. Quite an interesting turn of events...

“Oh. I see, you're one of those humans.” Ran quirked a brow at your statement, still attempting to deepthroat your tentacle. “I used to have a number of followers like you. They begged for me to grant them the kind of pleasure that only a god could grant them.” You explained, your voice becoming sultry and sending shivers up Ran's spine. “They worshipped me like no other could, allowing me access to every inch of their being. I claimed their bodies as mine, driving them to the brink of insanity with pleasure.” Suddenly, your voice echoed within Ran's mind, simultaneously appearing to come from directly behind him as if you were whispering into his ears. “Then when they finally broke, I claimed their very souls, which they happily gave away to me in exchange for the mind-numbing ecstasy.”

Ran's back arched at your haunting declaration, moaning louder as the tentacle slid in deeper. “I can see it in your eyes, little one. You're scared, but you want that too, don't you?” His lust-filled eyes met yours, batting his pretty lashes at you as if to say ‘yes, I want that’

Chuckling at his desperation darkly, you had the tentacles swiftly remove his clothing, discarding it onto the floor before allowing another tentacle to pleasure him, making it shift from its position around his torso to prodding at his ass. Ran's eyes flew open at the feeling, his body jerking as a reflex while the tentacle oozed a thick substance onto his entrance, rubbing it all around the area and coating itself in it before pushing in. The pain from the initial penetration felt subdued, with only a slight burn from the stretch as the appendage intruded his hole, thrusting itself in and out until it was buried within him

“Hmph. You're doing well so far, human. I must say, I am a bit impressed.” You said, forcing both tentacles to push in far deeper, creating a bulge in Ran's throat from the intrusion. His breathing increased as the slimy limbs began thrusting quickly, ignoring the way he gagged or how tightly his little throat was constricting around them, until they shot thick fluid directly into his stomach

His body spasmed in the air while his insides were flooded with the liquid, already feeling the weight in his stomach from how much was pumped into him. The two tentacles retracted and he coughed immediately once his mouth was free, some of the liquid coming up in the process. “Oh god...aah...” Ran shivered, still a bit hazy from the rough treatment

“Oh sweetheart, you are enjoying this.” You purred, commanding a third tentacle to flick his hard member and earning a jolt from the sudden contact. His cock soon became enveloped within the tentacle's grasp, wrapping around his length several times and stroking him until he was fully erect. The tip of your tentacle slithered upwards until it reached his cock head, squishing and wiggling itself against his tip, which caused Ran to cry out shrilly

This treatment continued for several minutes until you were able to sense his incoming release, promptly stuffing his holes once more. Another loud cry muffled by the appendage sliding down his esophagus while the one buried inside of his ass fucked him roughly, forcing its way in much deeper than before and thickening in girth while it was inside. Within a few more minutes, the thick tentacles came inside of him again, spilling another round of gooey cum in his stomach, so much so that it bulged from the amount of fluid in there

Ran reached his limit soon after, spraying his own cum on his chest and the tentacle currently jacking him off. His hips jerked violently while his orgasm overtook him, moaning all the while. After they finished unloading inside of him, the tentacles retreated once again, leaving him with a sense of emptiness that elicited a whine from him. Except for the one still jerking off his sensitive cock, that one continuously pleasured him even while he wailed from overstimulation

Seeing your prey so fucked out like this had you worked up too, seeing as the large tentacle dick concealed within your pants writhed around wildly. Groaning in annoyance, you pulled the appendage out and stroked yourself, your large human-like hand barely wrapping around the thing. “Mm you have...truly impressed me, human. Haaah...mmph–!!” You moaned in between praises, twisting your wrist while you stroked your alien-looking cock. “Most humans would tap out after the second round, but you...yeess~ You crave something more, hm? Something... bigger? ”

A wave of desire flashed in Ran's eyes, craning his head to look at you while you touched yourself across from him. Soft squelching noises emanating from where your hand met your dick, the tip oozing the equivalent of precum. Ran choked out something akin to begging, his throat incredibly sore from your harsh treatment so far, “Pl-ease...yes...aaahh...”

You'd be lying if you said you didn't want this too, after all it had been hundreds of years since a single follower had summoned you. Much longer since you had been summoned for this. Your cock ached to be buried within a fragile human's tight walls, splitting them open and fucking away their sanity with every thrust. Just the thought of this caused you to involuntarily lick your lips, impossibly sharp teeth peeking through as you did so. Ran stared at you the whole time, turned on by every new detail that he discovered

He gulped when your eyes snapped to his, a dangerous lust hidden behind them as they shined in the dimly lit room. Grabbing his waist with your hands delicately, you lined your cock up with his hole, searching his eyes for any sign of disagreement. Finding none, you plunged inside, stretching his tight hole farther than any human had been stretched before. Ran's hands balled into fists as he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, the simultaneous sensations of your monster dick prying him open and the slimy tentacle working his cock had him reeling from pleasure. His head fell back, hanging limply while you fucked him open, until your hand grabbed the back of it and lifted him back up, forcing him to look at your expressions as you railed his slim body

“So tight...yet you're still able to take all of my cock...good boy~ ” The growl caused Ran to tremble, feeling impossibly submissive as the night went on. With one sharp thrust, you managed to bury yourself to the hilt, moaning shamelessly as he clenched around you. Your long tongue lolled out, drool dripping from the end as you fucked Ran's ass deeply. Rolling your hips into him and brushing against his prostate, causing him to whine and push his head against your hand harder

“Dear human, you never had the chance to tell me your name. Won't you tell me now?” You asked sweetly, ravaging his hole the entire time. His body greedily accepting the whole thing

“It's Ran...H-Haitani...ah! Aaahh fuck...” Ran exclaimed when your hips snapped into him suddenly, panting heavily from the way your dick glided in and out of his hole. The name ringing in your ears for a moment while you contemplated it

“Ran...how lovely. You are aware that there's no going back after tonight, yes Ran?” You explained, leaning closer to his sweet face. “Even if you refuse to make a pact with me, to become my worshipper, the thought of submitting to me will never leave your mind. It will plague every second of your pathetic life.” A low growl rumbled within your chest, teasing the human cruelly. Though you weren't actually lying, he didn't know that, all he knew was that he needed your cock to stay inside of him and fill him up until he stopped thinking

Letting his head go, you slid that same hand down to his hips, thrusting deeper due to the better leverage. His moans filled the small room while you railed him eagerly, releasing your tentacles' grip on his legs so that he could wrap them around your torso. Which he did weakly, most of the strength in his legs had left him after being fucked multiple times. “Human... I'm very close...but–” You paused, hips stilling inside of his wet hole as he whined. “I want you. Too much time has passed since I had any loyal followers to worship me, so I want you to be mine~”

Ran stared at you quizzically, suddenly nervous at the idea. Yet something inside of him screamed at him to agree, craving you from somewhere deep down within his soul. “Make a pact with me. Give yourself over to me and I will give you everything you have ever wanted, little one. How about it?” Laying your hand on his stomach, you gazed at him expectantly as you awaited an answer. He tossed the question around in his mind for a moment, but just as the gravity of the question settled in you began thrusting again. Your thick cock erased any rational thought, replacing it with an unfathomable sense of desire

As you slammed into his ass, Ran gasped out his answer, “Ah! Yes...yes yes yesyesyesyes—!! I'll do whatever you want...j-just don't stop—!! ” He shouted, rolling his hips against yours in an attempt to take you deeper. His own release inching closer while you fucked him brainless

“Very good...” You purred, creating a seal on his skin. The same symbol that was lazily recreated on Ran's floor, a mark signaling to any other creatures that the item marked by this seal belonged to you. The mark burned into his skin painfully, a glowing blue inky substance etched into his flesh that forever bound the human to you

“Darling, mmm~ Cum for me. ” You growled, your own orgasm hitting you as your body stiffened, releasing an impossible amount of cum within his warm walls. Ran came just after, shooting his cum all over your hand and the seal that you created on his delicate flesh. The milky fluid acts somewhat as a stamp, effectively sealing the contract created between you and your new follower

Ran soon went limp, panting heavily while your cock finished unloading inside of him. You stayed like this for a minute, rubbing at the new seal with your thumb. All of his nerves felt raw around the area, each little touch and wisp of air that brushed against it caused him to whine and tremble. You slowly and carefully pulled out of him, being as gentle as you really could with the fragile thing. He whimpered when you had fully unsheathed yourself, already missing the stretch of your fat length

Scooping the slender human up in your arms and releasing your tentacles' grip on him, you carried him to his bed. Allowing him to finally rest after nearly breaking him, though he might have enjoyed that too, now that you think about it... nevertheless, you tucked the little thing under the covers and brushed your knuckles against his cheek, whispering a “See you soon, little one.” into his ears before returning to your domain

Reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

Tagging: @anxious-chick @steadybreadbluebird @6kabuki

[austinbutlerslovers]

Major Gale Fantasy Part II

Label Mature 18+

It’s Here! 🏆

I’m Going to Miss You Every Second

(*See Major Gale Fantasy Part 1 )

Summary With Gale training for battle as a war pilot on a military base far away from you in Iowa, his dreams of having you pregnant with his child before he deploys are dwindling. Letter after letter he receives from you revealing there are no signs of pregnancy from your last encounters together. With his hopes dashed and the stress of leaving to war imminent, you both cling to the hope that everything will turn out alright.

*Established relationship married

Descriptions withheld for suspense of the story

Inspo: The incredibly handsome and skilled Major Gale obsessed with impregnating you before he deploys.

Extreme historical inaccuracies, the military workings melted my brain …

Spelling errors repeat words grammatical mistakes but it’s a good plot 🤌🏼enjoy!

Special thanks to @jessica987 ✨ for recommending a follow up 💝

I’m Going to Miss you Every Second

It was a gloomy day on the air force training base in Iowa. Gale was the last returning from a ‘station scramble’ where the men worked to see how fast they could get up in the air and back down to the ground in an emergency attack. As Gale was an expert pilot he went last after all his men had cleared their flights.

As he was landing a giant streak of lighting cracked across the expanse of sky above him “holy hell” he said his voice modulated by the oxygen mask. It vanished followed by a booming thunder clap that rattled the windows violently rocking the cockpit. The wheels touched down as he pulled the levers decreasing the acceleration of the aircraft bounding down the runway until it slowed to a manageable speed. Sheets of rain began streaking down the windows as he navigated the large craft to store near the hanger.

His heart was still racing as he emerged from the cock pit heavily pelted with cold rain. The sound of the it almost deafening as he was greeted by the crewmen to check and refuel the craft and move it to lodging. One crewman stops to yell over the downpour “We thought you were a goner with that lightning strike!” Gale yells back “Not today! I’ve got too much to live for.” They flash smiles reveling in the camaraderie.

Gale is almost soaked head to toe as he heads the short distance for cover in the gigantic hanger. Some men are waiting at the entrance watching the rain some are sitting at tables playing cards and others are tossing a football back and forth through the giant space.

He shakes himself off as soon as he is saftley shielded under the awning. An officer is standing near the hanger door smoking a cigarette as Gale walks in “Sure is raining cats and dogs today” he says absentmindedly before taking a drag “You know what they say, when it rains it pours” Gale shoots back as he walks to the rear of the hanger. He heads to his locker there and removes his pilot jacket and cap hanging them inside.

Several officers are sitting at a table nearby reading news papers and listening to the radio. All the news papers have catastrophic titles about the war plastered in capitol letters across their front pages, more alarming is the radio loudly blaring information about all the recent bombing raids and attacks occurring.

Gale had been moved from his home base to this training station for 12 weeks now. It was imminent that he and his men were going to war, flying directly to Germany in the coming weeks.

A drill sergeant enters the opposite end of the hanger with a messenger bag he begins yelling the names of several officers until shouting:

“MAJOR CLEVEN GALE”

When Gale hears his name he heads over and collects his stack of letters. Each time he receives mail he hunts through the stack for your letter first, each time his heart drops dismayed not to hear the news that you are pregnant but happy you are doing well.

He walks back over to an empty table near the officers reading the news papers. He shuffles the letters in his hand one by one until he stops on the one with your handwriting his heart skips and he hurriedly sits down dropping his stack of mail infront of him on the table.

He flips your letter over and breaks the seal with his finger ripping it open sliding out and unfolding the piece of paper to read:

_________________________________________________

-Dearest husband,

Here I am darling, I cooked one of your favorite meals tonight, sundried tomato sauce with spaghetti pasta just the way you like it with lots of parmesan on all the meatballs. I can’t wait to cook for you again. I hope you are eating well you must keep your strength.

I miss the sound of your voice and wonder when you’ll return home to me. With just myself here I often think of what you do in your down time. I believe the only thing that compares to the happiness of holding you in my arms again is holding a little bundle of joy. I am writing this time to tell you that you’ll be a father. I am 18 weeks pregnant. Today is the first day the doctor heard the tiny heartbeat and I’m finally beginning to show, I know this means the world to you.

Sending all my lov - - - -

———————————————————————————

Gale doesn’t finish the letter he stands straight up and yells “IM GOING TO BE A FATHER BOYS !” The hanger erupts with loud cheers of all the men whooping and clapping for him. The men in his unit come running and jump on him hugging him slapping his back and congratulating him.

They all begin chanting “FURLOUGH FURLOUGH FURLOUGH ” he yells back “IM CHECKING OUT BOYS!” And starts running to his superiors office to request his furlough to come and see his woman pregnant with his child before he leaves to war.

Constant Cravings

It’s been two days since you wrote the news to Gale that you were expecting. It was already late in the evening, the mailman didn’t have any letters from the military base but you did receive letters from your friends and congratulatory flowers from your parents.

You stare out the window thinking of him wondering if he’s alright, wondering if he even knows. You place your hand on your belly feeling the now firmer underside swelling where the little baby is nestled, you rest your hand there lovingly.

You turn and head to the kitchen still feeling so famished after dinner the only thing you craved were spaghetti and meatballs you were cooking them constantly especially the meatballs with parmesan all over them you couldn’t get enough. You decide that’s what you wanted to eat again.

You bring the skillet out and place it on the counter next to the stove. You strike a match and place it to the igniter, a ring of fire flicks to life under the burner and you place the skillet on top. You pull the container of meat balls you’ve prepared for tomorrow out of the refrigerator and pour olive oil on the skillet before placing them on the hot oiled surface to cook .

You bring out the cutting board, the big wheel of parmesan cheese, and grater. You take a knife and cut a large slice of the Parmesan off returning the rest of the wheel back in the refrigerator and quickly check the meatballs turning them over with a spatula to cook evenly.

You then cut off a few thin pieces of parmesan cheese from the large slice to eat for yourself. You irresistibly pick one up and place it in your mouth on your tongue. It melts deliciously and you savor it before taking another piece and then just one more you crave the saltiness and the texture so much. You turn to check the meat balls they are golden brown you click off the fire.

You finely grate the remaining Parmesan into powder. You rinse off the cheese grater and cutting board setting them in the drying rack.

You set out a plate on the counter and transfer the meatballs over to it from the skillet placing the heavy cast iron into the sink to wash later.

You cover the meatballs in a large mountain of powdered Parmesan snow. When all is complete you stare at them proud of yourself and excited to eat what you crave the most.

You hear the sound of a car pulling up at this late hour the lights from the head beams flashing through the living room. Your brows furrow wondering who it could be you head to the living room looking at the front door when the sudden sound of a key sliding in the lock surprises you.

Your heart stops you stand frozen as the door opens and you blink in disbelief as Gale steps in. He is in uniform wearing his heavy leather brown and black fur lapel jacket. His thick blonde hair slicked with product but still strands fall perfectly against his forehead. He looks stunningly handsome you haven’t laid eyes on him in so long it takes your breath away. His flushed red cheeks and luscious pink lips form into a grin as his striking blue eyes light up with joy upon seeing you.

“C’mere baby” he says with his deep drawl arms open as you come wrapping you tightly in his embrace. He pets your head and kisses the top lovingly, your soft feminine scent driving him wild after being away from you for 3 months.

He’s holding you firm against his chest as you inhale him, he smells like rain and leather and birch bark soap relaxing you instantly making you feel safe in his arms. “I missed you so much Gale” your words softly muffle against his chest. “I missed you too doll “ he says tipping your chin up with his thumb and forefinger to look up at him. You gaze deeply into those big beautiful blue eyes staring right back into yours with all the love and tenderness in the world.

“Kiss me Ga...” you start to say his name as he’s already pressing his soft pink lips against yours. As your eyes flutter closed you feel the sexual charge in him as he’s pushing his lips more passionately against yours. You part your lips wider onto his licking at his tongue coaxing it out, he makes a small moan as he slides it in to taste your sweet mouth.

The sensations of your tongues twirling tantalizes his cock, his length already hardening as he knits his brows wanting to kiss you more but also knowing he needs to come up for air and tell you his news.

He releases you from his kiss and you stare at each other a little out of breath “I got your letter“ he says forming a grin from ear to ear across his handsome face. “They granted me furlough I’ll be here with you all week” you shriek in excitement “I’m so happy you’ll be home with me Gale!” You say cupping his handsome face in your hands.

“ Now…” he says stepping back “let me see my little bun” his eyes are dancing wildly as he peeks down at your stomach unable to contain his excitement any longer. You giggle at the nick-name “here’s your little bun” you say presenting your small round forming pregnancy to him.

A proud smile forms on his face and he immediately kneels down before you, finally reaching his large hand and placing it on your small baby bump. It warms his hand to the touch and melts his heart completely. He carefully places his ear against your womb and closes his eyes.

You look down at him and smile warmly, he’s crouched into you as he kneels because he’s so tall. You place your hand on his head lovingly and stroke your fingers through his gorgeous golden locks. He’s in bliss caressing your womb and whispering to the baby to grow strong for him. He kisses your naval and finally stands up tall gently pulling you to him by your waist.

“I’m so proud of you” he says planting a kiss on your lips “and I love you so much ” he says squeezing your waist on his last word, he stares into your eyes with complete devotion. “I love you too Gale” you say sincerely and place your hand on his chest over his heart as you gaze into each others eye.

Suddenly you remember the task you were performing before he surprised you “Come Gale, I made a little something we can eat, I was so hungry after dinner..I am always hungry now…” you trail off slightly shy to admit. Hes just pinches your cheek adoringly knowing your eating for two. He removes his jacket placing it on the rack near the door and takes your hand as you walk him to the kitchen.

The meatballs are sitting on the countertop in perfect display looking like a photo straight out of ‘The Housewife Magazine’. “I miss this so much” he says wrapping his arms around you from behind pressing his chest to your back and kissing the top of your head. You hold the front of his forearms wrapped around you as an idea forms in your mind.

“What if we eat the in the living room? No silverware, no plates just with our fingers “ you say giddily just wanting devour the meatballs as fast as humanly possible. “Sure thing sweetheart, why don’t you go sit and I’ll bring them over to you ” he says. You agree with a nod and he goes to wash his hands in the sink taking the plate on his way back bringing the meatballs to the living room coffee table.

You sit comfortably on the couch but instead of sitting next to you he kneels in front of you on the living room rug. With the coffee table on his right he turns to pick up a meatball from the pile on the plate and brings it to your mouth. You eat it from his fingers “Mmm” you say enjoying it. He brings you another as you finish chewing the first and then another.

You gently roll your eyes into your head the seasonings the cheesiness the saltiness satisfying the yearning from your stomach completely. He stares at you lovingly knowing that as he’s feeding you it’s for his baby too.

Hes always hungry for your food the meatballs smell delicious he tilts his head up and tosses one in his mouth. The ground meat you used is so succulent he eats several more. You lean forward opening your mouth and he feeds you the last one, the plate now completely empty.

You sit back with a smile on your face and pat your hand on your stomach “Thank you for feeding me Gale that was so unexpectedly sweet“ you say grinning cutely. It reminds him of his present. “I have a surprise for you!” He says squeezing your thigh lovingly as he stands. He takes the dish to the sink and grabs his keys from his jacket heading out to the car to retrieve it.

He returns a moment later carrying a giant teddy bear and a bouquet of roses. Your eyes light up it’s such a beautiful sight to see and he’s so romantic. He shuts the front door with his elbow and smiles as he walks over and kneels infront of you. “For my special girl” he says handing you the large bouquet, “Thank you Gale” your voice high and sweet as you place your hand on your heart to show appreciation.

You accept them and lift the flowers up to your nose instantly getting lost in the powerful scent of fresh red roses. “And for my little bun” he says placing the large teddy bear next to you on the couch. You giggle at the nickname again. He just stares at you now seeing how completely happy you are in this moment.

He places his hand briefly on your knee “I’ll put them in a vase for you ” he says gesturing as you hand over the roses. He heads to the kitchen unwrapping them, finding and filling a clear blue bubbled glass vase.

Placing the roses inside he sits back admiring his work. “Where would you like them” he asks. “There on the table is perfectly fine…” you say absentmindedly staring at the brown crushed velvet teddy bear with a big red silk ribbon on its neck. The first toy you’ve received for your ‘little bun’ is making you emotional.

“Honey how would you like to turn in with me for the night? I’ll shower and we’ll lay together in bed I need to hold you I’ve been missing sleeping with you so much”

“Oh Gale of course” you say realizing he’s been out all day on such a journey to get here and he’s probably so tired.

He comes over and offers you his arm helping you to stand you smile appreciatively. He wraps his arm around yours placing his hand on top walking down the hall to the master bedroom.

Lucky Lightening

He enters with you and gently releases your arm to begin unbutttoning the tight collar of his military shirt, you see him struggling with it as usual and tip toe up against him helping him pry it open. As it unbuttons he breathes a sigh of relief “What would I do without you?” he says flashing a flirtatious grin.

You trail your fingers seductively up his firm chest “You would handle it like the strong capable Major I know you that you are, but Im happy I can be here to assist you” you peek up at him through your lashes and he quickly captures his lips with yours thoroughly enjoying the compliment you gave him.

He pulls back to look you in the eyes “My favorite girl in the whole world” he says and quickly unbuttons down the length of his shirt, he smiles at you appreciatively before heading to the shower. You hear the water turn on through the closed door as you make your way to the vanity table across the room.

You slide your dress off with your brassiere and panties tossing them in the hamper. You grab your soft silk robe from its hook near the vanity placing your arms in leaving the front open loosly tied.

You look at all your creams neatly organized and pick the one labeled vitamin E opening the lid and collecting the cream on your fingers slowly lathering your abdomen. As you are massaging the cream on you stare at your reflection, the glow of the low lighting makes you look radiant you turn to the side wondering how big your belly will get.

You hear the shower turn off and Gale brushing his teeth you smile enjoying the sounds of having him back home. You finish rubbing in the cream sealing the lid as he emerges into the bedroom clicking off the light. The scent of his fresh pine birch soap fills the bedroom he smells wonderful.

You peek over at him, blonde hair slicked back dark and damp, shirtless with strong chiseled arms and perfect pecs twiddling down to that tiny waist of his with his tight abs, he’s wearing only his woven boxer shorts.

He notices you admiring him and comes closer approaching you from behind in the reflection of the vanity mirror. He immediately unties your silk robe and slides his hands down around your tiny baby bump. He kisses your ear as he stands behind you inhaling your scent, you smell much sweeter than he remembers and he’s enthralled by it.

He continues his kisses down your neck and onto your shoulder enjoying every touch of his lips to your delicate skin, silently obsessing knowing you are carrying his child.

He stares up at the reflection of you together his hands never leaving your womb. His voice rich and deep breaking the silent moment as he locks eyes with you.

“Can't wait till everyone sees how pretty you're gonna look all big and round” he says running his hands over the front of you. His lips fanning your ear “Everyone knowing you're my girl, the love of my life and that you're carrying my child inside of you …" he trails off unable to contain his arousal for you any longer.

His lips part against your skin as he licks and sucks his kisses onto your neck his large hands reaching and cupping your breasts gently squeezing them. They are so sensitive you part your lips and let out a soft moan.

He leans in again whispering softly against your ear “I can't believe I knocked up a pretty little thing like you.” Your eyes flutter shut as you are wet with arousal remembering how much you truly enjoy the feel of his cock inside you.

He turns you around pulling you to him pressing his hard length into your thigh kissing you slowly as he walks you backwards to the bed. He helps you disrobe and lays you down softly in the center. He places his hands on the soft inner flesh of your thighs and spreads them apart.

He pulls his boxer shorts off and locks eyes with you, holding the base of his cock in his right hand he presses the head on to your clitoris earning a beautiful moan out of you. He slides his cock head down your slick wet folds to your entrance and shoves himself home. His plump mouth opens and his cheeks flush red as he fills you up to the hilt.

His breaths are short and shallow as his swollen cock sinks in and slides out of you. His desperate loud moans begin filling the room unable to contain himself not having you for so long. He breathes out as he buries his full length into you pulling halfway out before plunging all the way back in, his hips smacking in a rhythm with yours. You moan in time with each thrust feeling like you will come apart at any second.

He quickens his pace pulling himself deeper into you with momentum. His hip movements strong and deliberate clapping against you as his cock head hits your cervix deep inside each time. His eyes dark and full of unbridled passion as they look into yours.

It’s all powerfully overwhelming: the way he stares, the way he thrusts into you hitting that perfect place, and the way that you just miss him so much, your body tenses and then trembles as you orgasm for him, waves of pleasure washing over you as your walls flutter tightly around him and you moan out his name, you can see in his eyes he felt you come undone, his release immediately following yours.

His hips jolt forward snapping into you as his body tenses and his cock throbs inside of you releasing all of his semen. You gasp and moan together from the feeling as he pumps his final thrusts into you.

He stills himself breathing heavily over you as you both come down from your highs. After a moment he gently slides himself out and falls back to the bed his chest rising and falling. You both stare up at the ceiling together panting slowly your faces displaying a mix of awe and satisfaction. Your minds both high swirling with serotonin thinking about what just happened. Your breaths finally calm as you lay next to each other. Gale already deep in thought.

“It’s kind of beautiful how I realized you were pregnant.” He says feeling a sudden clarity in his mind. “It was a real stormy night on the base, winds were whipping wildy. I was laying there and It was pitch black in the bunker after lights out. So I reached in my rucksack near my cot in the secret pocket and pulled out your panties.

“GALE YOU DID NOT !” You say in shock sitting up to stare at him “Yes I did” he says chuckling.

“Major Gale Cleven you are *such* a naughty boy!” You say grinning and lightly spanking him on his firm muscled shoulder. He quickly grabs your wrist pulling it over to settle you “cmon you gotta let me finish it gets really good” he says with a grin placing your hand on his solid chest.

“Alright tell me how you knew” you ask, scooting into place resting your head on his firm bicep. He places his hand down on your hip giving it a light squeeze pulling you against him.

“Well If the boys ever find your panties in my things I’ll never hear the end of that ” he cracks up.

“But as I was saying it was a real stormy night, everything on the base was jumping and creaking I couldn’t sleep a lick. So I lay there with your panties hidden under my hand flat against my chest just grounding me, cause I’m missing you every second im out there. I empty my head of all thoughts I was having except for being home with you and I guess it worked because I drifted to sleep and started dreaming.

I was back here at the house and you were just over there across the hall in our guest room. It was turned into a nursery just like we plan. I was resting with my elbow against the the doorframe peeking in you were infront of the nursery cot the baby was laying inside. You kneeled down to pick something up that fell and I saw that tiny little hand just reaching up for you over the rim of that cot and my eyes went wide it just knocked the wind out of me, you stood up blocking my view and trust me I was trying real hard to see that baby.

Thats when the loud hurricane alarms started blaring all over the base waking me and all the men up we prepared the base hunkering down and that wind ripped through so hard that night but the hurricane passed us right by. As it all died down we headed back to our cots everyone else cranky and tired but not me I had the biggest smile on my face, because all the times I dreamt of you that was the first time that you had the baby.

You take a moment to absorb all that he said.

“ Gale…that’s such a beautiful dream” you say overwhelmed with sentiment your heart swelling. You love this man so much you can’t even form the words to appreciate him.

“ I love you a Gale” is all you can think to say

“ I love you too ” he says tucking his chin down to peek over at you smiling. He reaches his long arm over and clicks off the light. You two shrouded in darkness hearing the soft patters of rain starting outside. “Mmm look at that the storm followed me home “ he says jokingly. “Oh I forgot to tell you the best part, that day I got your letter my craft was almost struck by lighting as I landed” he says casually.

Your eyes grow wide “ Gale that’s terrifying!” you say “ No no not for me that’ll always be a good luck sign because it was a surprise, just like finding out I’m going to be a father from your letter.”

He pulls you up higher on his bicep and plants several loving kisses on your forehead before caressing your jaw. He rubs his thumb playfully over your lips to make smile and you do. “Good night sweet heart” he says eyes heavy “Good night Gale” you say snuggling up on him. He places his large hand on your tiny baby bump “good night little bun” he smiles to himself closing his eyes. You stay awake a moment longer listening to his breathing change as he falls soundly asleep, you feel his calming heartbeat under your hand placed on his chest. You move it to place on top of his hand holding your baby bump. Feeling perfectly complete, you close your eyes and drift of to sleep.

~*End*~

Tags: @jessica987

[bobbile-blog]

Okay so I've finally gotten to Jessicalter's Oprec and now feel qualified to talk about Come Catastrophes or Wakes of Vultures. holy shit. This went straight into my list of top Arknights events. Fantastic event, spoilers will be under the cut so I HIGHLY RECOMMEND reading the event first. It's really good and worth your while.

Anyway, what follows is a scattered mess of thoughts about this event and things that stuck out to me.

First off, plot stuff! I'll probably cover this when I do my next plotline recap post, but what I took away from the end is that Clip Cliff seems to want to make Blacksteel independent, or at least more self-determining than it is now. He seems to be gathering resources and assets like mobile city plates and investing in long-term infrastructure like merc training, so he definitely has a long game he's pushing for. I don't think we know enough go speculate about his goals, but we'll definitely be coming back here again. After all, Tila has an infection monitor in her art, which probably means she's going to be playable at some point in the future.

Next, having looked into this a little on my own, I was interested in some of the previous places Raythean has shown up. Specifically, the ones that stood out were the drones in the Kazimierz Major and arming Silverash's forces in Kjerag, which might be referring to the Tschäggättä. It's not just notable for their apparent level of technology, but also as a faint connecting thread between three separate capitalism plotlines. I don't know if that's going to be meaningful in the future, but I found it interesting enough that I thought I'd bring it up.

Now on to more narrative things. While I love Liskarm and Franka, I do think it was the right choice to give them less screen time in this event. They're both (for the most part) fully-realized characters who understand their own motivations and morals. This is above all else an event about Jessica learning to stand on her own as an adult, so it makes sense that they're more here to support her than they are to play their own roles in the story.

Speaking of said roles, I liked the event's commentary on cops. It pointed out an interesting distinction that I wouldn't really have ever thought of, that between mercenaries and cops. To start: cops exist to protect property, not people. The police exist to protect things and do not have an obligation to err on the side of people over things, and in fact are supposed to do the opposite. This event understands that, and that role os the core of how the bank treats the Blacksteel mercs. CV, however, raises an interesting point that mercenaries are bound by the letter of a contract and not the larger obligation to property cops are, so they can actually raise moral objections and point to their contracts, sort of a Lawful Evil/Lawful Neutral to cops' Neutral Evil. The independence of their position with respect to cops allows for more of an independent morality than you'd get in a cop story and I like that, I think it's a really smart direction to take your writing in.

On a (mostly) separate note, holy shit Arknights is really good at writing cowboy stories. Between this and chapter 9 (and I would argue An Obscure Wanderer), Arknights has repeatedly made it clear that they Do Not Fuck Around with their cowboy stories and I'm surprised I haven't heard more people talking about it. It kinda has everything:

- It takes place in a rural, working-class setting undergoing a larger imminent societal shift that can inform the larger narrative, and deals with a semi-mythologized past that is rapidly disappearing.

- It has a protagonist and an antagonist that serve as foils, both very heavily affected and defined by the (same) violence in their past that they've both had different reactions to. Our protagonist has come to terms with the violence as a tool to maintain order, while our antagonist has used it for personal gain and in some ways lost control of it.

- It's a story about community, and heavily emphasizes local and personal community over larger artificial corporate "community". That's my reading of the recurring motif of the cold btw, warmth represents the close, personal community Davistown used to have and the cold that now pervades it comes from how the bank has systematically dismantled that community.

- And, I'd argue most importantly, it understands the narrative power of a bullet. The Showdown at the end of a cowboy story is powerful because we've spent the entire runtime of our story with these characters, and they are now facing each other down with the intent to end one of their collective two stories. The entire weight of the narrative so far comes to rest on a single moment of tension. It's really hard to gather up the kind of narrative momentum you need to make that hit like it does in CV. For example, it requires a really light hand with actual action in the story, so that it really does feel like it's an even standoff between our protagonist and antagonist. On the other hand, though, you do actually have to establish the relative skill of both parties and actually sell the danger of the moment to the audience. It's really hard to toe the line between tension and actual action in a way that makes for a satisfying resolution, and CV does it extremely well.

Honestly, Arknights just seems really good at getting the vibes of American media right. This is something I noticed in DV and Lonetrail too, and I haven't really been able to put my finger on what it is about them, but the vibes are just really on-point. I want to write more about this at a later point once I actually figure out what it is that I'm feeling, but maybe it's the setting, maybe it's the cast, maybe it's the plot points, maybe it's something in between — it just seems to understand the spirit of period cowboy stories in a way that I can't describe. Good shit.

Finally, I wanna end this with where Jessica is now. The events of CV take place In between the events of Loneterail and Ideal City, so the current "now" of the story is a few months ahead. Jessica left for the frontier along with Woody, Helena, and Miles. They live together in a small new settlement, building the place from the ground up with Woody and Jessica acting as town sherrifs. At the point we're at now, rhe town is fairly well-established and Woody has temporarily left on other business, leaving Jessica the sole sherrif of their new settlement. However, she's risen to her new station, and is growing into a stronger person than she ever was before.

[slushiepizza]

To become a project manager at the end of times, a level of disregard to ideal working conditions was needed. James knew that all of ETS employees were bound by contract to work on the Machine. The facilities were borderline hellish- strict working hours, monitored activities- it'd be a miracle if anyone came out of it with their sanity intact. He knew that most of the unempowered employees knew nothing of the gravity of their work- all they knew was that it was an undisclosed research project. He tried bringing up more humane conditions to fellow stakeholders, only to be shut down because it was all necessary to maintain covert and order in the facility- not to mention that if any information about the meridian reached the empowered public due to their neglect- it'd only bring utter chaos and mass panic.

He splashed water on his face, trying to wash off the grime, sweat and the sticky, disgusting rage that seemed to stick to his body like a second skin. Anger at the gods of the demons that brought a catastrophic end to their world and making it everyone's responsibility. Frustration towards himself, for being a part of the elites that were busy sitting back on their asses than actually working and suffering for humanity's sake. James thought about his promise to his spouse. Let's build a family, a home together. He felt- Nothing. He steeled his expression to a public-ready, professional mask and exited the bathroom with a smile. Corporate, but serviceable.

[professional-yapper]

Aonung x Albino reader? 🙏🙏

Burn

Aonung x Albino! Reader

Warnings: sunburn ig?, awkward Aonung (he can't flirt to save his life this is true James Cameron told me himself), teasing as flirting, the tribe they're from is giving cult x

"This is stupid, Vipka," you huffed, ducking under a branch as you followed your twin brother's ghostly figure closer and closer to the edge of the dark forest that your tribe inhabited.

"Don't be a wuss!" he called back, flashing you a sharp grin. "We might find something cool!"

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, or we'll find something dangerous, get ourselves killed, and end up in the Nothing. Eywa's word is that we stay here, in the Dark, where it's safe."

Vipka rolled his eyes right back, bounding towards you, grabbing your arms and giving you a little shake. "That's what the elders say. If Eywa wanted us to stay here, she wouldn't have made me so curious about what's out there."

You gritted your teeth, but couldn't find a proper response to that beyond a muttered, "That's blasphemous." And you relented, following your stupid, reckless brother towards the edge of the forest.

Not that you were sure there even was an edge. After all, no one besides the elders actually knew. You and Vipka were only heading in the direction that the elders went in when they left the village for reasons you and Vipka weren't allowed to know.

It really could just be the forest, going on forever and ever, and you would keep going until you went crazy.

A silent prayer formed on your lips, to Eywa, who had cared for your people even after they had been foolish enough to burn their Spirit Tree down. All that was left of the centuries-old catastrophe was a charred old stump held in reverence.

Once, your uncle had whispered a story to you of tribes far away, where the sun shone brightly and their Spirit Trees grew strong, and they could even connect with their dead through the Trees themselves. It seemed fantastical to you, who had grown up knowing upon death your people would go into the Nothing and never be heard from again. Eywa's punishment for her disobedient children.

But after all... You wondered if it could be true. If you and Vipka walked far enough, would you find a tribe with no Nothing, with a Spirit Tree that grew and flourished and kept their ancestors safe?

You didn't know whether to hope so or not. Would you even be able to return home once the elders discovered yours and Vipka's disobedience? Perhaps Eywa would punish the tribe again. Maybe your family personally.

Once again you called for Vipka, but he ignored you and his pale, slender form disappeared into the trees, running now, fuelled by the adrenaline of doing something so forbidden.

Not that this was forbidden, just wandering through the Dark. But it wasn't really the Dark, anymore. The dark green of the foliage had bled away into a lighter hue, punctuated with bursts of colours. Flowers and plants and fruits that you shied away from, eyes wary as you picked your way through this new world.

You shielded your eyes against the strange light filtering through the trees, golden and hot against your skin, which was already taking on a queer pink tint that you recognised vaguely.

The elders were often this shade when they returned to the tribe. Vipka had overheard them calling it... the Burn?

You couldn't be sure, but you covered your flushed arms with your hands and kept going.

A squeal suddenly pierced the warm silence, and you froze, ears dipping and tail waving with brisk worry. "Vipka?" you called, taking a few stilted steps towards the source of the sound.

Another squeal, but definitely not Vipka. An animal of some kind. And voices. Loud, cheerful, calling to one another as they got closer, evidently following the squealing thing.

Hunters, maybe.

Not from your tribe, for sure.

You began backing up, preparing to turn and run like hell all the way back home. Vipka could keep going for all you cared, could be caught and eaten alive by the tribes beyond the Dark.

A large animal burst out of the undergrowth and you shrieked in fright, leaping back and colliding with something or someone, falling down in a jumble of arms and legs.

The animal veered away at your cry, thundering in a different direction.

"Damn!" the thing that had fallen down with you swore, shoving you off unceremoniously. "You scared it away, skxwang!"

"Fuck you!" you spluttered furiously, climbing to your feet and rubbing your lower back. You were angry. Fucking furious.

But then the strange Na'vi stood up, and you considered that it might not be a good idea to square up with him.

He was built like a tree. Broad and muscular and a weird shade of blue. Twice your size, at least. Could absolutely crush you into dust.

You didn't want to stick around and find out.

But before you could run, he grabbed your arm, pulling you back, staring at you hard with his weird pale eyes, dark curls plastered to his brow, entire body covered in sweat. "What are you?" he asked.

You shoved him in the chest, but he barely shifted, which was a solid blow to your ego. You were one of the stronger members of the tribe, and it scared you to think Na'vi of his size and strength were roaming wild out here.

Why would the elders ever come out here?

"You're one of those white Na'vi, right? From the deep forest on the other side of Awa'atlu?" he prompted, ears flattening as you kept quiet.

You stiffened. "How do you know that?"

"Your people- what do you mean, how do I know that? Your people come and talk with my dad all the time. You should probably cover up, by the way. You guys burn real easy," he added, tone almost friendly as he released your arm, seemingly realising it wasn't helping.

He knew? He knew of your people. He knew of the Dark. He knew the elders.

"But you're, like, my age," he continued, tilting his head. "I thought your people were all old and wrinkly. That's why you're white, yeah?"

You frowned. "Only the elders ever leave the Dark," you said slowly, wondering just how much you should tell this boy.

He chuckled, a surprisingly reassuring sound, even though he was holding a spear with the other hand. "What's the Dark? Is that what you call the place you're from?"

You nodded.

"So you guys don't see the sun much, huh?" he said carefully, glancing up at the blazing white spot in the sky above.

A swift shake of the head, and you didn't bother to follow his eyes. You could feel the sun well enough as is. Your skin felt flushed, hot, and it stung when you touched it.

Though the pink was a nice colour, you had to ask. "Is it poisonous?" you asked, trying to keep the distress out of your voice, running your fingers down your arm.

Another warm chuckle, and now he was looking at you with interest, which made your heart beat a little quicker. "No, you're just burning. Sunburn, you know? Cause you don't see the sun much-"

"Ever," you interjected briefly, stealing a glance above, at the great blue mass above you that went on forever, careful to keep your eyes away from the sun, though spots still danced in your eyes when you looked back at him.

He blew out a breath, curls jumping off his forehead briefly. "Okay. So you're from a freaky tribe where you've never seen the sun and live in the dark all the time, in the forest where the leaves are so thick the sun can't get through... What are you doing here? Did you run away?"

"Kind of?" you said, wondering what he was doing as he turned and scooped up a knife off the floor, then turned and started walking. Should you follow him?

"Are you coming?" he called back, gesturing for you to follow. When you caught up, he gestured for you to keep talking.

"I was following my brother Vipka. Leaving the Dark was his idea. He wanted to know where our elders go," you continued, tongue growing looser the more time you spent with this strange boy. Which might've been a bad thing. "Eywa cursed him with curiosity."

The boy nodded slowly, absorbing this. "And where's your brother now?"

"He ran ahead and I lost him," you shrugged. "But he'll turn up, either at your village or back home, if he gives up."

"I'm Aonung," the boy said briskly.

You told him your name, and he repeated it back to you carefully, grinning like it was an inside joke between you two.

"I'll take you home with me, then," Aonung shrugged. "My mother will know what to do. I- we can look after you till your elders return to my village." The tips of his ears flushed and you smiled, pleased with the sight, though you didn't know why.

"Sounds good," you hummed.

"Are all girls in your tribe as pretty as you?" he asked abruptly, looking straight forward as if scared to see your expression.

You blinked, then smiled again, wider, flushing, though you thought he probably wouldn't be able to tell since you were so 'sunburnt'. "Dunno," you chuckled. "I'll bring you home with me one day and you can see for yourself."

"I don't think they are," he said, glancing down at you and smiling, lips curling downwards.

"You haven't even seen them yet!"

"No, but I trust my gut," he said, slapping his abs with a proud look

"Oh, yeah? Was it your gut that made you run into me, too?"

"That- that was fate. Mother Eywa intended it."

"Or maybe Eywa cursed you with clumsiness. A deadly combination with how short-sighted you apparently are," you teased.

He gave you a little push, laughing. "Shut up! Why were you just standing there, is my question!"

You pushed him back, not bothering to put any effort into it, as the results remained the same and he didn't break his stride. "I've never been this far from home! I was taking in the scenery!"

"Taking in the scenery," he scoffed. "Take in this scenery." He got close to your face, which was probably meant to be intimidating but only made your ears drop bashfully, tail curling against your calf, suddenly shy as his nose almost bumped into yours.

He lingered for a moment, then seemed to realise his theatrics had gone wrong and backed up. "I mean- sorry, that came out wrong."

"No, it's okay, I like that scenery just fine too," you grinned, and he rolled his eyes in embarrassment.

"What?" you taunted, following him as he kept walking, more than happy to tease the hell out of him. "I thought you wanted me to take in the scenery!"

"Shut up."

"Make me."

I'm patenting this tribe actually, this freaky albino tribe, because I want to write lore for it. Let me know if anyone wants to read said lore. Enjoy anon! I had fun with the world-building!

[obriengf]

Jubilee || Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: You find moments of clarity throughout your boyfriend's birthday. Words: 1.9k Warnings: totally added tay swift references - not really a warning (: Notes: despite the photo used in the banner, the reader is non-gender specific, non-race specific, etc.

April 8th, 1995 - Happy Birthday Stiles Stilinski ・❥・

You weren't sure what it was, exactly - maybe it was simply just how his eyes would widen with excitement, a childhood gleam that twinkled so exuberantly as he smiled. Or, it could be how his body jumped with so much positive energy, the balls of his feet built with springs as he bounded around with pure enthusiasm. Perhaps, it was really the way in which he couldn't stop talking, in absolute Stiles fashion, his mind and mouth running with stories and ideas and honest happiness. Selfishly, you would like to say that it was when he encased his body around yours and provided loving kisses with every 'thank you' during his never-ending expression of gratitude. Whatever it was, it made this time of year your favourite of them all. Nothing could beat celebrating your boyfriend's birthday.

His twenty-ninth year started with a tender peck - lips pressed to his cheek as they covered a freckled canvas, his skin warm as it remained settled under the morning sun that filtered through the blinds. It twitched from such a delicate sentiment and was followed by lashes dancing as the boy began to wake. He was so beautiful, and it prompted your heart to clutch in absolute awe.

His arm was heavy as it remained slung over your waist, despite pulling you closer to his chest in oblivious movements from his still-slumbered state. He hummed lightly against the shell of your ear, a sound of acknowledgement, wordless contentedness to the complacency you helped him feel. It made you kiss him again on the upturn of his nose and he groaned as it scrunched.

"Hi." You whispered so quietly, his caramel toned eyes fluttering once again as they tried to adjust to the morning light. Stiles smiled at you, completely loving with just a simple glance. A hum pushed past your lips, "Good Morning, handsome."

"It is now." He replied, so smooth, so swift. The truth embedded in such little words and encapsulated with sleepy raspiness.

Noses brushed as you giggled under your breath, your thumb rubbing gently under his eye, "And Happy Birthday."

He leaned into your touch as if it were moulded to fit his face, love exuberating from his features with ease, "Thank you, baby."

It was amusing to watch as Stiles shovelled his face with pancakes - the breakfast dish easily branded as his favourite, and seen quite evidently as he moaned loudly in satisfaction. The plate was stacked high and you knew that the sugar rush could potentially be catastrophic, but it was his day, and he deserved everything he desired.

An incredulous look was etched deeply into the furrowed brows and confused lift of Noah Stilinski's lips as he watched his son across the table. The coffee mug in his hand was teetering on the edge of lukewarm by now, but he couldn't tear his focus away. You'd think that after twenty-nine years, the man would be somewhat immune to the quirkiness of his son. Noah's eyes glanced briefly around your small kitchen space - an area where you and Stiles spent much of your time since you moved in together. He had always admired the varied elements representing you both and how easy it was for your lives to merge. It was as if soulmates were united, and this is how your beings were destined to be intertwined.

"You spoil him." Noah's deep voice broke through the silent chuckle you expelled toward your boyfriend, eyes managing to break free as they looked to the man beside you. Appreciation filled the small smile he shone your way and you couldn't help but release an elated exhale, your head nodding in agreement.

"I know." Your reply was simple but was spoken with the utmost adoration for Stiles, observing as a childish spark embodied him with joyousness; a light that took a while to finally settle within his heart after years of trepidation and great wars. A sigh pushed past your lips, "But he deserves it, all of it, after everything he's been through."

And you would give him the world on a silver platter if you could, but you knew that all Stiles truly wanted was to be content. He craved silly grown-up routines and times when he could relax without the threat of worry. He wanted to relive mundane moments from his teenage years that were short-lived due to monsters that lurked in the shadows. He yearned for endearment and safety and just simply knowing that you would be there every morning and night, curled up in his arms, loving him unconditionally. Stiles never asked for a lot, so days like today were ones you strived to make special. Because he deserved special, every last speck of it.

Noah snickered to himself, pride filling his chest as he looked between yourself and Stiles. "He deserves you most, ya know." His words struck a chord - one with melodic tunes, strummed hard enough to get your heart beating fast as a red blush pinched at your nose and cheeks. You reached across and placed a hand over his, your eyes bright as you looked at the older Stilinski.

"Thank you." That was all you ever wanted.

Stiles could work a room, especially when the buzz was centered around him. He had bounced across your living room several times by now, excitement filling his veins as he couldn't stop talking to the friends and family who came to see him for his birthday. You were standing off to the side, half listening as Scott was making conversation about his week at the Clinic - your focus was mostly on Stiles, admiring the way he was utilising his over-energetic nature and definite possible sugar hype from his breakfast. He had never looked happier as words flowed from him, a bottle of beer clutched between the fingers of his right hand as his left arm hung jovially over Liam's shoulders in deep narration.

"You're not listening, are you?" Scott spoke up, amused as his arms crossed over his chest and he leaned back casually against the wall.

"Sorry, Scotty." You offered a smile, apologetic tones seeping through and your friend couldn't help but shake his head as he returned your smile amiably. You took a sip of your own drink, making sure to turn your body slightly, attempting to provide full attention even though your mind still wandered whenever you heard your boyfriend's laugh. "I was, I just got a little distracted --"

" -- It's all good." He intercepted your explanation, a look of knowing putting you at ease. He knew well the effect that you and Stiles had on each other, for the most part, and how you were both connected so seamlessly by an invisible string that without fail drew you back to one another. It only made sense that a part of your focus would always be on him. "But kudos on the party. You definitely decked the place out, and Stiles seems to definitely be enjoying himself."

You hummed, eyes picking up the array of decorations that you so carefully placed only a couple of hours ago. "You know more than anyone that I'd do anything to just see him happy. After all, today is Stiles Day and honestly..." You trailed off, features already beginning to scrunch up as joviality shaped your words, "I think I like it more than Christmas."

You laughed, and Scott joined you. He agreed wholeheartedly as his hand splayed over his chest, head nodding and lopsided smile growing by the second.

It wasn't too long after when the crowd gathered around your dining table with Stiles perching at the head as he sat tall. The lights were turned off and the room became swallowed by darkness - building anticipation, creating an atmosphere of smiles and eagerness for the theatrics to follow. It was the sound of hissing that made ears perk and eyes swiftly track the source as it entered from the kitchen. You had gentle hands as his cake remained in your hold; silhouettes sitting against the walls from shoots of sparking fire that sat atop his cake. His gaze grew large, and the normal caramel tone of his eyes shifted to a glowing golden hue from the reflecting sparklers.

You placed the cake in front of Stiles before planting a tender kiss against the apple of his grinning cheek, your nose nuzzling into his favourite spot under his ear, "Happy Birthday, my handsome man."

The crowd began to sing, mismatched harmonies growing louder in the small space of your apartment. It was hasty as Stiles' large hands gripped at your waist, your body falling toward his own before he sat you in his lap. Legs dangled over his knees and it made you giggle against the curve of his shoulder. Stiles pecked your template before replicating your nuzzle, his nose dragging against your hairline, "I love you."

You watched as the sparklers danced patterns across his affectionate expression, completely mesmerised by him and the fortune you felt, before you smiled up at him, "I love you too. Now blow out those candles!"

It wasn't much different from your usual Monday night; the television played some reruns of comedies from the 90's, every light in the room was turned off except the dingy floor lamp beside the couch, and the coffee table was graced by Chinese takeout containers and leftover plates of birthday cake. Stiles slumped back against the soft cushions with his feet perched upon the table, socks cladding his feet as they moved in tune with the opening credits of an old sitcom. He was in complete comfort, only made better by your frame as it was situated under his arm with your head pressed to his chest and hands curled in the material of his t-shirt. His touch was absentmindedly dragging up and down your side with dancing fingers, the sentiment just barely felt as the movements remained delicate and featherlike.

"Today was amazing." He said so nonchalantly, voice hardly competing with the television as the sound remained low.

You burrowed yourself closer to him, tiredness beginning to takeover, "I'm glad."

Stiles grinned lazily, his lips puckered before pressing kisses down the expanse of your cheek as his nose trailed after them, "But this?Right now... full of cake and chow mein, us cuddling and watching Friends reruns... this is my favourite part. Without a doubt."

"But we do this practically every night." You mused, voice laced with humor and confusion before gently pulling away from him. Your brow was raised, but the puzzled expression across your features was captured with a smile.

"Yeah, we do, but... just knowing how much effort you put into making today the best birthday, it just makes it all mean so much more."

Your heart pattered, a rush of endearment and affection. It was loud and fast in your chest, but one would never have guessed from the quiet squeak of your voice that followed, "I only ever want the best for you."

"And all I ever want is you. Period."

The light from the television casted a blue glow as you leant forward, your arms encasing themselves around Stiles' neck as thighs straddled his own. The programme was long forgotten, and his face settled against your shoulder. You could feel him breathe you in as his own arms wrapped around to your back, his large splayed hands pushing your body further against him.

You kissed the crown of his head, fingers gentle as they tangled themselves in the loose locks of his hair, "Happy Birthday, Stiles."

[solovivoparati]

Put in a very very very simple way, the entire theme of GO S2 is miscommunication. Lets see:

Gabriel arrives, amnesic, and says that something horrible was going to happen to him-prompting to imagine catastrophic scenarios-, which makes Aziraphale panic and then Crowley panics too, finding out in the end that hey, it’s not actually that bad, he was just being demoted.

Maggie and Nina have trouble communicating from the start, when Maggie shoots her shot without ever having talked to Nina before (properly at least). Nina then has trouble with her partner (which is another miscommunication thing mixed with manipulation and toxicity), they both assume things of each other, Nina's relationship ends, etc etc. All is resolved in the end because they talk, actually listen to what the other has to say and what each of them feels.

Gabriel and Beelzebub are shown to develop their relationship when they sit down to actually speak to each other properly and find out that hey, maybe you're not so bad, maybe not at all.

Even in one of the minisodes, when Aziraphale is so against the whole digging out dead bodies thing, his perspective shifts just by listening to what the Dr. had to say and realizes that he has a very valid point and that things are not black and white if you just listen.

The divorceTM is just a result of, quite literally, six thousand years of miscommunication that was never going to be resolved in a rushed confession of 5 minutes when Crowley and Aziraphale weren’t even focusing on the same topic, each too wrapped in their own subjects to stop and talk things through beyond resentment, excitement or even anger.

TLDR; communication is key. Literally everyone is able to fix their problems when they stop and listen to the other part, and Crowley and Aziraphale fail to do this multiple times. It was bound to happen.

[preciouslandmermaid]

🕸🕷 my heart is a hornet's nest 🕸🕷

Pairing: Insomniac Peter Parker/Spider-Man x Fem!Reader (code name: “Huntress” + she is Kraven’s daughter)

Rating: T

Summary:  It's been thirteen months since Kraven was killed by Venom. Despite everything, you're still in the city and helping a nerd - named Peter - in his garage try and save the world. It's hard to ascertain where your old life as a hunter ends and your new life begins. Somedays you can't even tell if you're moving forward or not. But, the pull you feel towards Peter is magnetic. And it's bound to end in catastrophe if you pursue him.

Even as part-time Spider-Man, Peter knows his relationships with others puts them at risk. He doesn’t want to throw you back into the carnage, into the fray, to the wolves you claim to be so comfortable around. He can't risk it. He can't risk you. And the long nights in his garage are really, really starting to wear at him.

Prompt: "Are you afraid of me?" / "Do I look afraid?"

tags: enemies to Lovers/enemies to friends to lovers, no use of y/n, secret identity, unresolved romantic tension, first kiss, light angst, slow burn, mutual pining !!

🕷🕷 ( read on ao3 ) 🕷🕷

Kraven snaps your name like a whip.

“You’ll oversee this one, huntress.” he says without looking away from the screen.

A mixture of pride and trepidation curdles beneath your skin. Kraven is trusting you, but he trusts plenty of his hunters. You lick your lips. The transfer of Martin Li. You promise Kraven that you’ll put the team together and leave before the hour.

No one questions Kraven’s decision. You don’t get special treatment purely because you’re his blood. In fact, if you look closely (which you won’t), you’d say that Kraven treats you worse than his other hunters. He expects—he demands – more of you.

There will be a target on your back when Kraven completes his hunt and finds a worthy enough predator to kill him. But that’s nothing new. You’ve had a target on your back since you were young enough to understand the way of the world; predator and prey, hunter and hunted, kill or be killed.

You lift your arm-- THUNK!—the throwing knife hits its bullseye.

“Huntress,” a hunter named Erik approached you, “you want five VTOLs?”

THUNK! This one is a little off-center and you blame Erik for distracting you. You exhale, balancing your weight, and lining up your shot. Erik is bold. Kraven named you the leader of Li’s abduction. He shouldn’t be asking questions. Your eyes narrow.

You pivot on your heel, fast as a viper’s strike, and flashing silver spins through the air. It’s beautiful.

Erik makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

Your throwing knife wobbles from where its pinned Erik’s hood to the wall. His eyes flick to the blade. He’s lucky you didn’t miss. Otherwise the blade would’ve sank into his throat or he would lack an ear for the mission ahead.

“That’s what I said,” you yank the knife from the wood, freeing him, “wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Erik says, voice tight and clipped, and his eyes darken. You know he is loyal to Kraven, not you. If he managed to kill you – Kraven would be disappointed, but he wouldn’t mourn you. Nature is cruel and so is your father. You sheath your throwing knives while keeping one eye on the hunter.

Erik hasn’t left which means he could be planning his next move. You tense and wait for the inevitable blow. Come on, you think, try it. You’d be happy to fight off your frazzled, nervous energy. You should probably conserve your strength in case things with Martin Li go bad.

Erik nods, “huntress,” and leaves.

You roll your shoulders and return to the weapons cache. I’ll bring Martin Li to Kraven and he’ll have his wonderful fight. He’ll achieve his dream.

Nothing will go wrong. Nothing could. You’ve been planning this for months.

******

Peter wobbles to his feet, his head ringing. Whoever these guys are—they’re serious. The tech they’re using is insane. Invisible drones. Laser swords. What’s next? A few giant mecha-robots intent on crushing Harlem? He shouldn’t think about it – he doesn’t want to jinx it.

He stares into the face of the capable, dangerous stranger with smoke burning his nostrils and scalding his throat.

Dark soot clings to your clothes, your expression venomous and focused, furrowed and tight. The light frames you, bouncing off the east river in sparks, and refracting over the small throwing knives clutched between your knuckles. She’s fast, like really fast. Fast enough that he’s concerned you have a spider-sense of your own. Who the hell are these guys? Miles kicks a drone in mid-air and metal-on-metal crunches together like a compacted soda can.

Peter jumps before the blade can slice through him. It whistles through the air, hits and – literally bounces! -- off a metal pole. His lenses widen. He twists his body. His nerves ignite with impending danger, but he’s in the already dodging the first blade.

He’s Spider-Man.

He can’t stop physics.

Your second blade cuts through the air and burns when it cuts his shoulder. He lands on his feet, a sharp inhale drawn through his teeth, and resists the urge to check the injury. She can’t have that many knives on her!

Your lips quirk, “are you afraid of me?”

“Do I look afraid?”

“Hard to say,” you make a gesture around your face, “with the mask and all.”

“Where’s yours?” he propels through the air with his webs slung behind him, “I thought--” you deflect his punch, “most bad guys—” you stumble backward when he kicks your chest, but recover quickly, “want to keep their identities a secret.”

“I have no shame in who I am,” your leg swings over his head.

“So uhhh...who are you?” he quips. His palms land flat on the cold, metal surface and his spine curves, his body moving like a question mark, and avoiding the onslaught of your assault.

“Serious question!” he says a little louder this time while your silver knife dances through the light as it carves his webs into flimsy pieces.

A burst of green flares flash against the gray smoke. His heart flips. The raft jolts to the side. They’re going to drag the ship underwater! The heavy-duty spears punch through the metal as if it was made of tissue paper.

“We gotta get this ship free!”

Peter spares a final glance over his shoulder and you leap from the other side. Are you landing on another boat? A life raft? Are you going to swim away? He has no clue. He can’t spare any further brain cells on it though. He slides down the tilted raft toward the giant spears that function like fish-hooks into the industrial, military transport raft.

***

It’s been approximately thirteen months since Kraven met his end.

You’ve found that keeping count provides some strange, twisted comfort. You wake up, check your calendar, and strike another tally mark into the wall. It feels good to carve the line into the sheet-rock, little flecks of white catching on your thumb and falling like cremated remains onto the hardwood floor and clinging to your socks.

Sometimes you run into old hunters, vying for territory, and hoping to claim some scraps that Kraven left behind. Many, however, fled to Kraven’s homeland to play out the tragedy of a power vacuum and continue Kraven’s legacy.

None of them have impressed you. Not the ones that have sought you out, hoping to kill Kraven’s kin, and earn glory. And definitely not the ones who you’ve run into accidentally. Those are the worst. They’re cowards. They’re mice. You stumble upon them, trying to eat the crumbs off Kraven’s table, and your retribution is swift and bloody and a pain in the ass to clean up.

You wonder what Peter Parker would say if he knew. You pull your sweater over your head. Peter, the nerd running a research foundation out of his garage, happens to be your only...well, friend is the wrong word...but he’s your only something in this city.

You aren’t supposed to have ‘somethings’. Attachments, as Kraven would call them. Attachments made you weak. You thought it was hypocritical for your father preach this advice when he had a wife and multiple children. Not anymore though, you finish lacing up your boots, everyone’s dead now except for me.

The cassette clicks with a satisfying ‘CLUNK’ into the player and you slide your headphones over your ears. The player was a gift from Peter. No. Gift is the wrong word. It’s on a loan.

“What’s this?” You cradled the cassette player, “it looks ancient.” You twisted the sharp-grooved circles. They remind you of strange teeth. You click the play and pause button. It’s clunky. It’s right-angles and lackluster chrome and the buttons make noise.

It’s the antithesis of the technology you grew up with around Kraven.

You love it.

Peter rolls his chair over to you, “it’s not ancient. Maybe vintage. God, do we call it vintage?” he sounds so baffled that you almost smile, “you know, record players and vinyl are making a big comeback so it’s only a matter of time before Walkman do too.”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond, “do you want it?”

“Huh?”

“I’m not using it obviously.” He smiles, “I think I have a few cassettes lying around and there’s no shortage of music shops in Brooklyn.”

Your fingers tighten around the device. The wild part of you, the part that Kraven nurtured through violence and toxic loyalty, wants to throw the device on the ground. See how sturdy it is and compare it to the tactical, military-grade equipment you grew up with. How many pieces will it break into? A dozen?

You gaze into Peter’s earnest face. His eyes are warm, light mahogany. There are soft lines that kiss the corners of his eyes. You think when he is old, he will have many wrinkles around his eyes, and it takes a second longer than normal for your lungs to refill.

“I’ll borrow it,” you say, unable to accept his random kindness, “and return it before our work is done.”

“Great!” Peter coughs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I mean, that sounds good.”

The cassette clicks, whirring warm in your palm, and switching the song. The subway rushes past in a gust of tepid, moist air that smells both stale and greasy. You scan the crowd. The citizens range from individuals wearing jean jackets with sewn patches, to baggy street wear, to plastic bags on shoes, to gym athletics and smart watches.

Someone gets on the train wearing a camouflage parka. Your spine stiffens. Your fingers twitch to the weapons hidden inside your coat. Do I know your face? You shift your body and peer at the subway windows, allowing the ghostly transparent reflection to reveal the stranger’s face.

As you wait for the right angle, the right lighting, you consider your options. Tail them out of the train—could be a trap, but their numbers are never that high. Get close, press the blade to the artery in their thigh, let them see your face before you sink the blade in and leave on the next stop. The timing would be tricky, but not impossible. Not for you. Bail on Pete and spend the next several days tracking the stranger until you’ve found and confirmed their hideout. An ambush. Quick and silent.

The stranger coughs into their sleeve and your fingers fall away from your knife.

You’re glad Pete isn’t here. You’ve never traveled together and you likely never will. It’s safer that way. It keeps him out of your personal life.

“That’s the problem with attachments,” you mumble to yourself, “you start wondering what they might say if they knew you.”

*****

Pete rubs his eyes with his fists, “do you hear birds or is that just in my head?”

You don’t lift your head from the microscope, “it’s birds.”

He yawns. There have been plenty of late nights in his garage shared with you, but this one feels different.

Maybe it’s because of the mercurial light flickering along the planes of your face.

Maybe it’s the notes by your hands, the edges of your fingers smeared black from ink.

Maybe it’s the unplugged headphone wire dangling from your throat and brushing ever-so-often against your exposed collarbones.

Shit. He blinks, looking away. He can’t get mixed up. He’s grateful to you. You donated the notes first, but then pieces of Kraven’s equipment, and then...you came around more and more. You wanted to see what he was doing, wanted to see his progress, or ‘see how helpful your notes are.’ He likes it. He likes having you around.

But, even as part-time Spider-Man, Peter knows his relationships with others puts them at risk. He doesn’t want to risk you too. And it’s not because you can’t fight. To him, you’re finding your place outside of Kraven’s shadow and he doesn’t want to mess that up. He doesn’t want to throw you back into the carnage, into the fray, to the wolves you claim to be so comfortable around.

The sequences before him blur into gibberish. He peeks up through his hair back to you.

Your name is the first word out of his mouth, followed shortly by “you’re bleeding!”

“I tried to catch the sample,” your voice is laced with frustration, “I can’t believe I dropped it.”

“It’s fine,” he opens the first-aid kit that’s stowed beneath the desk, “let me see.”

***

You blink at Peter. Earnest, helpful, kind Peter. You cradle your hand to your chest. It stings, but you’ve faced hornets stronger than this. The tiny shards of glass bounce colorful reflections from the holiday lights strung around Peter’s garage. The wild voice tells you to dig the shards out with your nails.

The blood is starting to stain the hem of your sweater.

Peter doesn’t blink. He doesn’t flinch away. His offered hand holding the gauze doesn’t shake.

You swallow. Why isn’t he shying away from the woman made of shrapnel? Doesn’t he know you’re lethal?

“What?” his eyebrows lift, “are you afraid of me? Or is it medical care in general?” soft humor folds into his brown eyes, “I promise my co-pays are reasonable.”

His words shatter the stiffness of your muscles.

You say, “do I look afraid?” you extend your bloody hand to him.

His fingers curl lightly and gently around your wrist. He flushes the wounds with water before plucking the glass out with a pair of tweezers. His brow furrows in concentration. Your neck prickles and a tingling sensation travels down your spine.

You’ve seen his furrowed brow a hundred times. However, you’ve never experienced it as the subject. Peter holds an antiseptic wipe between his long fingers. His touch is unbearably gentle and you wish you had something to compare it to.

“This might hurt a bit,” the soft, low rumble of his voice is strangely intimate.

The words fall out of your mouth, “I’m used to it.”

“Are we going to unpack that?” He slides the wipe across your angry, throbbing skin.

“No,” your lips twitch, “unless you have a psychology degree I’m unaware of.”

You’re fascinated by the way his fingers move along yours, light and precise, carefully wiping away the blood and wrapping your hand in gauze.

He says, “maybe it’s time for a career change.”

You smile. “What career?”

Peter chuckles, “okay, I walked into that one.”

His eyes lift to yours and his jaw slackens, like he’s finally caught the creature stalking him in the woods, and his fingers twitch on your wrist. The charged moment hangs undisturbed in the air, sending signals through the ether and rearranging the flow of blood in your veins.

His cheeks flush rosy and sweet. The pink hue reminds you of that pivotal morning a few months ago when Spider-Man gave you a sunrise and Pete’s number and a hope for a different future. Your fingers curl into his. And the carefully wrapped gauze prevents you from feeling the warmth of his palm. The wild voice tells you to rip the bandages off and run home. Your knees bump into his.

There’s always so little distance between you.

It’s a small garage, after all.

You tilt forward and hear Pete’s sharp inhale. There isn’t a moment of hesitation. Not for you. You know when to strike, when to move, and when to hide. It’s been drilled into you since birth. Hesitation is a lack of courage, in confidence, and you’ve never lacked either of those.

Peter’s mouth collides with yours.

Your ever-present and paranoid guard slips and you close your eyes to savor it—savor him.

The pliant softness of his lips melds into yours and your exhale shudders between your lips. His hand slides from your throat and holds your cheek, his thumb pressed into your cheekbone, and your hip bumps into the side of his workbench when you stand.

Peter remains on the stool, his neck arched, and his lithe legs part for you to enter the space between them. The thrill illuminates your chest like a red flare against a black sky. His lips play against yours, eager and a little clumsy, and you clutch the front of his wrinkled cotton shirt.

He mumbles your name.

“Shh,” you nose skims along his, recapturing his lips, because you think words might ruin it. The hanging lights flash their merry little dance. There’s fragments of glass under your boots. Ink stains your fingers, blood stains your sweater, and Peter’s tongue stains your lips.

You’ve experienced blood lust. You’ve felt it pounding through your ears and sharpening your focus into razor-thin virulence. You’re familiar with the excitement of a good hunt, a worthy opponent, a well-matched fight. Spider-Man, you think, I’ve felt this with him. But those were mixed with violence, and blood, and bruises.

This – this moment with Peter – is wholly different. Your heart pumps the same blood, pushing it through arteries and valves, but your hands move to caress, to clutch, and stroke through the fine strands of his hair. Your lungs tremble, not in pain, but in elation. The passion rolls through you in waves of syrup and brushes your skin like branches of fir.

Peter’s phone buzzes – loud and incessant – and he groans before tearing his mouth from yours. His cheeks are ruddy, eyes bright, and his chest heaves with hungry gulps of air. You’re glad to know you aren’t the only one affected by the strong pull of – whatever this is – between you.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta--” he lifts the phone from the table, “hello?”

You watch Peter’s face while he talks on the phone. He’s too expressive. He’d make a terrible hunter. And probably a bad poker player, too. You want to kiss him again just for the hell of it. And feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath your palms, feel his breath mingling with yours, his tongue and the blunt force of his teeth.

“I have to go out, um, do you want to come with?” he tilts his chin toward the garage door, “we could – uh – get something to eat along the way?”

You hands twitch at your sides. Your coat, draped on the desk chair, is laden with hidden pockets for knives and darts and small vials of poison. An arsenal for protection, an arsenal for vengeance, the truth of your soul. A soul that Peter cannot – should not – bear witness to.

“Can’t.”

His expression deflates, but he recovers with an easy-going smile.

He shakes his head, “that’s cool,” and says, “another time then.”

You make a noncommittal sound.

***

You finish setting up the tripwire at your apartment door and wipe your palms on your sweatpants. The windowpanes glisten with raindrops, painting the empty corners dark blue, and blurring the myriad of ever-changing traffic lights.

You scratch beneath your ear, upsetting your headphones, and flop onto the couch. The cassette whirs like a little hamster running through its wheel as the song fills your head and blocks out the honking below. You’ve grown to like the city of noise, the city that never sleeps. It’s a concrete jungle. A unique hunting ground.

Tap, tap, tap --

You jerk upright and your head whirls to the noise. Spider-Man perches on the ledge of your window, his red and blue suit shiny and dripping. You cautiously close the distance and begin to disarm the trap before unlatching it. It creaks noisily as it slides open and old paint chips cling to the windowsill.

The cool wet air is tinged with the scent of exhaust fumes.

“Weird time to visit,” you say.

“I was in the neighborhood.” He slips through the window like a salmon and lands soundlessly on the hardwood floor.

You’re going to have to move. You don’t want Spider-Man keeping tabs on you.

“But this isn’t a social call,” he continues, “I need your help with something.”

You lift one eyebrow, “I’m not a mercenary,” then you add, “and even if I was, I doubt you could afford me.”

Spider-Man laughs. “It’s nothing like that!”

You fold your arms across your chest. Spider-Man gives you the vague details of a criminal that he’s had trouble tracking down, could use your expertise, and fighting skills, and so and so forth. It’s a good pitch, you’ll give him partial credit for effort, but you’re not interested in becoming a vigilante – or a hero.

“So, what do you say? We’ve teamed up before.”

Against the symbiote. But, your motivations were selfish. You weren’t helping Spider-Man or trying to save the city. You were weakening Venom.

“No thanks.”

“What?” His lenses widen, “seriously? After my whole speech and everything?”

“Try a power point next time.” You shrug, “I’m retired. No more fighting for me.”

Spider-Man glances around your apartment and there’s evidence of your hypocrisy across every surface. A case of black, tactical arrowheads sits on your coffee table. There’s several target posters hanging on the wall across from your couch with pockmarks embedded into the paper. There’s unfinished gadgets and an open toolbox on the floor near the kitchen where you like to eat breakfast and tinker.

“You’re a bad liar,” there’s a smile in his voice, “just this once, huntress, that’s all. For old times sake.”

You muster the energy to glare at him, but it lacks true heat. “You mean the old times when I was actively trying to kill you?”

Spider-Man shrugs languidly, “we all have bad days.”

That wildness, the hunter that lives inside you, under your skin and in the marrow of your bones is grinding its teeth and trashing into your ribs. It’s hard to determine where you begin and the hunter ends or if they’re destined to forever be intertwined.

You’re a wildcat, unable to be truly domesticated and all your attempts have been in vain.

But, then you remember the warmth of Peter’s lips, his gentle hands, and genuine laughter. You tell yourself, there is room for softness inside of me, for even tigers can purr.

You tell Spider-Man to wait while you get dressed.

“One time,” you hold up a finger, “that’s it.”

“One time.” he agrees with a nod.

Together, you rush into the monotone rain-soaked evening for your first hunt since Kraven’s death.

[petals2fish]

@jilymicrofics Day 1: 🌸Blossom🌸

“Lily-blossom!"

Fuck, she hated that nickname.

At the ear-piercing call, Lily pivoted to encounter a sixth-year named Donta, and she attempted to muster a smile that hid her inner despair. "What's up, Donta?"

The Ravenclaw prefect proudly proclaimed, "Guess who's doing rounds tonight with you?"

Lily silently begged for someone to take pity and push her down the staircase, sparing her from this impending catastrophe. Dealing with Donta was like navigating dueling club with a blindfold – bound to be chaotic, excessively painful, and with a high probability of an unwanted attempt at a mid-rounds snog.

Donta nudged Lily’s ankle with his foot. Lily half raised a hand to smack him for it, but a new voice intervened, "Actually, Lily forgot to cross out her name. I'm covering for her.”

Lily could’ve kissed Remus Lupin for stepping up to save her from Donta. She had never been more thrilled at the sight of her fellow Gryffindor prefect.

“What’d ya have to switch your name for?” Donta frowned, crossing his arms. “I heard you talking to your friends about how lonely you’d be doing solo rounds in Astronomy two days ago.”

She got chills knowing he eavesdropped so nonchalantly in class. She made a mental note to pass handwritten notes to her friends from now on.

“I—I got a last minute date.” Lily said, tossing her hair. “Really last minute.”

“A date?” James Potter looked tickled pink, especially because he knew she was lying. “Well aren’t you just the luckiest witch in all of Hogwarts.”

Lily shot James a glare, not needing his sarcasm or an off handed joke to make this anymore painful.

“With who?!” Donta looked outraged that he hadn’t been informed yet by the rumor mill. “I wanted to ask you to Hogsmede!”

“Well,” Lily spoke slowly, “I don’t date other prefects.”

“Yes,” Remus lied, “it’s in the handbook, we can’t date each other.”

Grateful, Lily sent Remus Lupin a small smile and a slight nod of the head, begging him to find a way to get her out of Donta’s sight.

Beside Remus, James, sensing Remus’ lie, stepped forward, casually putting an arm around Donta. "Say, mate, ever noticed your bludger hits leaning a bit too far right?"

“I don’t lean!”

Lily hid a smile as James winked at her over Donta's shoulder. He had succeeded in changing the subject, and moving all attention to his quip about Donta’s quidditch skills.

"Will you really cover the shift for me?" Lily asked Remus with a desperate tone.

"Absolutely," Remus grinned and wiggled his eyebrows, "Just brace yourself because James will calling you ‘Lily Blossom’ for a while; he thinks it’s funny."

Lily sighed, “of course he does.”

Remus chortled warmly at her lackluster response, “I’ll go change the schedule, you ought to hole up in the common room for your pretend date.”

Remus ended up being totally correct about James calling her ‘Lily Blossom’ every chance he got. To get him to finally stop after a week, she had to resort with a threat to paint his cherished broomstick purple. From then on, he only used it when he really wanted to push her buttons. Somehow though, it didn’t sound as bad when it was coming from him.

[lets-try-some-writing]

A World Where Things Went Right: Snippet #1

Enjoy suckers. This is going to be the angstiest of angst once I get it finished. Just you all wait. I warned you I had shipping pain in store.

The snippet isn't that long, but well... the fic will likely be WAY longer at the rate I am writing.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

“So this is it.” There was no question in his tone as Ratchet stared at the space bridge as it powered on. Their ship had long since been left to float through the dead of space, all remaining power having been diverted to this last leap, this final chance to make a difference.

“Yes.” Optimus answered simply, his voice weak from long vorns of exhaustion and malnutrition. He did not smile as he sat in his chair connected to a thousand and one wires. The Matrix glowed faintly in his exposed spark chamber, seemingly at peace with the connectors that were hooked into it. This was the end, and even the relic knew it.

“I won’t be able to come back, will I?” No response greeted his question as Ratchet stared out into the void outside their ship. They were the last, at least to their knowledge. Even if others had survived, the Unmaker’s reign was in full swing. He would get them all eventually, or failing that, the lack of energon would kill off whatever remained of their species soon enough. 

The stabbing pain in his tanks reminded Ratchet of just how much time he had left. Ratchet had been given what little remained of their stores so that he would be able to endure the journey. Optimus did not look nearly as healthy, not that Ratchet was healthy by any definition of the word either.

“When this is done, the Matrix will have no more power to give. This place, our universe… it will be no more.” Optimus’s weakened voice echoed in the ship and Ratchet found his servos clenched into fists. He had long ago accepted the deaths of the remainder of their kind. Vorns upon vorns of watching those he loved be picked off tended to have that effect. Still, the idea of everything fading away… it ached.

He wanted to die beside his Conjunx, not abandon him to the coming darkness.

“Why can’t it be you?” Ratchet knew the answer to his question even as he uttered it into the relative silence of their shuttle. Optimus needed to power the space bridge. Relics were the only objects known to be able to tear through the seams of reality. The Matrix was the only relic that remained. It was the only possible tool that could be used, and since it was bound to Optimus, he needed to stay behind. Sending him through with the Matrix serving as a power source at the same time was asking for a catastrophic explosion that would kill them both.

Although, if Ratchet were honest, he wouldn’t mind that outcome at this point. 

“You know that this is the only viable option. Not only are you the only mech capable of stepping through that portal, your presence was always one which did not warrant much suspicion.” Ratchet looked over to his Conjunx, his optics cycling in tiredly on the emaciated mech before him. Optimus no longer had the luster of a mech of his station. His limbs were thin from disuse and his armor had largely grayed. His face was gaunt and his spark flared weakly in his chassis behind the Matrix. 

He didn’t have long left either.

“I know that… I just wish we could have greeted the end together.” Ratchet’s servos shook and he felt coolant gather in his optics as he stepped forward to the one mech in the universe who gave his life meaning. Optimus smiled sadly and drew Ratchet in for a gentle embrace. It was cold, neither of them healthy enough to produce more than the barest heat signatures. The wires that connected to the Matrix slithered along the exposed seams of Ratchet’s form, but he paid them no mind as he rested his face in the crook of his Conjunx’s neck.

“I would have given anything to stay with you my love, but now… this has grown beyond us. We must perform our final function.” Optimus’s words echoed in Ratchet’s mind, and all he could do was cry. 

“I don’t want to leave you here alone.” His vents hitched as Ratchet clung to Optimus’s frail form. His dear Conjunx merely rubbed small circles onto his back while humming a soft tune. He could hear the space bridge power on behind him and sense his bond to his Prime growing weaker along with it. This was it. This was their final farewell. Ratchet had been preparing for this moment for vorns as they worked on the calculations needed to make this grand effort successful, but it still felt like his spark was being torn asunder. 

Ratchet was not the first to go through the portal. Others had gone, and all had vanished without a trace. Bumblebee and Smokescreen were by far the most notable losses. Without a way to confirm if they had survived, only a few attempts to send mecha through the portal had been made. There was no way to be certain it even did anything. For all Ratchet knew, he would be vaporized the moment he stepped into the portal. Despite that, it was a chance for one of them to make it out alive, and he wanted to hope if only for Optimus’s sake.

He wanted to believe that their desperate struggle to preserve something of their dead universe would have meaning. Two of their sons had been lost to the cause. For them, he begged their deceased god with all his spark, praying that this would work.

“It is time.” Optimus’s voice was a mere whisper as Ratchet finally pulled away. A small holodisk sat heavy in his servo as Optimus passed it to him. Ratchet couldn’t bear to look at it as he put it into his carrying compartment. They had an agreement, one that Ratchet did not understand but would adhere to anyway.

The disk was Optimus’s final message, and Ratchet was only to play it when ‘Megatron' became relevant’. He didn’t know what that entailed, but as their universe crumbled, Optimus saw things that others did not. Visions, echoes of a different time and place. It was not Ratchet’s place to doubt him now.

He burned the image of his dying Conjunx’s gentle smile into his memory as he steeled himself and stepped in front of the swirling space bridge. His spark cried out as he sensed Optimus growing weaker, but he merely grit his denta and spared one final glance at the light of his life.

He couldn’t hear the words, but as the light began to fade from Optimus’s optics, Ratchet could have sworn the glyphs echoed in his very spark.

“I love you.”

It took all his strength to step into the portal and leave the plane of existence he knew and the mech he loved behind. 

━━━━━━

Colors assaulted his vision in every conceivable hue. Sounds he could never describe in a million vorns collided with his audials. There was no up or down, there was no sense of stability amidst the vortex. Despite that, Ratchet kept walking on ground that he could neither feel or see. He pushed onward, using what little strength remained in his weak frame to break into a sprint as he sensed his tie to his Conjunx finally snap. He couldn’t tell if he screamed, sobbed, or cursed as he pushed on, but it didn’t matter much within the seams of reality. 

Agony burned in his spark, emotions battled in his processors, and exhaustion weighed heavy in every part of his frame. Combined with the endless colors and sounds around him, it was all too overwhelming to consider. He had never felt so alone as he had in that seemingly endless moment walking between the gaps in the universe. Memories filtered across his vision in strange hallucinations and shapes as he dragged himself through the sea of light. Some were pleasant and depicted the good times he had with Optimus and later the soft moments they shared together raising Bumblebee. Others were… less joyful.

Burning cities, plague, bodies piled high, the exodus, the slow death of their species, the Unmaker’s awakening, the deaths of all those he held dear, and of course, that last spark crushing moment he shared with his Prime. The many long vorns of strife, the slow loss of hope… as much as it hurt, it pushed him on through the barrage of sensation and the simultaneous lack of it.

Finally, after what could have been mere nanokliks or a whole eternity, Ratchet emerged from the space between realities. Something shifted in him as he did so, and a harsh pain assaulted his very being. His consciousness sharpened, and he sensed another mind pressing up against his. He knew this hypothetical, and while not trained in how to handle it, Ratchet pushed on. His mind pressed against the other and he was quick to assert his dominance through memory and emotion. His spark screamed at the loss of his Conjunx and the memories of all he’d had taken from him. Conviction he needed to fulfill his final function propelled him until at last, the other far less tempered mind shattered.

He returned to himself suddenly as he stood up. A universe could not handle more than one version of the same individual. Only one could exist at a time, at least according to Perceptor’s calculations. Looking around him, he could see that he was inside of his old hab before the war. It was a distant memory, one that he hardly recalled after so long. And yet, it was familiar to see his certification hung on the wall and his usual additives on the counter.

The scene was broken only by the unfortunate reality of his actions and the consequences thereof. At his pedes was the barely venting form of his counterpart, the mech in question looking up at him in fear. Ratchet knelt down and placed a servo on his counterpart’s helm and hummed a gentle tune as he did with all his dying patients. His counterpart eased a degree at the song. They both knew the melody and what it meant. Both had long accepted it.

Within a klik, the other Ratchet’s optics went dark and his frame faded away without any fanfare. There could only be one, and Ratchet had taken his younger and inexperienced counterpart’s place. Such was the cost of the knowledge he carried. 

Guilt hung heavy in his spark, but it was smothered as Ratchet steeled himself. There would be time to think later, preferably when his work was done and he could afford to be catatonic from loss.

“Forgive me for taking your life from you. But I promise, I will make this worth it.” Ratchet sighed as he stood and watched the form of his counterpart vanish. There was much to do, and his counterpart was now little more than a memory. He would do something to honor him later. For the time being, he had more pressing issues.

“Primus, they won’t think I am the same mech if I go around looking like this.” He grimaced as he walked over to the nearest mirror. He looked every bit the wartorn survivor of Cybertron. His armor was in shambles and he looked like he hadn’t gotten a deep clean in millennia. Of course he hadn’t done any real maintenance on his frame since the Unmaker destroyed Primus’s core, but others didn’t know that. He just looked like a horror movie extra.

It wouldn’t do. A slight vanishing act may be in order if he wanted to have a reasonable excuse for his appearance.

[gotham-ruaidh]

Claire's Choice

In 07x03, we see on screen a small, yet powerful scene from early in An Echo In The Bone:

I...turned the blade and pricked the end of my own thumb with the point. It was amazingly sharp; I scarcely felt it, but a bead of dark-red blood welled up at once. I put the knife into my belt, took his hand, and pressed my thumb to his. "Blood of my blood," I said.

What I *love* about this moment - even more than the deliberate parallel to the blood vow that Jamie and Claire made at their wedding - is that it's Claire who chooses to cut herself, reaffirming her vow.

Because at the altar, she didn't choose to marry Jamie. And Jamie knew it - which is why he honored her with a church wedding, and a nice dress, and the best wedding night he could provide.

Claire didn't expect or choose the blood vow, either - Dougal took care of that part.

I saw Dougal draw Jamie's dirk from its sheath and wondered why. Still looking at me, Jamie held out his right hand, palm up. I gasped as the point of the dirk scored deeply across his wrist, leaving a dark line of welling blood. There was not time to jerk away before my own hand was seized and I felt the burning slice of the blade. Swiftly, Dougal pressed my wrist to Jamie's and bound the two together with a strip of white linen.

So - almost thirty years later, Claire shows Jamie how not only is she yet again recommitting to him, most importantly she CHOOSES him. She chooses to honor him, and their marriage, in this way.

Even after so much catastrophic loss - their reputation, their family, their home. All of which they worked so very hard to build for each other. They shoulder the burden together - they choose to continue, side by side.

Which is why, to me, this vow is so profound.

He knows what she's doing. He holds out his thumb, and honors her choice. Knowing that despite it all, he has her, and she has him, and they will always continue to choose each other.

[romanoffsbish]

Picture It… New York, 2022

WandaNat x Fem!Reader

Bishova 🥰

My take on a sick Wanda who can’t exactly contain her powers 😂❤️

Warning: Petty Natasha, Sad Reader for a blink | 3,386 Words

Sitcom Inspo (In Order) : I Love Lucy, Golden Girls, Friends, Bewitched.

“Where’s Wanda?,” Yelena mused over her mug of cocoa, the whipped cream on her nose made it hard for you to answer her over the laugh bubbling in your throat, and you settled into Nat’s hold when she answered instead., “Our little witch is asleep, she woke up with a high fever so we quarantined her in the room.”

“Oh no, do you think she’ll be okay by the end of the week?,” Kate’s true question wasn’t lost on you., “Don’t worry Bishop, no cold will keep her from perfecting your upcoming nuptials.,” your girlfriend chuckled beneath you., “Yeah, Wanda would never let an ailment keep her from planning a wedding. She actually had the flu while finalizing ours.,” you shivered at the nasty memory, a snotty nosed brunette with her hands all over the flower arrangements that you and Natasha slyly replaced as soon as she fell into her coma like sleeping state.

While the lot of you sat on the couches catching up, with the two of you occasionally teasing the engaged couple about what the future holds there was another storm a brewing just right out of your eyesight. Clouds of red billowed out from just beneath the closed bedroom door, slowly traveling throughout the hallway of your homey loft, and with no one’s concern falling to the encroaching smoke you were all in the dark on what was to come; literally. The smoke had permeated all of your minds, your bodies instantly slumping against the surfaces behind you as you’re all forced into a restless sleep.

The darkness slowly began to lift for you, and as you looked around you were stunned to see it was only you, and Yelena in a room that was completely foreign to you. Neither of you said a word, both too busy trying to figure out where you had ended up; wondering if some enemy of sorts might’ve slipped a hallucinogenic into your buildings water pipes. Then you heard a creaking noise, looking down you noticed you were both in aprons, with weird hats on, you blinked rapidly too, wondering if you’d suddenly become color blind, but the action never changed the visuals around you.

“Ladies!,” you turned to see Nat stood behind you, face stern, but with eyes just as confused as your own., “This will be your last chance to impress this company, the parchment paper here is for you to wrap the sushi rolls, not a single one should make it into the next room unwrapped; if they do, you’re both likely to be terminated.,” and as soon as the two of you hummed your understanding she was gone out the other door that led into a long hallway.

It became apparent to all of you that though you couldn’t verbalize, as Wanda controlled the dialogue, that you could still convey messages through your expressions. Yelena looked to you dumbfounded, waving her arms about as if to say ‘did this witch really turn us to black and white?,’ and you looked to her with an equally as dumbfounded look before the sound of the conveyor belt caught your attentions.

Sushi rolls began to speed by the both of you, and you were surely perplexed, because if you remember the iconic scene at all, you knew it was chocolates that Lucy and Ethel were meant to be handling. A soft chuckle reverberated in your mind at the tiny variation your lover must have made, knowing it was likely influenced by the dinner you and your girlfriends shared a couple nights prior; Wanda’s love for sushi transcended the normal worlds bounds.

“Yelena, what are we meant to do?,” you spoke frantically, your hands now flying around out of your control, you believe in an attempt to emphasize the unfolding catastrophe.

“I’m not sure, maybe if we eat some it’ll make the mess less?,” the blonde looked to you with an unimpressed gaze, clearly she wasn’t a fan of her given dialogue., “That sounds like a quick way to get fired, and we need this job.”

“Good, this place sucks, look at the sushi rolls. Not even filled enough, and the belt is clearly being run by satan himself.,” she grumbled while popping a roll into her mouth, then promptly spitting it out., “That’s disgusting.”

A laugh reel echoed behind the both of you, and your soul nearly left your body at the boom of it, then the sound of multiple footsteps echoed dramatically from the hallway outside the door. Yelena looked to you in a panic, then the both of you nodded and began to shovel the rolls into your aprons, then when they were full it was into the hats on your head, and when all else failed the both of you began to shovel them down your throat in an attempt to hide your obvious failure’s from the incoming bosses.

Wanda and Natasha entered the room with angered expressions, Kate was behind them with a clipboard in her hand, and a nervous smile that fell as soon as the women spoke., “Ladies, it’s come to our stock counter’s attention that only ten rolls have made it into the following room, care to explain where the rest managed to go?,” Wanda’s pointed stare told you she knew exactly where they went, of course she did, she was the all seeing puppet master in this weird dream state anyways.

Yelena looked beyond you., “We run now?,” you followed her gaze to the door then nodded. As soon as you passed the threshold the world was now in color, and you were stood outside of a quaint, large home that not so shockingly matched the street full of real estate.

Inside the house were the other four women, all in the most hideous of ‘mumu’s.’ Well, all of them outside of Wanda, who instead wore a gorgeous red dress, her bosom’s prominently on display, with a full face of makeup to boot.

“Natasha dear, can you grab the cheesecake?,” the redhead did as asked, not that she had much of a choice. She settled it down on the table in front of an uncharacteristically quiet Kate who was deep in thought., “Kate, honey, what’s on your mind?,” internally she cringed, never in her life would she ask the eager girl such a question, she never had the time necessary for the long winded answers.

“Well—.,” before Kate could spin into a story, Yelena slammed the door open, with a butchers knife raised high, cackling wildly at the sight of the terrified women clutching their chests., “Yelena! That isn’t funny!,” Natasha shrieks, and the blonde deadpans., “To you, but to me that was hilarious. All of your silly, scared faces bring me immense joys.”

“Yelena, take a seat, and hush your mouth.,” Natasha groaned, pulling her own chair into the table and slamming her fork into her slice of cheesecake before bringing it to her mouth. Surprisingly she could taste it, the creamy texture was clear on her tongue, and internally she was beaming at the fortunate discovery.

“Anyways.,” Kate blurts, an innocent look in her eyes as she goes to answer Nat’s question., “I was thinking about this time back in my youth.,” Yelena groaned unabashedly, but Kate just continued on., “Schenectady, NY, I was on the tractor with my daddy when a rogue pig began to run through the fields.,” she giggled., “I was about to end up making unintentional bacon, but then fortunately for us Mr. Wiggles squealed loudly.,” the knock you placed on the front door had the kitchen erupting in cheers as Kate’s story was once again put on pause.

“That must be my date.,” Wanda purred, then left the kitchen to open the door for you, her eyes trailed down your body, appreciating the floral suit you put on—that she chose—a hand reached for yours, and you shyly accepted it., “Let me introduce you to my friends kotenok.,” she chuckled when your head dropped, it was so easy to fluster you—truly—it was her favorite thing to do, she’ll never stop flirting with you.

As the door to the kitchen was swung open all the women’s eyes fell to you, and the redheads widened at the sight of you., “Y/N?,” you were not sure your role here outside of Wanda’s date, but now you realized your plot was deeper., “Nat? Long time no see.,” she scoffed, “Yeah, since you dumped me with no reason.”

Internally you cringed, your poor girlfriend was typecast as Dorothy—a great character, but poor thing was the butt of single-hood jokes, and you worry for your other girlfriends sake; Natasha will not hold back her thoughts later.

“Well, it’s clear you all have better things to do. Y/N and I will be going to dinner now.,” Wanda cleared the rooms tense atmosphere with words that weren’t to be questioned., “And if you play your cards right, you’ll be enjoying your dessert in no time.,” she whispered into your ear while pushing you back into the living room, but when you spun around the scene had completely changed.

No longer were you in the living room designed from an 80’s catalog, but instead you stood in a quaint two bedroom apartment in you assumed to be upper Manhattan based on the purple door with the yellow frame around the eyehole. Just as you were about to explore the space the door flew open, and all of your friends piled in.

“Yelena, you can’t be serious.,” Kate whines while following the blonde to the couch. “Oh, but I am Kate Bishop! As serious as a heart attack!,” she exasperates., “You’re going to deny the poor girl a second date over fries?”

“No, of course not, don’t be silly Kate, it’s all about what the fries represented to me!”

“Which is?” she humors the blonde., “All food!”

The brunette looks back to you pleadingly., “Can you believe this?,” you chuckle and nod., “Yelena doesn’t share food Kate, I once saw her wrestle with a seagull to get her fries back.,” the younger girls eyes widened, turning back for confirmation and receiving it by way of the blonde’s smirk., “I don’t share food Kate.,” she winked, then to prove her point she slapped the girls hand away from her chocolate muffin.

Natasha settled her body behind yours, arms wrapping around your waist, with her chin resting on your shoulder., “Have you given more consideration to going out with me yet?,” you rolled your eyes and shrugged the woman off you., “Natasha, we’ve been over this, you are not getting a second chance with all of this. Not my fault you slept with someone else.”

The redhead groaned as you walked out of her reach., “Y/N! We were on a break! Let it go.”

Your eyes widened while facing the fridge, the witch was two for two now with the typecasting mistakes, Natasha being Ross—though kinda hilarious, will likely not sit well with her.

Wanda threw her hands in the air, effectively silencing the words she’d almost let you say., “Knock it off, the both of you, the argument is tired and I need your help to decide if this is good enough for Vis’s work potluck tomorrow.”

All the hairs on your body stood up at the name of her former partner, it stung a bit that she would typecast him in place as her Chandler, but it wasn’t like you had any time to really care when you were being physically propelled towards the dining room table.

“Wanda, oh my goodness! This is delicious.,” Yelena groaned, her hands soaked red from the sauce of the lasagna she shoveled in her mouth. Kate grimaced at the sight of it all., “No thank you Wands, I don’t eat cheese or meat.,” she grabbed an apple then returned to the couch.

“Y/N? Care to try your best friends dish?,” the forkful was soon pushed passed your plump lips, and you hummed your approval for the pasta. The redhead and you shared a personal look, and you could see she was trying to quell your anxieties, ‘a dream is just a cumulation of many meaningless thoughts,’ you could imagine the words falling from her lips, as they have many times after one of your lifelike nightmares. You blinked three times, and the woman smiled fondly at your display of love.

“It’s delicious Wan, Vis will love it!,” you beamed your scripted line to the woman who smiled at you a little too fondly for it to have been platonic, but such is the way of an altered reality you presume., “I’m glad to hear it.,” and just as you went to take a seat on the couch it dematerialized before your eyes, as did the rest of the scenery. An odd sensation consumed your form, then suddenly you were gasping.

In real time Wanda’s body jolted off of the mattress in a fit of harsh coughs, briefly releasing all of you from the trippy mind fog. Yelena and Kate shared a look as they booked it for the front door with their bags and a distant shout back., “A hotel works just fine for us.,” Natasha smirked down at you from over your shoulder, your body having slumped into hers, and just as she went to speak she was silenced. The both of you watched as the color of the apartment faded into a murky black and white.

This time though you’d had full motor control, it was apparent that your sickened girlfriend was losing her ability to hold much control. With quick footsteps you approached the room, Natasha hot on your heels, as the both of you were honestly worried about her wellbeing. Upon entering the room you saw Wanda in a robe sat before the vanity, she didn’t look like she had in every other sequence though.

This time the sickness had the upper hand over her, the tip of her nose was a much darker shade of grey from the rest of her face, as were the bags beneath her eyelids. Nonetheless, she smiled fondly at the both of you., “My loves.,” she croakily coo’d, all your previous qualms based on her choices faded away at the sight of the soft smile that accompanied her words. Natasha’s were simply pushed to the back of her mind, to obviously be fought over later.

“Oh baby, you don’t look well.,” you softly say as you approached her, her nose scrunched in offense, but when she released the hold a box of tissues had materialized in your hands. Natasha chuckled, remembering last nights sitcom of the hour, and how you’d told Wanda she was basically Samantha’s witchy twin., “That’s not very nice.,” she whined, but her soured mood only lasted a second, because in the next you were handing her a tissue, and scooping her body up and into your chest.

“Most of what you’ve done today hasn’t been.,” Natasha grumbled, clearly not letting anything go, but when Wanda looked to her with a pout she temporarily resolved., “Let’s get you back in bed. Natty will get you some medicine.,” you sent the redhead a pointed glare and she went into to the ensuite swiftly, coming back with a cup of NyQuil, and a glass of water., “Open up.”

Wanda tiredly did as told, grimacing shortly after as the bitter cough syrup coated her tongue. You quelled her whimpers with a box of apple juice from your stash, before then urging her to drink the glass of water as well., “Get some rest love.,” you coo’d, hands gentle as they stroked her sweaty hair out of her face., “Lub you.,” both of your hearts skipped at her whispered words., “We love you too detka.,” Natasha confirmed, then you heard a cuffing noise, looking down to see she’d restricted Wanda’s powers., “They’ll time off before she even wakes up, but I refuse to receive any more horrible roles, now lets go watch a movie.,” you shook your head in disbelief while chuckling, then accepted her outstretched hand anyways.

That night Natasha and you slept on the couch, so when Wanda woke up in a bed full of tissues instead of your comforting bodies she pouted. Walking out she found the both of you in an entangled mess of limbs on the couch., “Cute.”, she gently brushed the hair off your face, then placed soft kisses to both of your foreheads. She was honestly feeling so much better after all of the given meds and rest, so she decided to take care of breakfast in a show of her thanks.

Bits and pieces of the oddest dreams kept flashing through her mind while flipping the pancakes, and a frown befell her face at just how real all of felt as it replayed for her., “Sweetheart, give me the spatula, and run.,” you suddenly spoke from besides her, and when she looked to you she saw an angry Natasha quickly approaching from behind you., “What?,” you grabbed the spatula, kissed her lips, then lightly shoved her., “Honey run!”

“You can try to run, but I’ll eventually get you!,” Natasha shouted, slapping your ass in warning as she brushed right on passed you.

“Natasha! Baby, what did I even do?!,” Wanda shrieked from down the hallway, you shook your head in amusement while plating up their pancakes., “What did you do?!,” she scoffed., “Wanda, you typecast me as Ross Gellar!,” the witches gasp was far too audible to you, and that was because she came barreling back into the kitchen from the other entrance, and before you could protest she was using you as a shield.

“I-I, was that all really happening?,” she stumbled over her words, the confusion was evident in her tone, you nodded gently, turning to peck her forehead just before Natasha reentered., “Wanda, why?! Is that how you really see me?,” you held back a giggle, finding Natasha’s whining rather adorable actually. Wanda however was mortified, she shook her head violently against your shoulder blade, and you could see Natasha’s anger melting the longer she stared at the witch clinging to you. Then when you teasingly stuck your bacon out for her to nibble on she was back to baseline, approaching you eagerly, and moaning at the salty, yet sweet flavor of the meat.

“Am I still in trouble?,” she whispered timidly, you spun around to face her., “Not unless you really want Vision back.,” her face scrunched in hardcore offense., “Absolutely not, I’ve got all I could ever want or need here with my wives.”

“Right answer.,” you settled a kiss to her lips, then another to Natasha’s as your turned back around and headed towards the table to eat., “Come now ladies, let’s enjoy the food.”

Everything was going great too, giggles filled the room as you reminded the witch just how everything played out., “Did they really run out of here like the world was on fire?,” you nodded while sipping on your warm mug and Wanda broke out into another fit of laughter., “Always so dramatic.,” Nat added., “Yeah, can’t wait to see them drunk at their wedding.,” you teased, but before the conversation could go on your lovers looked to you with concern as an unexpected, harsh cough tore from your throat.

“Please, nooo.,” Natasha groaned, because as hypothesized, following your cough came a loud boom as storm clouds formed above the dining room table, and as another cough tore through you, lightning cracked and rain fell. Soaking the entirety of the table, along with you and your lovers., “Please, remind me again why I married you magical little freaks.”

Wanda ignored the grumbling redhead, turning to face your pouting form with a smile, and beckoning you over towards her with a finger., “It’s okay my love, get some rest.,” and as you settled into her arms red tendrils flowed out and into your mind, locking you into a deep slumber, and settling the brewing storm., “Because I can do just that, and let’s not act like you’re not an absolute menace when sick.,” Natasha blushed, and bowed her head at the call out, then she approached you both., “She is pretty cute.,” Wanda smiled., “The cutest.”

——————————————————

For reference:

ILL (Lucy-R, Ethel-Lena)

Golden Girls! (Kate-Rose, Nat-Dorothy, Lena-Sophia, W-Blanche, R-Blanche’s date/Dorothy’s “ex”)

Friends (Kate-Phoebe, R-Rachel, Lena-Joey, W-Mon, Nat-Ross)

Bewitched! (Wanda & Nat/R)

[crimson-kisses]

Yandere Allies and Axis with a nymph darling that doesn't wanna be with them. Because anyone that the Gods have been with that isn't a God as well has ended in tragedy, something the darling is trying their absolute best to avoid so they don't meet an early demise. So as soon as the darling has found out that they are the Apple to not only one but multiple gods eyes, they ghosted all them. It was like they never existed. However the darling's sisters does know where she's hiding...........

Do what you will with this. ( Gods AU )

Ah yes, my long forgotten abandoned au ;-; I tried to keep this rather simple and short! I like the tragic undertones this ask has 🐝✨

Warning: contains usual yandere themes, toxic relationships and violence.

Fleeting wings

The evidence of it all remained etched on the walls, arts hidden in cave paintings and harsh whispered tales in the dark recounting and retelling the warnings.

The beings were aware of the tragic history that had occurred and unfolded before them, most carried the resilience of their broken ancestors, determined to survive against all odds.

Your mother had been one of them, a being born from the marrows of nature itself, she reminded you of the unfortunate women who gripped the hearts of the deities’ only to end up in a tragedy that wrote the end of them.

And so, you had always threaded carefully when it came to love- the most powerful, corrupted thing which once shattered entire worlds.

It was a solemn warning, when an old cherry tree, rooted atop the ancient mountains had beckoned you closer with it’s thorny branches, entangling in your dress. Hundreds of whispers echoed in your mind as it told you of the events that were bound to repeat if the deities’ so willed if they didn’t get their hands on their beloved sooner.

Their beloved being a lovely maiden, born from the very essence of untamed nature.

That maiden was you, a nymph.

After realizing the horrifying fate that could befall after their corrupted sense of love poisoned their divinity, the only thing that could help you or even delay the horrifying outcome was for you to conceal yourself into the depth of the fragile earth.

Following the long faded away paths of your ancestors, deep down into the abyssal caverns, you had found solace and refuge.

Months had passed, when not even the sunlight had the privilege of kissing your skin with its warm rays, and the wind had to squeeze in through the cracks as you lay in a slumber with the nature curling itself around you, moss covering your entirety and roots cradling your body as a womb of a woman protecting a child.

Unbeknownst to you, the world shifted and groaned, while the winds howled relentlessly and clouds descended, unleashing a torrent of icy hailstones upon the land.

On what appeared to be a tranquil morning, the deities withdrew their feeble mercy and fragile loyalty.

A gentle curl of foam unfurled, its seams unraveling, and soon it overflowed, submerging the islands under its weight.

Inhabitants desperately sought higher ground, mothers cradling their sobbing infants, sons and daughters salvaging remnants of their homes, and fathers striving to protect and guide their loved ones to safety, though their efforts seemed futile.

Sooner or later, things turned sour.

A foreboding realization gripped the hearts of some, understanding that this calamity would escalate to an unimaginable extent. The echoes of their ancestors' experiences were about to resurface, and no one possessed the strength to appease the ferocity of the deities' unleashed wrath. The very structure of the worlds trembled under the weight of their fury, threatening to shatter the boundaries that held everything together.

With a mere curl of their fingers, the sisters, torn from their deeply rooted abodes, were forcefully brought before the imposing throne of the deities. None dared to defy their commands, for chaos ravaged the worlds, teetering on the brink of unleashing something tremendous and catastrophic.

"Speak, for we demand your answers,"

A deep grumble reverberates through the chamber, while gentle droplets of dew caress the roots of the sisters, nurturing their well-being. The deity presiding over the fourteen oceans, the overseer of every movement of the water, fixes them with a stern gaze, awaiting their response.

"We shall not forsake our inherent nature, our lineage, or the vows we have made. Do as you will to punish us, but we implore you, if your divinity is true, grant us mercy," the sisters speak with unwavering determination, remaining steadfast in their convictions.

A heavy silence descends upon the room, mirroring the intense tension and seething wrath that soak through the atmosphere. The skies above darken, as if reflecting the turmoil reaching its breaking point.

A mirror materializes, its surface transforming into a silver portal that shimmers with an ethereal glow. As the portal opens, writhing green flames dance and flicker within, creating a mesmerizing spiral that beckons with an otherworldly allure.

"We shall bestow mercy!" a smooth voice exclaims, resonating with an uncanny clarity.

Chaotic visions envelop the room, casting a hazy, disorienting hue that distorts reality. Horrifying and incomprehensible images swirl around the sisters, accompanied by series of unsettling sounds.

The deity, his figure is surrounded by the flickering green flames, same glow as his eyes, the flames unleash a thunderous roar filled with hunger and echoes the agonized screams of the unfortunate. The atmosphere becomes suffused with terror and despair.

But of course, he wasn’t the only visitor.

Suddenly, amidst the shadows shrouding the room, another dreadful figure emerges, emanating an oppressive presence that drains the very essence of the sisters.

Overwhelmed by the malevolent presences, the sisters stagger, their bodies weakened, as if being crushed beneath an invisible force. They feel trapped, as if buried deep within the earth itself.

The terrifying figure wears skeletal armor that glistens ominously in the sunlight, exuding an aura of darkness and ink-like malevolence. Burning red eyes and searing green eyes fix upon the sisters, both feigning interest while concealing a deep-seated disdain.

"Death is often the pathway towards mercy," the other figure declares, his voice laced with a chilling resonance.

"And even after that, mercy is not always guaranteed in my domain".

The sisters huddle closer together, their trembling bodies consumed by an overwhelming fear that courses through their veins.

A brief moment passes, air heavy with anticipation.

The figure of the deity of Wisdom and Wealth rises from his throne, moving with a measured calmness toward the center of the room, standing before the sisters.

He offers a gentle smile, though it fails to reach his vacant eyes. Slowly, he begins to speak in a voice dripping with honeyed richness.

"Our mercy shall be our forgiveness", he utters, each word laced with authority and concealed threat.

"Speak, unless you wish to endure eternal suffering. Your loyalty is admirable but misguided in the eyes of us deities. Do not test our patience, for our wrath knows no bounds."

No other deity stirs or makes any demands. The room is enveloped in an eerie stillness, as if time itself has come to a stop, casting a frozen stupor over the surroundings.

Silence reigns supreme, leaving everyone in a suspended state of uncertainty.

The sisters gasp for breath, their chests heaving with fear. Is this their end?

Will they suffer mercilessly and face a fate devoid of peace, even after death?

Uncertainty grips their hearts, as they ponder the grim fate that looms before them.

The silence is soon broken, when the king of the deities gives off an amused smile, sky eyes glinting with a newfound excitement.

𖣊𖡛𖣥𖡗𑗋𖣙𖥟𖢅𖢌𖥠

You supposed the elderly forces had exerted all they could, using their waning strength to shield and protect you, but their ancient power could no longer unleash its full potential.

Within the depths of your enclosed casket, a steady flow of essence awakens you from your deep slumber. Weakened vines and branches still try to hold you protectively, cradling your form.

A towering figure, adorned in gleaming metallic armor and wielding mighty weapons, enters the cavern. With a single swipe of his resplendent sword, he shatters the feeble attempts of the cavern to shield you.

The deity of War and Vengeance.

His helmet conceals most of his visage, revealing only a pair of glowing violet eyes fixed upon your captivating figure. Swiftly, the deity tears away the remaining vines and branches, careful not to cause you harm.

You knew deep down that this moment was inevitable. The ancient times did not truly capture the full extent of reality. Those days were long gone, as the world order had changed since those bygone eras.

It was different now. Their attention, once scattered among their own darlings and the allure of their beautiful women, was solely focused on you. It wouldn't have taken much longer for them to claim their beloved treasure. The powers that had thrived in ancient times could not withstand their might, or perhaps they chose not to.

Above you, the air opened up like a celestial maw, its glimmering teeth of stars welcoming you to your tragic fate.