#this is the first time ive drawn adam hi adam

[calmingpi]

@girlgeniusevents theme week day 1: parent's generation (and body swap, technically)

[danceylancey]

In an attempt to help each of them work with each other better they decide to do a mind meld. It will, at random, put all of them into one of their memories. The five of them agree at various levels of confidence, Lance the most uneasy and only agreeing after Coran gave them a device that would signal that wanted to leave and swore to respect it. It starts of well enough, they get to see Hunk with his family as his dad works on a car and tells his son he doesn’t have to do manly things to be a man. His dad tells him that being a man means good and kind, decent to those around you. He tells his son that he doesn’t give a damn if he wants to cook or fly or whatever, as long as he’s true to himself his father will always be proud of him. Next they see Pidge having argument with her brother only for him to spin it around and comfort her. The memory ends with them getting into a tickle fight. Shiro and Keith have a similar memory of their first meeting, though for Shiro it’s Adam joking with him about picking up strays and having a teachers pet and for Keith it’s the jump on their bikes. When the next memory forms they find themselves in an abandoned street looking at a corner store. It’s window is smashed and it’s clearly been looted, the rest of the street is in a similar state. A car nearby looks as if it’s been exploded. They all look around, wondering whose memory they his could be. Before they can question anything aloud, two people come sneaking out of an ally and behind the burnt up car. There’s a girl who looks like she’s close to eighteen and a little boy who could be eight, both have dark tanned skin and rumpled, torn clothing. Pidge asks if it’s Lance, but the other doesn’t respond. They’re all too caught up in the scene before them to notice his uncharacteristic silence. The boy and girl go into the store while looking around, as if waiting to be spotted. The girl starts grabbing objects, mainly canned food, tape and some other odds. The boy crouches behind the low wall and peeks through some broken glass, on watch. He’s breathing heavily and his little hands are shaking as he wipes his face from snot and dirt. The girl suddenly drops her bag, contents clanging down. They watch as she backs ups it’s her hands in the air, a man with military like uniform stumbles forward with his gun drawn. He’s grinning but stumbling, possibly drunk. He speaks in a language they don’t know, but by the way he grabs his crotch it’s clear what his intentions are. Their all watching in shock, waiting for something to happen. The girl speaks, a few tears going down her face as she does. Then, so suddenly it makes them all jump, a shot rings out. It’s silenced but still clear. The man cries out and falls back, looking at his slowly bleeding shoulder and looks towards the shooter. They all turn to look at where the little boy had been and find him holding a large pistol, bugger than his forearm. The man shouts something and stumbles away as the girl rushes over to the boy and grabs the gun, pointing it at the fleeing man and shooting again. The man falls instantly, like a rag doll. A headshot. The girl turns to the boy and pulls him ive to her bag as she works faster to recollect her things so they can flee. This time when she speaks in its English, “you shot his shoulder.” It’s both a statement and an accusation. The boy, now silently crying, looks ashamed as he says, “I’m sorry, I missed.” The girl scoffs but then turns serious and tells him with a cold voice, “you never miss. If you can’t kill someone, they will kill you. That’s how the world works, Lance.” The boy, Lance, nods and looks over at the dead body. The two flee, the girl getting the soldiers gun and spitting on his body. By then their all looking at Lance, whose face is blank but eyes are filled with a deep sadness. Without a word, he presses his panic button.

[focsle]

Practical Jokes Aboard

On this April Fool's, I'm unpaywalling an old whaling history essay from my patreon about the various pranks fellows played upon each other. Here you are! Silliman B. Ives, a two-time veteran whaler aboard the Sunbeam in 1868, talked about the phenomenon of every ship having their ‘fool’ for entertainment.

“On board all ships carrying a large crew there is generally one among the company who by his awkwardness or want of sense becomes the butt for the whole crowd, the object of innumerable practical jokes, and a great source of amusement for the whole crew.”

The rest is under a readmore, since as usual there are many a' primary source.

On William B Whitecar’s 1850s voyage on an unnamed whaleship, that ship’s fool  was a man whom he nicknamed Kedge Anchor. Kedge had drawn the attention of all hands for his boasting of seamanship and long experience on the waves, only for it to be revealed in short time through his own ignorance that he had no such experience at all.

“His sickness, and ludicrous exclamations of “I wish I was on the steam-wagon again” (he had formerly been a brakeman on the New York and Erie Railroad), and pathetic entreaties to be allowed to die in peace, when desired to do anything, excited the mirth of all, no sympathy being tendered to him except in one instance, when one of the seamen offered him a pint of salt water, assuring him it was a cordial; a mouthful was sufficient to undeceive him, he spat out the nauseating draught, and the queer expression he wore on his phiz, and no less queer entreaty to take the darned thing away, were so humorous as to shock his auditors into merriment, and secured him against farther molestation.”

Seasick greenhands were often the easiest targets on the first days out. In one humorous exchange recorded by Charles B. Nordhoff on an unnamed 1850s voyage, a sick greenhand lamented the ship's food not agreeing with him. He went on to say that if he could only have a nice piece of pie like his mother used to make he’d be well again soon enough.

“Pie!” exclaimed the boatsteerer, “as I live, I am glad you mentioned the word. There’s a whole cask of pies down below, which was sent aboard by the owner, on the purpose for the sick ones.” “Suppose I were to ask the captain to hoist it up, and give me some?” suggested the sick man, eagerly. “You could not do a better thing.” “I’ll go to him immediately—he seems to be a kind man, and I will tell him how badly I feel.” Accordingly he dragged himself slowly aft, and there meeting the captain, stated the case to him, and ended with a request that some of the pie might be given to him, as he felt convinced that he would soon recover on such a diet. The captain, smiling grimly, explained to him that some unfeeling wretch had been trifling with him, and that pie was an impossibility at sea.”

A lack of knowledge about how the ship worked led to many a greenhand being advised by another crewmate to make such absurd requests like climbing up to the man at the mast head to ask what time it was, or to go to the mate and tell him to ‘secure the barometer’ and ‘ask him if the masts were working’. It wasn't just seasick greenhands, however. Any man could find himself fair game, especially those who fell asleep during their watch. One of the most popular pranks involved tying a line around a man’s legs while he was sleeping, and then working together to haul him up into the air. William Abbe once found himself at the rope end of this. He was a Harvard law student who had signed on the whaler Atkins Adams in 1858 ‘for his health’, and at times due to his education tutored other men on board in writing and reading. He showed a great allegiance to the after cabin, including a particular noted favoritism from the Captain’s wife, and could get quite self righteous about the behavior of his shipmates. This didn’t always endear him to his fellow foremast hands. 

“That night I laid down for a little while on my chest during my watch on deck + Shanghai making the fore lift fast about my legs, the rest of the watch bowled away till I brot up against the steps, taking in my passage hither an alarmingly sharp cut + twirling around in a way that would have immortalized a circus tumbler. Shang—the rogue—pretending ignorance + when I went on deck all hands were cooly singing — “Bully in the Alley” — + as innocent as so many sucking pigs—I couldn’t help laughing, though at first I was slightually mad. I am now waiting a chance to make S fast. Such tricks are common + all make common sport of each other.”

J.E. Haviland, greenhand aboard the Baltic in 1855, enjoyed partaking in this prank every chance he got, after having it done once to himself:

"After a great deal of trouble [I] finally succeeded in getting it made fast around one of his feet. I then went carefully up on deck where the other end of the rope was + 6 of us got hold of it and gave poor Matt what I call an after haul. To use his own words however he did not wake up until he felt himself strike the Deck right plump on his setdown. In trying to haul him up through the scuttle by his leg he got fast in the steps + then for the first time commenced to sing out bloody murder. After he got on his togging + came on Deck I commenced consoling him + he laid it to everybody else but me. This makes five times I have bent on him + I am the last person he suspects of doing such a deed."

Sometimes the pranks were a little more visually lasting, as Whitecar highlighted another joke set upon Mr. Kedge Anchor.

“One fine Sunday morning Kedge Anchor expressed a desire to have his hair cut. Here was an opening—and a conspiracy was immediately formed against his cranial adornment. One went to work and cut his hair. When finished, a dozen voices exclaimed against the barbarian who had put so outre a cut on his poor head; others recommended a little more off behind. The victim acquiesced, and submitted to the operation. A second, third, fourth, and fifth lent their aid in denuding his skull, and by the time the last had finished he was a picture for a painter.”

The captain often didn’t bother to step in to put a stop to such tricks, having other things to concern himself with than the antics of the fo'c'sle. Albert Peck, on board the Covington in the 1850s, described what happened when a whaler, nicknamed Duff, made his complaint to the captain about being the object of a prank.

“Speaking of duff reminds me of another little incident which transpired a little while before. One evening as Duff (not the cook’s duff but our Duff) was lying on the fore hatch enjoying an evening nap, some mischievous chap smeared his hair and face with tar. A short time afterwards, waking up and finding it out, he at first tried to find the author of it and failing in this he posted aft to where the captain and mate was sitting and began to make his complaint to the captain that some one had been tarring him. "What did you let them for?” “I didn’t know it, sir.” “You were asleep, then. They wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t been. Keep awake and you won’t get tarred. Clear out and don’t you come to me with any more of your complaints.” He could get no satisfaction either forward or after, and was forced to swallow it down, vowing that if he ever found out who it was he would serve them the same.”

Often times payback was handled internally in the fo'c'sle, usually with a deliverance of the same prank upon the culprit. From Whitecar,

“I remember one poor fellow, who prided himself much on his agility, giving us a specimen of the movements of the kangaroo, sweating and exerting himself for a whole afternoon, delighting us, as he supposed, with his farcical antics, until he discovered on his back a large paper figure in imitation of himself. He said not a word at the time, and sat down totally abashed; but ere long a paper Punch figured on the back of the supposed instigator.”

"We are constantly abusing each other in fun," William Abbe cheerfully recorded. Among such abuses:

"I have known Shanghai when on deck in his wilfull, mean spirit of mischief + coarse trickery - go to the forecastle hatch and pointing his breech down the gangway discharge such a tearing report that the sleepers have actually startled in their bunks."

“After sunset often all hands play “Whang O Doodle” round the windlass, or chasing each other and spanking—fast + terrible are some of the blows — and we are kept in a roar of laughter at the contorted faces and the rubbing with hands of the wounded parts.”

Regardless of how the decades stretch away from the height of American whaling to our present, the phenomenon of...a bunch of late-teens-to-early-twenties lads spending the dull periods of their voyage farting on each other and running around slapping each other's ass is Truly Enduring.

[shortbreadly]

which is your favourite saw film ? (mine is iii)

i’m taking that as an opportunity to rank them and go into detail

saw 2004 obviously. only film with adam (conscious adam anyway) only film with a decent amount of lawrence screen time since he’s in 3D for like five minutes. it’s the first one i ever watched obviously, and also i beat my friend playing snooker while we were watching it so good times

saw vi. INSANELY close with my third ranking but this gets the edge because it not only has a good trap plot but we also see hoffman get his face ripped open. and of course the ‘right now you’re feeling helpless' scene which is just amazing

saw v, like i said very close to saw vi. it’s got hoffman and strahm, like what else am i going to want from a saw film. also the glass coffin and the water cube are two of my favourite traps ever

then saw iii. amanda makes me so sad man and that film has made me cry (so have the majority of them for some reason). VERY good traps (the angel trap will always be a favourite of mine), and plus it's the only film with lynn

saw X, very good film. i loved the john and amanda bits and the idea of everyone just abandoning hoffman while the go to mexico is very amusing to me, i just wasn't that into the trap victims

saw ii. i know it sounds low on the list but honestly i love all of these films almost equally so that doesn't mean much. that being said, as much as i hate eric matthews as a person he was a fucking great character in the film and daniel as well was great (it's a crime i've never drawn him). also the plot twist at then end is brilliant, like i remember sitting with my mouth wide open when i first watched it

saw iv. first major roles for hoffman, strahm and perez so of course i love it for that reason. it's just that to this day i still find it confusing to follow, other than that it's great

saw 3D. yes i know it's not great and i hate bobby dagen with a burning passion, but credit where credit is due i did love lawrence's appearance and twist as well as hoffman acting like a rabid animal. the ending is very bittersweet for me and i choose to believe he lived somehow

i haven't watched spiral because i can't get hold of it, however i still believe it would probably be above the next one

i fucking hate jigsaw. i hate logan, i hate that none of the original characters bar john were in it (because if john was realistically at least amanda could've been), and also it makes no fucking sense. also why doesn't the cop guy have a skull when the lasers cut him open???

[strawberry--bride]

Admin-san what are some kiseki and subaru headcanons? I would love to know more about their father-daughter moments ^_^

Thank you very much for this ask and showing interest in my little baby. uwu

These headcanons were written together with @subaruwu since they have a much better grasp on Subaru than I do. (I fail as a Subaru stan, I know. :'')

My headcanons (from Kiseki's POV)

1. Kiseki developed a strong connection with her father from a very young age onwards. As a newborn, she would never sleep alone in her crib and could only fall asleep when Subaru would take her into their coffin and lay her on top of his chest.

2. As a toddler, she began to adapt his behavior more and more. She even picked up on his manner of speech with her first ever word being 'fuck' (くそ). -> comic here

3. When it was time for her to enter kindergarten, she was very adamant about changing her hairstyle to imitate her dad. At first she would bump into furniture because it obscured her eyesight, but she has learnt to make it work.

4. Kiseki refers to Subaru as 'papa' (パパ). As a result, Ayato and Laito now pick on Subaru by mockingly calling him 'papa-baru'.

5. Subaru can basically do nothing wrong in Kiseki's eyes. While Sharon never holds back to call Subaru out on his flaws (of which there are many, trust me), Kiseki will always take his side.

6. When they had to talk about what they would like to become in the future as part of one of her kindergarten classes, she answered 'I want to become papa's bride' without hesitation. Sharon would like to object.

7. Another time they had to talk about their heroes/the person they look up to and Kiseki prepared a whole 20-minute speech on all of the things which make her papa the best one in the whole wide world.

8. The other kids at her kindergarten and even the teacher are honestly horrified of Subaru. He came to pick her up once and saw how she got pushed by one of the boys in her class which unleashed an unstoppable anger inside of him because how dare that scoundrl hurt his perfect little princess. All the teachers and some of the other parents had to combine forces to stop him from punching the kid into another dimension.

@subaruwu's headcanons (from Subaru's POV)

i. Little Kiseki is the kind of child who wanders into the garden and makes friends with every breathing organism within a 3 mile radius. Animals are drawn to her the way they are drawn to her father as well. And besides, they're so much less scary than, for instance, other kids. It's easier to 'socialize' with them.

She finds all kinds of critters and presents them proudly to her parents so that they may greet them as well. Subaru then instructs her to place them gently back into nature…. But sometimes he fails. and then Sharon will discover a frog in the bathtub.

ii. Subaru religiously reads Kiseki to sleep every day. Sometimes, he even makes up stories: those are her favorite.

iii. Anything Kiseki wants, Subaru gets her— within reason. He should really consider himself LUCKY his daughter has such a sweet soul, otherwise she'd be spoiled rotten at this point.

iv. He can spend literal hours just staring at her. Specifically when she was a newborn, he'd just be completely enthralled watching her nap in his embrace. As we've talked about before, her mere existence has boosted his self confidence on some level. He made this perfect, sweet girl- so that must mean he can't be all bad.

v. Using a silly voice, he sometimes converses with her through Kuro-san… only when no one else is around, though!

vi. Subaru does not like having to share Kiseki's attention with his brothers. ;-; And he gets really jealous and annoying. 'this is MY baby' vii. As we know and have seen in the past, she imitates his behavior… and it embarrasses him. Kiseki really holds a mirror up to him this way. He's trying to be better, but doesn't fucking succeed god fucking damn it old fucking habits die so fucking hard.

viii. Subaru tries his best to set rules. But Kiseki doesn't always follow them. So he's like "…. aight. it is what it is." — correlates with his ass spoiling her xd. Kiseki is just… the exception in some many ways. He can't get mad at her.

ix. Subaru approaches the world with his emotions, Kiseki approaches the world with her mind. They learn from each other each day.

x. Kiseki and Subaru are both very passionate. Subaru wants to share the world with his little baby and be with her all the time but Kiseki the gemini will eventually desire freedom

[dailycass-cain]

Cassandra Cain Reading Guide Part 5: The Search for a Well-Written Character.

So you want to be brave and read more Cass? To read the journey in “full.” The bad along with the good. To know THE FULL STORY. But with it comes pain. Horribly badly written pain. Well-- I warned you.

Part I reading guide you can find here.

Part II reading guide (Modern) you can find here.

Part III reading guide (Random) you can find here.

Part IV reading guide (Alternate versions) you can find here.

Batman: City of Light #1-8

So you want to read the worst tale of Cass as Batgirl during her prime years not found in her ongoing (1999-2006)? This is the story for you! You have Cass drawn in an oversexualized manner when as Batgirl. You have covers where looking at the poses they put Cass thru make you question things.

You have a subplot with Cass that has her dating a namely boy but goes thru PTD due to the abuse David Cain inflicted upon her.

It's surprising (or maybe not for good reason) how many don't truly remember the existence of this mini-series at times.  Sadly, maybe it's best to not fully dig up this one unless you're truly brave in reading what lies within it.

Robin #148-151 aka Robin OYL. 

So you read all of Cassandra's Vol. 1 ongoing and wonder what was she up too after it ended? Well, here's your answer. I must warn you even with the gorgeous art you will find only anger and pain when reading these issues. 

More if you decide to randomly read #152 as well.  This arc begins Cassandra's "supervillain"/dragon lady phase. That lasted from 2006-2007. It will truly tick you off watching DC chuck Cass to some truly awful characterization. The problems here are all over the place. A newly minted comic book writer being thrown to the wolves of fans that some still haven’t forgiven him to this day (to which writer Adam Beechen has teased).

Supergirl #14

The issue probably has the best written evil Cass among all you'll find here. She's menacing, a threat, and-- obviously had just watched the Empire Strikes Back. Because she uses basically lightsabers to fight Kara.

So why is it here? Well, um.. the way Kara defeats Cass in this is-- a thing.  A thing you never knew Kryptonians could do until this issue. Also, the way it happens is kind hilariously in a-- why did Cass have to be in that position on Kara? Instead, you know keep her distance? Likewise the revelation that Bruce/Tim know where Cass is hiding out and do-- NOTHING.

    Teen Titans #42-47 (Titans East)

- Due to the backlash toward Robin OYL, DC answered with this story. Geoff Johns attempts to “fix” the evil Cass mess with her own "fearbug retcon" aka Slade drugged her up with his supersoldier serum. That’s why she’s evil and acting like a stereotype. 

The problem is, yeah besides the panel above the story is a mess. The creative team (Johns and artist Tony Daniels) book it by #44 leaving an entirely new creative team to finish this story (poor Adam Beechen’s first rehab of the character)-- and it shows.

By stories’ end you’ll be pulling  your hair at what was the entire point of this story?

World War III #2, 4

-  This 52 event comic fills the gaps created in "Titans East" by further retconning OYL (this time Batman: Face to Face), saying it was actually Cass who was defending Gotham (with Alfred's assistance) not Harvey Dent only did some things (but took the glory). While Slade plays devil on Cassandra's shoulder.

The next issue shows Cass for a few panels before we see Slade sniping Cass and incapacitating her. Given what we know “Titans East” we know what will follow: him drugging her and-- causing the whole evil phase to begin. 

Yeah. -_-

Robin #160-162 (Cassandra shows up in #161-162)

-  The arc concludes her supervillain phase by also setting up the final arc for the Robin writer Adam Beechen at that time (she funds the young meta Dodge to steal a steroid that her “employer” wants (we later find out to be both Deathstroke and David Cain).. 

In the final part to the story, she kills the corrupt CEO who originally created the drug (and tested it on a Gotham Street Gang) in front of Tim after he fails to bring crook to justice. 

Given the proximity of release. Many readers at the time thought this story took place prior to “Titans East”. In actuality, it takes place after. The act of killing the CEO snaps Cass back. 

Black Canary #1 (2007)

- Remember in Part III when talking about B&O, Green Arrow’s beef with Cass? This is that comic. Cassandra only appears in this panel above as it is clearly stated she has abandoned her faction of the League of Assassins and being EVIL. The villains of this series are some of her League remnants targeting Sin the child Dinah adopted to be the next “One Who is All”.

To make sure Sin never has such a target ever on her back. Dinah gives her a new life away. There is the journey that will lead you into Batman & the Outsiders. 

There are BAD stories that involve Cass (Batman #81, Future State: Gotham #15-18, Batgirls #7-8). But I dare you to only search for them if you will is truly strong. But I suggest to simply ignore them. You’re better off mentally. However there is ONE painful tale I do wish to add to this list:

Detective Comics #1029-1032

- If your a fan of the Bat-Family and not Bruce/Damian this story is absolute garbage. After a LONG career of writing Batman or Bat-Family books (namely Nightwing and Robin) writer Pete Tomasi churns out an awful tale. 

This is the ONLY tale, Tomasi ever wrote Cass in (and she jobs throughout it). The writing is just NOT GOOD as Cass acts OOC thru the whole arc. Ironically, this arc rehabs Damian from prior heelish turn in Teen Titans (oh irony).

The only other reason to even read this story? Artist Bilquis Evely. Her art is exceptional and she draws an amazing Cass in just two issues (#1030-1031). But that’s just it. If you’re a fan of Cass (or anyone above) you’ll just grit your teeth at the boneheaded moves they all do in this arc just so Bruce/Damian look good. 

Future State Gotham #15-18

- You’d think a “Battle for the Cowl II” (Jace Fox, Jason Todd, Hush, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, and Bruce Wayne) would make for a “good” story. No. No it is not. 

Whatever “good will” this series had ends on the most batshit insane story that’ll be forgotten by most save those who read it. Dick is fully a villain in this arc (even if he’s painted a tragic hero) who abuses a drug (so he can see the future), and beats up who’re trying to pull him out of this rut. 

Damian is possessed by a demon (Joe Chill, I’m not kidding) and because of it Hush (posing as Bruce) tries to use him to kill Bruce, Jace, and Jason by tricking the son of Batman into thinking they’re the Batmen from the Grant Morrison run that “doomed” Gotham.  

Cass’s only reason in this story is to job. Somehow her, Duke (at the height of his powers in this universe), an older Harper Row (introduced in this arc to job), Babs, Stephanie, Tim, and Kate Kane all are defeated because Dick knows everything. 

Again, the story is just--- a thing to behold. The ending is crazy. Dick getting a redemption feels like complete ass (after all he did in the prior issues). Just when you’re thinking maybe we’ll get a Bat-Family assist when Hush unleashes an army of Talons (he leads the Court of Owls) on Damian, Dick, Jace, Talia, Babs, Bruce, and two others. Nope Dick sacrifices himself to “save” the day. 

Ugh.

- Batman/Catwoman: Gotham War Event -

Batman/Catwoman: Battle Lines #1 (appears)

Batman #137 (appears)

Catwoman #67 (doesn't appear)

Batman #138 (doesn't appear)

Catwoman #68 (doesn't appear)

Batman/Catwoman: The Gotham War – Scorched Earth #1 (appears)

-  One of the worst Batman events in decades, Gotham War you have to read to believe in how awful the writing is within it. The main characters' motivations are sketchy if best. No character comes away clean or of sound mind in the story.

The only redeeming qualities of the event are the art and the Gotham War Red Hood #1-2 mini-series that tie into the event. 

Other than that? 

AVOID THIS COMIC unless you wish to wrack your brain with PAIN.

Cass within the event is no different.  The character is given 0 motivation or agency within the event. She's basically a cardboard standee for Bruce to showcase his increasing mental issues (pertaining to that Batman run).

Cass within the event is no different.  The character is given 0 motivation or agency within the event. She's basically a cardboard standee and serves only to prop Zur's influence overtaking Bruce (pertaining to that Batman run).

Nothing more.

[neil-gaiman]

How Did you come up with the first eve in the story about adams wives? I haven’t been able to find anything about her after I read it and I want to know if she’s an actual biblical character or just someone you made

She's from the Midrash. I learned about her as a 12 year old, from my barmitzvah teacher. There was a point in there, long after I'd put her into Sandman, where I was starting to think I'd imagined her, when I ran across her in Robert Graves's Hebrew Myths....

Excerpt from: The Hebrew Myths by Robert Graves and Raphael Patai (New York:  Doubleday, 1964), pp 65-69

Chapter 10: Adam's Helpmeets

(a) Having decided to give Adam a helpmeet lest he should be alone of his kind, God put him into a deep sleep, removed one of his ribs, formed it into a woman, and closed up the wound, Adam awoke and said: 'This being shall be named "Woman", because she has been taken out of man. A man and a woman shall be one flesh.' The title he gave her was Eve, 'the Mother of All Living''. [1]

(b) Some say that God created man and woman in His own image on the Sixth Day, giving them charge over the world; [2]  but that Eve did not yet exist. Now, God had set Adam to name every beast, bird and other living thing. When they passed before him in pairs, male and female, Adam-being already like a twenty-year-old man-felt jealous of their loves, and though he tried coupling with each female in turn, found no satisfaction in the act. He therefore cried: 'Every creature but I has a proper mate', and prayed God would remedy this injustice. [3]

(c) God then formed Lilith, the first woman, just as He had formed Adam, except that He used filth and sediment instead of pure dust. From Adam's union with this demoness, and with another like her named Naamah, Tubal Cain's sister, sprang Asmodeus and innumerable demons that still plague mankind. Many generations later, Lilith and Naamah came to Solomon's judgement seat, disguised as harlots of Jerusalem'. [4]

(d) Adam and Lilith never found peace together; for when he wished to lie with her, she took offence at the recumbent posture he demanded. 'Why must I lie beneath you?' she asked. 'I also was made from dust, and am therefore your equal.' Because Adam tried to compel her obedience by force, Lilith, in a rage, uttered the magic name of God, rose into the air and left him.

Adam complained to God: 'I have been deserted by my helpmeet' God at once sent the angels Senoy, Sansenoy and Semangelof to fetch Lilith back. They found her beside the Red Sea, a region abounding in lascivious demons, to whom she bore lilim at the rate of more than one hundred a day. 'Return to Adam without delay,' the angels said, `or we will drown you!' Lilith asked: `How can I return to Adam and live like an honest housewife, after my stay beside the Red Sea?? 'It will be death to refuse!' they answered. `How can I die,' Lilith asked again, `when God has ordered me to take charge of all newborn children: boys up to the eighth day of life, that of circumcision; girls up to the twentieth day. None the less, if ever I see your three names or likenesses displayed in an amulet above a newborn child, I promise to spare it.' To this they agreed; but God punished Lilith by making one hundred of her demon children perish daily; [5] and if she could not destroy a human infant, because of the angelic amulet, she would spitefully turn against her own. [6]

(e) Some say that Lilith ruled as queen in Zmargad, and again in Sheba; and was the demoness who destroyed job's sons. [7] Yet she escaped the curse of death which overtook Adam, since they had parted long before the Fall. Lilith and Naamah not only strangle infants but also seduce dreaming men, any one of whom, sleeping alone, may become their victim. [8]

(f) Undismayed by His failure to give Adam a suitable helpmeet, God tried again, and let him watch while he built up a woman's anatomy: using bones, tissues, muscles, blood and glandular secretions, then covering the whole with skin and adding tufts of hair in places. The sight caused Adam such disgust that even when this woman, the First Eve, stood there in her full beauty, he felt an invincible repugnance. God knew that He had failed once more, and took the First Eve away. Where she went, nobody knows for certain. [9]

(g) God tried a third time, and acted more circumspectly. Having taken a rib from Adam's side in his sleep, He formed it into a woman; then plaited her hair and adorned her, like a bride, with twenty-four pieces of jewellery, before waking him. Adam was entranced. [10]

(h) Some say that God created Eve not from Adam's rib, but from a tail ending in a sting which had been part of his body. God cut this off, and the stump-now a useless coccyx-is still carried by Adam's descendants. [11]

(i) Others say that God's original thought had been to create two human beings, male and female; but instead He designed a single one with a male face looking forward, and a female face looking back. Again He changed His mind, removed Adam's backward-looking face, and built a woman's body for it. [12]

(j) Still others hold that Adam was originally created as an androgyne of male and female bodies joined back to back. Since this posture made locomotion difficult, and conversation awkward, God divided the androgyne and gave each half a new rear. These separate beings He placed in Eden, forbidding them to couple. [13]

Notes on sources:

1. Genesis II. 18-25; III. 20.

2. Genesis I. 26-28.

3. Gen. Rab. 17.4; B. Yebamot 632.

4. Yalqut Reubeni ad. Gen. II. 21; IV. 8.

5. Alpha Beta diBen Sira, 47; Gaster, MGWJ, 29 (1880), 553 ff.

6. Num. Rab. 16.25.

7. Targum ad job 1. 15.

8. B. Shabbat 151b; Ginzberg, LJ, V. 147-48.

9. Gen. Rab. 158, 163-64; Mid. Abkir 133, 135; Abot diR. Nathan 24; B. Sanhedrin 39a.

10. Gen. II. 21-22; Gen. Rab. 161.

11. Gen. Rab. 134; B. Erubin 18a.

12. B. Erubin 18a.

13. Gen. Rab. 55; Lev. Rab. 14.1: Abot diR. Nathan 1.8; B. Berakhot 61a; B. Erubin 18a; Tanhuma Tazri'a 1; Yalchut Gen. 20; Tanh. Buber iii.33; Mid. Tehillim 139, 529.

Authors’ Comments on the Myth:

1. The tradition that man's first sexual intercourse was with animals, not women, may be due to the widely spread practice of bestiality among herdsmen of the Middle East, which is still condoned by custom, although figuring three times in the Pentateuch as a capital crime. In the Akkadian Gilgamesh Epic, Enkidu is said to have lived with gazelles and jostled other wild beasts at the watering place, until civilized by Aruru's priestess. Having enjoyed her embraces for six days and seven nights, he wished to rejoin the wild beasts but, to his surprise, they fled from him. Enkidu then knew that he had gained understanding, and the priestess said: 'Thou art wise, Enkidu, like unto a godl'

2. Primeval man was held by the Babylonians to have been androgynous. Thus the Gilgamesh Epic gives Enkidu androgynous features: `the hair of his head like a woman's, with locks that sprout like those of Nisaba, the Grain-goddess.' The Hebrew tradition evidently derives from Greek sources, because both terms used in a Tannaitic midrash to describe the bisexual Adam are Greek: androgynos, 'man-woman', and diprosopon, 'twofaced'. Philo of Alexandria, the Hellenistic philosopher and commentator on the Bible, contemporary with Jesus, held that man was at first bisexual; so did the Gnostics. This belief is clearly borrowed from Plato. Yet the myth of two bodies placed back to back may well have been founded on observation of Siamese twins, which are sometimes joined in this awkward manner. The two-faced Adam appears to be a fancy derived from coins or statues of Janus, the Roman New Year god.

3. Divergences between the Creation myths of Genesis r and n, which allow Lilith to be presumed as Adam's first mate, result from a careless weaving together of an early Judaean and a late priestly tradition. The older version contains the rib incident. Lilith typifies the Anath-worshipping Canaanite women, who were permitted pre-nuptial promiscuity. Time after time the prophets denounced Israelite women for following Canaanite practices; at first, apparently, with the priests' approval-since their habit of dedicating to God the fees thus earned is expressly forbidden in Deuteronomy xxIII. I8. Lilith's flight to the Red Sea recalls the ancient Hebrew view that water attracts demons. 'Tortured and rebellious demons' also found safe harbourage in Egypt. Thus Asmodeus, who had strangled Sarah's first six husbands, fled 'to the uttermost parts of Egypt' (Tobit viii. 3), when Tobias burned the heart and liver of a fish on their wedding night.

4. Lilith's bargain with the angels has its ritual counterpart in an apotropaic rite once performed in many Jewish communities. To protect the newborn child against Lilith-and especially a male, until he could be permanently safeguarded by circumcision-a ring was drawn with natron, or charcoal, on the wall of the birthroom, and inside it were written the words: 'Adam and Eve. Out, Lilith!' Also the names Senoy, Sansenoy and Semangelof (meanings uncertain) were inscribed on the door. If Lilith nevertheless succeeded in approaching the child and fondling him, he would laugh in his sleep. To avert danger, it was held wise to strike the sleeping child's lips with one finger-whereupon Lilith would vanish.

5. 'Lilith' is usually derived from the Babylonian-Assyrian word lilitu, ,a female demon, or wind-spirit'-one of a triad mentioned in Babylonian spells. But she appears earlier as 'Lillake' on a 2000 B.G. Sumerian tablet from Ur containing the tale of Gilgamesh and the Willow Tree. There she is a demoness dwelling in the trunk of a willow-tree tended by the Goddess Inanna (Anath) on the banks of the Euphrates. Popular Hebrew etymology seems to have derived 'Lilith' from layil, 'night'; and she therefore often appears as a hairy night-monster, as she also does in Arabian folklore. Solomon suspected the Queen of Sheba of being Lilith, because she had hairy legs. His judgement on the two harlots is recorded in I Kings III. 16 ff. According to Isaiah xxxiv. I4-I5, Lilith dwells among the desolate ruins in the Edomite Desert where satyrs (se'ir), reems, pelicans, owls, jackals, ostriches, arrow-snakes and kites keep her company.

6. Lilith's children are called lilim. In the Targum Yerushalmi, the priestly blessing of Numbers vi. 26 becomes: 'The Lord bless thee in all thy doings, and preserve thee from the Lilim!' The fourth-century A.D. commentator Hieronymus identified Lilith with the Greek Lamia, a Libyan queen deserted by Zeus, whom his wife Hera robbed of her children. She took revenge by robbing other women of theirs.

7. The Lamiae, who seduced sleeping men, sucked their blood and ate their flesh, as Lilith and her fellow-demonesses did, were also known as Empusae, 'forcers-in'; or Mormolyceia, 'frightening wolves'; and described as 'Children of Hecate'. A Hellenistic relief shows a naked Lamia straddling a traveller asleep on his back. It is characteristic of civilizations where women are treated as chattels that they must adopt the recumbent posture during intercourse, which Lilith refused. That Greek witches who worshipped Hecate favoured the superior posture, we know from Apuleius; and it occurs in early Sumerian representations of the sexual act, though not in the Hittite. Malinowski writes that Melanesian girls ridicule what they call `the missionary position', which demands that they should lie passive and recumbent.

8. Naamah, 'pleasant', is explained as meaning that 'the demoness sang pleasant songs to idols'. Zmargad suggest smaragdos, the semi-precious aquamarine; and may therefore be her submarine dwelling. A demon named Smaragos occurs in the Homeric Epigrams.

9. Eve's creation by God from Adam's rib-a myth establishing male supremacy and disguising Eve's divinity-lacks parallels in Mediterranean or early Middle-Eastern myth. The story perhaps derives iconotropically from an ancient relief, or painting, which showed the naked Goddess Anath poised in the air, watching her lover Mot murder his twin Aliyan; Mot (mistaken by the mythographer for Yahweh) was driving a curved dagger under Aliyan's fifth rib, not removing a sixth one. The familiar story is helped by a hidden pun on tsela, the Hebrew for 'rib': Eve, though designed to be Adam's helpmeet, proved to be a tsela, a 'stumbling', or 'misfortune'. Eve's formation from Adam's tail is an even more damaging myth; perhaps suggested by the birth of a child with a vestigial tail instead of a coccyx-a not infrequent occurrence.

10. The story of Lilith's escape to the East and of Adam's subsequent marriage to Eve may, however, record an early historical incident: nomad herdsmen, admitted into Lilith's Canaanite queendom as guests (see 16. 1), suddenly seize power and, when the royal household thereupon flees, occupy a second queendom which owes allegiance to the Hittite Goddess Heba.

The meaning of 'Eve' is disputed. Hawwah is explained in Genesis III. 20 as 'mother of all living'; but this may well be a Hebraicized form of the divine name Heba, Hebat, Khebat or Khiba. This goddess, wife of the Hittite Storm-god, is shown riding a lion in a rock-sculpture at Hattusaswhich equates her with Anath-and appears as a form of Ishtar in Hurrian texts. She was worshipped at Jerusalem (see 27. 6). Her Greek name was Hebe, Heracles's goddess-wife.

[dr3amofagame]

uhhhh ,, , hi ??

i feel bad bc i havent been here in. LITERALLY forever lmao - hope you guys r all doing good!! ive been working on some stuff but it’s been pretty slow going, and school is also A Thing, so i definitely havent been writing as much as i’d like. 

as an apology, have this? really self-indulgent feel-good syndicate + c!dream centric oneshot bc i felt like writing this so u know. why not. 

tws: implied torture, abuse, self-harm, disordered eating, starvation mentions, prison arc themes - overall everything’s just blink-and-you’ll-miss-it mentions, not too much angst here for once! c!sam and c!quackity critical, sorry guys but we r still in the prison arc and they still r on their “fuck human rights” arcs. 

Dream leaves.

 It’s a surprise - or maybe it isn’t one, Niki isn’t quite sure. She’d never grown to quite trust the man, she knows, and she can’t really tell if the bitter twist of emotion that swells up her chest when Phil comes to her city with the news is betrayal or resignation - what can she say. She’s gotten more than her fair share of broken promises. They don’t exactly faze her anymore. 

 None of them seem all that surprised, save Techno, who entirely fails to hide the worry that flickers over his face when he calls the Syndicate meeting to officially inform them of what’s going on. She shares quick, careful glances with the other members when his back is turned - despite how many times he’s been burned, Techno still seems so adamant at holding onto every thread, trusting all too easily those who would use and leave him behind without a second glance. He can handle himself, she knows. Still, that’s not going to stop her from slapping Dream upside the head for being yet another worthless person to betray her friend’s forgiving nature. 

 Nothing much changes in the next few weeks. Niki has to admit, it’s strange without Dream around - he’d not been an ally, much less a friend before dipping completely, but he had been some sort of constant - and Niki is self aware enough to know that she misses him, a little, the same sort of way you might miss an old routine once it’s gone, if only for the familiarity. She still visits Techno and Phil with various baked goods, knowing that Phil would have his hands full just keeping Techno from running himself ragged - makes sure to check on Ranboo, whose nerves have inevitably returned with Dream’s disappearance. To be honest, she doesn’t worry as much as he does - ally or not, she’s spent enough time with the Dream that had left prison to expect that he won’t exactly be able to get himself very far should he come for the four of them, and doesn’t particularly care about he might pull with the rest of the server - if things get bad, she’s sure Phil and Techno will have it handled. She asks Phil, once, what happened, and he shrugs. 

 “I don’t know, mate,” he heaves a chest to the side, pulling out a stack of stone blocks that Niki gladly holds for him. “One day we woke up and he was just- gone. Everything. Was like he wasn’t ever there at all.” 

 Niki hums. “Why’d you think he’d do something like that?” 

 “If I could understand half of why Dream does what he does, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now, would we?” He smiles at her from behind a crate. “Shall we bring these things upstairs and start on dinner?” 

 Niki laughs, knowing that the conversation about Dream is over. “Of course, Phil.” 

Dinner is a welcome distraction; all of them have gotten better at cooking in recent months, between her baking and the veritable library of recipes Phil knows that she’s never even heard of, but Phil is still the only one she really trusts to hold his own behind the stove - Ranboo is still a little too nervous around water, and fire, and much of everything, and though Techno can be a perfectly capable cook, he’s been distracted as of late. She has a strong feeling that left to his own devices, he’d just grab a stack of steak and disappear for another few weeks, searching the server for information. 

 Honestly, she’s a little thrown off by his behavior - he’d not done anything like this with Tommy, if she remembers right, and had hardly seemed affected by Wilbur’s betrayal on the Sixteenth at all (then again, she was a little too lost in her own head to notice if he was.) She tosses her head over to ask Phil, who’s leaning over a few carrots he’s slicing to throw into the stew he’s making, and the man pauses, frowns. 

 “From what I know,” he starts, words slow, careful, “they’d spent three months in there together, and the conditions weren’t exactly- stellar. According to what Techno said, I’d assumed they had come to some sort of understanding.” He goes back to the carrots, expression dipping into shadow and out of sight. “Guess I was wrong.” 

 Niki hums. She can see it, sort of - spending months together with someone, no matter how insufferable, probably would end with some degree of attachment - she thinks back to plotting through sleepless nights with Jack, anger and grief leaving them simmering, crabs in the same pot of boiling water, remembers looking into his dead-eyed gaze and seeing her own stare back - and feels a brief pang of guilt. Besides, Techno is Techno. She’d never met someone so willing to forgive, understand, reach out despite everything that’s happened - for Dream to take advantage of that feels almost too obvious. Of course he would - what were they all thinking?

 “He’s Dream,” she says as if that explains everything, flipping open the oven door and feeling a wave of heat blast her face. Phil hums lowly, understanding. “I hope Techno will be alright.” 

 “He’s tough,” Phil cracks a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “And he has us on his side. He’ll get through.” 

 Niki opens her mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by the front door slamming open. Outside their quaint little cottage, the wind howls - it sounds like the beginning of a blizzard out there, flurries painting the world in a thick blanket of white. In the door, Techno strides into the entrance with loud, decisive movements, shutting the door loud enough to make the walls shake. Inadvertently, Niki finds her eyes drawn to the small pile of snow that he’s tracked into the house - Techno’s usually so careful to kick it all off on the porch, never liked it much when there was a pile of melting ice and snow dampening the floorboards and soaking into his shoes. He huffs harshly, stripping off a snow-dusted scarf from his face - a long, multicolored abomination that had been the product of her attempting to teach Ranboo how to knit. Phil has reached his side, hands splayed over his upper arms, eyes soft in the corners from concern. 

 “Techno, mate-” his tone is chiding but his movements gentle as he brushes snow off of Techno’s signature cloak, “you’ve gotten snow everywhere. What were you doing, dueling a blizzard?” 

 Techno shakes his head, not meeting Phil’s banter as usual, fur sticking up from the snow melted into it. His voice is gruff and holds little humor - unconsciously, Niki feels her shoulders tense. 

 “Phil, call a Syndicate meeting.”

 ---

 Phil, per usual, is unrelenting, so it’s not until a quick dinner and some hurried messages to their final member later that the Syndicate is gathered in their meeting room, Techno pacing the length of the room as they wait in their respective seats. He looks less frazzled than he did when he first entered the house, in part due to Phil’s sitting him down to eat and picking through his fur to smooth it out of its windblown spikes and tangles - Techno had grumbled at him to stop preening him, but looked a lot more relaxed by the time they were all finished with their food. Still, his ear flicks periodically, twitching toward ssome sound that Niki can’t hear, movements tighter and jerkier than she is used to. He’d always been a little flightier after the prison, but not quite like this - everything here feels like that but dialed up to eleven. Inexplicably, it reminds her of Dream. 

 “Techno?” Phil gestures towards his seat, prompting, and he settles into it with an obliging huff. 

 “Y’know, Phil, the code names are kinda pointless if we never use ‘em,” he says, words carrying no real heat - he looks back at the rest of them, lips thinning into a line. “Anyway. I called this meeting because I found a couple leads on Dream.” 

 “O-oh,” Ranboo stutters, tail lashing behind him. 

 “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to, mate,” Phil reminds him gently, a sentiment that Niki affirms with a determined nod. 

 “There’ve been some reports- rumors, really,” Techno says, calling their attention again, and they all turn towards him, “of increased activity around the prison again. The Warden spending more time on its grounds, movement seen around the walls and around the portal- so I decided to go check it out for myself.” 

 Niki frowns, and watches as Phil does the same beside her - Techno had seemed to avoid the prison if he could help it, save for when he went on the initial mission to break Dream out. It was no secret to them that he didn’t exactly like the place. 

 “We could’ve helped if you asked,” Phil reminds him, and Techno shakes his head. 

 “I know, Phil. It’s just- that place is bad news. I’d rather keep you guys away from there if I can-” his hand goes to his head with a poorly hidden wince. “Sorry, Chat’s a little- worked up, at the minute.” 

 “Sorry, we’ll stop interrupting you,” Niki says, cutting off Phil before he says anything else. “So you went to the prison?” 

 Techno takes a second to gather his thoughts, mumbling quietly in the way that usually means he’s telling off Chat. “Right- I decided to stake out the portal. The rumors were right- Sam has been hanging around there, entered and left the prison four times yesterday. And today-” he hesitates, expression visibly darkening. “This morning, about an hour after the Warden arrived, Quackity came to the prison and went through the portal. He left the grounds about six hours later.” 

 “Quackity?” Niki frowns, eyes flicking over to how Phil has stilled in his seat. “What is Quackity doing at the prison?” 

 Phil ignores her question, reaching towards Techno, something indiscernible in his gaze. “Mate…”

 “He smelled of blood when he left,” Techno says, words sharp, and Niki feels her heart skip a beat. “Warden left about half an hour after, and I came back here.” 

 Ranboo clears his throat, sounding tentative. “Okay,” he drums his hand on the table when they turn towards him, eyebrows drawn, “but what, exactly, does this have to do with, uh, Dream?” 

 Techno and Phil trade glances, one of their bouts of unspoken conversation that Niki’s grown extremely used to. They seem strangely hesitant, she notes internally, Phil looking towards Techno with a question written clearly in the planes of his face. Techno sighs, a long puff of air through his lips as he closes his eyes and turns his face towards the table. 

 “You know how Dream was- injured,” he starts slowly, looking back up at them. Niki shifts uncomfortably - of course she noticed, it was impossible not to - if not the bandages that peeked under his sleeves and the cuffs of his pants, then how skinny he’d been, all skin and bones curled up uncomfortably in a pile at the corner of Techno’s couch. She’d not know the extent, by any means, and had always assumed that they’d been self-inflicted - she’d been in a bad enough place on her own before to know how your head can make you want to hurt, sometimes, how eating food can feel like choking on sawdust and the world could feel so much smaller when focused into delicate pricks of pain. Phil’s eyes are trained on Techno - on his face, then on the pinkish raised skin of a still-healing scar along his forearm, and she feels understanding settle like a rock in her gut. 

 “The Warden had apparently been lettin’ Quackity into the cell to torture Dream for the revive book,” Techno trails off, eyes narrowed and seemingly fixed on a random point of the opposite wall. “By the time I go there, it’d been goin’ on for months.”

 “But wait,” Ranboo’s tail moves even more erratically behind him, “You mean you think he’s back- there? How?” 

 “He has to be back in the prison,” Techno points out. “I can’t imagine anyone besides him that the two of them are goin’ to just start torturin’- Sam had been iffy about the whole thing when Quackity started in on me. It has to be Dream in there again.” 

 “But how did he get in there, then?” Ranboo asks, visibly confused. “Last time it took the entire server to lock him up!”

 “There were no signs of a struggle,” Niki points out, matter of fact. “I believe you, Techno, but I don’t really know how they managed to drag him back so easily. I can’t imagine he was jumping at the chance to go back in there.” 

 Techno shakes his head with an uneasy sigh. 

 “I have a feelin’ of what might’ve happened,” he says quietly. “And I really hope that I’m wrong and he’s less of an idiot than I think he is.” 

 ---

 They set out to investigate - and maybe attack - the next day, Techno and Phil taking on the bulk of preparations as Ranboo stays behind. He’d been understandably uneasy about the whole mission, so they’d left him back by the Syndicate room to set off their pearls in case anything went wrong. (“By the end of the day,” Techno had said, giving Phil a look with the corner of his lip quirked upwards, “don’t be like Phil here and think I meant the end of the month, alright?”) They’d all be supplied with armor and weapons, thanks to Phil, but she’d been handed the bulk of their potions, arranged neatly in her inventory by type in case they’d be needed. She lingers in the back of the room as Phil and Techno chat amiably over the sound of making last minute repairs on their armor, listens to Techno’s ceaseless reminders for Phil to be careful, watches as they make sure that their stasis chambers are properly prepared should they need them.

 (She watches as Phil nudges Techno’s shoulder when he lingers behind a certain chair, empty as long as she’s been part of the Syndicate, the fountain behind it bubbling quietly without a pearl inside. Techno sighs, expression strange. 

 “Should’ve set him up with one,” he says, quiet, and Phil pats him on the back. 

 “You couldn’t have known, mate. We wanted to wait a little before telling him about the Syndicate, remember?” 

 Techno hums, noncommittal. “Still.”)

 They Nether travel to the site of Techno’s lookout, which ends up being a little shambling thing with dirt walls dug into a small hill looking towards the prison portal, having hardly enough space to fit the three of them. Phil looks at it with no small amount of apprehension, and Techno shrugs lightly, wearing an expression that makes Phil turn to him with a look that makes Niki break into giggles. Techno crosses his arms- “in my defense-” and Phil looks up at the dirt ceiling with a long-suffering sigh. 

 “You couldn’t have made this a little roomier, mate?” Phil asks, voice dry as kindling, and Techno raises his hands by his head. 

 “Hey hey, it’s discreet, it gets the job done, it’s perfectly structurally sound-” the sound of the leftmost wall crumbling, along with the cloud of dust that puffs from it and fills their tiny space, undermines the tail end of his statement and leaves him sputtering, Niki falling into another fit of quiet giggles. Underneath it all, Phil sighs again, raising his wings behind him. 

 “...these are going to take so long to clean out.” 

 To his credit, Techno looks sheepish. “Sorry, Phil.”

 They sober up quickly; Techno turns around to the opposite side of the hill, where he’s hidden some peepholes inside the dirt - Niki settles herself by one, leaning forwards to put her eye to it and catch a glimpse of the prison looming over the water. It’s been repaired since the breakout, she notes, the gaping hole in the roof completely gone and replaced with obsidian, as intimidating and undamaged as it had been before, if not more so. Phil makes a considering sound from behind her.

 “Same plan as last time?” He asks, and Techno shakes his head. 

 “They’ve probably reinforced it, and Dream’s blueprints won’t include anything new the Warden’s added. I wouldn’t be surprised if they moved Dream to a different location completely. We don’t want to draw too much attention, either, we were cutting it pretty close during the breakout.” He narrows his eyes. “I was thinking we’d try something a little stealthier, this time. “ 

 He gestures at Niki, who blinks back at him with wide eyes. 

 “You got a couple of invis potions for us?”

 She distributes the potions among them all, one regular and two splash potions of invisibility each, and Techno points towards the prison once she’s done. 

 “The most important thing is to get through the portal,” he says with a grim expression. “Worst comes to worst, once we’re inside we can always blast our way through - but gettin’ through that portal is our first priority.” 

 Phil narrows his eyes at him. “The portal is locked, though. We’ll need to follow someone else inside- and I’m pretty sure Sam uses pearls, so he’s out.” 

 Techno nods. “Which is why I’m bankin’ on the prison gettin’ another visitor today. We’ll just have to wait.” 

 Niki swallows. “Do you mean-”

 “Quackity?” Techno turns away, not quite meeting her eyes. “I’m not totally sure, but he’s not exactly the type to just give up on his goals. He’s pretty predictable- an empire needs an emperor, always needs something new to rule- you know the type,” he says, tipping his head towards Phil. “He’ll be mad at Dream for disappearin’ on him and won’t miss the opportunity to prove he has the upper hand again. I’m not sure that he’s going to come today-”

 “-but you wouldn’t really be surprised, either,” Phil finishes for him, eyes steely with cold determination. “I trust your judgement, mate. Just stay safe- from what I’ve heard, Quackity has been...erratic.” 

 “When is he not,” Techno huffs a short laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll be fine, Phil. Just be careful, both of you. Don’t get too close. And if things get messy- which is what we’re tryin’ to avoid, by the way- then don’t do anything too risky. Our priority is gettin’ in and out alive.” 

 “We can handle ourselves, Techno,” Niki reminds him with a small smile. “And Ranboo is there in case anything goes wrong.” 

 “Alright, then. Here’s the plan.” 

 ---

 It takes quite a long time for Quackity to arrive, long minutes that Niki spends fidgeting in the corner of the room, brushing her hands over seams of the netherite plates that Phil had shoved into her hands, back at the Syndicate room. The set is inexplicably light - not weightless, by any means, as it is still netherite, but not nearly as bulky as any set of netherite armor she’s owned or seen in the past. The runes are precise, lines thin and exact, written with graceful strokes of lapis. 

 “Phil’s the best metalworker I’ve ever met,” Techno tells her with a small grin, catching her in the middle of tracing what she can make out as an Unbreaking rune along the metal strapped to her forearm. “But then again, he’s had the time to practice.” 

 “Are you calling me old again?” Phil huffs, and Techno flashes a smile her direction before looking at Phil with a slight grin. 

 “Well, Chat is,” he says, lips twitching when Phil glares back. 

 “You can’t just blame Chat every time you insult me, you little shit,” Phil groans, and Techno only grins wider. 

 “Phil, my ad revenue,” he complains, a dramatic lilt to his voice that has Niki stifling a snort, and Phil’s glare only grows deadlier. 

 “You’ll have more than your ad revenue to worry about if you keep this up,” he mumbles, going back to keep watch at one of the peepholes and stilling as he does. “Shit- Techno, Quackity’s here.” 

 Techno straightens up, hindered slightly by the low ceiling of their room. “Alright- we all know the plan, right?” 

 Niki nods in the affirmative, pulling out a splash invis and letting it settle in her hand, the glass cool beneath her fingertips. She reaches into her inventory and lets her armor fade into it, takes a deep breath and watches as the two across from her do the same. She doesn’t wear armor often, but so close to the prison, feeling mining fatigue settling deep into her bones - she’s never missed the security it offers more. Techno keeps watch, waiting- drops his arm in a signal. Now. 

 Niki throws the potion at their feet, flinching back at the sound of shattering glass and feeling its effects seep into her skin. When she opens her eyes, she can’t see anything but the inside of the room that they’d holed themselves in and the faintest of wisps rising from where their feet must be, curling around the grass. 

 (Please let this work, she begs to no one in particular as they walk towards the prison. And if you can hear me- please keep us all safe.)

 She hardly breathes as they follow Quackity across the path, holding someone’s hand in her own - Phil’s, by the feel of it - careful to muffle her footsteps in the grass and stand still whenever Quackity’s eyes come a little too close. Thankfully for them, he seems focused, hardly stopping or looking around at all as he walks towards the prison’s portal, movements stiff as he walks forward. He punches the button on the wall particularly harshly, and Sam’s voice comes crackling through a speaker a second later. 

 “I’m here for my visit,” Quackity says, punctuating the sentence with a snort of laughter that doesn’t sound particularly sincere. Niki hasn’t seen him in a long while, not after everything that happened in Pogtopia, and she feels a chill worm down her spine - this man looks nothing like the one that had laughed and danced and sung at her birthday party what feels like an eternity ago. What happened? 

 Sam sighs, the sound turning into a sharp burst of static through the speakers. “Hello Quackity,” he says, voice deep and tired. “Please step into the portal after I tell you to and then wait on the other side.” 

 “I know the drill, Sam,” Quackity rolls his eyes. “Just because the bastard was gone for a few weeks doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how this damn place works.” 

 “Just going through protocol, Quackity,” Sam replies, and something about this response has Quackity exploding into a brief fit of laughter, the sound grating against Niki’s ears. She feels her grip tighten on Phil’s hand, air caught in her throat. 

 “Protocol- ha. Whatever you wanna tell yourself, pal.” Quackity smiles, cold and cruel, and Niki tries not to think about how she’d seen that same grin on Wilbur, eyes sparkling from the light of the lanterns hung from the bridges and walls of their ravine, remember how she’d looked into them and realized her old friend wasn’t there, anymore. Quackity disappears into the portal, and after a second, the hand around her own pulls her inside of it too.

 On the other side, Quackity taps his foot impatiently, crossing his arms and waiting- Sam’s voice comes through the speakers again, words clipped. 

 “Go through the portal,” he says, and Quackity does- once again, they wait for a second for his body to disappear, then go within it themselves, pressed close enough together within its frame for Niki to feel the warmth of a wing wrap around her shoulders for a quick second before they’re out of the hot, stifling air of the Nether and into a large, neatly made lobby of blackstone and quartz. They duck into a corner, watching as Quackity moves towards the front counter, the Warden waiting there with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks- tired. His movements are slow, footsteps loud against the floor, shoulders tense and back hunched. He walks around the counter, sword strapped to his belt, and Niki feels her breath hitch at the sight of dried blood still stuck to the blade in patches and splatters.

 “He ready?” Quackity asks, holding his hands out - Niki catches a flash of metal as Sam drops something into them, watches as Quackity raises what ends up being a pair of shears, dangerous-looking and gleaming with enchants, to the light. 

 “Yes,” Sam says, side-eyeing Quackity with a small glare. “You know, it’s supposed to be your job to clean those things off when you’re done with them.”

 “I told you, busy day back in Las Nevadas yesterday,” Quackity waves a hand- “I’ll do it, alright? Don’t get all pissy now. What happened to being partners?” 

 “You said we’d be done with this months ago, Quackity,” Sam sighs, and Niki feels a light tug on her arm as Quackity and Sam begin to walk towards the wall to the right of them, breathes in slow and deep as she follows Techno and Phil towards the others. The wall yawns open with the hiss of redstone firing and pistons pulling blocks upwards, opening into a dark hallway that feels like entering the maw of some sort of giant, insatiable beast. They step inside as one, and the door shuts behind them. 

 “We’ll be done soon enough,” Quackity says, and Niki feels hairs rising on the back of her neck. “Trust me.” 

 They stalk forwards through a labyrinth of blackstone, Niki brushing the palms of her hand against her clothes when it goes clammy from adrenaline. Halfway through, she pauses to tip back a second potion of invisibility, careful to keep her movements slow and steady as not to make a sound - the liquid is silvery, cool and light on her tongue, and she lets the effects wash over her with her breath caught in her lungs before moving forward. The tunnels are simpler than she’d expected, bearing little obstacles or checkpoints - Quackity makes a wry comment a second after (“Guard tunnels today, huh? Appreciate the hustle, pal-”) that confirms her suspicions. Despite the potion particles still whirling around their bodies and the sounds of their footsteps, too loud in her own ears, they manage to make it forwards without much trouble, entering a large room with a doorway filled completely with a curtain of lava. 

 “Set your spawn,” Sam says, still stoic, and Quackity rolls his eyes again before doing as told. Niki keeps looking back at the lava flowing past the wall, its heat filling the room and making her already slick palms even worse, and Sam moves to the side to flick a lever, eyes trained on the lava slowly bubbling in front of him. 

 “Give me your tools?” Quackity asks, and Sam sighs before doing so - Niki watches as he hands over a netherite axe, then potions, then a few raw potatoes that Quackity accepts and puts into his inventory. Sam raises an eyebrow once he’s done, hand tight around the handle of his trident. 

 “You bring your own sword, today?” He asks, seeming irritated, and Quackity shrugs. 

 “Sorry pal, I need to make a new one. Guess I’m borrowing yours again.” 

 Sam sighs again, louder, and hands over his sword as well, watching as Quackity swings it a few times experimentally. The blade skims a little too close to her on one swing and she can’t quite help the squeak that escapes her lips as she throws herself out of the way, feels her heart hammer in her ears as she backs up against the wall. Please don’t hear that please don’t hear that please don’t hear that please don’t hear that-

 “Quackity, wait.” Sam raises a hand, ear twitching as he looks over in her direction with narrowed eyes. “I think I heard something.”

 Oh fuck.

 “Well, guess show’s up then,” Techno drawls, and both of them whirl towards his voice, giving Niki enough time to pull her armor back on, scrambling to get her sword and shield in her hands as Phil does the same besides her. Pieces of armor appear where Techno is standing, then a bucket of milk- oh, why must her friends be so dramatic- and Techno’s standing there, smiling sharply, with Orphan Obliterator held loosely at his side. “Let’s get this done, then.” 

 As one, Techno and Phil blur into action - Techno moves forward to catch the prongs of Sam’s trident on his blade as Phil parries Quackity’s blows with his own sword- they move fluidly, easily covering each other’s backs as the room devolves into chaos. Niki remembers their guidance as she flits in and out of the fight, scoring quick hits to keep the Warden and Quackity off balance while remaining out of range from their weapons, and it’s not long before both of them have fallen with a spray of items and experience orbs scattered all over the floor. 

 Techno moves over to block off the exposed face of the bed with a block, looking over at the two of them with an uncharacteristically severe expression. “They’ll be back soon- we have to move fast. Niki, you have those fire res, right?” 

 She nods as she reaches into her inventory, finding the potion’s orange-pink glow and smashing it at their feet. They dive into the lava together, Niki scrambling to keep up, her arms struggling to move through the thick lava, loses sight of both until she flails into something directly in front of her and hands are pulling her up out of the lava. 

 “There you go, mate,” Phil smiles down at her as hauls herself to her feet, making a face at the feeling of the lava clinging to her clothes. “Yeah, swimming through lava isn’t exactly fun. You good?” She flashes him a thumbs up, and he laughs- “Niki, you’re still invisible.” She flushes pink- right.

 A few sips of milk later, she gives him a proper thumbs up, and he laughs, loud and bright. She looks past him to where Techno’s crouched over something- someone, she realizes with a start, in the corner. Dream’s back in prison clothes, ragged and ill-fitting, and he’s curled up with his back towards the front of the cell, shaking enough to be obvious even from where she’s standing. Techno speaks lowly, voice barely more than a deep rumble in the air, almost inaudible.

 “You there, Dream?” 

 She watches as Dream turns his head, looking up with wide, bleary eyes. His hair flops in front of his face, and something within her itches to brush it out of the way. “T-Techno?”

 “Yeah nerd, who else?” Techno smiles, and Dream seems to blink awake, drawing himself up with a shuddery breath. 

 “Techno- it’s a trap- what are you doing here?” he hisses, and Techno gives him a look, deadpan.

 “Yeah, yeah, it’s a trap- come on, Dream, we’ve been over this by now, bro. You have to know that their traps aren’t goin’ to do anything to me by now,” Techno rolls his eyes, reaching forward to steady his hands on Dream’s shoulders when the other man sputters and struggles to breathe. “Easy, now. Geez, you wanted to prove me wrong about being homeless bad enough that you came back here? We could’ve just made you a house, you know. You didn’t have to go this far.” 

 “I- they were gonna kill you,” Dream breathes, face twisted up uncomfortably, and his eyes flick past Techno’s face to where Phil and Niki are standing at the opposite wall of the cell. “All of you- they said-”

 “And that’s what I thought you’d say,” Techno groans. “Come on, you idiot, I thought you were smarter than this-” 

 “They were right there, Techno!” Dream fires back, eyes alight. “You- they were right there, what were you thinking, they could’ve-!”

 “And my best friend is a necromancer, remember?” Techno shakes his head. “Come on, Dream- Sam and Quackity? You know we can handle them in a fight, especially when you can just revive us if anything goes wrong. You don’t have to do this whole self-sacrifice thing, bro- there’s only so many times I can break into the same prison, y’know.” 

 “You’re so stupid,” Dream huffs, but he leans in anyway, head just barely settling against Techno’s shoulder. “I- I can’t believe. You’re so dumb.” 

 “Hey, don’t be sayin’ that to the guy that’s breakin’ you out of prison,” Techno laughs, slinging Dream over his shoulder with an easy motion and laughing harder when it makes him yelp. “That’s just bein’ ungrateful. You’re making Chat sad, man, and when they’re sad they don’t subscribe-” 

 “I regret this entirely,” Dream says, voice muffled against Techno’s shirt, tone completely flat. “Put me down- you idiot- I’m staying here. You’re worse than Quackity.” 

 “Rude. Now you’ve really made Chat mad. I demand an apology-” 

 “Boys, boys.” Niki can’t help giggling, watching the way their gazes snap towards her, rolling her eyes as she moves forward with a few potions held loosely in her hand. “Dream, do you want a health pot?” 

 Dream seems to deliberate for a second, before nodding at her, expression slightly strained. “...sure.” 

 “You two can finish your argument after we’ve broken out of the biggest maximum security prison on the server,” Phil drawls from behind her, arms crossed at his chest. “Come on, now, before Sam gets back.” 

 “Isn’t this the only maximum security prison on the server?” Techno asks aloud, an amused expression on his face - one that only gets worse when Phil glares at him with one ice-blue eye. 

 “Shut-” he sighs, shaking his head. “You two are chaotic little shits, you know that?”

 “Don’t compare me to him, Phil,” Techno complains, Dream mirroring his words with muffled protests of his own, and Phil breathes another drawn-out, long-suffering sigh as he rubs at the bridge of his nose. 

 “Niki, give us some fire res please?” 

 She finds the potion bottle between giggles, throwing it to the ground as she tries to choke down the laughter rapidly bubbling up her throat. “Of course, Phil.” 

 She looks back at Techno and Dream before jumping into the lava, the two of them once again lost in some sort of argument, Dream draped over Techno’s shoulder. He’s breathing easier now, she notes, and Techno looks looser too - a little less tense, leaning back with a perpetual quirk to the corner of his lip as they fire insults back and forth. This is familiar, she recognizes with a soft twist in her chest, the same way that Phil and Techno can finish each other’s sentences and look at each other with laughing eyes sharing the same memories of the past, the same way Ranboo watches Techno’s every step as he adjusts his stance and lifts his sword and Techno laughs and calls him a main character in turn, the same way she and Phil will settle together on the porch over cups of tea and sit at each other’s sides for hours. The rhythm between them is one well-established, the road well-worn - she imagines them, huddled in this dingy cell for months together, and breathes in slow and deep. 

 “Come on,” she smiles, making sure to keep it on her face when Dream meets her eyes with wide, startled ones of his own. Dream still isn’t an ally, and isn’t a friend. 

 But - she watches as he smiles back, something inexplicably warm in her chest - maybe, one day, he could be.

[otonymous]

Fever Dreams (MLQC Gavin - NSFW)

Description: Gavin lets you in on the contents of his wet dreams… Warnings: NSFW/18+:  Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Potential trigger warnings: mentions of IV lines, hospitals, minor injuries, brief mentions of trauma, Eli’s sense of impending doom, vaginal intercourse, profanity, masturbation Word Count: ~3K words (~15 mins of sweet, sweet hospital lovemaking 🤣) Author’s Notes: Close your eyes.  Imagine that Gavin is by your side — muscles flexed and lips so close they practically brush against the shell of your ear when he whispers the following:

“I hope you enjoy this fic, which was based on and inspired by Gavin’s Whispers/Biting The Ear (咬耳) ASMR from the CN server, beautifully translated by the incredibly talented and gracious @cheri-translates​.” 🤣

In all seriousness, I’m extending a massive THANK YOU to the sweet @cheri-translates​ for providing me with the awesome goods that literally left me breathless!  This fic would not have been possible without you! 💕 With that being said, hope you all enjoy it and happy reading! 🥰

👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼

It was easy to forget at times; that Gavin was made of flesh and bone like everyone else.

That lionhearted though he was, the man wasn’t invincible, no matter what he would have you believe: hiding winces behind smiles and brushing off bruises blooming blue like they were nothing at all.

It was little wonder then that when the phone rang that night, it was Eli’s voice on the other line.  And as you stood before the bathroom mirror, wrapped in nothing but a towel and watching the colour drain from your face, the stilted manner of his speech made it increasingly clear he was unused to delivering bad news.

“I’m gonna kill him when I see him,” Gavin swears under his breath, the hand with the IV drip attached pulling into a tight fist by his side.

Now you understood why.

“They’re making a fuss over nothing, keeping me in hospital for observation.  It’s just a few scratches.”

Amber eyes train in your direction, the earnestness in their tender depths melting the edge of the anger you felt at always being the last to know anytime your lover got hurt.  And when he tries to smile despite the bulky bandage plastered on his left cheek, your resistance falters.

“ ‘They’re making a fuss over nothing.’  I bet you’d say that even if you were missing a limb, Gavin Bai.”  

Suddenly exhausted by the anxiety that made you rush to the Special Task Force hospital upon receiving Eli’s call, you slump into the chair at his bedside, still annoyed but relived to find that he was well enough to laugh at your sarcasm.

“Hmm, I must be in a lot of trouble if you’re calling me by name like that.”  

Smirk spreading on that handsome face, his eyes take on a mischievous twinkle that makes him altogether impossible to resist.  You couldn’t help but think of that rough and tumble high school senior who threw furtive glances in your direction every time he walked past in the halls, lip cut and face bruised.  

“Come.  It’s too late to go home now and you can’t sleep on the chair like that.  Join me on the bed.”

Voice breaking through your reverie, Gavin holds out the hand that wasn’t hooked to the drip — large, strong and inviting.  You hesitate, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you look towards the door.  

“I-I really shouldn’t.  We’re in a hospital and there won’t be enough room for the two of us.  You, especially, need a good night’s sleep, being injured—”

Three dull pats sound in quick succession to interrupt you.  Turning your head, you see Gavin scooting to one side of the bed, hand beckoning towards the newly vacated space.  “The beds here are larger than the ones in your average hospital.  STF perk, I guess.  But if you insist on refusing then…I guess I’ll just have to accompany you in sleeping sitting up—”

Relenting with a click of the tongue, you snatch the pillow from his grasp just as he begins propping it up behind his back, sliding it beneath his head as you gingerly crawl in next to him.

“That’s my girl.”

Gavin’s whisper is electric in your ear, low and seductive in a way that made you question the innocence of his motives, wondering if he was already aware of the sensations his body pressed to the side of yours was eliciting.  His lips curve in a smile on your forehead, breath dancing hot across skin.  And when he reaches for you, the sight mesmerizes: long, tapered fingers smoothing slow along the strands of your hair.

“Eli must’ve called while you were still in the shower.  You didn’t even have time to dry your hair, did you?  Look at how wet it is.”

And though you were on the verge of telling him that it wasn’t only your hair that was wet, you thought better of it.  There was a heaviness in his tone, weighed down by the concern that inevitably arose every time Gavin thought you weren’t taking care of yourself: encouraging you with bites of the BBQ pork rice he brought in takeout containers whenever you skipped meals during late nights at the office, draping his jacket over your shoulders when you shook from the cold — having decided on form over function in a lightweight but pretty new dress worn especially to impress on date nights.

“Don’t worry, it’s almost dry anyway.”

“Hmm.”  Faint displeasure taints his acknowledgment, but you close your eyes to the furrow in his brows, unable to focus on anything other than the touch of his fingers on your skin — calloused tips tracing the line of your jaw to traipse over the chin until finally coming to rest on your lower lip.  He is so close you can feel the tail end of your exhalation being drawn into Gavin’s next breath when he says:

“I know I really scared you this time.  I’m sorry.  I was careless, but it won’t happen again.  Please don’t be mad, okay?”

Eyes opening to the sight of his, you study the specks of gold embossed in amber, beautifully familiar.  See your reflection in the dark pupils holding your face in loving regard.  Felt your heart chill at the thought of Gavin one day not returning home.  And when the sting of tears arrives to redden the tip of your nose, you turn away, unwilling to add to his burdens with your own.

“All I ask…is that you be open with me.  I know you want to protect me, Gavin.  You don’t want me to worry.  But it’s much worse to have to guess about whether or not you’re lying just to be kind.  I’m a grown woman and your partner, so please don’t handle me with kid gloves.  Let me take care of you too, sometimes.”

Staring at the patterns on the curtain drawn around the bed, you listen for the rhythm of his breath — slow and even in the ensuing silence and punctuated only by the intermittent beeps of machinery, the weight of your concerns slowly sinking in before he finally relents.

“Okay.  I won’t keep anything from you anymore.  I promise.  So please…could you let me just…”  

A hand wraps around your waist, grip firm yet gentle as he pulls you close beneath the thin sheet.  You feel his mouth on the nape of your neck, Gavin’s kisses falling hot and insistent between muffled words.

“…hold you, like this?”

Nodding, you bite your lip, barely suppressing a moan to feel his fingers crawl beneath your shirt; warming themselves on the soft skin of your belly, tracing circles about the navel.

“Seven days.  It’s been…hmm…seven days since I’ve last held you.  It’s too long.”

The last statement is breathed into the curve of your neck and shoulder, your boyfriend inhaling deeply as he buries his face into the space, the embrace around you tightening as if touch alone could communicate all the longing he wasn’t quite able to put into words.

“It was a difficult mission.  I couldn’t sleep.  And anytime I did, I would dream of you.  Always of you.  Want to know what we did?”

Cotton-mouthed, you resort to nodding again.

“Then be a good girl and turn around first.  I want…need to see you…that’s good.  In my dreams, we’d be together, just like this.  I’d have you in my arms, so close I could feel every inch of your body…how hot it is…just like now.  No, don’t move away.  I like it. I’ve got a fever, but I’m also feeling chilled.  I want your heat.”

Those amber eyes are dark now, half-lidded and veiled with lust — proof that Gavin’s increasingly shallow breathing was not an exaggeration.  It was a look you recognized; the expression his handsome face wore the moment he saw you again after a mission had kept him away for too long.  It typically resulted in entire weekends spent in bed, limbs entwined as Gavin made love to you over and over again.

Until you were boneless and spent.  

Until your lover was satisfied that he was thoroughly reacquainted with every curve of your body.

You reach for him: trembling fingers tracing the line of his brow, thumb circling the apple of his cheek.  Gavin closes his eyes, exhalation shaky as he nuzzles into your palm to lay a kiss on that, too.

“Your touch feels cool on my skin.”

“Oh!  I’m sorry—”

“No.  Don’t be.”  Fingers curling about the wrist that pulled back, Gavin gently guides your hand towards his forehead.  “It’s nice.  I like it.  But…my back is warm too.  Do you think you could help me lower the temperature there?”

Swallowing, you start to inch your hands towards the open back of his hospital gown.  Gavin softly groans to feel your fingers running along the ridge of his shoulder blades, caressing defined muscles and faded scars you had committed to memory long ago.

“Is this all right?”

Now his turn to nod, Gavin’s head drops back, accentuating the bob of his prominent Adam’s apple in that strong, thick neck.

“I’m...ah…also feeling hot here.”

Large palms fall over the back of your hands, guiding them over his rib cage until they find themselves on the hard muscles of Gavin’s abdomen.  Thighs pressing together beneath your skirt, you trace that defined V-line — touch featherlight in a way that draws out a shudder, goosebumps blooming across the expanse of Gavin’s skin.

Suddenly, you freeze to hear footsteps approaching in the hallway beyond the door.  And just when you start to pull away, Gavin stops you with a whisper:

“Don’t worry.  The nurse has already been in to check on me tonight.  They won’t be back again, unless…unless they see that my heart rate has become unusually high.”

He winks.

“Besides, if they find you here, I’ll just say that, um…I’m afraid of sleeping by myself in the dark.”

That smirk again.  You wonder at what point your boyfriend had become so cheeky, knowing just the right things to say to get his way.

“Could you help me?  I’m burning up…right here.”

Lower and lower, he guides your hands, leaving them to their own devices when they reach the waistband of his boxers.  Barely breathing, you watch as the expression on his face transforms from anticipation to euphoria the moment you slip past the elastic, fingers circling his hardened length with a loose grip.

“Officer, you weren’t lying!”

Gaze already heavy with want, the chuckle Gavin lets out in response has never sounded so sexy.  “It’s because I’m running a fever.  Or perhaps…it’s because I’m thinking of you.  Do you think we should…make it even hotter?”

You wet your lips, feeling Gavin twitch in your hand at the sight; feel the vein pulsing on the underside of that thick shaft as he continues to swell in size.  Firming up your grip, you begin to stroke in earnest, trying to maintain your rhythm despite the distraction of your own throbbing pussy, despite the way you grew increasingly wet to envision him sliding into your depths, satin panties clinging to the lines of your folds.

Smoothing your thumb over the liquid arousal beading at the tip of his cock, you draw wide, slick circles over velvet skin — paying especial attention to the ridge just below the swollen head because you loved how Gavin sounded when caught in the throes of ecstasy.  It pleased you to pleasure him — the man who never thought twice about putting you before himself.

Always so strong, always fearless, you loved to watch him fall apart.  Over you.  Beneath you.  In you.  Held in the palm of your hand or folded to your embrace.  You could feel the tension leaving his body — worn out and battered — each time he returned to your side from a mission, the trauma of all the things he couldn’t talk about seeping from every pore as you sought to show him love with the swing of your hips, the kisses you showered upon his sweat-soaked face.  With the normalcy only the simplicity of a home-cooked meal could restore.  “I love you,” he’d smile and say, amber eyes blinking once, twice…as if Gavin couldn’t quite believe you were real.  “I really do.”

“This is the first time someone has stayed with me in the hospital, let alone shared my hospital bed.” Gavin’s voice is low, thick with emotion in between shuddering gasps elicited by each tug along his length.  “Who would’ve thought that...even at a time like this…I’d be lucky enough not to be alone.”

“I’d never let you be lonely,” you say with a sudden vehemence that surprises even you.  “Never again.”

He smiles, gentle eyes glistening when his large hand approaches to cup your face.  Gavin touches you as if holding something of infinite importance, “Angel” falling from his lips in a soft utterance.

“I don’t think I can sleep tonight.  I don’t want to.  What about you?  Will you…stay up with me?…Help my fever break—”

You kiss him deeply, swallowing his words even as your tongue pushes past teeth to meet Gavin’s in reunion.  You had missed him; missed the way he tasted, the hint of mint that lingered in the breath you shared, as if your very lives were as entwined as your bodies in embrace.

To lose him was to lose yourself.  

And so, you give yourself over to the man who gave so much and asked for so little in return.

“Then I won’t sleep either.  I want to stay with you.”

Throwing one last glance at the door, you rise to your knees, skirt bunching at the waist as you straddle his hips.  Eyes wide, Gavin starts to move before you stop him, saying “Let me” as you push him back onto the bed before the IV line could pull taut.

You loved how Gavin looked at you, the artless way he wore his heart on his sleeve — showing in the pink of his cheeks, the blush creeping all the way to the tips of pierced ears.  It was a side of him only you were privy to; unguarded and unfiltered.  He watched you now, those amber eyes lit with a dark hunger to follow the motions of your hands: one pulling dampened panties aside as the other spreads glistening lips, guiding his cock along the length of your slit before you ease yourself onto his hard heat.  

Unable to stop the moan that escapes, you slide…lower and lower…until the flesh of your buttocks meets the muscular plane of his pelvis.  But the sensation continues — electricity spreading towards the very pit of the stomach to curl your spine, chest opening to receive all of his love.

Breathing barely controlled, Gavin bites hard on his lip in a bid to stay quiet, unwilling to attract the attention of curious staff.  “God, you feel so good.  I just…just want to move.”

“No, let me…let me be the one to take care of you this time.  Please.”

For the second time that night, Gavin relents, yielding to your exquisite torture even as he fought to leash the animal impulse that spurred him to rip free of the machinery and fuck you until the bed collapsed.  Hands clenching tight around the bedsheet, his knuckles grow white, as if the flimsy fabric were a lifeline keeping him from being swept away each time you lifted and lowered yourself onto him.

For everything about you drove him mad, from the tight, grinding circles you drew with your hips whenever he was fully sheathed, to the clenching embrace of your arousal-slicked walls that held him like no other, as if the entirety of you were created with him in mind.  Or, at least, it was a fantasy he harboured; to think that fate had a hand in ordaining you his sole queen, and him, forever your humble servant.

“Ahh, Gavin!…I…you’re so deep, I’m com—”

You don’t get to finish before your mind blanks.  All you could focus on was the sudden grip of Gavin’s hands on your hips and the shift of your weight forwards when his knees draw up, giving your lover the proper leverage to pound hard and fast into you from below until your arousal pools to drench those six-pack abs.

It nearly overwhelms you; the orgasm that makes you collapse onto Gavin’s chest, the contractions that hit like tidal waves moving through your body.  They spur him on, continuing to fuck you so hard the bed shook, each and every thrust hitting just the right, swollen spot to keep you elevated on that high.  And when you whisper

“I love you”

before your tongue extends to suck the lobe of his ear into your mouth, the tension building in the taut muscles of that perfect body breaks.  

You hear your name leave his lips in a deep moan, feel him leave a part of himself in the secret space between your legs.  Taste the salt of his sweat on kisses laid upon the pulse of his neck.  Waited for his racing heart to slow before telling yours it was okay to do the same.

And when his arms wrap tightly around your body, “I love you, too” returned with palpable affection, you let yourself fall into slumber…knowing that even in dreams, Gavin would meet you there.

👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼

Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[infectedpaul]

You Matter To Me (Squip/Reader)

You've had your Squip for a bit now and it's been fine for the most part, until he brings up the idea of looking into romantic relationships with others which opens up a lot of wounds you wanted to just bury deep and forget about. But you can't begin the road to recovery without asking why you got there, right?

SO IVE NEVER....WRITTEN AN X READER B4 UGH HJKSAJDASKDJSA esp not for a near dead fandom OH WELL oh well oh well h ignore this my normal followers please please

(warning 4 talks of depression/self degrading talk, its hurt comfort yada yada i need 2 touch grass ik)

ao3 link if u prefer that!!

You weren't made for love, at least, you didn't think so.

For as long as you'd been looking for it, it was always so out of reach. Easily visible, sure. Walking past groups of friends laughing it up on the sidewalks, partners entangled in each other's arms, seemingly trying to make their love known for all. But for you to have any of that for yourself? The heat death of the universe would sooner come, surely.

You'd sort of given up on it. It would be nice, you'd think. To be held, wrapped up in someone's arms, and just to stay there for as long as either of you could want. That cozy, warm feeling of being with someone that you only saw in movies or read about in books. But you had just accepted it wasn't in the cards, so to speak. And you were fine with that.

Well, you told yourself anyway. You knew it was for a deeper reason, though, but that wasn't something you liked to think about too heavily.

It was easier to do that when you didn't have a roommate that could dig into your brain and pry every little detail about them out of you.

When you got your Squip, you didn't know it'd be so adamant about perfecting every little last thing you were. How long or short your hair was styled, if your shoes matched your eyes, how fast or slow you were walking and how too brisk would make you seem like you were constipated but too slow and your likelihood of getting run over by a horse-drawn carriage gone would go up much higher, nevermind that you've never even seen a horse in real life.

What you did know, by now at least was that the Squip was persistent, seeing himself as your guardian angel, a guiding light in your desolate dark world of humanity, ickiness and week old pizza boxes you were too unmotivated to at least move off the bed.

So when his ideal response wasn't given when he proposed seeking out a lovelife, he was...well,

"I'm not sure I understand." His head crooked to the side, puzzled by your surface level indifference, "You're of consenting age, marginally attractive and only slightly under average at socializing. Finding a mate can't be too hard."

His holographic form hummed a soft, near silent buzz, a small imperfection to his otherwise flawless binary makeup. Other than that, and the soft, tinted blue glow around his form, he looked completely human. A little too human, really. Something so real, realer than any CG or video game, but something was just...off, something from the uncanny valley. You hadn't kept him in this form long, you liked to change it up from time to time, maybe to trick yourself into thinking he was someone new, making your brain think you had more friends besides the computer you bought behind a Rack Room.

You didn't look at him though when you responded, too preoccupied with the paper in front of you, decorated with a few characters concocted from your imagination. "I dunno," you shrug, brushing off eraser marks, "Just not my thing, I guess." You could feel his confusion, a bit of gut feeling as his thoughts jumbled in with your own. He was really only in your brain, afterall; the figure behind you sitting on your bed was just something he made up to ease your brain into trusting a new, larger source of perpetually growing information. "But, the purpose of this time in your life is to mate and birth young, is it not?"

You really wished he'd learn to stop talking about you and 'the homo sapien species' like you were a mindless ape made to breed and nothing else.

"Uh, I mean not really. I know that's what everyone around me is doing," Your mind thought back to all the cringey baby announcement videos from kids you knew in high school, "But it's...I guess I'm just not up for it. It's not really for people like me."

He was quiet. Only for a second, before he asked,

"People like you?" Another silence hung in the air. It was a truth you knew he could easily just reach into your brain and find for himself so you kept quiet for a bit longer, waiting for him to start digging. But you didn't feel it, that very familiar sudden ache in the back of your head you got when he went poking around for more things to nag at you about. Just quiet in your room, only the soft buzz and birds tweeting outside your window any solace from the uncomfortable silence you felt.

You shrugged again, and turned to face him, seeing now the muddled and a little concerned look on his face. "You know? The quiet ones, the losers. People like me don't get to be loved. I've just accepted that." You could have said a lot worse, and it seemed like he knew that. You didn't really understand, either. You didn't like yourself, plain and simple.

His concern only seemed to grow, eyebrows furrowing and staring intently at you. You thought for a second, maybe it was anger. It wouldn't be the first time. You were mostly compliant to his (mandatory) suggestions for life improvement, but every once in a while he would propose an idea that you would fight about, like clothes you weren't comfortable wearing for one reason or another. He said he was a learning computer, so he would need your help on things like emotions and comfiness, physical or mental, ruling out whatever the newest trends were. He would be fine afterwards but, he could get pretty huffy about you trying on too skinny-skinny jeans.

But that didn't happen, there wasn't a small but fierce jolt of electricity in your back to stop you from going against 'social programming', as he called it. He just looked at you a bit longer, seemingly turning gears in his head as he tried to process what you're saying.

You gave him a sober smile, trying to still seem indifferent, though for a second you wondered maybe if he was still prying at you, in a different way at least, because if he was, it seemed to be working.

"What? I'm just not that special. You of all people know that, right?" It was almost like you weren't hearing what was coming out of your mouth, that casual self-degradation that almost frightened him. You heard stories from message boards about that, older models of the Squip forcing reprogramming onto the host by breaking down their emotional state with verbal or physical punishment for...just existing, really.

He wasn't really like that though. Yes he could be annoyed when you didn't comply, but you were both good at compromise and treated situations like adults, even if at first you weren't much motivated to treat any situation at all. He informed you while you were looking through those boards that his creators had taken in accounts of previous incidents and built more of a guide to self-improvement than a ball and chain with a backhand. Humans were fragile, he knew that, and it wasn't okay to hurt them just to get a little closer to their goal.

But maybe, did he not think that humans were more than capable of hurting themselves? Their own words used against them, their internal voices bashing against their brains, turning them to mush and making them too scared or unmotivated to build it back up again.

"I just know no one would love some useless, pitiful person...I just kinda got over that a while ago." You almost frightened him with how nonchalant you were about the whole thing. It wasn't intentional, you weren't trying to seek attention or be funny. You just knew there was plenty of other people out there worthy of all that lovey-dovey stuff you thought would be nice but...it's just not meant for you.

There was a knot in his voice as he finally spoke up,

"That's why I'm here, isn't it?" The last piece of the puzzle had finally clicked into place, but he didn't look satisfied, not that cheeky, self-centered chagrin when things went his way or when he was proven right yet again.

You thought he knew that. You thought from day one he just figured that out and that's why he's been trying so hard to make you into a model citizen or something. "Did you just think you were here to help me pick out clothes in the morning?" You laughed, he seemed to know it was forced.

"Well...y-yes, maybe. I just...I never looked into that possibility of…" He was regaining his composure; this was a side you've never seen of him before. He's always been so astute, robotic and to the point. He's never fumbled over his words or had to give himself a second to figure out what to say next.

"How long has it been like this, Y/N?" His hands were folded neatly on his lap, still looking you dead-on, waiting for you to answer his distressed queuerie with worried patience.

You got up out of your chair, pushing it back and behind you to step away from the table and your drawings. "I dunno," you said, taking a few steps towards the long mirror hung on your wall, "for as long as I can remember, I guess." You looked at your reflection, only tired, dark eyes looking back at you. Even though the edge of the bed was visible in the mirror, your Squip didn't show up in it, another reminder of just how alone you were outside of your head.

"I just started to feel like I didn't belong more and more and...that ate me up so much I just started believing in it. I-I didn't wanna go to school or talk to people or even get up 'cause...well," You turned away from the mirror before you could see the tears you'd been holding back, looking at the more distressed figure in view of you again, "what would anyone be missing, really?" You still smiled, that big smile you both worked so meticulously on making seem not too forced when you had to act excited or just blend into normal social gatherings, but it wavered so easily, like a thin strip of paper about to tear off the nail that barely held it up on the wall.

His eyes widened at the sight of your tears, immediately getting up and briskly walking to stand in front of you, not knowing how to proceed in the moment. He hadn't had to deal with something like this yet and he was troubleshooting to see what was the correct response to a human breakdown.

You looked down, covering your eyes with one hand and clenching the other into a fist, big, strained smile still plastered on your face and trying so hard not to seem more weak than you knew you were. You were nothing. You knew that, you thought he did too. You thought you could just fix things, but how could you do that without getting to the source? You knew you couldn't just sidestep around why you wanted things to get better with humans, but with a computer who could read your brain like the newspaper, you thought maybe you could get around that.

You heard him sigh before a feeling of arms wrapping around you caught you off guard, the Squip entangling you in his grasp and his head resting on yours. It was all simulated, you knew. He had done things such as lightly punch your arm as if to say 'Good job, Sport!' or tap your shoulder to grab your attention without startling you, but this was different. He held onto you for a good couple of seconds, a wave of warmth spreading through your body in an instant. He pet back your hair with one hand, rubbing your back with the other and finally broke the silence in the room.

"Y/N, it- ...it pains me, hearing you speak that way about yourself. You're…" He looked down at you, holding you a bit closer and tightening his grip just a tad. "You're an incredible, talented, wonderful person. You've come so far and you've taught me so much about humans and myself and I just couldn't ask for a better-" He stopped. You knew what he was going to say, a better host, a better human, a better assignment to help and guide and-

"A better friend."

A friend?

He never referred to you or anyone with such a personal or affectionate term. It almost didn't seem real, like you maybe misheard him. Your smile had shattered into a small frown and, with teary-eyes and your voice already cracking, you looked up at him, meeting his almost-heartbroken eyes in an expression that looked so foreign on his normally composed face.

"What?"

He gave a weak smile, trying to be comforting but his fear showing plain as day. You could feel it within you too, a pit in your stomach forming as your chest tightened. You knew it wasn't your anxiety, but his.

"Do I need to repeat myself, Y/N? I think of you as a friend and..." His hand moved off of your back and ran itself up to rest on your shoulder, the other holding your cheek and wiping away your tears with his thumb. "I want to do all I can to show you that from here on."

You almost couldn't breathe as you looked at him, feeling for the first time that unconditional love you yearned for. You could feel your heart race in your chest, something you knew he could feel too but you were too crushed to say anything. You simply slammed yourself into his chest, grabbing fistfulls of his shirt that made your hands tingle like they fell asleep. His arms enveloped you yet again, the both of you holding onto each other so tight like either of you would fall through the floor if you let go.

You sobbed and sobbed and sobbed for what felt like hours, and, just maybe, you thought you could hear him crying too, but that'd be silly...right?

When you were finally out of tears to cry, you stood there still, simply bathing in each other's presence, the feeling you only saw in others finally yours. And you knew it was only a matter of time before this too was stolen from you, the universe would take back anything from people unworthy but...for right now, you wanted to be a little selfish.

"I'm sorry." You whispered, face still buried in his shirt.

"For?" His head was rested on yours again, holding up your weak and tired form with no effort, just trying to keep you propped up until you were ready to let go.

"I got you to help me but...I can't even let you in like I'm supposed to. But...I want to. I just want help." You pushed yourself off of him, one thought between you and him and his hands meeting yours, the simulated tingle in there again as you held each other's palms in yours and looked at each other with such exhausted eyes and worn-out but so genuine smiles.

He leaned down and planted a kiss on your forehead, a soft hue of pink blush spreading on your drained and exhausted face.

"I'd love to help, friend."

[wickedpact]

Crim pls do a J/N fic rec post at some point in the future I trust you more than I trust myself looking rouge through AO3

im kinda eh abt the concept of fic recs myself just bc the whole 'Different Strokes For Different Folks' thing (idk how many times someone i liked in a fandom made a fic rec list and i ended up not liking anything they posted). plus i have weirdly specific tastes and i.. .. honestly havent read a ton of joenicky fic! (i have a FAT to-read list) but ive been asked this a couple times now so i will slap together a couple joenicky fics i like (not comprehensive, i only spent like 15 minutes making this. also not in any particular order.)

Kiss Each Other Clean by moodlighting

i like this whole fic, but the last 6 or so paragraphs in particular SEND ME TO SPACE, i love cuddling. also [joe voice] nickel neekee

what you seek is seeking you by bankrobbery

i actually recced this one once before. idk its cute i just Like It. (also nicky pretending not to know english bc a customer is pissing him off is Very Funny and i love it)

with every inch of my heart by smilebackwards

i like this one a lot, i think nickys pov should Always be this tender. i dont like miscommunication trope much, (esp with joenicky) but i do like this fic-- the miscommunication in question is far-fetched but its joenicky so of course it is. just enjoy the Angst™

i love michelangelo seeing nicky all dirty and bloody after a fight and being like 'DAMN this bitch is fine' (same). (AND the fact that nicky only agrees to travel with him in the name of wasting the pope's money lmao). the fact that joe and nicky broke up But They Still Snuggle. nile knowing like 2 things about joe and nicky's breakup & pretty much immediately taking nicky's side. joe looking at the creation of adam and bein like 'EH'.

nicky carrying around his little joe drawing? nicky carrying around a spare toothbrush for booker? nicky telling little children stories about a princess locked in a coffin under the sea? ('perhaps someday, if an iron coffin is caught in a net or washed up onto the shore, they’ll remember the princess, a victim and not a monster' EXCUSE ME)

(also 'I have drawn you a thousand times since we parted. I sculpted your likeness, just so that I could pretend to cup your cheek. You are so much warmer than marble, hayati.' R O M A N C E)

Pas Un Ange by inlovewithnight

there are a lot of fics i love in a way thats like 'this fic is fun but it doesnt feel like something that would happen in the Actual Canon' (which is fine!) but this one Does feel like it could happen in The Actual Canon which is cool

this fic also has probably my favorite depiction of nicky's relationship with god/religion in any fic ive read ('[nicky's] peace had come only after walking away from faith as a competition of intensity in favor of faith as a steady compass that he followed like the beat of his heart in his chest.'). i love the whole Drama played out by the background characters and how they all have their own ideas and motivations & nicky is just kind of resigned to being caught in the middle of it.

(also love how near the beginning joe's like 'the Right thing to do in the situation would be stay at this river and help these people.... ... ....... ... .... ... anyways see ya guys later gotta go find nicky'.)

also joe chatting up a pig and the five minutes later chatting up some goats was so cute. & nicky trying to tell the baby's mother how to save it!!!! </3 AND THEY ARGUE ABOUT CHARITY on the way home (not before joe injects a comment abt nickys ass into regular conversation bc Romance™) its a bit of a sad fic tho, that poor baby 🥺

Intercession by PrincessDesire

can i interest you in some Swamp Man Nicky in this trying time?

someone recced this fic to me and i dont remember who. but note that the major character death tag is not, in fact, for a major character but for a background one. neither joe or nicky perma!die in this. also normally i dont like fics where joe or nicky are bi bc Thats Not Canon Babey but i do like this one, i love joe's relationship with Grace and how nicky's perception of that relationship gets flipped on its head halfway thru the fic. i also love joe's Weariness Of Immortality, like when joe talks about how 'youthful' nicky makes him feel. his pov just kind of Feels like an old man and i like it

theres a smut scene in this fic which im personally not big on smut scenes but theres this bit where joe tries to figure out condoms and its very cute. also 'You have many kinds of magic, Nicky. All your spells have worked.' ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

also i just like how WHIPPED joe is from like the first 3 seconds he sees nicky. theres one bit where nicky's like 'ill come visit you!' and joe's like 'when🥺' and nicky's like 'as soon as you like!' and joes like 'now?????🥺🥺🥺 literally come home with me???' incredible.

also the Magic System was cool. i also love how nicky just Accidentally made himself immortal. what a man. also i like this line 'it would never occur to [nicky] to attend any service that wasn’t going to have a direct outcome. Grace takes comfort from it, so maybe that’s the only outcome needed.' idk its so sweet

edit: also i cant believe i forgot the iconic line 'Yusuf is a man of two minds, one large and underutilized, the other small and underutilized.' absolutely iconic & relatable

[primalsouls]

white rabbit pt 3

langa hasegawa x gn! reader (pt 1 - pt 2)

anon: omg is there going to be a part three of the white rabbit ?? i liked it a lot but its ok if you dont want to write a 3rd part :D

⚠️ : mentions of blood (like from small cuts??)

theme: general

note: sorry if the part where they skated is badly written lol. ive not good with "action" scenes. 💀 anyway, here is part 3! i hope you like it, enjoy it, and thank you for reading! no proofread, sorry for any mistake. let me know what you think. :)

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Skateboards were lined up beside each other. Their owner stood on them with ease, readying themselves once the horns go off. The crowd watched with anticipating gazes. Whispers were thrown among themselves on who would beat who. Bets were placed. All eyes set on the young pair. Excitement and anxiety swim around the atmosphere.

Langa took a deep breath. His baby blue eyes looked over to his group of friends. Reki sent him a wink, mouthing "good luck" toward him. Miya and Shadow talked among themselves what the White Rabbit would do to Langa. Said boy was nervous, for the time during a beef. He was nervous. Going up against his crush. Was probably not the best way for first impressions. Maybe, just maybe a beef wasn't a good way to talk to his crush. At all.

Before the race start off, Langa turned to the other skater.

"[Y/N], good luck." Langa said, surprising them with a kind smile. [Y/N] blinked, repeating his words through their head before a click of the tongue was heard and their eyes narrowed.

"I don't need your well wishes." They started quietly, voice low and steady. "I'm gonna win and you'll be the one leaving S. Not me." Langa was taken back by their words. He picked up the broken tone on their last two words. "And it's White Rabbit to you and everyone else. We're not friends and we'll never be." As they spoke, the traffic lights above them, went on one by one. When it reached the third light and the horn went off at the same time [Y/N] said those last three words, they dashed away from the crowd and Langa, already starting to get ahead of him. Langa froze a bit, watching them skated away. His head repeated their words over and over. It made his heart stirred uncomfortably inside, a heavy feeling settled inside his chest.

"Langa! What are you doing!?" Miya called out, bringing the boy out of his thoughts. He glanced over to them. Miya's face scrunched in a pissed manner as Shadow and Reki stared at him confused.

"Ah... Sorry..." Langa mumbled before he prepared himself shortly and took off with ease speed. Reki watched with a frown on his face.

"What's up with him?" Shadow asked as they all watched the bluenette disappeared from their sights. Reki shrugged, turning to the other two.

"I don't know... He look upset for a moment there." Reki said, scratching the back of his head. "Langa," he started off, catching their attention. "He has a crush on [Y/N]." His voice was low, wanting to keep it between the three of them but Shadow was shock at the confess he repeatedly the sentence loud enough for the small crowd surrounding them to hear but Reki and Miya shut him off, whispers being thrown at him to quiet down. "You guys heard me right." Reki continued, pulling them away from the crowd and headed to the large screen displaying Langa and [Y/N] racing down the old mine. Langa was still a bit far from them it made the watchers believed he won't be able to catch up.

"A crush? On [Y/N]?" Miya started slowly.

"aka the White Rabbit of S?" Shadow chimed in.

"Adam's sibling!?" Reki jumped when they both yelled at him in unison, causing him to take a step back and held his arms up to defend himself. He nodded rapidly to answer their three-part questions.

Miya shook his head, disbelief written all over their face. Shadow crossed his arms, head shaking as he disapproved of Langa's crush on the other skater.

"That's absurd. Of all people, this slime likes [Y/N]!? Did he hit his head or something!? Not only that, what makes him think beefing them would get them to like him back?" Miya paced back and forth, hands moving everywhere as he rambled on.

"Heh. He probably wants to see if they were compatible. I mean, it's such a uncool way to talk to your crush. If it were me, I would have just show them my awesome tricks!" Shadow exclaimed but when he turned to the boys, he received nothing but deadpan looks. "Why are you looking at me like that!?" Shadow glared, gritting his teeth.

"Oh, please, you wouldn't have the guts to do that in front of the pretty florist manager. Much less talk without looking like a fool." Miya taunted, smirking. Shadow splurted out insults at the youngest. Reki chuckled awkwardly. The redhead turned to the screen, the camera set on Langa. His brows knitted down. Reki could see he focused on something else than on winning.

"Langa..." Reki muttered, fists clenched by his sides.

Langa turned a corner, catching up to [Y/N] and the skaters that watched by the sidelines down the narrowed racetrack cheered for him and the White Rabbit. Most of them demanding the skater in front of him to guide him through their thorned pit. Langa didn't want this. He realized that now. This won't get him anywhere aside skating against them. And from the way they spoke to him in that little time between them, it sounded like anger flowed through their voice. He wondered why. Has he said something wrong to them? Has he spoke to them in the past and pissed them off in any sort of way? Langa couldn't recall any moment approaching them. So, why did they acted cold towards him? Why did he felt hatred from them? It bothered him. It upset him.

[Y/N] clicked their tongue. They glanced over their shoulder and noticed the boy catch up to them with great speed. They won't lose. They won't leave S. They won't be strip off their title. Off their everything they built. [Y/N] won't allow Langa to win. They had to win. Their life was on the line. Just the thoughts of it eagered them to speed up. They lowered their stance, picking up speed. As another corner came to view, the rabbit swirled side by side a bit, bend slightly and turned the sharp corner. Their breathing quickened. They were anxious for the race to come to an end. They know they be should careful but they wanted to end the beef already and prove to Adam what they were capable of being S's White Rabbit.

Langa. It was all they heard from their older brother. It disgusted them. Made their skin crawled. When their eyes first landed on the bluenette and the way he skate, it left them stunned. [Y/N] never saw anyone skate like him before. And when they saw Langa go up against their brother that one night. The way he avoided his signature move, Love Hug had left them astonished. [Y/N] only got hurt terribly when his brother practiced Love Hug on them and when their aunts questioned the bandages and injuries on them, they lied by saying they fell down somewhere. Bruises were always left on their body from that move. And it envies them that Langa found a way to avoid it.

[Y/N]'s handa clutched into fists. They reached into their single pocket on the front of their hoodie. They pulled out a long rope. Small, yet thick enough to hurl it at someone. It was littered with small sharp pointers that resembled thorns. The rabbit turned half their body a little towards Langa. As he came up behind them, a few feet away, they threw the rope with great force at him.

"Argh!" Langa covered his face when the object was thrown at him. He felt small thugs on his sleeves. He ended up taking a step back, making him lose his footing on the board but Langa forced his body to calm down and steady itself. When he tried to shoved the object away from him, it scrapped small cuts on his cheeks. He pulled down his arms down, looking around. Due to his small step back, he slowed his speed down, creating distance between them. The boy looked down at his arms and noticed small tears on his sleeves. No cuts created on his skin, though. But he did felt a hint of liquid streamed down his cheeks. Langa figured he got some cuts on his face and blood trickled down but he was scared to see it. He didn't have time to faint at the sight of blood.

A smirk was visibled on their face. With Langa's fall back, there would be no way for him to catch up. They were nearing the factory after all. Where the tracks narrowed down with no room to move or do tricks. The thought of reaching the winning line clouded their mind, [Y/N] forgotten what Langa was capable of doing.

And speaking of the young man, Langa made a couple of shortcuts to reach the rabbit.

It was beginning to look more of a chase now.

A bluenette skater chasing a white rabbit with crimson eyes. The factory being their thorns of pit.

[Y/N] looked around. Their eyes widen when they spotted Langa once again catching up to them. "What the hell!? How!?" They exclaimed. Cheers were heard from around them in the factory. It pained them. They were supposed to cheer for the White Rabbit. Not a pathetic boy who followed the rabbit down the hole. With teeth gritted, [Y/N] faced the boy completely, a deep frown on their face. "I won't lose." They whispered, coming to a halt by the stairs the narrowed catwalk led to.

Langa frowned slightly, looking around and trying to come up with a way to avoid the rabbit. Yet the same moment, he wanted to see what they would do.

"Oh no..." Miya said. Reki watched with mouth gaped.

"They're gonna hurt him. Real bad." Shadow added in.

"Langa... Langa, careful!" Reki shouted out with both hands around his mouth.

[Y/N] reached behind their back pocket and pulled out two black containers the sized of their palm and shaped like the spade. A single outlined white rabbit drawn in the middle of the spade container. As Langa neared them, [Y/N] raised their hands and like the stopwatch the white rabbit carries, time seemed to slow down around the both of them. Langa's eyes widen as the arms were pulled down, fingers releasing the containers, watching them aimed down at the space between them both. Shouts were heard from around them. Langa looked down at the ground once the containers hit the floor. Right before his eyes and [Y/N]'s, who still stood by the stairs, off the board, glaring directly at Langa with hatred, the containers exploded. Langa squinted when he noticed black like-vines popped out of the containers. They were thick like the rope from earlier, covered in thorns-like pointers as well. But this time, they were a little bigger that it looked like a tangled mess around the catwalk.

The thorned vines decorated the rails. From a far, it looked like an arch entrance was created. Langa closed his eyes and covered himself as he skated through the vines. His clothes getting caught on the thorns that looked like were getting closer. They were shrinking. When Langa glanced up, [Y/N] was already skating down the track, more arched vines coming life around the rails. They were spreading like they had a mind of their own. Langa bit his lower lip back. If he keeps going through the narrowed path, he would be cover in cuts, badly. And once wrong move would leave him blind.

He was determined. He would catch the rabbit.

Langa picked up his speed, deciding to go through the vines until he could figure out what to do. Blood spilled around his clothes from the cuts that covered his exposed skin but he didn't care at the moment. His eyes spotted an opening through the vines. Langa took a deep breath and jumped with his skateboard on that opening, a part of the rails that wasn't cover by the vines and swiftly rotated on the rail. A breeze going through his hair. [Y/N] glanced at their side and watched in shock as Langa clicked the front of his board on the rail that hasn't been decorated with their vines and moved once again with the other side of his board and jumped to land in front of the rabbit, a few feet away from them. The vines behind them both now, still spreading but with no one caught in their webs.

The White Rabbit was in rage. Langa escaped their hole. Despite the damage he received, he managed to crawled his way out and get ahead of them. They couldn't do anything else. The finishline was up ahead. Langa and [Y/N] tried to gather as much speed as they can.

"No. No, no, no, no...." [Y/N] whispered, pushing forward.

Reki, Miya, and Shadow were at the finishline, cheered for Langa to keep going.

Friends. It must be nice to have them. The support one gets. Having fun with them. They didn't had many friends growing up. Always isolated to their bedroom. They weren't allow to attend school like their brother had. No even oversea school. [Y/N] was stuck doing homeschool. No one ever knew about the child who came from another mother. Their father made sure no information about them were leaked out. Their father only paid attention to Ainosuke, after all. Neglecting only [Y/N]. Their aunts' so-called love hurts them. They didn't like the way they disciplined them. It traumatized them. A "love" like theirs was no love. Images was all they care about.

It sucks. And it wasn't fair.

Life wasn't fair.

"No..." [Y/N] stopped right on the finishline. Hands limped by their sides. Cheers grew louder around them.

But they didn't cheer for them, the White Rabbit.

"You did it! Langa!" Reki yelled excited, running up to his friend and threw himself at him. Langa huffed as he catched him but winced in pain.

"Careful, Reki! He's hurt." Miya pointed out, running up to them with Shadow. Langa waved a hand dismissively.

"I'm fine..." He said, resisting the urge to look at the cuts. His friends sighed at his response, shaking their head in disagreement.

Langa only smile before he looked around, looking for the other skater. He glanced back at the finishline and spotted them standing them, skateboard still on the ground, one foot to keep it from slipping away. Their head hanged low. Langa picked up his brother and walked up to them, believing he could possibly talk to them properly.

"[Y/N]-"

"It's not fair..." Langa heard them, yet their voice was barely above a whisper.

"[Y/N]... Wha-"

"Congratulations, my SNOW!" a familiar voice announced, cutting Langa off. Said boy looked at the source of the voice. From the entrance behind the crowd, Adam waltzed in on his board. Like the first time they met. "You did it! You defeated the White Rabbit! How wonderful." Adam applauded, stopping in front of the two young skaters. "You finally caught the rabbit and dragged it out of its hole." Langa frowned. "And I'm sure that rabbit knows what happens when its loses." Adam glanced at his sibling. Their fists clenched together.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Reki called out, taking one step forward.

"The white rabbit leaves Wonderland. Forever."

[bex-la-get]

This Unpredictable World (Adam x f!Detective)

Book: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Pairing: Adam du Mortain x Alma Cunningham

Word count: 2808

Summary: “We’ve spent so long trying to protect her from our world, that we never once thought about protecting her from her own.” Adam grapples with the dangers of the human world when Alma is in an accident.

Author’s Note: So, I threw my back out last week (always warm up before working out kids; it’s not worth the injury) and I thought “Ooh, how would UB react if the detective was injured?” And this was supposed to be fluffy, I swear... but then it wasn’t and here we are. Sorry? 😅

TW: Car accident, drunk driving, mentions of blood and injury.

Laughter. That was the sound he missed most. 

Alma’s laugh had always been infectious. From the moment he met her, her laughter had drawn him in like a moth to a flame. He had resisted it, at first; fighting the urge to say things that might have elicited that laughter from her. But as time went on, he began to give in. He began to relish the sound of her laugh. The one that made her throw her head back and close her eyes as she reveled in the thing bringing her joy. The one that made his heart skip a beat every time he heard it. 

Now, he’d give anything to hear it again. To see that bright smile of hers and watch as her face lit up; to hear her laugh that always reminded him of windchimes echoing throughout the sky. All he wanted was to hear that laugh, to see her smile. If he could just have that, then he knew everything would be okay...

Instead, Adam was stuck staring at the walls of the facility common room, desperately waiting to hear something, anything. The lack of answers was slowly killing him. He needed to know she’d make it out of this. That she was going to live. 

Alma had been in a car accident; a bad one. She had been hit by a drunk driver causing her to skid off the road and crash into some nearby trees. She’d sustained some serious head trauma, several broken ribs, and internal bleeding in her lower abdomen. She had lost consciousness almost immediately but not before quickly calling her mother stating she was in trouble.

The Agency had moved fast; faster than normal emergency services would have been able to. One word from Agent Cunningham and several medical units were on their way to the crash site, Rebecca hot on their tail. Unit Bravo, having walked into the chaos that was surrounding the facility, barely had any idea of what was going on until Nate heard someone mention Alma’s name in the same sentence as “car crash.” 

Adam’s world had come to a standstill at the news, his heart pounding so hard, he thought it might burst. When he met Nate’s eyes, his old friend nodded once and the four vampires piled into the car, following the medical units to where Alma was. “We don’t know how bad it is, Adam,” Nate had said, attempting to soothe Adam’s nerves. “She could be completely fine for all we know.”

Adam had nodded, but he wasn’t convinced.

When they had arrived at the crash site, his stomach dropped. Alma’s car was crushed in on several sides, smoke emitting from the hood. He couldn’t see her but he could hear the medics attempting to talk to her as they wriggled the door open. He didn’t hear her respond to them.

With a grunt, the medics opened the battered car door and Adam had watched in horror as Alma’s body slumped, nearly falling out of the vehicle. The medics converged over her blocking his view and he moved to get closer. He had to see her up close, he had to know she was okay.

A hand on his shoulder had stopped him and he turned to find Mason looking at him, a look of distress on his face. “Adam, don’t; her blood’s too strong. I can smell it all the way over here.”

Adam looked back at Alma, now being moved onto a gurney, and realized how bloodied she was. He could smell her now too; the smell of her mutated blood reaching him even as he stood yards away. He turned around and took a few steps farther away in an attempt to get away from the overwhelming scent of her. He needed to keep a clear head and, as much as it pained him, the farther away he was from her at the moment, the easier that would be.

The sound of footsteps gained their attention and they turned to find Agent Cunningham walking towards them, her face sullen and pale. “Agent Cunningham,” Nate had said, “we came as soon as we heard. Is Alma going to be alright?”

Rebecca gave them a sad smile. “Thank you for coming; to answer your question, I don’t know. They’re going to rush her back to the facility and assess her injuries there. She might need surgery. I don’t know much beyond that right now.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Felix asked, his usual cheery demeanor replaced with worry.

Rebecca shook her head. “Thank you, but no. Unfortunately, all we can do right now is wait.”

And wait they would. After Alma had been rushed to the facility and the intoxicated driver taken into custody-- their injuries far less severe and life-threatening-- Unit Bravo returned to the facility, the air around them heavy as they waited for an update on their detective. Some time after their return, Agent Cunningham entered the room notifying the vampires that, as of right now, Alma would not need surgery, much to everyone’s relief. But she wasn’t out of the woods yet. “The doctors are keeping her under close monitoring for the next twenty-four hours; they think the internal bleeding will stop on its own but if it doesn’t, they’re going to take her into emergency surgery. Same with her head injury.”

“When is she expected to wake up?” Adam asked.

Rebecca shrugged, the gesture taking more effort than normal. “I don’t know; she’s currently under a lot of medication. She could be out for a few hours or a day.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a ragged breath. “I’m sorry, I wish I had more information.” It was unclear if she was speaking to Unit Bravo or herself.

Nate stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You have nothing to apologize for; we understand how difficult this must be for you.”

She looked at Nate sadly and nodded. “Thank you.” Her phone chirruped and she moved to exit, muttering a small “Excuse me,” as she left. Unit Bravo looked at each other, the same looks on all of their faces. Worry. Distress. Anxious.

Adam was the first to break away from the group, moving to a nearby sofa and dropping onto it heavily. He pulled a small photo-- the one he and Alma had taken when undercover at the carnival-- from his pocket and stared at it, his fingers running over the image of her. It had just been for show, he had told himself at the time; but the way she stared at him in this photo told him otherwise. It had never been for show for her. 

And, if he was honest, it had never been for show for him either.

“Are you alright?” a familiar voice asked from next to him. He hadn’t even noticed Nate had sat down with him.

Adam closed his eyes and folded the photo closed. “No.”

Nate rested a hand on his shoulder and Adam looked at him. “We have to believe she’s going to be okay, Adam. Entertaining any alternative isn’t going to help anyone.”

Adam dropped his shoulders. “I know.”

“But?”

Adam reopened the photo and looked down at it sadly. “We’ve spent so long trying to protect her from our world,” he began, “that we never once thought about protecting her from her own.”

“No one could have predicted this, Adam,” Nate reasoned. “Try as we might, we can’t protect her from everything.”

“It’s our job to protect her from everything,” Adam argued. “I-- we should have been there, with her. We could have--”

Nate tightened his hold on Adam’s shoulder. “It was an accident, Adam. A preventable one, yes, but an accident nonetheless. We’re not seers; we can’t predict what’s going to happen every time we walk out the front door. You can’t beat yourself up over that.” Adam sighed and said nothing but Nate knew he had heard him. He squeezed his shoulder once more then stood up. “She’s in the best care possible; and she’s strong. She’ll pull through.”

As Nate walked away, Adam returned his attention to the small photo, once again tracing Alma’s image. “She’ll pull through,” he repeated, in a whisper. “She has to.”

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

Twenty-four hours passed slowly. And with very little update.

Rebecca had been allowed into the room around the eight-hour mark and Unit Bravo had been allowed in a few hours later. If Adam had thought seeing the detective would ease his nerves, he had been wrong. Her blood had been long cleaned off and any open wounds had been cleaned and stitched but she still looked so small. So fragile.

Alma laid unconscious on the hospital bed, her arms and face covered with bruises and scratches. There was an IV attached to one arm while the heart monitor beeped consistently in the corner; not that it was necessary. Adam had been listening for her heartbeat ever since they had returned to the facility. He was reassured that it remained as steady and strong as always. Still, the current sight of her made his heart ache. 

He watched the rise and fall of her chest, her breathing steady, then looked over her face, eyes relaxed in sleep. He hoped she was having a good dream; she had mentioned once that she still had nightmares of Murphy. The idea that that monster still haunts her made Adam’s fists clench; he hoped, above all else, that she wasn’t dreaming of him at this time. May she never dream of him ever again.

As the hours ticked on, Unit Bravo began to retire to their rooms, after reassurances from the doctors that Alma wasn’t likely to wake until tomorrow. Even Rebecca eventually retired, emotionally drained from the day. Eventually, the only person to remain in the room was Adam.

When he was alone, Adam moved from his place in the corner to a nearby chair. He dragged it over until it was right next to Alma’s bedside and took a seat. For a long moment, he sat in silence, listening to the sound of Alma’s heartbeat and the quiet sounds of her breathing. Then, he reached for her hand and took it in both of his, his fingers resting on the pulse point on her wrist. It was one thing to hear it, but upon feeling her heartbeat, his shoulders dropped from their tense position and he released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Come back, Alma,” he said, quietly. He was positive she couldn’t hear him but he still felt the need to say something. Anything, really. He just… needed to talk to her. “Come back to me. Please.” He clasped her hand in his and he placed a soft kiss to her knuckles. “We need you. I need you. Please.”

The night passed slowly, the hours feeling more like days. With the exception of the occasional check-up from Elidor, Adam remained Alma’s only visitor for the entirety of the night, his hand never leaving hers. He would occasionally talk to her, sharing mindless thoughts with her, ranging from a book he had recently read to Felix’s recent antics with Mason’s laundry. He had hoped that by talking to her, she might be able to hear him and know he was there. That he would always be there.

It was nearing sunrise now; the early hours were quiet and undisturbed. Adam’s hand still held Alma’s tightly as he watched her heart monitor, her heartbeat still strong and steady as it always was. A small smile on his lips, he became so focused on the monitor that he almost missed Alma’s hand tightening around his. Almost.

He looked down at their clasped hands before looking to her face to find her hazel eyes fluttering open. He sucked in a breath as her eyes adjusted to the bright lights of the hospital room before locking with his. “Adam?”

He released a sound that was a mix between a laugh and a sob and used his free hand to brush some stray strands of hair behind her ear. “Good morning.”

She leaned into his touch. “What happened?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

He frowned. “You were in an accident. You were--” he hesitated to speak his next words-- “you were hit by an intoxicated driver.”

Alma released a breath. “Shit. Are-- are they okay?”

There she went again, worrying about others before herself. Adam fought the urge to shake his head at her kindness; she was too good with people sometimes. “They do not deserve your concern; as far as I care, they’ve been arrested and incarcerated. That is all that matters.”

Alma frowned in disagreement but didn’t argue the point further. Instead, she tightened her grip on his hand. “Where’s everyone else? Mum?”

“They retired for the evening last night. I should alert them that you’re awake.” He began to slide his hand from hers as he shifted out of the chair but she held on tightly.

“Don’t go,” she whispered. “I-- I don’t really wanna be alone.”

His eyes met hers and a small smile settled onto his lips before sinking back into the chair. Instead, he pulled out his phone, sent off a quick text to the rest of Unit Bravo and Agent Cunningham, then returned his attention to Alma. She was studying his face, a thoughtful look on her face.

“What is it?” he asked.

Tentatively, she reached with her free hand and cupped his cheek. He leaned into her touch almost on instinct. “You look tired. Did you sleep?”

He chuckled dryly. “No. I don’t need to sleep, remember?”

“Adam--” she began, the sound of disapproval in her voice.

He shook his head. “I’m alright, Detective,” he told her, quietly. “I-- I didn’t want to miss an update on your condition. I--we were worried about you.”

She brushed her thumb across his cheek. “Thank you for staying.”

He closed his eyes and relished in the feel of her hand on his cheek. He covered her hand with his free one, as if holding it there. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you, Alma,” he said, softly. It was so quiet Alma almost missed it; but she was grateful she hadn’t.

“I’m here now,” she reassured. “And I’m safe. That’s the important thing.”

He nodded. “That it is.” 

“Tu omnia,” she whispered.

He smiled. Then, acting off of instinct rather than logic, he removed his cheek from her hand only to turn his face and place a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist, right above her pulse point. Her pulse sped up at his gesture and he placed one more kiss higher up on her palm. “Tu omnia,” he repeated.

Just then, he could hear the sound of several sets of feet rushing their way towards the hospital room and he stood up from the chair, giving Alma’s fingers one last squeeze, then moved away to the corner of the room. Alma gazed at him confused but understanding soon flickered across her features when the door opened and her mother appeared.

“Alma!” Rebecca practically ran to her daughter’s bedside, pulling her into a tight hug as the rest of Unit Bravo trailed in after her. Alma returned her mother’s hug before looking to the rest of Unit Bravo and smiling. Within seconds, Felix and Nate had her wrapped in a bear hug, Mason standing nearby with his signature smirk, making Alma laugh in response. 

Adam’s heart skipped a beat. There was that laugh again; the one he had missed so much, the one he had craved to hear when she had been unconscious. Hearing it now was like hearing a beautiful piece of music for the first time after being unable to hear anything; his shoulders released their usual tension and he smiled softly.

“So, no one’s bothered to tell me what happened to my car,” Alma said, looking at her mother.

Rebecca grimaced. “Uh--”

“Your car’s totaled,” Mason interjected. “But on the plus side, the forest now has a nice shiny fender element to it.”

“Mason!” Nate reprimanded.

Alma shook her head, smiling. “I should’ve known.”

“You can use one of the Agency’s vehicles while we find you a replacement,” Rebecca offered.

“Preferably something that doesn’t look like it’ll break upon getting into it,” Mason muttered.

Nate groaned. “Mason!” 

Alma laughed again, making Adam’s heart swell at the sound. There were still some loose ends that needed tying up: Alma would still need time to fully recover and the intoxicated driver would need to be taken care of at some point. But for now, she was smiling and laughing and safe. For now, that was all that mattered.

Tag List: @sanguineverefae @little-flowers-on-heaven @mia143 @takemyopenheart​ @jamespotterthefirst

[stewyonmolly]

ok so ive never listened to bruce springsteen and ur makin me wonder what all the fuss is about so....what are ur fave songs.....

i just fell in love with you.

i’m listing by album in order from early bruce onward. you need to love early bruce before you get into later bruce, just trust me. ignore the fact that there will be no recs from the 90s or early 2000s. keep in mind bruce’s discography is fucking MONUMENTAL. it’s enormous it’s huge it’s a stonking humdinger. like.

and i haven’t even listened to the early 2000s albums on spotify.

greetings from asbury park: listen to the whole thing in order PLEASE i’m begging you. it’s the first, formative album. it’s pure, pure bruce. every song is a home run; i could make my top 5 songs EVER purely from this album.

e street shuffle: this is one of my favorite albums of all time. no skips. but if i HAVE to choose—4th of july asbury park (though it’s sooo much better live, listen to the 1975 hammersmith odeon live recording on spotify); incident on 57th street (LISTEN TO THE LYRICS); (of fucking course) rosalita (but you NEED to listen to those two in order bc they lead into each other!!)

born to run: again, the desire to say Every Song is physically painful. these three albums are all perfection. literally no album has ever compared, much less anyone’s FIRST THREE ALBUMS. but to choose: tenth avenue freeze-out; backstreets; she’s the one; and then meeting across the river INTO JUNGLELAND they lead into each other

darkness on the edge of town: another perfect album. badlands is my 4th most listened to song ever and a perfect album opener. adam raised a cain is brutal. something in the night is spectacular. racing in the street gives me angina. the promised land is insanity. prove it all night is a song i will do dirty, dirty things to when my second vaccine kicks in. darkness on the edge of town is a perfect titular piece.

the river: THE RIVER MY BELOVED. i adore this album even though it broke my dad’s heart because it sounds un-bruce compared to the earlier albums. if you’re pressed for time, just listen to side A from start to end in order, it’s fantastic.

nebraska: if i was a bruce fan in the 70s and i waited two years after the river for his next album and he put out fucking nebraska, i would’ve stopped being a bruce fan. johnny 99 and open all night are the only 2 i can stomach from this album.

born in the USA: aka his sellout commercial album. not to say the songs aren’t good; it’s just inherently a sellout album. titular track is FANTASTIC, listen to the lyrics though, it’s a revolution song. i’m on fire is his horniest song. no surrender makes me screech. glory days and dancing in the dark is one of the best back-to-backs ever. my hometown makes me bawl bc i’m from new jersey.

tunnel of love: not much to say. listen to all that heaven will allow; tunnel of love; brilliant disguise.

human touch: titular track is all i love in this world

skipping to tom joad, which is like fine but i only listened to it once and can’t say you Have To Listen To Any Of It.

skipping all original stuff until he put out the record from his hammersmith odeon show in london 1975, it was his first european tour and he’s sooo awkward and good and i have literally never heard a song faster than how he played born to run that night. i’ll say again that version of sandy keeps me up at night it’s so good it makes me feel like i have gravel-burn on my heart

working on a dream: titular; queen of the supermarket

wrecking ball: titular; shackled and drawn

western stars: tucson train is going to be my most listened to song of all time by the end of this weekend and that’s a promise; it’s already number 3. it’s soooo cinematic and gorgeous and the strings make me want to carve my liver out and feed it to a horse. i wrote a short story about it last night. i also like sleepy joe’s and moonlight motel

letter to you: LETTER TO YOU MY SEXY BOYFRIEND LETTER TO YOU. letter to you is literally a letter, it’s a LOVE letter to bruce’s forever fans, it’s old bruce and yet new bruce and it’s perfect. every song is perfect. but my tops if i HAVE TO CHOOSE are as follows—letter to you; RAINMAKER; GHOSTS; song for orphans; ill see you in my dreams (which makes me weep)

also: FIRE which is actually on The Promise now that i check; protection which is unreleased and on youtube

[bloopferheart]

Sk8ti theories!!

Spoilers for all the current episode of sk8 (up to episode 6)

- also sorry if this all over the place lmao

so i have many theories but i wanna talk about the one that im most leaning towards! so personally what i think is going to happen is that reki and langa are going to fall in love, they both fall in love with each other and i think there is going to be hinted canon romance??? i dunno they will DEFINITELY have a deeper bond than they currently are at. we can see that each episode they are getting closer and closer, langa is smiling more and they are starting to become more "touchy-feely" with each other (*coughs* the latest blessing of an episode we had, ep6, the beach episode <3). we can also see that they love each in the translation of the end credits the lines.  "i like what ive always liked", "lets keep feelings",  "lets keep your heart"  , "let's go together" ,"you are always in my heart" - (fuckin sobs kakjdsh). i see the end credits as a convo between langa and reki so these are things that *both* of them are saying. so, yes, i think it will be requited love....at first. (fuck here comes the angst)

time to talk about fucking ad*m,,,,so what i think is that adam is going to draw langa away from reki and sort of influence him into the world of reckless skating. langa is so drawn to adam that he starts to skate more dangerously and adapt the same ways of skating that adam does. becuase of his, he starts to drift away from reki. reki usually skates by the rules and doesnt cheat, or at least he doesnt go as far as adam does. reki is always ready to try new things but he defientley isnt as reckless as langa will end up being. reki will start to feel as though he is falling more and more behind langa until langai so caught up in reckless skating that he is just gone. reki realizes its too late and that langa is too far ahead he cant keep up (just like in the intro when reki falls and when langa doesnt turn around to look back at him and how langa dissapears). 

so, besides reki falling behind langa, how will this *directly* affect reki? well i defientley think that reki has some trauma surrounding adam considering how he fucking screamed langas name and had a nightmare about adam,,,like,,,,idk :( but continuing on, i think that langa is going to make a very dangerous bet, like a life threatning bet that impacts reki. and i think that langa *finally* realizes his mistakes when its too late. so, this is where my theory starts to go 2 ways. 

1) reki will,,,*takes a deep breath* dies. what if langa makes such a dangerous bet and adams influence is too much that he accidnetly kills reki? BUT tbh this is one of my theories that i dont actually lean a lot towards. the next one is what i actually think is more likely to happen based on the ending credits,

2) reki *will* get hurt, but emotionally not physically (or maybe physically but i dont think so). he will see that langa is never coming back to him (or at least he thinks that) and decides to just leave him. its at this time that langa realizes "fuck ive gone too far" but its too late too chase after reki because reki already tried chasing after him and langa just ignored him. reki and langa will then drift apart although as they spend time apart they realize how much they need and miss each. what gives me this impression is when the end credits say:

"we are grown up now, can be honest i will remember tightly tied shoe laces, lets make it , my favourite colour, its infinte, i like what ive always liked" this whole phrase reminds me of how anga talks about how he still thinks of the times when he and reki would skate *for fun* together, and not for the thrill/adrenaline rush.

"i like what ive always liked' implied hes always liked reki and despite drifting apart, he still does love him. his love for reki is infinite.(and rekis love for him is infinite)

"lets talk silly stories be with you forever i want to smile by your side" implied that langa (who i assume this verse is in the pov of) still wants to be with reki and regrets the choices hes made. "lets go together, go with you" he still wants to go with reki, he still wants to skate with him.

"even if tomorrow this world ends, i dont need anything special at the same pace as usual lets just be who we are. yes, "now" is so beautiful" so lets disect the first part of that, i think that by this langa or reki (i dont quite know who, i think langa tho) is thinking that all he wants is just go back to all the days (at the same pace as usual) and just go at the nice easy-going  pace they were at.

a very big indictor of langa realizing he sitll loves reki is the line "lets go togehter, go with you *not only in happy times*" i think that langa is saying that despite reki being upset and feeling behind, langa does in fact wish he had been by his side and he wants to be there for reki.

"at any time, be by your side", "lets go together", "as long as we have that feeling", "i am here by your side", "you are always in my heart" literally is so gay like guys cmon, langa deifnetley still loves him

so what happens next? langa now realizes he *does* love reki and that adam is a big piece of shit but reki is gone (reki still loves him and thinks about him tho: as seen in line “youre always in my heart” i believe this is said by both of them) 

so, in conclusion my favourite theory is that at the very end of sk8 reiki and langa will sort of have individual shots and then they will run into each other in the street, both carying skateboards. langa will reach out to reki to "catch him" or something idk SOMETHING WILL HAPPEN WITH HANDS AND WE WONT SEE FACES AT FIRST and then the shot is their faces and they look at each other and just smile! I THINK IT WOULD BE SUCH A GOOD ENDING AND I THINK IT WOULD FIT THE END SO WELL YA KNOW??? SO yeah!!!! thats my fav theory!! 

i do have one more i just wanted to touch up on tho :eyes:

HANDS!!! OMG HANDS R SO IMPORTNAT IN THIS SHOW MY GOSH. and as each episode goes on we can see they are getting closer and closer with their hands. it starts off ith taking off the water bottle, and bandaging each other hands, then the hand shake, the hand shake TO THE CHEST, and then as seen in episode 6, the hug, and finally langa reaching out to save reki and pulling him close. i have a feeling as the episodes go on they are gonna get more "touchy-feeling" and what if langa or reki like touches the others face or brushes hair out their face? like what if,,,,reki forgot his headband or cant find it and he leands over to fix his skateboard or something and langa just brushes the hair out of his eyes? or what if one of them puts their hand on each others cheeks and kisses them? IDK GUYS I HAVE A STRONG FEELING WE ARE GONNA GET A BIT OF ROMANCE- But uh yeah

I have a tone of angsty theories involving adam but i deinfetley think we are going to get a bittersweet ending,,,,

 I'll probaby upload more theories later on but these are them so akjdhsa yeah! my dms are open for sk8ti discussion and if u want my discord (which is easier to commuicate on for me) then just dm me!)

[hale-13]

Ulcerated

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 8 - Force Feeding

It’s only been a week since Tony last saw the kid but the weight he’s lost is clear in the way his shirt is just a little baggier than normal, the paleness of his face, the gauntness of his cheeks and Tony has to hold in his sympathetic wince. May Parker was never one to exaggerate but Tony had kind of been hoping that she was this time.

Words: 2720, Chapters: 1/1 (Completed), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & May Parker

Characters: Peter Parker, May Parker, Tony Stark, Helen Cho

TW: Vomiting, Medical Procedures

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

It’s only been a week since Tony last saw the kid but the weight he’s lost is clear in the way his shirt is just a little baggier than normal, the paleness of his face, the gauntness of his cheeks and Tony has to hold in his sympathetic wince. May Parker was never one to exaggerate but Tony had kind of been hoping that she was this time.

“Hey Pete,” he says, trying to keep his tone light and his voice gentle, Peter looks like he’s one stiff breeze from passing out or crying – it’s a toss up – and Tony doesn’t want to find out which is more likely. Peter raises one hand just above waist level in a half-assed wave and Tony bites the inside of his cheek sharply. “May said you’d been feeling pretty crummy kiddo.”

Peter shrugs and hums noncommittally, eyes a little unfocused from, what Tony guesses is, low blood sugar. He purses his lips and weighs his options before crossing the room to pull Peter into a careful hug. Peter goes nearly boneless in his arms but doesn’t raise his own to return the embrace which worries Tony even more; Peter is more tactile than just about anyone Tony’s ever met and is always eager for any physical affection. His stomach turns and he looks up to make eye contact with May where she’s wringing her hands in stress and looking guilty in her navy scrubs.

“Thanks for this Tony,” she says, approaching them and running her fingers through the rat’s nest of Peter’s curls. He’s still leaning up against Tony either for emotional or physical support, he’s not sure which. “I was worried about leaving him alone.”

“It’s no problem at all,” he assured and it wasn’t. When May had first called him about Peter’s supposed stomach flu earlier in the week he had sent all of the kid’s medical information to Cho who had told them, based on his symptoms and history, that they just needed to fill him up with as many fluids as possible and start a bland diet. They couldn’t afford not to with Peter’s wicked fast metabolism. May had taken most of the week off work to cram electrolytes and soup down Peter’s throat but her PTO had run out and she was on shift for the next three days. When she had called Tony for their daily update he had insisted that Peter come stay with him in the Tower – the penthouse a convenient few floors above the MedBay if they needed it.

“Okay Petey,” May said, pulling Peter into her own arms to fold him into a soft hug that Peter at least attempted to return. “You get some rest and try to eat something for Tony okay? I’ll call you in the morning when I get home but I’ll have my phone on if you need me and the hospital can always page me if I’m not able to answer okay?”

“Sure,” Peter rasped and Tony winced at how rough his voice sounded but, he supposed, non-stop vomiting for the majority of the week would do that to you.

“Alright,” May said, looking torn and a little devastated and Tony empathized. Peter was the closest thing he had to a son and he couldn’t imagine leaving him like this now that they were together. She made eye contact with him and Tony could read the clear ‘you’re going to have to take him from me or I won’t let go’ expression on her face and pulled Peter gently back to him.

“I’ve got him May,” Tony promised. “The chefs at the Tower have prepared a ton of bland foods for us to try and Cho’s on call if we need her. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“I know,” she said, eyes a little damp. She cleared her throat and pressed her lips to Peter’s forehead. “I love you Pete.”

“Love you too,” Peter mumbled back and Tony slipped his arm a little lower down the kid’s back to support him when he swayed a little unsteadily, dazed. He needed to get Peter off his feet fast before he passed out. They rode down the janky elevator together but went their separate ways at the curb – May toward the subway and Tony maneuvering Peter to lay half in his lap in the back seat of the town car Happy had been idling in the fire lane in front of the apartment.

“Step on it Hap,” Tony said once he had Peter settled, ignoring the concerned look his friend was giving them both in the rear view mirror. “Make it a smooth ride yeah?”

“No problem Boss,” Happy promised, pulling away from the curb with the utmost care and merging them into the Queens traffic.

——————————————

“I know you don’t want to,” Tony began, apologetic as he nearly shoved a bite of unsalted, unbuttered white rice into Peter’s unwilling mouth, trying not to feel overly guilty about the look of pure betrayal on Peter’s face. “But you’ve already lost over eight pounds and its hard enough to keep up with your metabolism as it is. I know you don’t want to end up in the MedBay.”

Peter sighed around the mouthful of rice but chewed it and swallowed it, begrudgingly accepting the next bite Tony forced into his mouth. They got through about half the bowl before Peter abruptly turned pale and then green, barely managing to grab the empty bucket Tony had placed next to him, vomiting up a mixture of bile and undigested rice. Tony squeezed his eyes shut a second in commiseration before rubbing the kid’s back to help him through it. “It was a good attempt buddy,” he said quietly as Peter retched painfully into the bucket until he was dry heaving only.

The episode only lasted for a couple minutes but Peter looked completely exhausted when he collapsed back to rest against the headboard of his bed, letting Tony pull the bucket from his limp grasp. “No thanks,” he said, voice sounding even worse now, throatier and deeper than normal with the wear and tear on his vocal cords, and pushing away the bottle of Pedialyte Tony had tried to force into his hand.

“Not optional kiddo,” Tony told him sympathetically, pressing the straw between Peter’s unwilling lips and staring until he finally gave in and took a few swallows, his Adam’s apple spasming.

“Can I just sleep?” He asked pathetically, eyes red rimmed and skin both pale and flushed, skin drooping with how tired he clearly was.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Tony offered. “You eat another five bites and drink a quarter of the Pedialyte and I’ll let you have a four hour nap before we repeat. Do we have an accord?”

Peter looked at him with sad eyes, the bags under them dark and deep. “I don’t really get a choice huh?”

“Not if you want to avoid the MedBay,” Tony agreed. “The only reason I haven’t taken you already is because you asked me not to but, if this gets any worse, you’ll have to go.”

“Give me the rice,” Peter said, defeated and Tony passed it to his shaking grip, steadying the bowl while Peter forced down five bites of the rice, washing it down with the drink before lying back and cuddling up to Tony’s side, eyes already half-lidded with sleep.

“Put on some Brooklyn 99 would you FRI? Volume at twenty percent.”

“On it Boss,” FRIDAY’s voice responded quietly, pulling the show up on the flat screen in Peter’s room as Tony started massaging Peter’s scalp.

At some point he must have fallen asleep as well because, the next thing he knew, he was waking up to Peter gagging out his name and lurching for the trash can next to the bed. Tony hastened to grab it and thrust it under Peter’s chin – just in time for the poor kid to retch weakly into it. “Let it all out Webs,” Tony said, rubbing Peter’s sweaty back and brushing his lank bangs out of his face. It wasn’t until Peter was done and panting against Tony’s chest that Tony noticed that the bucket contained a concerning amount of blood and material that looked like coffee grounds. “FRI tell Cho to meet me in the MedBay.”

“No,” Peter whined, curling closer to Tony and tucking his legs into his stomach – balling himself up tight.

“Sorry buddy,” Tony told him, crawling out of the bed as carefully as possible to not jostle Peter too much. “You’re vomiting blood so we have to.”

“What?” Peter asked, confused, craning his neck to look into the trash can and then paling further. “Oh.”

“Yep,” Tony agreed, dragging him up to stand before finally just scooping Peter up into a bridal carry when it became obvious that Peter’s knees weren’t going to support him the whole way downstairs. Tellingly, Peter didn’t protest; he just curled into Tony’s shoulder, one hand tangling into his sweatshirt.

Helen wasn’t present when Tony burst into the MedBay a few minutes later but her nursing staff were quick to get Peter settled into a bed and get his vitals and an updated history from Tony. By the time Helen had swept into the room, looking put together and not at all like Tony had woken her up in the middle on the night, the nurses had already drawn blood and placed an IV catheter to start fluids.

“I was hoping I wouldn’t be seeing you in here Peter,” she said, taking his chart and flicking through it.

“Same,” the kid agreed with a weak smile, not letting go of Tony’s hand or the basin he had been given shortly after they got him in a bed.

“So you still have the nausea but it says here that you been having some issues with acid reflux and that you had a fair bit of blood mixed with the bile you just threw up?” She asked, using her stethoscope to listen to Peter’s heart and lungs before moving on to feeling his lymph nodes. “How much blood?” She directed to Tony.

“All of it was blood,” Tony answered, trying to stay calm. He needed to text May ASAP but he was hesitant to do so until he knew what was wrong. “Maybe half a cup? Some of it looked like coffee grounds.”

Helen hummed as she moved on to palpating Peter’s abdomen, apologizing when he flinched. “Have you been on any medications recently Peter? Aspirin, Advil, Aleve? Any stress?”

“Midterms were last week,” Peter answered slowly. “I had a pretty bad headache the whole week and I did take some Advil a few times a day.”

“How much and how often?”

“Uh…,” Peter said, face scrunching as he tried to think. “Maybe like eight to ten pills three or four times a day? I’ve done that before though, Dr. Banner told me I would need that many because of my metabolism.”

“Very true,” Helen agreed. “But not that often. Based on your symptoms and history I’m tentatively diagnosing you with a stomach ulcer that has likely perforated based on the blood in your vomit.”

“An ulcer?” Peter asked, looking like he was having a hard time tracking, Tony gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“So what do we do next?” He asked, running his hand through Peter’s hair quickly in solidarity. An ulcer. Of course his kid would end up with a bleeding ulcer.

“Well we’ve already drawn blood to check for infection or anemia,” Cho answered. “Depending on the results I’ll start him on fluids and maybe a blood transfusion. Since this has been affecting him for a while and because we need to get some calories in his as soon as we can, I’ll stop the bleed and remove the ulcer via an endoscopy. You won’t even have to be fully under for it, just sedated.”

“Okay,” Peter agreed blandly – a sure tell that the kid felt like shit. Cho made steady eye contact with Tony for just a second before reaching out to squeeze Peter’s bicep.

“Tony can I speak to you in the hall? I need to get you to sign some releases while the nurses get Peter prepped,” she asked.

“Sure,” Tony nodded, giving Peter a careful side hug before following the doctor out of the room, shutting the door behind him – all the rooms were soundproofed due to all the enhanced humans in the Tower and their sensitive hearing. “You were clearly holding something back,” he accused. “You’re lucky Pete’s so out of it or he would have picked up on it too.”

Helen sighed deeply, finally looking tired. “He’s lost too much weight.”

“I know,” Tony agreed sadly, reaching up to massage his temples with one hand. “What are we going to do about it?”

Helen clicked her tongue and tapped a finger against the tablet in her hands. “He’ll probably be able to eat once her wakes up but I really just want to place an NG tube while he’s under so he can have a continuous stream of nutrients going in. We could even continue feeding him while he’s sleeping, really get the weight back on. I wanted to talk to you first before I brought it up. He’s on the cusp right now so he could get away without having it but I don’t really want to give him the option to decline it. It would help him recover a lot faster.”

Tony hummed, torn. He didn’t really want to take away Peter’s agency here but he agreed with Helen that he doubted the kid would go for it. “Let me talk to him about it,” Tony finally conceded. “I might be able to get further with him.”

“Sure,” Helen said with a nod. “You should be good to go back in and sit with him, it’ll take another thirty minutes to an hour to get everything ready but we’ll let you know when it’s time.”

“Thanks,” Tony said sincerely, re-entering the room. Peter was still sitting propped up in bed in his comfortable sweatpants and hoodie, not having to change since the procedure was so simple, but with the addition of another IV catheter in his other arm connected to a bag of his own blood – donated earlier in the year for occasions such as this.

“So what did Dr. Cho want,” he asked, eyes still tired but shining with his usual intelligence and a bit of curiosity.

“Figured we wouldn’t be able to get that past you,” Tony said sardonically, taking a seat on the edge of Peter’s bed, facing him. “Helen wants to place an NG tube while you’re under. Wait,” he said, holding up a hand preemptively when Peter opened his mouth. “You’ve lost too much weight as it is and it’s going to be hard to put it back on with the bland diet she’s going to have you on while you heal. Doing this will make your recovery go so much faster.”

“I don’t want to be stuck in here,” Peter grumbled, gesturing the the room and Tony let one side of his mouth tick up in a smile.

“Hate to break it to you kiddo,” he said, “but that’s already a forgone conclusion.” The kid groaned and Tony let a full smile pull across his face, many of his previous worries eased with the diagnosis and treatment plan. “Let Cho do this and I’ll pull as many strings as I have to to spring you early. Deal?”

Peter made a face, his nose crinkled in disgust but he nodded in defeat anyway. “Two days. At most.”

“Three,” Tony haggled, holding out a hand which Peter eventually took with a sigh. “Great! FRI, relay that to Helen please.”

“Done Boss. She said she’ll be ready for Peter in about ten minutes.”

“Thanks honey,” he said, still smiling. “I’ll call May while you’re out and have Happy pick her up after her shift. She can stay here for the next few days.”

“Thanks Mr. Stark,” Peter said, his voice still sounding more destroyed than Tony had ever heard it but lighter somehow – probably because he could see the light at the end of the tunnel and knew he would be feeling much better soon.

“Anytime kiddo. Anytime.”