#well. this took way too long considering it was so simple but i kept changing my mind abt what i actually wanted to gif. so

[maygranted]

bathena in past is prologue, 5.09

[katsu28]

☕️ bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw and "you know we need to talk." "about?" "i don't know...last night, maybe?"

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x mitchell!reader, mentions of vomiting, mentions of pregnancy, 1.9k

You shouldn’t have been here at Rooster’s place at this time of night. You should’ve been asleep, in bed, but instead you were here, knocking on his door in the middle of the night, all because you’d just discovered something not even two hours ago that would change the trajectory of not only your life, but probably Rooster’s too. 

It took a while, but he finally pulled open the door after your incessant knocking, rubbing his eye furiously as he peered out at who the hell was knocking on his door at three in the morning.

His hair was a riot, brown curls sticking out every which way, eyes bleary. He’d been asleep—of course he was. Anyone in their right mind would be. Except you weren’t really in your right mind right now. You were damn near close to losing it, trying your hardest not to spiral. 

“Y/N? What are you—why are you awake? What’re you doing here?” He yawned, scratching his chest groggily. When you didn’t answer, just stared at him like something was wrong, he gave his head a quick shake to wake himself up a bit. “Are you okay? What—come in, come inside, please.” 

You obliged, stepping past him and over the threshold into his apartment wordlessly. 

“Can I make you some coffee—no, coffee would probably be bad right now. Tea? Water?” He offered, gesturing you towards the kitchen. You settled at one of the barstools in front of the counter, leaning on your elbows, folding your hands. “Not really sure what this situation calls for. Seriously, are you okay? You look…not okay.” 

“I’m pregnant.” You blurted. Well, there went easing into the conversation. Bradley’s eyebrows flew sky high. But wait, there was more! “And I’m pretty sure you’re the father.” 

He blinked at you owlishly, utterly and completely dumbfounded. “Pretty sure? How sure is pretty sure?” 

“Entirely sure, actually. You’re the only guy I’ve been with in a really long time, so either it was a ghost, or it was you.” 

That was something you’d been wracking your brain for since the second you saw the three lines on the test. One night, four or five weeks ago, after some sort of celebration at the Hard Deck that you couldn’t even remember now. 

You remembered leaving the bar with Rooster, taking him home with you, kissing him a lot. It was entirely consensual, that much you could recall. But anything after that up until when you’d first started to feel icky was a blank.

You honestly didn’t even consider the possibility that you were in fact pregnant until your friend suggested it yesterday. Which is why you took the test. Never did you once think it would turn out positive.

It wasn’t that you didn’t think Rooster would be a good father. In fact, out of everyone you’d hooked up with over the years, he was probably the best option. Not that you really had any option, at this point. It was simple, plain as day. You were pregnant, and Rooster was the father. 

Rooster made a face. “Okay, gross. But you took a test? And it was positive?” 

“No, it came to me in a dream.” You snapped, glaring at him. “Yes, I took a test! I took three—all positive!” 

“Alright! Okay, that’s—wow, okay. That’s definitely…something to take in.” 

“I don’t know what to do.” You said quietly, staring hard at the marble countertop.

“Look, it’s late, we’re both tired. We don’t have to do anything right now, we don’t need to make any decisions right now. We have time.” He replied, shaking his head. We. He kept saying we, like he was planning on sticking around. You weren’t sure how to feel about it. “Why don’t you stay the night here and we can talk about this more in the morning?” 

You shook your head quickly. “No, I can’t, I have to be home to set up for the party—oh my god, the party! My dad.” 

“Your dad? What—Y/N, I’m pretty sure he’ll understand. Mav’s more modern than you give him credit for.” 

“Understand? Understand what?” You asked incredulously. Then you got what he was trying to say, and you let out a humorless laugh. “Rooster, we’re not telling him. We can’t tell him!” 

Your dad’s birthday party was tomorrow, and there were so many things you had to set up and do, this was probably the worst time for you to deal with everything going on right now. It wasn’t every day Pete “Maverick” Mitchell turned sixty. You needed everything to be perfect, and this brand new unexpected news was definitely not that. 

Rooster could tell you were starting to panic a little from the weight of everything, so he just went along with what you said, reaching over the counter to cover your hand with his. “Everything is gonna be fine, okay? Just get some rest. Please. Tomorrow’s gonna be a busy day, and you need to sleep.” 

You nodded distractedly, barely registering him guiding you towards the guest bedroom and settling you into bed. And maybe you were more tired than you thought, because your eyes fell shut on their own accord, and you were out like a light before Rooster even had the chance to close the door behind him. 

-------

The party was going great so far. There was food, music, all your dad’s Navy buddies. Everything was running smoothly, and you definitely weren’t thinking about your conversation with Rooster last night, or the fact that you left his house before the sun even rose to avoid talking about the situation even more. 

That was a lie. You couldn’t stop thinking of it, even as you smiled at every one of your dad’s friends jostling him about how old he’d gotten to be completely unaware of the surprise party his daughter planned for him. 

With every conversation about what you’d been up to in life lately, you thought about Rooster. The look on his face when you broke the news to him. The way he must’ve felt when he woke up and you were gone. He was probably mad at you, and you honestly couldn’t blame him. 

Like he knew it was him on your mind, Rooster materialized next to you, busying himself with browsing the drinks in the cooler to make it look like everything was normal. “Y/N.” 

“Enjoying the party?” You asked casually, crossing your arms over your chest. Rooster scoffed softly. 

“You know we need to talk.” 

Your smile wavered for a split second before returning in full force. You glanced over at him briefly, flicking from his very serious face then back to the party. “About?” 

“I don’t know…last night, maybe? You left before I woke up.”  

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“Nothing happened last night, Rooster.” 

“So you’re telling me you’re not pregnant right now.” 

“Keep your voice down.” You hissed. Rooster shot a pointed look at you and you caved, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him towards a more secluded area of the backyard. “You wanna talk? Fine. Talk.” 

“You said the baby was mine. That’s not just something I can forget, Y/N.” 

“And I’m not asking you to forget, I’m asking you to leave it alone for now. It’s my dad’s birthday, Bradshaw. Can’t we just let him have the day before we blow up his entire world?” 

“Okay. Yeah, that’s fine. Dropping it for now.” Rooster conceded, holding his hands up in surrender. In reality, all he wanted to do was figure things out, but he could admit that this wasn’t quite the best place nor time to do it. “What can I do to help you right now?” 

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” 

“Whoa, hey, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to stress you out any more, I just—” 

“No, Rooster, I’m—” You felt the bile rising in your throat alarmingly quick, and before you could even your sentence, you scrambled for the nearest bush to throw up. 

“Oh shit!” Rooster lunged forward, gathering your hair out of your face back towards the nape of your neck as you let it all out. You felt the warmth of his hand on your back, rubbing smooth circles along your spine. 

“Fuck.” You groaned, bracing your hands on your knees. “Please tell me no one saw that.” 

“Uh…” Rooster’s voice was hesitant and you turned your head, only to be met with the one person you didn’t want seeing you like this. Just your luck that even up there in age, that Navy instilled situational awareness never faded. 

“Honey? You alright?” Your dad looked beyond worried, and before you knew it, you were sat down on the living room couch with your father fussing over you, fluffing your pillows, covering you with a blanket, the works. Rooster was hovering over in the corner. 

“Dad, I’m fine! I probably had some bad oysters or something at girls’ night yesterday.” You sighed, ducking away from his attempt at feeling your forehead. As much as you didn’t enjoy lying straight to his face, telling him it was most likely a pregnancy symptom was definitely out of the question. “Go back, enjoy your party, please.”

“I should really stay, what if—” 

“I’m in good hands, Dad. Rooster’s got me covered.” 

“I’ll take the best care of her, Mav, don’t you worry.” 

“No doubt in my mind you will.” He clapped Rooster on the shoulder, giving him a sharp nod. He turned to you. “Drink something. Eat something. I’ll check back in later. Love you, sweetheart.” 

“Love you too, Dad.”

After waving everybody back to the festivities with assurances that you just needed to lay down for a bit and would be just fine, Rooster reappeared in the doorway a little while later, this time bearing gifts. 

“Crackers and ginger ale. Eat them, they’ll help.” He insisted, letting you take the plastic cup from him. “Stole them from the cooler and snack table. Who knew an old man’s birthday party would have just what I was looking for?” 

You managed a meager smile, but when you took a tiny sip of the soda, you found that it actually did help a bit. “How’d you know what I needed?” 

Rooster rubbed the back of his neck, pressing his lips together with a haphazard shrug. “My mom. When she got sick, they always seemed to help with the nausea. Made sure we were always stocked and ready for whenever she needed it.” 

“I wanna keep the baby, Rooster.” You blurted. Rooster nearly choked on his own saliva in surprise. 

“You—you do?” 

“And I want you to be there every step of the way.” You continued, fidgeting with the stray thread at the edge of your blanket. He took a seat next to you on the couch, rubbing his hands over his legs nervously. “Only if that’s what you want, though. I’m not trying to force your hand or baby trap or anything like that. It’s your choice, completely. But…I’d like it if our kid knew their father. In whatever capacity you’re comfortable with.” 

“So, like co-parents? Or…more?” Rooster said slowly, gauging your reaction with wide, almost nervous eyes. 

“I’m open to more.” You replied. Maybe you were reading too much into it, but he seemed to look very pleased with that. “I don’t know what this is gonna be like, for either of us, but I like to think we’ll get through it all. Together.”

He nodded, sliding his hand into yours and squeezing. “Together.”  What that together entailed, you weren’t all too sure. And although you were nervous as hell about what laid ahead, you were looking forward to finding out.

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[class1akids]

Am I the only one that finds it weird that the shoto - dabi fight is the one that has the least child visuals between them toga-uraraka and deku-shigaraki.

I think it weird bc unlike the other two dabi and shoto have a lot of similarities between their childhoods and their anger towards their father so child visuals would have been imapctfull bc it isn't just about saving the other but it's about the fact that shoto understand dabi.

We only got one visual of them as kids but it didn't hit hard bc that wasn't how they were feeling (at least on the outside) at that point the fight was between dabi the villain and shoto the hero

Neither was looking at the other in a sentimental way (at that point)

I disagree that it didn't hit. It's true that it wasn't sentimental, but Touya is different from Toga and Tenko. His child "origin self" is a grumpy 13-year old.

I think in the fight between Dabi and Shoto, the question was whether there was even a "Toya" anymore to dig out or did that boy die on Sekoto peak. Dabi says that Toya "died" when he went home and found no change - which means that this boy who kept believing that his family would look at him if he kept trying lost hope at that point and was living for revenge.

Shoto showing up, making a move for him, forcing him to look his way achieved in the end that we finally saw Toya's inner self come through, we saw that he's still very much just a crying boy desperate to be still seen.

I think that the child selves we see here manifest actually what they are doing in the real world perfectly. Toya is still desperate to prove himself. Shoto is a child fighting for his family. The image is tragic and in the next chapter you see the devastation on Shoto's face - how hard this was for him. And I think it is left on this note because next we go to Endeavor, the man who didn't show up for Toya and who is not there while his sons are engaged in a death battle. So I think this is the mood that this image aims at, and it's not cute or sentimental, but I think it hits really hard. At least for me, it does.

And yeah, maybe it would be easier if we saw them do some kind of cute play-fight or whatever, but because saving Toya is the job of the entire family, we don't get this image until they all show up for him (primarily his father who wronged him). And because Toya is the "family villain", not only Shoto's villain, this child-image gets spread around. Toya sees his child self surrounded by his family and then he also sees Shoto as a child.

I think that means something, and I hope Hori will follow this up later - and it will lead to more connection between Shoto and Toya.

It's harder for them than any of the other "pairs", because while Toga and Tomura sought out Ochako and Izuku and they both just someone / anyone to show up and accept them, that's not what Touya needs.

His inner child is older, and not only he never wanted Shouto, he represents to Touya "Endeavor's masterpiece", the replacement, the reason he was thrown away. Shouto is probably the last person Touya wants. It's not as simple as them bonding over hating their dad. Shouto does validate Touya's anger (but not his methods) and he's trying to find common points between them. But bonding over rage would be counterintuitive to what the narrative tells us about negative emotions. Shouto has been ruled for long by his rage too and took him a lot of work to change. I think that Touya needed to be confronted with Shouto's change - and feel that literally on himself when he copied Phosphor. Phosphor is Shouto's self-expression, his healing, his heart - and Touya being able to copy that I think means that there is still hope for him.

So considering how Shouto had nothing Touya wanted, the fact that he was able to dig out Touya's child self from under Dabi's rage and then make him see Shoto not as a puppet, but as a real crying child / brother as well is hard-earned connection between them.

Not as cute maybe as the others, but to me it really means the world. I think just because the no-jutsu is not easy in their case doesn't mean that what happened is less important.

I still have hope that Shouto will get his narrative reward too in a more direct depiction of connection. If Hori thought Toya was irredeemable, and was planning to make him die full of hate, I don't think he would have drawn Touya as a child at all.

[shantechni]

I noticed this a looooong time ago, but I didn't mention it and sort of kept pushing it aside as an unimportant detail. After coming across this for, like, the fifth time though, something finally strikes me as supremely odd, and it's these two simple lines Leo says in the first episode of S2.

Between the S1 finale and the S2 premiere, Splinter told his sons that he defeated the Shredder when they faced off in the hideout. Not only that, he told them they'd never see the man again because he lost his honor, but both of these statements are immediately proven to be contradictory to what actually took place, as well as to what Splinter believes about the Shredder's way of thinking.

Anyone who has watched the S1 finale, specifically the second part, knows that the fight was brought to a screeching halt when Karai ran in to stop Splinter from finishing off the Shredder. And, after seeing just how deeply influenced Karai has been to hate him, Splinter left in a hurry to avoid fighting who he now knows is his thought-to-be-dead daughter.

Now, it makes sense that Splinter didn't tell the boys Karai interrupted the fight considering she was a touchy subject, one he didn't approach all of his sons with until midway through S2 in The Manhattan Project. He was still coming to terms with the revelation himself, and his avoidance of everyone's questions tells us that he genuinely didn't want to explain why Karai believed he killed her mom. In the process, he'd have to get into the reason Shredder led Karai to believe that lie and yadda yadda.

So, not telling them Karai was there makes sense. But why tell them the Shredder was defeated?

Something like that would be believable if he didn't imply any finality by telling them the Shredder was taken down, because he goes on to wonder outloud if their enemies were truly defeated and even reaffirms that, "The Shredder is a crafty and patient foe who bides his time." But Leo clearly says that Splinter told them they'd never see him again after he apparently lost whatever honor he had left. And we can't point fingers at any potential dialogue or writing error because they make sure the audience hears that Splinter did indeed facilitate this calm behavior of theirs.

One can wonder if he didn't truly intend to flat out lie, but rather to placate his sons by withholding a harsh truth and giving everyone the time they need to revel in their victory. However, that's another odd decision for Splinter to make since he's usually the one to remind his sons that none of their enemies will stay gone for long, the first and most notable instance of this being when they first encountered Bradford and Xever.

Anyways, after Leo says what he says, Splinter takes offense to Raph casually adding that they'll take care of the Shredder if he does come back, and, upon realizing that his prior statement has heavily blanketed them with a false sense of security, he harshly tells his sons the month long celebrating is over.

Honestly, even though I said sugar coating is very out of character for someone like Splinter, it's the only sensible answer for him lying to the guys. And probably himself for a minute there, too.

He knows the Shredder isn't honorable. He's traitorous, underhanded, and full of spite for those he feels wronged him. Oroku Saki is a vengeful man who has been undeniably wronged in his past, but refuses to learn from it and will shift the blame onto those undeserving. He's tenacious in the way he literally left Japan with a singular image of a Hamato clan shuriken as proof that he has another chance to kill someone he used to call his brother.

Splinter knows all of this, but he still went ahead and made the morally dubious decision to construct a perfect, short-lived world where he could tell his sons they wouldn't have to worry about the Shredder again.

And where he doesn't have to face the gravity of the changes yet to come.

[bucknastysbabe]

This took a hard kink into mommy land that’s all— the return of Dornish!reader and trashbaby!Aegon

Half-mad in love

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Mommy kink, tit sucking, cunnilingus, mommy dom/baby sub, slutty pet names AGAIN, v!fingering, general angst, dumbass raccoon Aegon, dornish reader is a bit dark, frottage, premature ejaculation, general filth

You sipped on some Dornish Red in the Martell’s grand tent. Aliandra, although merely a girl, loved men. Therefore with strict supervision under Ser Lyonel handsome knights of Reyne, Buckler, and Caswell entertained the princess. You snorted behind your cup, thoroughly enjoying the cock-measuring contest. The men were simple if they thought this was anything more than a mummer’s play.

You casually pulled down your thick hair from the pins holding it up, letting it cascade down your shoulders. The boy of Caswell’s eyes flickered over to you— throat bobbing. The long night would come again before you’d remotely consider the dunce. You drained your cup and an attendant dutifully refilled it. It was mid-tourney and you were bored.

The dragon prince you’d bedded had averted his gaze and kept far away from you after the incident in the woods. Aliandra’s cousin Taron dryly remarked, “The fires of hell are hotter than the dragon’s flame.” You shrugged and kept your eye out for another bedmate. So far the Arryn of Gulltown had been a decent lay. Still your mind crept back to teary violet eyes and trembling lips.

You’d never experienced such a pretty sight. His whines, uttered pleas, and sheer need. You crossed your legs to stop the burgeoning ache in your loins. Picking at your silks, you thought of the prince’s less desirable traits to dissuade your impulsive thinking.

Another cup of wine down and you were quite drowsy and tipsy. Aliandra had reached her peak too, giving each of the knights a kiss on the cheek. Lyonel glared them down, a sturdy hand on the pommel of Dawn. The sleepy girl questioned, “Did you not like them?”

Changing into your sleep linens you shrugged, “Too green.”

Her brown eyes sparkled and the princess teased, “Does the hellmaid yearn for the prince?” Your spine straightened and you snapped out a no. Aliandra sing-songed a ribald tune about riding dragons. You began to laugh while ushering her to bed.

Ali laid back, staring at you. She yawned, “Maybe you should chase him down.”

“Maybe you should sleep silly thing,” you chided, tucking dark tresses behind her ear. You kissed the princess on the forehead and blew out the candle. You padded to the main section, searching for some water to drink. Taron played cards with young Bryn Yronwood, the two drunk as skunks. Taron laughed, “The dragon slayer!”

You narrowed your eyes and snapped at the attendant for some refreshment. You gulped down the water, ignoring the two idiots. A swish from the the main entrance drew your eyes. One of the Cargylls stood politely at the entrance. Lyonel— dozing on the pillows gruffed, “Yes? Is it something urgent Ser?”

The twin nodded and replied, “The Prince Aegon requires Lady Uller’s presence in his tent.”

Taron and Bryn giggled like girls, you and Ser Dayne sharing a look. You raised a brow and asked, “Any other information that could be offered? Being from Hellholt I do not always expect hospitality from dragons.” The white knight fought back a smirk.

“Ah- The Prince simply requires your company and attentions,” the knight almost looked bashful.

You deadpanned, “So Aegon sent you here to tell me that he wants his cock wet?”

More laughter rumbled about.

With a shrug you turned to the rest of the Dornish company, “Well off to see the dragon! Men, don’t get too rowdy without me. Lead the way Ser Cargyll.” The man bowed his head and held open the heavy curtain for you. You slipped on some espadrilles and followed along.

The Kingsguard bluntly stated, “He’s in quite a mood. Drunken tantrums. Then he requested you. I don’t dare to assume what goes on in the man’s head.”

“A child more like. Tell me Ser Cargyll, has the Prince truly grown up past ten-and-three?,” you questioned. Aegon’s grand red tent with golden dragons adorning the frame came into view. You shivered with what lay inside. The knight brooded before finally answering, “Eh- not much m’lady. That’s all I shall say on the matter.”

You smoothed your hair back, steeling yourself for the mercurial princeling. Cargyll stopped outside, ushering you in with a vague gesture. So you’d face this alone. Inside was a wreck. What once was a perfectly fine space was littered with bottles and cups slammed around, broken glass, and upturned furniture. You wrinkled your nose in disgust at the childish display.

You gingerly stepped through the mess towards a bedroom setup. Slumped in the bed was the prince himself. He was bedraggled, bloody, and snoring. You crossed your arms and stared. Even in slumber, his face was wrought with emotions. Something pulled in your gut at the wretch. Twisting the vulnerable and unloved into your plaything was so very fun— an Uller blood curse you’d been told.

Aegon whimpered in his sleep, twisting and turning. He mumbled, “Mommy- don’t- m’sorry!” Your mouth split into a grin, suddenly very interested in his dream. Aegon rolled onto his belly, hips rutting into the down of the bed. He whimpered again, “Ah- mmh! Please mommy it hurts.”

At this point you couldn’t go any further without feeling too lecherous— which you were feeling plenty of. You carefully drew yourself onto the end of the bed, toeing off your shoes, and curling your feet under your legs. A shaking hand reached out to touch Aegon’s twitching calf.

Violent violet clashed with your own smoky eyes. Aegon bolted upright and gasped before stuttering, “W-Wha-What are you doing here?!” His chest heaved in shock, a hand running through his disheveled hair. You groused, “You had your guard dog come get me from my tent. Said you requested for me.”

Aegon’s hands cupped his reddened cheeks as he clenched his eyes shut. The blonde groaned, “Of fucking course I did. After thrashing the place I presume?” You smirked at the agonized Targaryen and murmured so very lowly, “And what a sight I came in to. Rutting and whining in the bed like a puppy, begging for mummy.”

Aegon’s annoyed expression turned into one of frantic shock. His lips gaping, brow furrowing, shifting through a range of emotions before stuttering, “N-no I was not! Lying Dornish wench.” You simply crawled further into the prince’s space, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. Aegon trembled and weakly denied your claim, shaking his platinum curls.

You cocked your head, a sultry leer plastered on your face. Your hands untied the front of your linens, exposing your breasts to the panicking Aegon. The poor thing’s breath came out in a thin wheeze. You purred, “You’ve been such a bad boy— again. I thought you’d learn a semblance of manners after last time sweetling.”

Aegon’s composure broke, falling forward onto his belly, that empty head of his pillowed on your thighs. Violet eyes were glued onto your full tits, watery with need. Aegon mewled pitifully. You teased, “I know you need someone to show you some love, manners, how to be a good boy. Like a good mommy should.”

Aegon cried, “Pleaseplease yes mommy, wan’ be good!” His slim hips were desperately rutting into the mattress. You lightly slapped his cheek and tutted, “Stop humping filthy babe, you only get pleasure when I say you can. Got it?”

Aegon nodded eagerly, hands fisted into the bedding. You wrapped your hand into his knotted locks and hummed, “Do you think you’ll come all over yourself if mommy lets you suck her tits?” Aegon looked as if he were gonna sob— you knew he would spend too quickly but the wretch wanted a taste so, so, so bad.

The silver prince brokenly moaned, “M’sorry, forgive me, I don’t k-know,” a look of determination flitted over his soft features, “I can bounce back, won’ take long, please mommy.” You yanked his hair, a pained yelp filling the room. You jabbed, “Don’t need your cock to pleasure me. I’ll let you have a suck.”

You laid back, laughing easily, your hair strewn across the down like a halo. Crooking a finger, Aegon scrambled up your supple body. You grabbed his soft cheeks and pulled those plump lips to your own. The man whined into the kiss— struck enough to barely do anything but drool. You whispered, “Settle down sweetness, I’m not going anywhere. Hands on my waist.”

Purple eyes flickered down to your waiting tits but he dutifully placed his hands on your soft waist. Aegon slotted himself like between your legs, you moaning when you felt the dampness from his weeping cock. Aegon kissed you back, licking into your eager mouth. Your hand skated from his cheek to that pretty, pretty neck still mottled with faded bruises. Your tongues danced against eachother, lips sensually sliding with wet smacks.

Aegon’s hips trembled and twitched, you smacking a hand on his flank in warning. He whined into your mouth, “S’rry mommy.” The kissing resumed until you knew the babe was in agony— your bare slit’s own slick was mixing with his copious pre-spend. Your eyes rolled in ecstasy at the realization he still had breeches on. Poor horny pup.

Aegon drew back, spittle falling from his swollen lips. He mewled, “Can I? Please mommy? Jus’ a taste.”

“Go ahead sweetling. You may touch, rut, get it out.”

Like a feral animal his hands pawed and kneaded at your tits. You threw your head back with a breathy moan, sliding a palm to the nape of Aegon’s damp neck. You squeezed it gently, reminding the prince who ran the show. He mewled and suckled eagerly, thanking you in between gasps. The prince rutted against you, the soaked fabric of his breeches dragging against your sensitive bud.

You demurred, “So eager, poor baby just needed a tit.”

Aegon’s lips suckled at your breast, whining and grunting like he was hurt. His other hand groped before switching— the Targaryen couldn’t get enough. He cried out, “Ah- s’good mommy, thankyouthankthankyou mommy ngh!” Your lips tilted up at his pathetic tone, absolutely drunk in power. Heat flushed your body with an intense need coming over you. To have this prince, this dragon rider, mewling and sniffling from you set your body alight.

You yanked him back by platinum locks, Aegon whining, “Mommy nnno!” You shook your head and deftly untied his breeches, releasing the man’s cock with a wet slap. He hissed at the air hitting his flushed member, so full it was purple. You gripped his chin roughly and demanded, “Sweet boy, you’re gonna fuck me until you spend, and if I don’t come your pretty head better get between my thighs. Understood?”

Aegon’s glassy eyes bore into your own before he dumbly nodded. He murmured, “Yes mommy, anything f’you.” Lying back down, you pulled up your linens to expose your own puffy heat. The prince’s eyes rolled and his cock visibly dribbled more pre. With a wanton, absolutely whorish cry the prince entered you.

Your nails dug into his shoulder and moaned lowly at the snug fit. His cock filled you up nicely, pulsing and stretching your tight walls. Aegon sucked in breaths, pitiful little whines of ‘mommy’ on the exhale. You cooed darkly, “Relax sweet babe, hold it if you can.”

Aegon clenched his eyes closed and whispered, “M’sorry, don’t be mad, g’nna cum mommy you feel sooo good, fffuck s’warm!” You kissed his pouty mouth and thrusted into stilled hips, the princeling cumming with a wail. He dug his face into your tits and babbled, “Oh fuck! Gods! Mommy, mommy, oh gods it’s too much, ah I can’t!” You rubbed his back with a lecherous smirk, enjoying the seemingly endless load from the sobbing blonde.

Boneless and trembling, Aegon sniffled and slid out. You cocked your head and spread your legs to remind the pussy-drunk fool. He wiped his tears, pale face splotchy and red. He whimpered, “S’ry.” You smacked his thigh and snapped, “Stop apologizing, you’re doing fine. Now be a good babe and eat me out. You do know how to do that, right?”

Wide eyes, a low sob, and a shake of the head was the answer.

You idly wondered what the Cargyll knight thought of the wanton raucous echoing through the chambers. Shit- probably half of the camp could hear!

You sighed, “R’hllor bless you. Spoilt babe. Just get down there for now, I’ll show you.”

Aegon got onto his belly again, spreading your thick thighs with a squeeze. He murmured something unintelligible. You leaned up to direct the prince, stating, “You know how to finger a wench, so just do that but lick at my clit. Move around and when I get loud you’re doing something right.”

Aegon dove right into it. He slid two fingers into your soiled cunt, whining at the slick and spend coating his digits. “Crook up, use your damn mouth.” you breathed. Aegon whimpered, “Yes mommy.” Your toes curled when his pink lips sealed around your rosebud, deft fingers digging into your sweet spot. You cried out happily with an arch of your back.

“Good- ah R’hllor’s fires- good boy!”

Aegon flicked his tongue and entered his ring finger, sending your thighs to clamp around his neck. The prince gasped into your sex, moaning, “Yes mommy, don’t stop!” You laughed at the Targaryen whining like he was the one getting fingered. A good idea for later.

You were getting close, choosing to pluck at your hardened nipples to speed yourself along. Aegon swirled his tongue into a circular motion— you tightening all over in response. A slim hand gripped his hair and you howled, “That’s it! Don’t stop- FUCK!” Your body seized and you gushed onto the prince’s lewd embrace.

Aegon mewled, lapping and swallowing gluttonously. You writhed through the aftershocks, praising the quick learner of a Prince. Aegon’s wide eyes peered from between your legs. You’d paint a picture if you could of the sight. You hoarsely huffed, “What is it?”

Aegon asked, so very hopefully, “Did I do alright mommy?” His glazed eyes told you the babe was still fuck-dumb. You thumbed his chin and cooed, “Yes sweetling, did a great job.” He melted into you, still squeezing at your thighs.

With a sigh you called, “Come up here, princeling.” Aegon pressed his body next to yours, nuzzling his pale head into your tits, almost purring. He asked in a muffled tone, “Will you stay with me now?”

You frowned and stated, “No, I have to be back to my quarters at some point or Ser Lyonel will come swinging with Ali in tow.” Aegon pulled back and pouted. He grumbled, “Who cares, I’m a Targaryen.” Your lips stretched into a smarmy smile as you retorted, “Dorne does not submit fully to your family. If you need me so bad…fly down on your golden beast.”

Aegon declared, “I will. I swear on the wretched seven.” You patted his cheek and shook your head, “Silly princeling, just stick to your whores. Let us enjoy the time we have.” The Prince sniffled, tucking his face back into your pillowy chest. You rolled your eyes and idly scritched his scalp, thinking about unrealistic futures.

You’d leave when the dragon prince drifted off into sleep. Then the affair must end, your heart was destined for Dorne. No dragons, parades, and petty politics were in the fires of your future. Still you uttered, “Sweet thing, sweet sweet princeling.”

[bridgyrose]

Weiss and Ruby are the best of friends, thick as thieves etc. People around them think they're an adorable couple, which couldn't be farther from the truth. So they decide to wingman for each other to get with their real loves. A simple Freezerburn & Ladybug oneshot prompt for you to consider.

(I went ahead and actually made this one a one shot instead of two smaller parts)

“I need your help to get a date with Yang.” 

Ruby nearly spit out her coffee, quickly swallowing it and nearly choking in the process. She coughed a bit as she tried to get air to go down the right pipe, clearing her throat a bit. “I-I dont think I heard you right. I thought you said you wanted a date with Yang.” 

Weiss sighed and handed a napkin over to Ruby. “You heard right.” 

“Okay, why?” 

“Well, for one, I think she’s actually fun to be around. We spent, what, five years all living together in a dorm and an apartment before finally splitting off? Besides, it would get people to quit thinking we’re together.” 

“You’re… not wrong…” Ruby let out a defeated sigh and took another sip of her coffee. It had been something that always bothered her when others assumed that she and Weiss were together, though it wasnt like they had given anyone much thought otherwise. Even with a rocky start, it didnt take long for her to get close to Weiss and become nearly inseparable with her. “Fine, I’ll help you get with Yang, but you need to help me get a date with Blake.” 

“Deal,” Weiss answered a bit too quickly. 

“Wait, you’re serious?” 

“Of course I am.” Weiss flashed a smile at Ruby. “But first, we’ll need to fix your style.” 

Ruby looked over herself, looking over her corset and cloak. “What’s wrong with what I wear?” 

“Nothing, but if you want to catch Blake’s eye, then we’ll want to change things up a bit. A bit more color, we keep a corset but find one that’ll fit you better for casual wear than the combat corset you wear. And your cloak-” 

“I’m keeping the cloak.” 

“-we bring into a casual look too.” Weiss pulled out her scroll and started to look up a few stores to go to. “But we need to make sure it looks different from your huntress gear. Right now, you look like you’re ready to go on a mission at the drop of a hat.” 

Ruby raised a finger to argue, then lowered it when she thought more about it. She had been gungho about being a huntress and she didnt quite remember when her wardrobe had started to delve more into her huntress gear, and a change in style might help. “If you’re so sure this will work, why do you need my help getting a date with Yang?” 

“W-well, I…” Weiss looked away, hiding her blush. “I… dont… actually know how to talk to her and I needyourhelpwiththat.” 

Ruby smirked a bit as she watched Weiss almost shrink in her seat as heavy blush started to cross her cheeks. “I dont think I’ve ever seen you like this.” 

“I dont always have to be prim and proper, you know.” 

Ruby winced a bit with how annoyed Weiss had sounded, but she put her mug down and smiled softly at her friend. “I know, but you always seem to have an air of properness to you. Even when you were crushing on Neptune, you still kept yourself acting like everyone was going to judge you for how you acted. But now, you look like the person you’ve been hiding beneath all of that. Shy, nervous… like a teenager.” 

“I havent been a teenager in years-” 

“I dont think you ever were a teenager.” 

Weiss pulled away, faking being offended. “I was too!” 

Ruby giggled a bit and stood up. “If we’re going to get you a date with Yang, we should start by getting you to talk to her.” 

“Fine, but that means we’re taking you shopping for Blake.” 

“Wait, hold on, I didnt agree to that.” 

“You didnt, but you cant ask Blake out looking like that.” Weiss took Ruby’s hand and grinned. “Besides, you did agree to my help.” 

Ruby nearly yelped as she was pulled out of the cafe by Weiss as they made their way from store to store, trying to find a look that better suited her. It almost felt like a whirlwind to her as she was shoved straight into a changing room with skirts, shirts, belts, boots, and scarves practically being thrown at her. Finally, she had a moment to stare at herself in the mirror, black jacket with studs down the arm, a dark red shirt with a few black roses around the hem, a plaid skirt with chains around the waist, fishnet tights, and combat boots. “I feel… naked.” 

“But you look great,” Weiss said as she started to clean up the rejected clothes. “And you look more casual and less like a huntress.” 

“Y-yeah, but my cloak and corset-” 

“You can still wear your corset under the shirt if you really need it and we can stitch one of your extra cloaks into the inside of the jacket if that makes you feel a bit more comfortable.” 

Ruby sighed and nervously pulled at the loose shirt she wore. Most of her clothes had always been tight, hiding her arms to make them look thinner, a corset to keep everything in place, a cloak to hide how broad her shoulders had gotten, and now as she looked at herself, it had felt as if a wave of dysphoria had struck. All she could see were how broad her shoulders were with the jacket, the skirt was a little shorter than she liked, toned arms looked more like Yangs had a few years ago at Beacon not hiding the muscle she had built up over the years. She nearly jumped as she felt Weiss put her hands on her shoulders, feeling her press into her from behind. 

“I promise, you look great,” Weiss said in a quiet whisper. “I know you’re not exactly confident about who you are yet, but you have features that other women have spent years trying to emulate too. Besides, its just for Blake, right? Once you have your date with Blake, you never have to look back at this outfit.” 

“Yeah but-” Ruby looked away from her reflection for a moment as she tried to find the words she had wanted to say. Of course she was nervous about what Blake would think, and while she trusted Weiss, there was still the small voice in the back of her head that kept telling her that Blake wouldnt want her, that she was too different. The breath she didnt realize she was holding left her lips as she felt Weiss hug her from behind, moving her arms around her shoulders. 

“You shouldnt worry about what Blake thinks about you. She knows about you and if that was ever a problem, then she would’ve made that known before. Right now, all you need to focus on is being yourself when we get her to ask you out.” 

“And you know you can talk to Yang about the movies you like, right?” Ruby asked as she leaned back into Weiss. “She likes those same cheesy romance movies you do.” 

Weiss blushed and pressed her face into the back of Ruby’s neck. “This is about you right now, not me. I’ll… I’ll ask Yang when I’m ready.” 

“And you think I’m ready to ask Blake?” 

“No-” 

“Then when I talk to Blake, you talk to Yang.” Ruby took a deep breath and slowly released it as she tried to calm her racing heart, staring at her reflection in the mirror. “That way we can still be there for each other without making things awkward.” 

“Fine.” Weiss pulled away and checked the price tags of the clothes that Ruby wore. “When were you thinking then?” 

“Tomorrow at the fair.” 

“Dont you think that’s a bit cliche?” 

“Yang and I go every year, and this year Blake will actually be here for it.” Ruby smiled a bit and took the jacket off. “Worst case, we dont actually ask but we still are able to have a bit of fun.” 

Weiss paused for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, I’ll hold you to it.” 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Maybe you can spend some time with Weiss,” Ruby said as she walked through the fairground entrance with Yang, nervously adjusting the jacket she wore as she pulled up the hood of the cloak she sewed into it. “I know we normally hang out together-” 

“Sure, I dont see a reason why not,” Yang said. “Its not often I get to hang with her and this would be a better chance than any.” 

Ruby smiled a bit. “That’s great!” 

Yang looked over at Ruby. “You… seem a bit excited about that.” 

Ruby paused in her step and rubbed the back of her head. “I-I wouldnt say excited, just happy that you and Weiss can spend a bit of time together.” She pulled out her scroll and frowned a bit when she noticed a text from Weiss that she’d be late. “Though, from the sounds of it, she’s going to be late anyway.” 

“Then that gives me a bit of time to beat you at a few games until she comes around.” 

Ruby grunted a bit as she felt Yang ruffle her hair, nearly messing up the ponytail she had taken her time to get right. “Can you warn me when you do that?” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” Ruby pulled her hood down and fixed her ponytail, taking a bit of time to look around. “Why dont we check out one of the shooting galleries?” 

“And let you beat me that easy?” Yang asked. “If we do the shooting gallery, then you have to take me on at the High Striker. An easy win for an easy win.” 

“How about we go on a couple rides instead while we wait?”

“Wait on who?” Blake asked as she walked over with Weiss next to her. “Sorry we’re a bit late, Weiss took a little extra time to get ready.” 

Weiss rolled her eyes. “No more extra time than I normally do.” 

Ruby blushed a bit as she looked over at Blake, looking away for a moment to hide it with her hood. “Well, since we’re all here, then we can have a bit of fun.” 

“Rubes, you and Blake have fun,” Yang said as she took Weiss’s hand. “Weiss and I’ll be over by the spinning teacups.” 

“Wait, hold on, we cant leave them just yet!” Weiss protested as she was dragged away. 

Ruby smiled a bit as she listened to Blake giggle at the sight, nervously tapping her foot on the ground. This had been exactly what she had wanted, and yet, no matter how many times she had thought about being alone with Blake, her heart still pounded in her chest and the words she wanted to say were stuck in the back of her throat. She felt her cheeks heat up a bit as her blush deepened, and all she could do was nervously straighten out her jacket until she heard Blake speak. 

“I guess it’ll just be you and me for a bit,” Blake said with a smile as she reached for Ruby’s hand. “Weiss said you wouldnt mind if that was the case.” 

“O-of course I dont mind,” Ruby said as she gently squeezed Blake’s hand. “A-actually, I… I was hoping that you and I could be together for a bit. I-” she looked away and took a breath to try to calm her heart as it pounded in her chest. Her hand started to feel a bit sweaty as she became more nervous, every part of her wanting to rush away like normal. “And I was hoping that we… could go on a date. Together. You and me without Yang or Weiss-” 

“I’d love to.” 

I’d love to. The words practically rang around Ruby’s mind as she relaxed a bit, a goofy grin crossing her lips as she took a step closer to Blake. “Then why dont we play a few games before we do any of the rides? I hear the shooting galleries have some decent prizes today.” 

“Planning on winning me a prize already?” Blake asked with a blush. 

Ruby nodded and looked towards Weiss and Yang, watching them talk in line for the teacups. She looked back towards Blake and started to lead her to one of the shooting galleries, feeling a bit more confident. “You cant go to the fair without winning a prize. And since you havent been able to make it around in the past, I want to make sure tonight’s a good night for you.” 

“I’ll hold you to that.”

[nexysworld]

I was feeling sad So I found sad pictures And wrote something self indulgently sad that's probably not even coherent. TW in the tags.

Whiskey Lulluby

Things weren’t supposed to end like this. 

     It was never meant to get this far. 

          But you were so lonely, so fucking lonely.

               It didn’t mean anything.

                    He was never even supposed to find out.

The worst part was that he had warned you too – a life with him wouldn’t be easy; always being called out, always in danger, moving all over – no kids, no placing roots. He begged you not to answer until you really thought about it, really considered what that meant. 

Did you really think about it? 

No.

Instead you told yourself it would be worth it, because you’d have him. You’d have Leon, and he was the greatest thing you didn’t deserve.

God you loved him so much though, words couldn’t even describe how you kept him cocooned within your heart. Even after all this time, your skin tingled under his touch, butterflies swarming around your stomach at every sweet word that left his mouth. The passion between you never died down, hands and bodies tangled together within the sheets. Even just the simple domestic moments meant everything to you; curling up on the couch together, having his strong arms wrapped around you while you made breakfast, stubble rubbing against the crook of your neck.

And you knew he loved you too – the lingering kisses used to delay his inevitable departure. The final look on his face right before the door closed, that managed to gut you every single time. Even the way he’d call out your name in his sleep, during those awful episodic nightmares were a reminder of your own spot snuggled so deep within him, it was at the unconscious level. 

So then, how did it get to this? 

It was an off chance encounter, stumbling upon him at a bar one night. You couldn’t believe he knew Leon, that he worked for the government too. Somehow one thing led to another and you were talking all night – completely innocent. 

Leon himself gave the seal of approval, happy his friend could be yours. Delighted that someone could protect you when he wasn’t around. 

The misplaced trust he had in you both. 

For a time Chris did make for a great support system, with his own job he was able to travel to you often. A platonic match made in heaven.

That was until sweet words and affectionate hugs weren’t enough to stave off the loneliness you both tried to cope with. All it took was one drunken night and suddenly long talks into the early hours of the morning became desperate shouts of each other’s names. Pawing at each other in feverous heat, careful not to leave any marks. 

Chris quickly became an addiction you couldn’t withdraw from.

It wasn’t your fault, you rationalized. All the years of isolation and lack of normalcy finally chipped away at you. It didn’t help that Leon had changed too since his last mission – refusing to say a word to you about it. His affections never died, but his drinking increased. So sweet and so sad.

The day he discovered the two of you, he wasn’t supposed to be home yet. He was supposed to be working late finishing paperwork for an incident report – a lie so he could surprise you. 

Not expecting him any time soon, you’d been daring. With Chris between your legs, and your head swung back in pleasure you hadn’t even heard the door open. It wasn’t until the familiar sound of his voice pricked your ears that you swung your head over. 

Any light in those ocean blue eyes died, bouquet dropped to the floor. The heartbreak was palpable. You may as well have shot him through the heart with his own gun. 

Chris ran out, leaving you the two of you alone. Your heart stung, stomach soured with bile. 

“Lee wait, I can explain.” You pleaded as he stormed through the apartment grabbing his things, stuffing them haphazardly into suitcases. Tears stained his swollen face as he ignored every sound of your voice, taking a swig from his flask every chance he got between movements. “Baby please, I love you. Don’t do this. He doesn't mean anything to me.” 

You grabbed his arm while he walked, feet skidding against the floor as he all but dragged you with him as he walked. “I love you too.” He said softly, pitifully. It froze you where you stood. “I’ll love you until the day I fucking die.” It was the last thing he said before the door slamming shut separated the two of you forever. 

Months you’d spent looking for him. Blowing up his phone, begging Chris to help, bartering with the universe to let you make things right. All you had to work with were the little filtered tidbits of information Chris gave you – Leon wasn’t doing well. 

"He doesn't want to see you." Chris finally told you.

By that point it should have clued you in that this is where things would end up – but it still shook you with unbridled grief all the same. Chris, throat raw calling you at 2am to give the news. You standing here in the grassy field, ruminating about everything; watching as the few friends his job would allow him to have, said their goodbyes. 

You leaned back against the willow tree, discreetly swallowing the burn of the whiskey from his old flask tightening the leather jacket around yourself to stave off the cold breeze. 

It still smelled like him. 

Once the flask was empty and the last person there had walked away, you finally managed to move from your spot, tossing the flask on top of the casket.

“Goodbye Lee.” 

[ninebluehearts]

Your Hero

Prompt: Can I request Nurse Reader x Tim Rockford where he saves her life from a shootout and gets shot, she takes him home and patches him up, can be fluff or smut, whatever you wish <3 ily!!  

A/n: Sure thing honey!! Thank you so much for this request! Ilyt!! <3

Warnings: Blood, gunshot wound, mentions of a toxic relationship.

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

“Take off your pants and get on the couch.”

“Damn, aren’t you gonna buy me dinner first?” Tim asked, groaning in pain as he laughed at his own joke, hobbling over towards your couch.

You roll your eyes, leaving his side long enough to rush to the bathroom to grab the med kit you kept in the closet. It looked like one of those old books you’ve seen in the movies, a layer of dust covering the top of the box, easily falling from the plastic with a simple blow of your breath. 

You wrinkled your nose as you walked back into your living room, trying to ignore the tickle of dust in your nostrils. “Alright. I’ve got a numbing spray in here somewhere, but I don’t think it’ll work too well for something this bad.”

“Well, good thing I’ve got a high pain tolerance, right doc?”

“Technically I’m not a doctor, but yes, that helps.” You’ve been rushing around trying to sterilize your hands and tools that when you finally took a second to look up, you were met with a sight that you’ve seen a million times before, but for some reason, this time you just had to stop and look. 

Tim sat on the couch with his arms crossed against his chest, legs spread open in front of him, his strong thighs exposed now that his pants were bunched up in a ball beside him, as though he were desperate to get them off and out of the way. And considering the fact that there was a hole in the side of his thigh, anyone would be.

You shook your head, hoping you could shake the dirty thoughts from your mind. Sliding on a pair of rubber gloves, you kneeled down before him as you opened a small packet that had a disinfectant wipe inside. “This may sting.” 

Tim didn’t really move when you began to clean the area, his hands gripping the edge of the nearest throw pillow being the only indicator that he was in pain. 

As you fell into the flow of caring for your patient, your hands seemed to fall into autopilot for you, leaving your brain to run wild with thoughts of the night. How could you have been so reckless?

You just needed eggs. 

You figured you’d walk in, grab the eggs, pay, and then you’d be done, free to go home and go to bed after a long day. You had just finished a twelve-hour shift at the hospital, still covered in way too many bodily fluids and such to identify at the moment. 

You were so close to being done, proudly hugging a carton full of a dozen eggs against your chest as you stood in the checkout line. You wanted to scream when you heard your name being called from behind you, the familiar voice of your ex already igniting the ball of rage in your belly. 

You decided to ignore him, handing the cashier the carton when it was your turn. You handed her a ten-dollar bill, telling her to keep the change so you could be out of there faster. 

Your ex was hot on your tracks as you hurried out of the building, ignoring his calls. It was a messy, but simple break-up. He cheated on you, and you left his sorry ass. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Baby, how many times do I have to say I’m sorry, huh? Come on, you’re being ridiculous!” Tired of your silence, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, making you turn to face him, pure rage and exhaustion etched all over your face.

“Carl, if you don’t let me go right now, I swear to God I will scream.” You gritted out between your clenched teeth, your hands tightening into fists.

Carl only tightened his grip, his expression twisting into something sour. “Jesus Christ you’re so dramatic. Just listen to-” But you didn’t even give him the chance to finish, letting out a high-pitched scream as you looked him dead in his eyes. 

He yelled at you to stop, but you refused, ignoring the judgmental looks you received from the surrounding strangers. 

“Is there a problem?” A man asked as he made his way over to the both of you, flashing his badge to show that he was an officer. 

You immediately stopped screaming, clearing your throat to try and ease the slight sting of your now irritated throat. “Yes, there is, officer. Please get this asshole FAR away from me so I can finally go home already.”

Carl sighed, placing his hands up in the air. “Nothing’s going on, officer. My girlfriend’s just being dramatic.”

You barked out a laugh, rage boiling up in your chest as though a little red monster was clawing at your insides, just begging to be set free. “I dumped your ass! What do you mean girlfriend?”

After a bit of back and forth between you and your boyfriend, things progressively got heated. Even more so when the officer tried to get between the two of you when Carl tried to grab your hand for the umpteenth time, resulting in Carl pulling a gun out from behind his back. 

The officer tried to reason with him, slowly reaching for his own gun from his hip, but Carl shot him before he could reach it, running off once he realized what he had done.

You heaved a long, heavy sigh, spraying the area with the disinfectant as you tried to push any thoughts of Carl from your mind.

“May I ask what happened? With you and that guy.”

Or not..

You shrugged your shoulders, threading the tip of the string through the eye of the needle. “Nothing really happened. He cheated on me, and I wasn’t willing to stay and give him another chance. That’s all, really.”

“I get the feeling there’s a lot more to it than that.” Tim said, keeping his eyes focused on what you were doing.

“There is, I just don’t feel like getting into the lies and manipulation.” You said with a hollow laugh, gently poking his thigh with the tip of the needle. “Did you feel that?” 

Tim simply shook his head, focusing on keeping himself as calm as he could so you could work. 

“Perfect. Let’s get to it then.”

-

When you woke up, Tim’s head was resting on your shoulder, a red blanket draped across both of your laps. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to wake yourself up enough so you wouldn’t fall back asleep. 

You spent over an hour trying to stitch up and bandage Tim’s thigh last night, and after you did, he somehow convinced you that a few glasses of whiskey would be good for the pain..

You glanced over at the clock on the wall, your shoulders slightly caving inwards when you saw that you had less than two hours to get ready for work.

You tried to slowly slip your shoulder out from under Tim’s head, holding your breath as though it could be a factor of waking him up, but no matter how quiet or slow your movements were, Tim gripped onto your arm, snuggling his face deeper into the side of your neck. 

You thought about actually waking him up, feeling guilty for wanting to stay and cuddle with an unconscious stranger. But when you listened to those soft snores and felt the way his chest slowly fell, only to rise again a moment later, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

This was probably the best sleep he’s had in awhile, you reasoned with yourself. The crazy granny case probably kept him up most nights, and now you have the chance to allow him to rest..

And so, you sank back against the couch, gently laying your head atop of his.

Just thirty more minutes. Thirty more minutes and you’d both get up and go your separate ways. 

A small smile tugged at your lips, your eyes slowly falling shut as your whispered. “Thirty more minutes.”

[foxybananaaaz]

3k Words

If you have not yet read any of the other parts, please click the Title Page to go to the start.

Lucien Week Day Six :: Romance.

From past to present, do you see Lucien with a romantic partner? @lucienweekofficial

Let's start this part, a little... different.

Elain Archeron had been spending far too much time on her own over the past few months. Save for dinners, or when she would go visit with Lucien in the Day Court, which was more often than anyone at home knew, or would like, had they known.

She was constantly treated as a child, as though she could not hold her own, could not decide things, and needed help.

With Lucien, she felt free. She felt as though she could take on the world. She got the feeling he would let her take his life if situations got so dire. With Lucien, things were simple but also incredibly complicated.

Was the reason her feelings were changing, because of the bond, or were they changing all on their own? They were friends, and while she saw how he would wish for more, she also saw him fight those wishes, those thoughts, the urges the bond made him feel, want. Lucien fought against his instincts, to make her comfortable.

The thread that tied them did not glow, but her heart did feel as though it skipped a beat, while her stomach had the fluttering feeling she had only felt at the beginning of her courtship with Greyson.

Elain was finding that she was finalising her decision she had been considering for a few weeks now. One that would not be taken well, or even easily amongst her sisters, or their family. But it was a decision she was making on her own.

She remembered something Lucien had said a what felt like forever ago, "My Lady, whenever you wish for me to visit, all you need to do is give a little tug, and I will be right there by your side before you know it." And so, without hesitation, without thinking about it, without realizing that it was the middle of the night, and before she really could stop herself at all, Elain took hold of that thread, and gave it a gentle, but firm tug.

She had made up her mind. Her only concern was if there would be a rejection.

*** *** ***

Lucien was on his bed, unable to sleep. He was trying to block out the sound of his mother and Helion reuniting. Again. Every night. For the fifth week in a row. He knew Helion had a reputation, that as much was common knowledge. But his mother?

Clearly, she'd have had to, having seven sons, but still. He didn't want to think about it, let alone be forced to listen to it.

When he felt the first one, he groaned, thinking the reuniting pair was now affecting the house itself. Until he felt it again, and he could not mistake what it was. Nearly crying in relief when he realized what it was.

Finally having an excuse to leave, Lucien wrote a quick note, not knowing how long he would be, and left the house and made it out the gate before winnowing away.

He landed at the edge of the property, and started to make his way up the walk, already seeing Elain waiting there for him, a dazzling smile on his face, causing Lucien to stumble a step. His stumble only caused Elain to giggle into her hand, which he heard clearly. An entirely new sound, one he had to fight to stay standing, and finish his way to her.

When Lucien finally reached his mate, his friend, he was shocked how she pulled him in for a hug right away. Elain usually avoided contact, not wanting to set the bond off more than necessary. Yet here she was, being the one to initiate the contact with a hug. Lucien wouldn't complain, but he sure was confused as he hugged her back.

When Elain did pull back, she kept a hand on his arm with a smile. Lucien just stood there, at a loss for words, dumbstruck. But he had to restrain himself. The two of them were friends. He could not give into these instincts that were so hard to control that the mating bond put forth.

Elain spoke then, mentioning how she did not belong here, at the Night Court. How she needed to get out. She paused there as if she hoped Lucien would pick up on the hint.

The only thing Lucien did pick up on, though, was how Elain mentioned she didn't belong in the Night Court. Which was what caused him to leave.

Lucien quickly explained to Elain that she should not exile herself from her family, that it was not worth losing her family over. Though he grew confused as he saw Elain shake her head.

Lucien listened closely as Elain repeated herself, saying how she did not belong here and did not fit in to the Night Court. There was a certain emphasis on the word night, a small amount, but it was there.

That's when it clicked with Lucien, and his eyes widened. The metal eye looked his mate over as if to make sure there were no spells or glamour on her. When none was found, Lucien spoke.

"You want ... to come to the Day Court?" Lucien asked, as if he were clarifying, to make sure he understood correctly.

Elain simply nodded and informed him that her sisters would not react kindly. That the High Lord would react with anger. They would fight to keep her here because it was a big decision, and they should discuss it amongst themselves, leaving Elain out of it.

Luciens anger rose. He had suspicions that she did not get choices or a say here, but to have it confirmed with what she had just said. To know that his mate was stuck, without the chance to even make a decision on some of the simplest things, infuriated not just the instincts the mate bond gave him, but also who he was to his core, after witnessing his mother trapped his whole life.

To know Feyre also would allow this after she escaped Tamlin for doing the same thing to her. She knew what having very little to no choice was like. How could she do this or allow this to happen to her own sister?

Lucien forced himself to calm down enough to not frighten or concern his mate. "My Lady, if you feel like you need to move, if you wish to go somewhere else, you are going to. I will make sure of that. Go to the Day Court ... go onto my patio," Lucien added, remembering the reuniting that was going on. "I'll go in to pack for you."

Elain simply shook her head, explaining how there was no need to, that she had been bringing over all her important items over the past few weeks, tucking them in a box she had brought, and put in Luciens cupboards. "I've known for a while that I don't belong here. I've known for a while that I want to live with you and your parents in the Day Court. If you all would allow it."

Elain then took Luciens' hand, and the moment their hands touched, the two were back in Luciens' room. It was like no winnowing he had ever felt before.

Elain then pulled Lucien behind her as she walked towards an area of Helions' house that he hadn't been to before.

"Would you dance with me?" Elain had asked Lucien as they reached a room, and she opened the doors to what looked like a ballroom. "I'm not as good as Nesta, I didn't get all the lessons, but I can dance party dances, and it's been so long, I do miss it." Elain finished as she stepped inside, bringing Lucien along as she was still holding his hand.

Lucien stood there, unknowing how he could deny her request, but he couldn't deny it even if he wished to. Elain looked so eager, and her request was such a simple one. How couldn't he agree? How could someone deny her when she was looking at them, with such hopeful excitement in her beautiful eyes, the colour of a young fawns coat.

So he agreed, though he was nowhere near dressed appropriately for any form of dancing. But no one would be watching, so it shouldn't matter too much.

Elain finally let go of Luciens' hand, which was immediately cold and feeling empty, so she could go turn on some music quietly before running back over, finishing with a curtsey.

Unable to stop the smile of pure joy that spread across his face, Lucien returned Elains curtsey with a deep bow, and when he straightened up, he saw Elain smiling widely as well. Though he could have sworn her cheeks were slightly more coloured than a few seconds before.

And so, the two began dancing, losing themselves to the music.

It wasn't until they finished their seventh dance, pressed together, that they had to stop. The two of them were tired, having both been up all night, and just danced through seven songs.

They may have finished dancing, yet neither of them moved to separate from the other. Both smiling and breathing hard, looking to the other, as though they had not had fun like that in their whole lives.

Still, neither of them moving. The two continued to look the other in the eyes. Their smiles slowly faded, but their gazes grew more intense.

"Lucien, I-" Elain began softly, quietly.

"Well, I am genuinely sorry because I can't tell you enough how much I truly hate to break this up, but we have company"

Lucien and Elain both jumped apart as if the other burned them, turning towards the door, the intruder, the voice that wasn't supposed to be there.

Lucien saw his mother standing there with Helion, along with-

Elain grabbed Luciens hand. Her hand was shaking ever so slightly, and this was the only indicator of her fear. Lucien squeezed her hand gently, offering her comfort the same way she was showing him her fear.

Lucien recognized her fear as he saw Rhysand, Feyre, and the Viper.

"Rhysand and Feyre claim that we have taken a high status member of their Court." Helion spoke with a dismissive air to his tone, as if he could tell which way this would go. But Lucien knew the tone would turn dangerous if the conversation turned to even the smallest amount of violence on his lands.

"We did not take her. We freed her. Just as Rhysand freed Feyre when he had his cousin retrieve her from the Spring Court, while Tamlin and I were away." Lucien responded, with a disinterested tone himself.

"Freed? And you would compare the two situations?" Rhysand asked in disbelief.

"Elain?" Feyre had called out to her sister.

When Elain did not speak, Lucien continued. "Yes, freed. Elain told me that she was not free to make her own decisions. That everything she does has to go through the groups approval. It is similar to what Feyre went through after we came out of the mountain. Tamlin refused to let her do what she wanted and would constantly make decisions for her." Lucien explained, seeing realization dawn in Feyres eyes as she remembered what Lucien was talking about.

"I also grew up, watching my whole life, as a female had her choices and freedom removed from her. The whole Court loved her, but they didn't see the pain she was in." Lucien spoke, looking towards his mother. "No one saw the amount pain she was in. Even those who loved her the most."

Lucien then looked back to their guests. "So no, We didn't take her. From our standpoint, and from what she has told us, we freed her."

"She is a high-ranking member of my court." Rhysand responded, not backing down.

"She is my mate." Lucien returned, looking down at Elain. He knew this would be the winning card. He went into this, not wanting to use it, but he was left with no choice.

"She's our sister." The viper spat, fury in her eyes.

Lucien looked towards Nesta and then Feyre. Feyre at least seemed to understand what Lucien meant. "There seems to be a key difference between the fae and human lands you are unaware of yet." Lucien spoke, his tone taking a more apologetic tone as he looked down at Elain. He knew she wouldn't like this next part, even if he worded it the least offensive way he could.

"Being my mate, there is a certain ... claim that I have that even you, as her sister, do not have." He gently squeezed Elains hand, trying to let her know that they were only words to him. Only words to get her to stay, it it was what she truly wanted.

"Even Feyre, as Tamlins Fiancé, as she was not yet married to him when Rhysand announced that he and Feyre were mates, Tamlin could react, sure. But if he tried to take her back, it would have caused a war." Lucien explained. "Mates are rare and are treasured when they do occur."

"Elain?" Feyre tried again. And finally, Elain spoke up.

"I have been planning to come here for the past few weeks. I do not fit in in the Night Court. I asked Lucien to bring me here, if it would be alright if I came here. I was planning to ask Helion in the morning." Elain explained, her hand shaking more, yet her posture and her voice did not betray her. "This is my choice." Elain finished before walking off, dragging Lucien behind her, refusing to let him go.

Lucien heard Helion behind them, sounding as if he were ending the discussion. "Well, you heard her. It is her choice to be here. I'm not going to strip her of her choice. And Lucien is right. She is his mate. You can't exactly change that. Now, unless you plan on visiting socially, forgive me as I ask you to-" and Lucien couldn't hear the rest of what Helion said, as he and Elain were too far away.

"Elain, about what I said, at the end there, please understand I didn't mean it. I'd never lay cl-" Lucien started until he was interrupted.

Lucien was interrupted by Elain grabbing the back of his head, and pulling it down to reach as she kissed him.

Frozen, for just about a second and a half, Lucien finally pulled himself together and moved to place his hands on either side of Elains face and return her kiss.

After he started to kiss her back, Elain let the back of his head go, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and rose up on her toes so Lucien wasn't bending down so low.

The small thread that tied the two of them together glowed golden and bright. It pulsed, it sang, it thrived, and it came alive. Their very souls started dancing together just like they had been an hour before. Gravity ceased to exist as it felt like they were floating a foot off the ground. They weren't only brightly golden on the inside, as the sunrise was aimed directly at them, painting their bodies golden as well.

The kiss lasted less than a minute, but it felt like it lasted a glorious eternity. Lucien didn't want to pull back, but he needed to. Being caught off guard, he didn't have the breath to continue any longer.

So Lucien pulled back and looked towards Elain, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in his life. How had he gotten so lucky to end up with her as his mate?

"I hope you know that that will make it impossible to fight off the instincts and stay just friends." Lucien spoke first, looking into his mates eyes, with nothing but adoration and awe.

Smiling, Elain reached up, giving Lucien another quick kiss before responding herself. "Did you not get the hint? I don't want to stay just friends." Elains smile only widened before hugging Lucien.

Elains hug felt like home.

Lucien felt, well, he felt his heart swell. He felt wanted in a different way from all those months ago when Helion had told him that he would never be exiled from the Day Court. The two were friends, but that statement from Elain felt like more.

Lucien, as a rule, rarely let himself hope. Because his hopes were always crushed right in front of him. But he hoped for the Day Court and Helion, and he hasn't been let down yet. Could he allow himself to hope for this?

In the back of his mind, he could hear the words pulsing.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

To read the next part, press its title, In The Afternoon

This is not Inner Circle hate. It is taking canon information about Elain from Silver Flames(Nesta and Cassians thoughts on how the Night Court doesn't suit her, and Nesta, Azriel and Rhysand making decisions on Elains behalf), and ... slightly tweaking it to fit the narrative here.

[fullmoans]

Home is a Fire | Part 3

They left Stiles out because they knew the nogitsune would tear him apart, but now the nogitsune is gone and Stiles can feel the nemeton telling him it isn’t over — not for him. And maybe not for Derek either.

It was just after noon when Stiles pulled up to a small gas station a few blocks from the address his dad texted him for Derek’s house. He needed gas, a sandwich, and a plan. Would Peter have any idea how to contact Cora? It’s not like they were close. Had Derek ever gotten back into a semi-consistent contact with her? After a few minutes, his tank was full and he’d grabbed a cold sandwich from the store.

The new Hale house was very similar to his fathers’. A simple, two story home likely built in the early 90’s. He noticed multiple locks on the door when he knocked.

“No one’s home,” he heard Peter call, though the locks clicked open one-by-one just a moment later. “Ah, my favorite.” Stiles stared at him. In the back of his mind, he wondered what had changed him so deeply that he didn’t have a sarcastic remark even for Peter Hale.

“We have to find Cora.” Stiles walked past Peter until he found a small living room and sat down. “When’s the last time you heard from her?” Looking around the room, he noticed Eli was sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone. His attention was pulled up, curious about the new guest in their home.

“I know that Derek had gotten back into contact with her but I’m not the biggest family man these days. He did say she had given him a phone, in case of emergencies only, but I don’t know where he would’ve kept it.”

“What do you want to know about Cora?” Eli’s full attention had shifted to Stiles and Peter now.

“I need to talk to her. It’s important,” Stiles said. He didn’t want to give up too much information to Eli. Getting his own hopes up was one thing but he wouldn’t let Eli think there was a chance until he was sure. Eli seemed to be thinking, deciding whether to trust Stiles with some information he knew, and Stiles took the time to really look at him. He saw so much of himself in Derek’s son. There was an expression on his face that he couldn’t hide – one that Stiles knew well. That was the face of someone who liked getting himself into trouble. “You’re the kid with my Jeep right?” Eli met his eyes then.

“I’m just taking care of it. I get it if you want it back.”

“That Jeep is the last thing my mother left me. She meant everything to me. I know a little about what you’re going through and when I was lost most, when I couldn’t find a reason to keep going, fixing her was something I could focus on. In a way, she gave me a purpose every time that I wasn’t sure if I could live without my mom. As long as you keep her running, she can be your purpose too.” After he spoke, Stiles broke Eli’s eye contact. He could feel tears in his eyes and see them reflected in the kid’s. It was silent for a moment.

Eli spoke more enthusiastically this time. “Dad and I had a plan if anything ever happened to us. We were supposed to meet up in the garage and then we’d leave town and go to Cora’s. He kept a duffle bag there – he called it our ‘go bag.’” He got up and took a few steps towards Stiles. “I can show you where it is. I should’ve called her anyway.”

Stiles considered Eli’s offer. He didn’t want to get the kid involved in whatever he was doing but it didn’t seem like there was another option. Peter wasn’t fighting to take him there instead. Peter, well Peter seemed to have completely disappeared from the room. Stiles spun around but there was no sign of him. He sighed. “Okay, my car’s out front.”

“Are you kidding? We’re taking the Jeep.”

Xx

It was so unusual for Stiles to sit in the passenger side of the Jeep. He had forgotten how rough it was on even the smoothest of roads and being in the passenger seat, not being able to feel the engine from the pedal, emphasized every bump. Still, he enjoyed the breeze on their short ride over to the garage. When they parked, he studied the kid again. ‘He’s so much like me,’ he thought. ‘I bet he gave Derek Hell.’

“What?” Eli asked, when Stiles didn’t make any move to get out of the car.

“What happened to your mother? You don’t have to answer –”

“She was killed.” Stiles nodded, not wanting to push him, but he kept going. “I was a baby so I don’t remember any of it. Apparently, Dad had gone to live with Cora and her pack. He met my mom in Cora’s pack – said she reminded him of an old friend. I got a lot of her features, that’s why I only really have Dad’s hair. One morning, him and Cora had taken me so that my mom could catch up on some sleep. A few rogue hunters attacked. When Dad and Cora got back, the pack had killed the hunters, but not before one of them killed her. That’s the way he told the story to me, at least. I never really knew her.”

All Stiles could think was how hard that must’ve been on Derek. All of his life, he had been through so many shitty things. If there was a god, they really had it out for Derek Hale. “He was lucky to have you,” Stiles said.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I pushed him too far, I think.”

“When my mom died, I pushed my dad. I snuck out every night. Once, I overheard him talking about a body in the woods and I made Scott come out, in the middle of the night, and try to find it with me. That’s how Scott got turned. Anyway, I gave him so much shit. Still, he always said I reminded him of my mom. He said it hurt less to lose her because he got to have me. I know Derek would’ve thought the same.”

It was silent again, until Stiles opened his door. He heard Eli’s door open too and followed him into the garage. “He talked about you,” Eli said.

“I talked about him, too. I should’ve talked to him, instead.”

Xx

Eli left Stiles standing in the middle of the garage. He’d gone into an office where he said Derek hid important things. He came back with a duffle bag that was almost half his size. “This is the bag. I’ve never looked inside of it – always thought it was probably boring stuff like my birth certificate.”

Stiles laughed. It was a small, short laugh, but still something he didn’t do a lot these days. With a smile still on his face, he kneeled down as Eli dropped the bag. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Eli was smiling too.

The bag did have a lot of boring stuff. Eli was right about the birth certificate – it was in a big file folder which had the deed to the land of the Hale House, a few old car titles, and more papers. There were also a few pairs of pants and approximately 20 black shirts. There was a smaller black bag at the bottom which Stiles pulled out and unzipped. Inside were 3 burner phones, all turned off. He switched each of them on and looked through the contacts. One had names he knew – Malia, Peter, his Dad, and Scott. One had Deaton and a bunch of names he didn’t know. Family friends, maybe. Maybe other packs Derek had come across. The last one that he turned on had only a single number in it. There wasn’t a name on this contact but he knew it had to be Cora. He pocketed this one, turned the rest back off, zipped the bag, and put Derek’s ‘go bag’ back together. “Got it,” he said.

Eli took the bag back to where he’d gotten it from before returning. On the way out, Stiles noticed that Eli was putting a code into the office door. He hadn’t been paying enough attention before. “You keep it locked?”

“Yeah, no particular reason. Dad’s big on security. The code’s 7687-9653 if you need to get back in. The numbers spell ‘sour wolf.’ Some kind of joke he always set his passwords to.” Eli passed Stiles on the way to the Jeep because Stiles had stopped walking. He’d made the wrong choice when he left. Lydia had been everything he told himself he wanted ever since he could remember and she’d become smarter, stronger, and even more beautiful with every passing day back then. And yet, it was so obvious now that he’d made the wrong choice. “You coming?”

“I need to take a walk.” Stiles said, making his voice loud enough for the feet between them now. “Thanks for your help, Eli. Cora should hear what happened from me so I’ll call her. I’ll drop the phone off to you later in case you want to talk to her, too.”

He could feel Eli’s eyes on him as he walked away. Still, he needed to be alone and he didn’t want Eli to hear what he had to say to Cora.

Xx

Cora picked up before the first ring finished.

“Derek? What happened?” She said, immediately.

“Hey Cora, it’s Stiles,” He said so softly he worried she didn’t hear him. She didn’t respond. “I’m sorry, Cora.”

“What happened to him?” She whispered back

“He sacrificed himself to save everyone else. He did save everyone else.”

“Of course he did.”

“Cora, I know this isn’t the right time to be asking you for a favor, but I was hoping you might be able to help me. Deaton said Talia kept information on your family, Beacon Hills, and the nemeton. If any of it survived the fire, I need to know where it is now.”

“You don’t think he’s dead, do you?”

“I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up,” Stiles said, avoiding answering the question. The answer was simple though – no, he didn’t think Derek was dead. Not for good, anyway.

“We re-built the library. Before Derek came to live with me, we re-built it underneath our house. The door is under the wolfsbane. Everything that was left and everything that we’ve found since – it’s all there… Don’t tell Eli about this. It wouldn’t be fair to him,” She finished. Of course they’d built a secret bunker underneath the Hale house. Of course they would.

“I told him I’d give him this phone after we spoke. No matter what I find, he’s going to need you. Scott is a good leader when he needs to be, but he doesn’t believe in the pack like Derek did.”

“Give me a week,” Cora said and hung up.

Stiles looked up at the afternoon sky. It was going to start getting dark soon. If he headed towards the Hale House now, he could reach it before the sun went down, but he’d have to go home in the dark. He pocketed the phone and started walking. Walking through the woods, the sky darkening, headed to find a secret buried under wolfsbane on Hale land, he felt like he was 16 again.

[fluffhuntress]

Just a drop in the ocean (Harbor x Reader)

Summary: You and your team were sent to capture a spy leaking the Protocol's data. Everything goes well, untill during your fight you end up in the water unable to move.

Warnings: drowning, !slight! hurt/comfort, wet Harbor, fluff

Words: 3k

It really was a challange for me to not put any "wet" jokes.

Capture-like missions weren't usually the easiest ones. This time, especially, when you were sent by Brimstone to capture a spy who the protocol suspects had been leaking the information and sabotaging your missions for a while now.

"We can't risk failure this time" Sage's voice stated the moment you were about to leave the jet.

"Aye" you gave in an answer, and so did the rest of the team: Phoenix, Harbor, and Reyna.

"Oh, and Phoenix-" she added "Don't burn them up this time. We need them alive"

You snorted. "Won't be that easy"

"Hey! Come on guys! I can do this." Phoenix said confidentially, narrowing his eyebrows.

"Don't worry we're just messin' with you" Harbor added, giving a silent laugh. After that, he glanced your way "And you, try not to get yourself killed this time yeah?"

"Me? Huh."

"Yes, you." His look changed to a bit more focused and serious. Ever since the mission you almost died on, he kept reminding you to take care and be careful. It was his way of showing, that he cares about you, and you liked that. On the other hand, you didn't trust it. No one has ever worried about you like he did, and no one actually cared, if you live or not.

"Alright team!" Sage interrupted your conversation, gathering the team in a circle. "Me and Harbor are gonna cover the western buildings" She stated. Harbor nodded his head, reaching for his rifle. "Reyna, you take the bridge, and you two-" She pointed to you and Phoenix "Take the eastern side"

"Wouldn't it be wiser if we had two of us on the bridge?" You asked, because the map was showing that the coast you had to cover was way to small for 2 people"

"It would..." Sage answered, having one more look on the map. "But considering the data, I wouldn't risk a fight there. It's an old bridge, narrow, a gun fight there won't be a good idea" After a pause, she looked at every one of you. "And be careful. The area is flooded, it's not the best combat ground."

Before you all spread your ways, Harbor approached you, grabbing your arm. "Hey" he started "Be careful this time, I mean that" he then said, with a little bit of worry in his words. "If anything happens to, you'll owe me, let's make it this way" He smiled

"I will. You take care too" you gave in an answer, giving him a confident smile "To make this deal fair, you'll owe me too if you get even a simple scratch"

"Okay... that's a little unfair" He chuckled, turned around and ran to Sage as she already was going to her point.

You and Phoenix made your way to the eastern area as commanded by your sentinel. The place wasn't too big - there were some abandoned fishing hoots, boats, everything in a reach of your sight. You definitely could feel this "spicy" smell of the sea. Nothing weird - you could almost say, that you were in a city on on the sea, since the water went really far comparing to the last time you were there.

"We're clear here" Phoenix said through the calls, scanning the surroundings with his eyes. You did the same, you didn't want to miss any detail.

"Wait" you stopped, as something cought your eye. "They were here..." There was one building that seemed to be still in a good condition, and as it turned out, probably someone has been there not long time ago, since there was a candle lighten up inside.

"I'm coming in" You redied your gun, and as you opened the door, you took a fast peek. The building was empty, but there was a lot of weapons in it. Seemed like their temporary base. "Clear."

"Damn that's lotta ammo" Phoenix said, coming inside. For a few minutes more you've been looking for anything suspicious or any clues in the building and outside of it, when suddenly both of you were called to help.

"Team! we need backup here!" It was Sage's voice, repressed by shooting noises.

"Im coming, hang in there! Phoenix stay where you are, Y/n take over the bridge for me" Reyna commanded, as she rushed to help on the west.

Immidiately, you started running as fast as possible to take the bridge and eventually stop the enemies from coming to the western side - if there were any. When you finally reached it, you understood, why did Sage commad only one person to go there. It was so narrow and destroyed, that there was no chance for an open fight. Maybe one v one, but for both sides this would be very risky.

You were carefully crossing the bridge, holding your weapon tight in your hands. You checked every corner, every ruined structure, yet there was nothing. It made you think, that there was no way that someone could be here, but you.

"And who do we have here" you heard, suddenly, from behind your back. You turned around, stressed out, and saw exactly the same person who you've noticed on the cameras breaking in the information cenre in your base.

"Guys, we have a problem" you said through the calls "I can see the target"

"Don't let her run away" Sage answered, occupied with a fight

"I don't think she'll run"

As you made your way towards the target, you realoaded your gun and supported it on your arm, waiting for the first move. The target, who when you came closer turned out to be some woman, smiled, as she started slowly coming your way. She was all dressed black, her clothes a little bit used. Her eyes were unnaturally yellow, glowing, which was suspicious. Was she a radiant?

As the woman came too close, you redied your gun and stoop up ready for a fight "You want the hard way huh?"

She laughed. "How cute you are" The woman redied her gun "Tell me, do you like to swim darling?" You took a look around. You were a bit far away from the shore, and the water around seemed to be deep already. Well, the whole area was flooded as hell, and the sea was further than ever. Yay! water cities. You wouldn't be surprised if a few years ago there still were some buildings under the bridge.

"Well" you smiled, and said in confidence "I didn't plan any swimming lessons for today"

"Let's start one then" The woman took a firt shot, missing it, making you shoot thowards her and take cover. The only cover around. Gun fighting there was no use. The bridge was an dead end, and the only way out was past the enemy.

"I might need some help over here, the area is shitty and im stuck right now" you quickly said through the calls giving a few shots to the enemy, which she dodged by shifting into the shadow.

What the fuck - you thought. She really was a radiant. Which made the fight even more dangerous for you now, since you weren't. "Fuck, she's doing crazy stuff over here guys"

"Keep her occupied just a little more, we've pushed them back. Comin' your way" It was Harbor's voice. Your favorite.

"Don't make me wait for too long" You didn't want to fuck up now. You promised Harbor that you won't let anything bad happen to you, yet you again were in a situation that wasn't safe for you.

"Remember what I told you Raindrop." Raindrop? You never heard this coming out of Harbor's mouth, but it sounded kinda cute in your head.

Suddenly the woman disappeared from your sight. You freaked out a little bit inside.

"Well, well well" A silent voice appeared behind your head. A strong shiver ran thorugh your spine. You turned around as fast as possible. She was there. Right before your eyes. You tried to shoot, but she didn't even let you, when she knocked you out, and ripped the weapon out of your hands.

"Say hello to the fishies from me. I've heard they're hungry today" She smiled, pushing you from the bridge. As you were falling towards the water, you knew, you're fucked up.

A great cold hit your body when you hit the water. You tried to keep your head above the water, but you could feel your body wanting to go down. You started to gasp for air. "Guys!" You gasped "I need help!" The message was interrupted by the sound of waves and splashes of water.

"We're almost there talk to me!" said Sage.

There was no way you couldn't give an understandable answer now. You were struggling too much right now, your body almost giving up. You only tended to say one more sentence, before you couldn't fight the waves anymore. "Under... the bridge"

When your body went down, all you could see was the disappearing light, as you were getting deeper, and deeper, struggling to get higher. You tried, but all you did was just waste the air that was left in your lungs. You couldn't swim. You never could, you never learned. Soon your vision started to fade, and the water started to fill your lungs.

As your eyes started to close, and your lungs gave up, what's been left of the light dissapeared.

So this is how I die, huh

Still conscious, you felt something grab your waist. You weren't going deeper. You were going upwards.

After a few seconds a strong light blinded your eyes. You gasped for the air, but hardly, as you felt a huge pain in your throat and lungs. Your body felt heavy, and everything around seemed to move two times slower. With your blurred, fading vision, fighting for a breath, you noticed strong hands, leading you to the shore.

"Don't let any more water get inside, Y/n" it was Harbors voice. It was him who cought you, it was him swimming to get you to the shore. Fighting for air, choking with the water in your mouth, your vision started to fade second by second, in the end, making you unconscious. Your body suddenly wanted to go down again.

"Hey, hey, hey we had a deal!" Harbor said to you, holding you tighter and making his way out of the deep water.

When your savior was close enough to it, and he could stand on the bottom, he grabbed you running and then placed on the ground. He placed your body in a safe position, checking your pulse. It was weak, almost undetectable. "Hang in there little Raindrop"

The moment he wanted to take actions to bring you back, your eyes opened. Momentarily you moved to your side, coughing out the water that was inside you. You were gasping for air, and when Harbor saw you struggling, he came closer to hold you and control the situation.

"It's okay. Let it leave" His hand run over your forehead, taking the wet hair covering your eyes away. After a while there was no more water in you anymore, but you felt like you forgot to breath, which the man noticed.

"Easy, easy." He said quietly. The way he used his voice, helped you not to freak out. "Take a deep breath, slowly"

Even though your body was refusing, you took a deep breath, like he told you. It might have been the most painful breath you've ever taken, but you still shakingly tried to let the air inside your lungs.

"That's it, now breathe out" he said, patting your arm with his hand. You breathed the air out, coughing in the end. It felt easier now. You started taking small, but effective enough breaths. Sage rushed to the two of you.

"Is she okay?!" She asked, ready to take action, kneeling before you, looking for any damage.

"I'll be fine." you said, quietly, as you took another breath. Sage let out a silent sigh.

You took a look at Harbor. His face was worried, but on the other hand, beautiful. Despite the fact that you almost drowned minutes ago, your eyes liked the way his body looked with clothes soaked, water dripping from his whole body. Especially his hair. God his hair.

You tried to stand up, weak, and shaking from the cold. The world started to spin around you, you felt dizzy, and still had this feeling that you were filled with the liquid. The moment you lost your balance, you felt Harbor's arms grabbing you around, catching you.

"Na-ah that won't work" He made eye contact with you. As you looked to your left, you saw the woman who pushed you from the bridge. She was tangled and unconsious.

"Don't worry about her, she won't do anything" Harbor ensured you, giving her an angry look. "Let's go back?" he added, letting you hold on to him. You nodded your head.

On your way back Harbor's main goal was to make sure that you are warm and comfortable. He kept asking you wether you still feel dizzy, how is your breathing, and does it hurt. You found a bit annoying, but on the other hand, cute, so you just let him do that. The way back wasn't too long, but for you it felt like ages. All you wanted now is to hide in your warm bed, dry and safe.

---

When you were back in the base, the first thing you did was take a long, warm shower. You came back to your room, and changed your clothes to the dry ones. Since you've started feeling a little bit under the weather, you wore a hoodie, warm leggings and your favorite fluffly socks. The moment you sat on your bed, you heard someone knocking, or actually hitting the door of your room.

"Come in!" you shouted, and the doors opened. You saw Harbor, holding two cups in his hands.

"Took your favorite blankie!" You noticed a blanked on his arm, as he walked in, closing the door with his leg. "You better drink something warm, little Raindrop" The way he said that made you give him a killer's look.

"... Call me little one more time and we'll start talking different" You defended yourself.

"But you like the Raindrop part, right?" he teased you. When he put the cups on your bed table, you stood up, with a little blush forming on your cheeks. "It's... It's fine" you said. Harbor took the the blanket off and wrapped it around you.

"Thank you" you murmured, catching eye contact with him. "And thank you for saving me then" you added, a bit troubled. "Actually I should be apoligizing to you, I promised you..." you didn't continue, you weren't sure how to hold this conversation.

Harbor knew you didn't feel good about this situation, which wasn't weird at all. He didn't say a word. Instead, he just slowly came closer to you, and wrapped his strong arms around you.

"It wasn't your fault." He softly answered. "What matters to me is that you're alive, okay?" It was hard for you to say anything more. At this moment, you felt important, you felt as someone worthy - which was still a rare, and luxury feeling you. You didn't have a lot of that in your life.

"Hey is everything okay?" Harbor broke your silence, leaning his head to see yours.

"Yeah... I'm sorry. I'm just not used to people actually caring about me" You hummed

What you said, hit him somehow. You could see it thorugh his troubled-like face expression.

"I do care about you" he then said, giving you a warm smile. "I made your favorite tea. I mean, I tried, not sure if that's yours top tea" he said, letting you go.

You grabbed the tea cup and sat on the edge of your bed, inviting him under the blanket, raising your arm. "Come on, you need to warm up too" Your friend took his tea and sat under the blanket. You took a sip of your tea.

"It actually is my favorite." A little smile appeared on your face again.

"I knew it!" He was so happy, it made you giggle inside. "By the way, you owe me" He continued

"No I don't" You argued

"Yes you do" You perfectly knew what he meant.

"Okay, okay, what do you want me to do?" You asked, taking another sip.

"Hmm... let's think... somethin' not easy" he teased you, having a little smirk.

"Oh come on!" you delicately hit him on his arm for fun.

"Awww don't tickle me" he teased you again, and you gave him an agressive yet cute look. You didn't even try to tickle him. He was just being adorably teasy.

"Alright! Alright, I don't want to be tickled to death. Let's say, you'll learn to swim." he said. You raised one of your eyebrows. "And how the hell I'm gonna to that" you asked, staring at him with confusion

"I'll teach you" Harbor smiled "In case you decide to drown again."

"Hey, that's not funny!" you snorted.

"I'm sorry" the man chuckled, and took a sip of the tea. "But I don't want you to go through something like that again"

He really... took you seriously - you thought. He really did care about you. He didn't want anything bad to happen to you. You felt weird warmth in your chest, not being able to say, what does it mean. The only thing you knew, was that you felt good, and no matter what the emotion was, you wanted to keep it.

When you finished your tea, you spent with Harbor whole minutes, talking your life stories, laughing, teasing eachother. You really liked being around him.

"Alright Y/n, you better get some rest" Harbor stood up, and took the empty tea cups.

"We're free tomorrow, right?" You underlined. "Why won't we spend a little bit more time?" Harbor looked at you. He couldn't say no to this asking face of yours.

"'Kay, just let me grab one more tea" He smiled, and left the room with the cups. You've decided to close your eyes, to give them a few minutes of rest while you were waiting for him. When Harbor came back into the room though, he found you already sleeping. He sighed, and came closer to wrap the blanket around you.

"You better sleep like that the wole night... you little." Luckily for him, this time you didn't hear him saying the word "little"

---

Note: If you have any ideas or requests, feel free to ask ❤️ I'm starving.

[heythere-mel]

Lovefool

Chapter 3: I Can't Care 'bout Anything But You

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

W/C: 1.6K+

A/N: SURPRISE! Ya girl is back with the next chapter in this little series. I haven’t updated in a year (holy shit I am SO SORRY.) but here we are with my fave lovebirds. Happy Halloween to all the homies out there and comments, likes, anything are welcomed. Enjoy bbys! 🎃🤍

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

——-

“I’m gonna marry her one day.”

That little black velvet box was taunting him.

You had just left for work when he decided to give the simple, yet elegant piece of jewelry another glance. He kept it hidden in a small lockbox he still had from when he was in the service, knowing you would probably never look there. Secretly, it’s where he stored anything of sentimental value in. From one of the first little love letters you’d given him, to a movie ticket from your first official date, even a couple of cheeky Polaroids you took for him as a birthday surprise a few months back.

You had been in a relationship for well over two years now. Having made the step of finally moving in together about six months prior, Frankie could honestly say it’s the happiest he’d ever been. He had the obvious approval of the guys, his family adored you, even the señoras at the floral shop he liked to frequent when he wanted to surprise you with a fresh bouquet would ask when he was going to finally pop the question. He knew it shouldn’t have come off as such a challenge, but like everything else he was, in typical Frankie fashion, overthinking it.

“How am I going to do this?” Frankie sighed, running his finger over the precious stone. His phone buzzing on the nightstand pulled him from his thoughts.

“Hello?”

“Hola feo! Hey, we’re at the store right now picking up pumpkins for tomorrow and found these cool stencils to use. Can I buy them or is that considered cheating? You know Ben could use as much help as possible.”

“I’m going to beat your girl in the contest this year Frank!” Benny screams in the background.

“Go ahead and get them. You know he’ll still find a way to fuck it up.”

“Fuck you Fish!”

He laughs at the other man’s competitive nature. You had won the Halloween carving contest two years running now. There wasn’t any big prize involved, but bragging rights and pick of the scary movie you all would be watching that night was incentive enough. (Benny thinks it’s because you’re Frankie’s girl that gives you the advantage. In actuality, he just sucks.) He stares back to the ring as Santiago goes on about the prices of Halloween candy when his eyes go wide.

“Pope! Change of plans! I need you guys to help me with something!”

——-

The next day Frankie is doing his best to keep cool. He’s kept himself busy by cleaning up the house, making sure the little ghost lights you found are strung up around the patio perfectly, even bringing out the couple of plastic tables you would be using and setting them up with assorted carving tools and paints.

Honestly, anything to keep from having to face you for too long, he was doing.

Frankie knew he had some time so he quietly went through his plan one last time. You, on the other hand, were busy picking out the perfect design for your pumpkin. You told him it’s not about winning, but thinking back to the little smirk on your face when you were announced as the winner again last year and Benny smashing his pumpkin in a humorous protest was enough to have you wanting that first place spot again.

“Babe! Where you at?”

“Outside hermosa!”

You step out to the back patio and gasp at the setup.

“Frankie! This looks so good!” you praise as you run up and give him a quick peck.

“You like it?! It was a bitch untangling those ghosts so it better look good.”

“Ugh, handsome and he knows how to string up lights? You’re gonna fuck around and get yourself wifed up Morales.” He stiffened momentarily by your choice of words before shaking his head and cracking a smile.

“Oh! Help me pick out a picture for my pumpkin!” you pull out your phone and enthusiastically start swiping through the selected photos. “Should I do the witch flying on a broom, or this werewolf howling at the moon?”

“Should you even be showing me your design? We are competing against each other too cariño.”

“Are we though?” your left eyebrow arching in question.

“Wow, that hurt.” his faux wounded expression making you giggle.

“Hmmmm, they’re both great options but do you think you can finish something that elaborate tonight babe? It’s timed too, remember.” He knew you could, but the longer he could distract you later, the better.

“Is that a challenge?!” narrowing your eyes at him and he throws his hands up in surrender.

“I mean, I know you got it in you, but Benny said he’s bringing his A-game tonight, and to watch your ass. I just don’t want you getting too caught up and you don’t finish.”

“Ohhhh, just you wait precioso! I’m not back to back champ for nothing!”

With that final say you run out to finish getting ready, leaving Frankie standing there with a huge grin plastered on his face.

Yeah, she’s the one.

——-

The sun had finally begun to set as you and the boys gathered in the backyard. While you were busy helping Will gather the pumpkins from the house to bring out, Santi and Benny found it to be the perfect opportunity to pull Frankie aside to see how he was doing.

“You ready hermano?” Santi whispered, grabbing him by his shoulders.

“You look like you might yak Fish.”

“Don’t listen to him, you look great! This flannel is nice. Going for the lumberjack look I see.”

“Cállate pendejo. She happens to like it.” Frankie retorts.

“We’re just giving you shit, you know that.”

“I know. I’m just a little nervous.” Frankie mutters as he looks over Pope’s shoulder to make sure you’re still in the house.

“No need. That girl in there loves you. So much so, it’s almost sickening how cute y’all are.”

“Yeah man! And feisty as hell, which is why I love messing with her.” Benny snickers to the group.

“Thanks guys. I owe you one.”

“No problem. Just remember, I call dibs on best man. Ben said he wants flower girl.” Santi throws his thumb back to Benny, nodding in confirmation.

“Deal.”

——-

“Okay, y’all know the rules. We’ve all got an hour to carve, paint, whatever you wanna do to your pumpkin and then we’ll vote. No peeking at other pumpkins until we’re all done. Benny, no smashing your pumpkin when you lose. Sweetheart, take it easy on us this year okay?”

“Can’t promise you anything boys. Good luck hermoso.” shooting a wink toward Frankie who’s seated at the opposite end of the table.

Frankie opts for painting his pumpkin this year. His design wouldn’t necessitate the full hour so he tries to drag it out as slowly as possible.

He grows more anxious by the minute. What if she says no? That’s always a possibility, right? The hour suddenly seems to be passing by too quickly for his liking when he decides to look over. You’re caught up cracking jokes with his brothers, your small pocketknife in your hand for hollowing out smaller sections of your design, and singing along to the Halloween playlist blaring from the speaker. He’s never felt more right about anything.

——-

Will looks to Frankie as the timer is about to go off on his phone. A quick nod and crooked smile signal he’s ready.

“Okay and time!”

The other guys both look up to Frankie with knowing grins on their faces. A small thumbs up from Santi thrown in for good measure.

“Wait! Just let me get this last piece!”

“This is why she wins because she’s still working after the time!”

“I told you it would be too much babe.”

“Hush Morales!”

“Alright, since I’m the oldest, I’m going first.”

Everyone’s attention is now on Will as he turns his pumpkin around. He usually puts up a good fight as well when it comes to this which is why you’re thrown off when you see his final product.

“Will. You carved your name into your pumpkin?”

You were clueless.

“It’s classic.” giving a small shrug. “Pope.”

Santi claps his hands together and quickly turns his pumpkin. A delicate You carved into it.

“You. Guys what’s going on?”

Frankie couldn’t help his shit eating grin as he sees the visible confusion on your face.

“That’s a nice looking you, Santiago.”

“Why thank you Benjamin. You’re up.”

Alright, your main competition. You hadn’t caught on to what the others were doing but if anyone would give you a run for your money, it was Benny.

“Get ready to have your mind blown sweetheart!” turning his pumpkin to display a brightly colored Marry sprawled across the front. Then it clicks.

“Marry. Fra…”

Before you could get his name out you gaze to your left to see your boyfriend turning his pumpkin. The word Me painted in your favorite color with a question mark and cutely drawn ring that glittered for effect.

Frankie’s heart was pounding as he steps from around his side of the table. Setting his pumpkin down gently beside yours, he pulls the box from his back pocket as he gets down on one knee. Your watery smile like a breath of fresh air telling him to go ahead.

“Hermosa, these last few years have been everything to me. You are everything to me. You know I’m not good with words…”

“You’re doing fine mi amor.” bringing one of your hands up running it over his cheek.

“…but would you, will you marry me?”

“Yes Francisco!” Those words instantaneous as he released a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He places the ring on your finger before you practically tackle him to the ground. The others whistling and cheering from the table behind you.

“You’re gonna wife me up, huh Morales?”

“I had to before I ended up the wifey.” Your boisterous laughter couldn’t be contained. Your smile shining the brightest he’d ever seen it. He couldn’t wait to continue making you do that for the rest of his life.

“Well, I say I won this years contest boys!” Benny exclaims.

“What are you talking about?! If anything Fish won!”

“Did you see how she was speechless at my pumpkin?!”

“Wait, what did you end up going with?” Frankie queries.

“The werewolf. It fit perfectly with An American Werewolf In Paris that I had picked to watch.”

Benny turned your pumpkin around to show the rest of the guys. An audible groan leaving his mouth when he sees the detail you were able to put in, even in such a small amount of time.

“I’m never gonna win this contest again.”

“Hey Ben, your pumpkin was amazing. And since I’m in such a fantastic mood, I relinquish my award to you.”

“OH HELL YES! WE’RE WATCHING MONSTERS INC!”

“Benny that’s a child’s film what the fuck?!” You hear him and Santi bicker as they rush inside to get the film queued up. Will hot on their heels to give you two a minute.

“You sure you wanna sit through that?”

“Let him have it,” leaning in closer to his ear.

“I get my real prize after they’re all gone.”

[doctorbrown]

DOCTOBER '23 ⸺ 「 11 / 31 * BRIEFCASE 」

November 8, 1955

23:45

❝Ugh, Doc, it's hopeless!❞ Marty exclaims, letting his forehead hit the table with a frustrated sigh. ❝There's no getting through to him; I don't know how I'm gonna convince him to ask mom out to the dance when he's more worried about that night's episode of Science Fiction Theatre!❞

Emmett sets down the papers in his hand to focus on his young, troubled friend, and as he opens his mouth, Marty's head shoots up and he snaps his fingers, suddenly struck with an idea.

❝Doc, wait, you're into the science fiction stuff!❞ Emmett arches a brow but nods, assuming this must have been something they shared in the future for him to know; it was too on-the-nose to be just a lucky guess. ❝What do people think aliens look like in this time?❞

❝Aliens?❞ Emmett hums. ❝Well, not unlike how you and I were dressed up on that video footage of yours. Spacesuits that occasionally resemble divers' suits, flying crafts with gull-wing doors, advanced ray guns that could vaporise men in an instant!❞ He holds his finger and thumb up in the shape of a gun and makes a vaguely futuristic noise as he pretends to fire that reminds Marty of the phasers on Star Trek.

Marty's expression instantly turns devious and Emmett can see the threads of a plan quickly tying together in a knot.

❝You know, when I got here, I crashed right into this old man's barn. His son kept yelling something about aliens and he came back with a gun and tried to shoot me❞—Emmett's eyes go wide—❝talking about mutating into human form—❞

❝Wait a second, kid; you're the space zombie farmer Peabody claimed destroyed his barn?❞

Marty blinks and Emmett hops out of his seat, rummaging around the mess of papers on the living room table until he finds the one he's looking for with a triumphant aha! ❝Two days ago, they took the farmer in for observation at the Hill Valley County Asylum. He was raving to officials about flying saucers and extraterrestrials coming to take over the planet; I'm guessing he saw you in that radiation suit climbing out of the time machine?❞

Marty's fingers curl tightly into the newspaper. ❝Shit, Doc, I didn't mean to get the guy locked up! I didn't even know his place would be there, let alone that I was going for a quick trip through time!❞

Emmett shakes his head, awkwardly placing a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. ❝He'll be fine, Marty. So long as he's not deemed a danger to himself or others, he'll likely be released within a few days. But there's no time to worry about that right now; you were saying something about a plan for your father?❞

He takes the paper back gently from Marty who doesn't fight him to hold onto it longer. Marty sighs, running a hand through his hair, and it's clear enough the boy is fighting through at least four different emotions all at the same time by the way his face changes.

❝Right, right. I think what my dad needs is a little otherworldly incentive and this'll do the trick. Something that'll really light a fire under his ass and get him to ask my mom to that dance. I'm talking close encounter of the third kind, world-ending paradox level here.❞

So Marty plans to terrify his father into asking his mother to that dance.

It's a simple plan, all things considered, and judging by what Emmett had seen of George McFly earlier, there was a chance that this was exactly the kind of thing that would strike fear into the young man's heart in a way that ensured he wouldn't weasel out of it when his nerves got the better of him.

❝You're about to ask me for a ride to your pop's place, aren't you?❞

Marty smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. ❝If that's okay? I've already got the suit and my Walkman, but, uh, Doc, you got anything that looks like a ray gun?❞

Emmett purses his lips in thought. In the lab, there was—no, that was incomplete and attached to a much larger project. What about—that would hardly make a convincing ray gun. ❝No, not offhand. If we had more time, I could build you something convincing enough to get the job done, however...❞

Marty nods. With his own mortal clock ticking down faster and faster by the second, there wasn't any time to spare; improvisation was the key to survival.

❝What about in your future belongings? On that video recording, I said something about a trip; I must have packed something if I was planning to be away for some time.❞

❝Yeah—yeah, you did! You tossed your suitcase into the DeLorean's trunk before I left!❞

Neither of them need to say anything before they're racing to the garage to look through whatever Emmett's future self had left them.

Marty leans over the opposite side of the DeLorean as Emmett sets the briefcase down on the car and pops it open. There's an abundance of clothes, Emmett notes, pulling out several articles of undergarments—all pure cotton; looks like by 1985, they still haven't found a cure for these damned allergies—several brightly coloured shirts of various patterns, and...a hairdryer?

❝What did you pack that for, Doc? Afraid they wouldn't have hairdryers in the future?❞

Emmett levels a cool look at the boy. ❝I didn't pack any of this. My future counterpart did. I can't speak to what he—I was thinking at that time.❞

❝Oh, right. Sorry.❞ Marty holds out a hand and Emmett passes the hairdryer over, watching as he turns the device over in his hands, inspecting it from every angle. ❝But this is perfect! Exactly the kind of weapon Darth Vader from Planet Vulcan would have.❞

What kind of name is that?

The hairdryer is pointed threateningly at him and Emmett plays along, throwing up his hands in the universal sign of surrender, to which Marty grins.

Putting on his best raspy extraterrestrial voice, Marty begins, ❝You have torn a rift in the space-time continuum! You must follow these instructions to the letter, otherwise I'll be forced to vaporise you with my heat ray!❞

Emmett arches a brow, figuring that the act will all come together once he's dressed up in that radiation suit of his and standing over a very sleep-addled George McFly. The late hour would only work in their favour. It was already past midnight.

❝I think we've got everything we need.❞ He lowers the 'weapon' and Emmett takes that as his cue to drop his hands back to his side. ❝If this doesn't scare him into asking her out, I don't know what will.❞

[borrowedtimeandspace]

The Title Drops

14. Instrument

From this list of gt prompts.

AU: Time After Time (Twelve AU)

Note: This was bound to happen... So have a late double-entry for it!

~~~

"You play, now?" Zepheera wondered aloud, curiously regarding the electric guitar the Doctor kept on a stand next to a boxy amplifier. She stood on a nearby side table to peer over the edge at its sleek black body and the long stringed neck that stretched well above her four-and-a-half inches.

"Now, why do you say that all surprised?" The Doctor pressed in a tone that sounded more offended than he appeared. Part of him was still riding on the high of the reunion of himself and his old friend. "I'm a time traveler! You think I would never have gotten around to spending some time with Rosetta Tharpe, Eric Clapton, Lita Ford, and KT Tunstall all in the same room–?"

Through barely repressed chuckles, Zepheera tossed up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, fair point." 

She wondered if all that time apart had made her build up some image of the Doctor in her head that made her feel that this was such an odd thing. It wasn't a secret that he'd met some of history's defining figures, and was bound to pick up a thing or two from the musicians. It just felt like…such a human thing to do.

Suddenly it seemed very much up the Doctor's alley.

"Play me something." Zepheera sat herself down on the edge of a book that stuck out of the bottom of a stack, eagerly waiting for him to go along with her request.

At first, the Doctor seemed happy to do so. He reached down toward his instrument, but his hand paused before it could grab hold of the neck. A thoughtful half smile tugged at his lip as he straightened and reached into the pocket of his jacket.

"Tell ya what," he said, glancing mischievously at Zepheera. "I'll play, if you…sing."

Zepheera's hopeful grin dropped away immediately. "O-oh, ah. I mean. Well, what'd be the point in that? You wouldn't even hear me over–,"

"I've got plenty of acoustic settings here," the Doctor interrupted, whipping out his sonic screwdriver. He even gave it a toss for emphasis. "A simple boost should amplify your voice to be just as loud as mine."

A bright pink flush bloomed across Zepheera's cheekbones. "I… it's been so long, I don't…"

"Oh, well alright, then. If you're too chicken to do it then we can just forget–,"

The exasperated "Ha!" that burst from Zepheera surprised even herself, but it couldn't be helped. The Doctor barely refrained from grinning right there. Gotcha.

"The absolute cheek on– alright, old man, you're on!" Zepheera pushed back up to her feet with a grin of her own, energized by the challenge.

After a brief warble from the sonic, the Doctor set it down to lean against the stack of books behind Zepheera. The way he pointed at the very tip indicated to the borrower that she'd have to sing near there, like a microphone. Bemused, she began climbing as the Doctor took up his axe and tossed the strap over his head.

He contemplated briefly about what to play, but once the idea crossed his mind, he could think of nothing else.

"You remember the nineteen-eighties?" he inquired as he changed the settings on his amplifier, adjusting volume and balance and removing the distortion he usually kept on at all times for dramatic effect.

Zepheera shot him a flat but amused look as she pulled herself up to the top of the stack. "Well, I've lived through them four times, so… I should hope so."

The Doctor's brow waggled in acknowledgement, and he snagged a pick from a small pile on the amp. He let each string ring out to be sure it was in tune and that he was happy with the sound quality. Then he began to pluck out a quiet chord progression, his palm muting the strings for the moment. "Cyndi Lauper?"

Despite considering herself to be not overly attached to human culture, Zepheera found that she did recognize the song he'd apparently chosen for them both. She gave him a nod and waited her turn, the nerves welling up again now that righteous indignation had faded. The song was a worldwide hit, and she could bet it became an earworm for her more than once through her multiple runs through the '80s.

She just hoped it was enough to keep up.

"Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you," she began, hesitation evident in her voice at first. It was lucky that the melody for this particular song wasn't complicated, and she could focus more on remembering the words. The Doctor's part was also simple for the moment, as he essentially played open chords until they changed.

Zepheera's memory was jogging fast, causing the words to come more easily without nearly as much thought as she expected. 

"Caught up in circles,

Confusion is nothing new."

"Sometimes you picture me," the Doctor cut in in the lower octave, startling Zepheera in the middle of her contemplation. "I'm walking too far ahead."

"Flashback, warm nights

Almost left behind

Suitcase of memories

Time after–"

Zepheera watched him, stunned into letting him take over the verse, whether that was his intention or not. She had just been wondering about the lyrics and coming to the realization that they felt quite true to her. Listening to the Doctor continue with the second verse made it clear that he, too, related to them.

He went on, undeterred:

"I fall behind," Zepheera joined in. The Doctor had spent his verse locking eyes with her, without a hint of expectation that she continue, but not shutting her out either. A sparkle emerged from his eye, and the Doctor couldn't contain a grin any longer. "The second hand unwinds," they sang in unison.

"You're calling to me

I can't hear what you've said

Then you say, 'go slow'..."

Gone were Zepheera's nerves as she remembered just how silly she was allowed to be with a friend like the Doctor. By the time the chorus hit, her voice resonated comfortably and projected nearly to the point where she didn't need the sonic to be heard. The Doctor continued right alongside her, happily taking the lower harmony as he watched his old friend shine.

"If you're lost, you can look

And you will find me

Time after time."

The more they sang and played, the more confident Zepheera felt. Not just in that moment, in her own voice, but in the new relationship she'd formed with the Doctor. It was almost like she'd never left, and yet they'd both changed so much. 

Though it might not have been either of their intentions at the start, the song began to feel less like a mutual gimmick and more like a promise. One they made to each other as they sang the choruses together.

"If you fall I will catch you,

I will be waiting

Time after time

Time after time…"

[overanalyst556]

A Review of Eastern Bloc Cars.

Eastern Bloc cars. Automobiles that came from nations dominated by the Iron Curtain and the Soviet Union. Even though I hate communism and socialism with a burning passion, You cannot deny how iconic the Eastern Bloc cars are.

Today when most people think of an Eastern Bloc car, they think of a car like a Trabant: Broken unreliable, and just not a good ride all around. This sucks because in my eyes the Eastern Bloc cars are severely underrated.

So I took it upon myself to research the most iconic eastern bloc cars and to review and rate them from best to worse.

Apologies if you guys were expecting another history review, I swear this is not becoming a car blog, I swear! Plus it's nice to talk about something for a change that doesn't involve war.

Think of this like a review of cars, except they're from Eastern Europe. An area of Europe that had cars inferior to their Western counterparts.

Fun fact, I originally started this yesterday but got deleted because I had to restart it due to a bug. So I'm starting from scratch.

Anyway without further ado, Let's dive into the weird world of Eastern Bloc cars.

Trabant 601

The Trabant was an absolute joke of a car. It's infamous for the fact that it symbolizes to fall of Communism and the downfall of the Berlin Wall. Even so, is the Trabant really as bad as people say it is? Yes.

Design-wise, I'm going to be honest, I might be the only person that actually likes the design and considers this the best part of the car. It's so simple and basic as hell, that you can't help but find it iconic and lovable.

Despite my loving the design of the Trabi, That's really all the positives I have with this car. So where do I even start? Well, I believe we should start with what it's made of because good lord.

The Trabant body is made out of Duroplast, A resin plastic. But the ingredients for Duroplast are basically recycled waste, more specifically cotton waste, and phenol (A type of acid) resins.

Yeah, when you look at that, it's probably not the best when it comes to that. It's also cramped inside due to the interior, and really loud as well. But the worst offense of the Trabant by far is the engine.

The Trabant's engine was a two-stroke engine manufactured by the defunct German car company DKW. While it was modern at the time, Eventually two-stroke engines began to be phased out by more reliable four-stroke engines, But the Trabant didn't do that.

Instead, they kept the same engine long after it was phased out. The reason for this is that the two-stroke engines, due to the nature of the design, burn fuel very fast. As a result, there was smoke and gas fumes coming out of the car.

So not only do we have a car made out of waste, it emits smoke fuels too. That's just fucking great, isn't it? There were attempts to replace the engine with a more modern one, but because East Germany didn't have the funds to build a new engine, it remained like that.

Yes, the East German government, which had ways of trying to fix the engine, decided to leave the obsolete and broken engine for at least until 1990 instead of improving it. Great job guys.

And it gets crazier. As if the bad quality of the car wasn't horrible enough, the wait time you do to even get one is even worse. People are put on a waiting list most of the time to receive their car.

In a standard that is actually the same theme with most Eastern Bloc cars, The waiting time to get a Trabant was about 10 to 13 years. Yes, you had to wait 10 to 13 years to even get a car that barely works. Communism at its finest.

The speed is also the slowest by a whopping 100km/h(62mph), embarrassing (Though then again this was the same standard for the other cars too)

Overall, The Trabant is pretty much considered the worst car ever made by many people and while not the worst for me, I definitely see why it's hated. The design may be iconic, But it's not enough to save a car that is broken, slow, loud, and emits smoke faster than a barbecue.

Yet this was the most common car in former East Germany, with a number of 2,818,547 produced from 1964 to 1990. Even though people had to wait a long time before they can get one.

Bottom of the list so far, Let's move on.

Skoda Octavia

The Skoda Octavia is the first Czechoslovakian (Czech Republic) car on the list. Produced from 1959 To 1971 with a number of 229,531 units, This was one of the big hits for Czechoslovakia, during the 1960s

While the Information on this car is short, I was able to gain some info on this.

Designwise, It looks great. Compared to the Trabant, the design is less simplistic and more iconic of the era. The wagon style certainly helps as well to make it more distinct.

The features are an improvement. It has redesigned front axles with a coil spring and shock absorbers that were designed to absorb shock impulses. The engine too, is an improvement with a straight four engine instead of a two-stroke engine.

As well as the speed, which it has a speed of 110 to 115 km/h(68 to 71mph) While not by much, It's an improvement over the sluggish Trabant.

Fun fact, the car name was brought back in 1996 for a new model, which is oddly still being used today.

Overall, this car is an improvement over the Trabant, Design, and Technical. Then again I expect a lot from Czech cars so. Top of the list baby, Let's move on.

Skoda 110r

Huh, would you look at that? Another Skoda! In all honestly, it's kind of an upgrade of the Octavia, despite coming from a different series . Produced from 1970 to 1980 with a total of 56,902 cars made, This was the Porche of the East which is saying something.

Design-wise, It has the most unique front I've seen in an Eastern Bloc car, with a look of a sports car honestly even though it was from a similar model. Ironic, considering it was used for motorsport. Still though, Nice design.

Technical features didn't change much with the exception of only two doors and a fastback rear which Gives its distinctive look.

Engine and Speed are pretty much the same as the Octavia, With a total of 145km/h(90mph) and the engine being a straight four engine.

Overall, however, This is like the Octavia, but actually modern at least by 70s standards. The design is an improvement, and the technical details are more modern at least, But the engine and speed are still the same as the Octavia. Still though, Not a bad car.

Top of the list, but only barely. Let's see if can we get a car that beats this.

Moskovitch 408

Our first car from the Soviet Union ( Russia), The Moskovitch 408 was a revolution for the Moskovitch car brand. Produced from 1964 to 1975 with numbers in the thousands, This small family car was the second best-selling Moskovtich car of the 1970s.

Design-wise, It's something. For a car that came out in 1964, A time when most Soviet cars looked like a Trabant on stilts, This is a big upgrade. It has a squared-off body with a flat roof panel and sharp tailfins.

Technical-wise, It had many modern features for its era, with Drum brakes ( Power brakes from 1969 onward.) As well as a better engine with an overhead value engine giving it 50 hp ( Horsepower).

Also, and let me say this, The 408 is the First Soviet car to actually have safety features. This is funny cause Soviet cars rarely had that many safety features beforehand and generally would lead to accidents like this.

Safety features include crumple zones, a safer steering column, a softer grip, and finally fucking seatbelts that they didn't think to introduce earlier.

The speed is about 130km/h( 80 mph). Not as fast as the Czech Skoda 110r but still decent than the Trabant and even outpaces the Octavia.

This car was exported to the eastern bloc nations as well as Finland of all places

Overall, the Moskovitch 408 is a decent car. Design-wise it's better than Moskovitch's other works previously. And the technical stuff is a bonus, Plus we finally have safety features. Thank the lord for that.

Higher than the Trabant and Octavia, but putting it behind the 110r. Still, though not bad for our first Soviet car.

Wartburg 353

Ah yes, we return to East Germany. As if shitting out Trabants wasn't enough, we have the Wartburg 353. In all honesty, This might be the best car East Germany has, and that's a bold statement.

Produced from 1966 to 1988 in a total of 1 million, the Wartburg was a modern car for its time. It might just be one of the best cars of the Eastern Bloc, In terms of design and technicality. And I mean that.

Design-wise, It's a step up from the Trabant. While it's simple, It's actually durable and has a strong chassis car frame to back it up. It's dependable and easy to care for. Obviously, it's no Western car, but it's a massive step up in terms of design quality.

Technical aspects include Front rear drive, which significantly improved the steering, a trunk, and by 1983, Innovative electric gauges.

The engine is the biggest flaw, however, with the same two-stroke engine as the Trabant. I think you know where that leads, although to be fair, It was less severe than the Trabant (though it was still an issue)

But it's the speed that stands out among all others. What's that? Keep your mic up your ass Johnston, we're coming in hot for a fucking 170km/h (105mph)

Easily the fastest car on the List. I don't think anything can top that. I will be hard-pressed into finding a car that triumphs this.

The Wartburg was massively popular in the Eastern Bloc but it took about 10 to 15 years for people to actually get one because of communism and insane wait times.

Overall, This car is the best so far. it's an all-rounder, Plain and simple. The design is great, the technical stuff is decent and the speed is insane. The only flaws of this car are the engine, the wait time, and the fact It was used as a car for the secret police so I deduct some points.

Yes, it was used for that. It will be common as time goes on. Other than that though, this car is great. Top of the list with ease.

Fso Polonez

Our first-ever car on this list from Poland, the Fso Polonez is probably one of the most famous and most produced cars from Poland. If you live in Poland, Then you might have heard of this car.

It was produced from 1978 to 2002 with a total of 1 million units, not including the truck and pickup versions. This is the first true modern car of the Eastern Bloc on this list ( and the only one).

Design-wise, we have our first hatchback-shaped car, a design that you may have seen before when getting a car. This design works cause it's modern for 1980s Poland, A time when they still had cars dating back to the 60s or just got a Fiat.

Technical features were based on its predecessor Fiat licensed model, the Polski Fiat 125p. It had a modernized engine as well as the chassis, all came from the Polski Fiat.

The biggest advantage of the car, however, was the safety. This might be the safest car in the Eastern Bloc. It's weird, I know. Considering this is the eastern bloc we are talking about. The car was the only Eastern Bloc car to pass the Us safety tests.

The speed of this bad boy is 175km/h (109mph) So like the Wartburg but a little faster. Impressive from Poland.

So remember when I said that It would be hard to find a car that beats the Wartburg 353? I kinda lied, because we found a winner right here. Sorry.

Overall, the Fso Polonez is a near-perfect design for Eastern Bloc cars. Great design, Nice technical issues, Incredible safety, And Sick speed. I think we may just have found the winner here.

Top of the list with ease, Surpasses the Wartburg. This might be the final time I change the top spot.

Vaz 2101

Ahh yes, here comes the first of three Lada cars on this list. Starting with the first-ever Lada. The Vaz 2101, commonly nicknamed Kopyeka( Which is a name for the smallest Soviet coin in the Soviet currency.), was produced between 1970 and 1988 with a total of millions of these cars were made.

I think I posted this a while back, I don't know when, but I didn't describe it.

Design-wise, I love it. Even though it's basically a licensed Fiat 124, this has become iconic for me. The simplistic design is perfect for Russian steppes. The front is enjoyable, and in general, I like the front wheel, rear-engine design a lot for cars and this is no different.

Technical features are where the car is different from the Fiat by giving it 800 modifications in order to be tailor-made for the Russian climate, such as suspension, rear brakes, carburetor, and thicker gauge(sheet metal) steel, Making it more comfortable in a ride.

The engine is mostly a decent engine in that It uses a petrol engine, which by itself, reduces the problem of fuel burning fast. As well as possessing a crank to start should the battery fall flat in Siberian winter.

The speed of the Lada is 140km/h (87mph). So fast speed also counts as well. Pretty much the biggest influence the Lada has is its influence on Russian motoring. The Lada pretty much changed the face of the Russian automobile industry as it slowly tried to modernize. So Russians better thank they had the Lada in some sense.

Overall, The Vaz 2101( Or Lada)is possibly one of the best Soviet cars ever made. The design is great, the technical stuff is a boost up for an already licensed car from Fiat and the speed is top-notch. The only flaws are the wait time and the fact that it was a licensed car and not something originally.

I Would put it in front of the Skoda 110r but behind the Wartburg 353. Still, Third place is not bad.

Yugo

This car sucks fucking dick man, there's no doubt about it. I think It might just be the worst of the cars on this list, and it's something after I smashed the Trabant.

Produced from 1980 to 2008 in Yugoslavia, This trash dumpster was produced with a total of 794,428 Yugos by the end of production. This is the antithesis of a good car and the automobile industry as a whole.

I don't even like the design of the car, It looks so weird and a little ugly. You know you screwed up a car when the design is so similar and weird as fuck. That is impressive. I have a gif to describe this car.

And when I mean quality, there is almost none at all. I think one person gave a review about his experience on the Yugo and he brings up some pretty good points. Let me show you.

rob5740: I owned a 1985 1/2, year model, you read that correctly. It was only built to last a year, but most things gave out right away. No tinted glass, no glove box. Gas cap would not come off, even full-service stations could not remove it to provide me gas. The door release and window cranks were cheap plastic, I noticed them with cracks during the test drive, they snapped off and I had to roll the window down with the remaining piece and open the doors from the outside! It struggled with more than two passengers, flooring it on an even surface, and no power. Replaced the radio 3 times, and three clutches on a car that I was done with at 25,000 miles. Knobs fell off the radio, old sliding channel finder stuck, foam around the air vent and heater chipped out, would not go into gears and also not come out of gear, On highway driving the stick shift would almost melt into place and a huge yank with huge force was all that would bring it from fourth gear to first to stopping. Cover to stick shift came off in my hand once, one time the engine disengaged from the motor so the key made no difference I could not turn it off so we abandoned it and let it run out of fuel on the side of the road. You never knew if the ignition would work, sometimes it was dead and also had to be replaced. Door hinges that were designed to make the doors feel heavier broke off, paint on the exterior ground trim rubbed off, light bulbs were burning out everywhere, rear single strut failed to hold the hatch up new. Other things wrong....signal indicator would speed up then super slow down, hood release came completely out in your hand detached but somehow if you stuck it back in it worked! numerous wheel alignments but the wheel always veered off, and could not handle gravel or dirt roads you'd be shaken to death, seats were stiff and uncomfortable, lacked power in wind, and wind would sway the car out of lanes if you didn't fight against it. Covers to pedals were not glued so you could just peal them off, cardboard interior walls had bent areas and were fading new, no cup holders, would roll backward on hills, and you were never sure of anything, what would break or not work next, it did not want to be a car, even children's toys are made safer and better to last, I found it hard to believe humans had made anything so cheap, what is the point of making things that never work, to begin with? Water would come in the driver's side window in the rain, and going over bumps you would hear almost a strain on the frame, tiny and cramped. Brakes were good, wipers were good, cute attention-getting, but none of that matters when nearly everything else was cheap and defective, literally a paperclip held the plastic together in the door releases. Battery was a relic, needed water in its cells.

You see what I mean. I don't even need to mention the speed in the fact that despite it being 86 mph ( 138km/h), It was the slowest car in the United States. How is this car progressively worse than Nidai's shits?

Okay, Not everything about the Yugo is bad, The brakes are good, the speed is surprisingly good and if you take care it, it might be okay, but in honesty, The Yugo is without a doubt one of if not the worst cars ever made.

Aside from the positives, I'm not gonna even warrant this a full review, because the flaws are there in plain sight. Easilly bottom of the list, yes it's worst than the Trabant of all cars.

God lord, What do we have next.

Dacia 1300

The First and only Romanian car on this list, The Dacia 1300 isn't perfect, But compared to our last entry, It's better. Produced from 1969 to 2003 with a total of 1,959,730, This was one of the most common cars in Romania at the time.

Design-wise, It's decent. It looks sleek, Like a Mercedes. Despite the fact the design was based on a Renault, It was modern when it first came out, compared to most Eastern Bloc cars at the time.

Technical-wise, it has Some issues. While the performance and engine were up to date, the main issue was the body panel corrosion, as well as the fact that there was no air conditioning, anti-lock brakes, or even a fucking airbag. Think about that for a second.

The speed was basically 145 km/h(90mph). A fast speed, Not the fastest, but fast enough.

Overall, the Dacia 1300 is a decent car, With some issues. Also, it's a secret police car as well, so automatic deduction of points.

I'm putting It behind the Skoda 110r but above the Moskovitch 408.

Tatra 603

Okay, so I said in a post that this is the weirdest car ever made. I still stand by that fact, However, I like it A lot. Produced by Czech car maker Tatra from 1956 to 1975 with a total of 20,000 cars, The 603 is one of the most forgotten cars when people think of Eastern bloc cars.

Designwise, Like I said earlier, It's weird. But it's the fun kind of weird and not the bad weird. The frontal area looks like it came from the Twilight Zone. The car body is sleek and smooth, It radiates luxury in its entirety. Just look at it and you will see why.

Technical stuff, It had suspension, Shock absorbers, Coil springs, and a synchronized gearbox that gave it four speeds. That's pretty much what I found.

The engine is actually reliable, due to the V8 air engine being air cooled so that gives it some better quality.

The Speed was also fast for a car like that, at a rumored 170km/h(106mph). Surprisingly it was a luxury car reserved only for Communist party officials. Ordinary people couldn't get this car.

Overall, the 603 is a Sick ride if I have seen one, The design is the main highlight, but the features are not terrible and the speed is fast. I'm putting ahead of the Wartburg 353 but behind the Fso Polonez.

I'm feeling like I'm losing some quality with this review, so tell me If the quality has changed.

Gaz 13 Chaika

I know what You guys are thinking, No this is not an American 50s car, This is a Soviet-made limo. Produced from 1959 to 1981 in a total of 3,179 cars produced, This was the Main limo for the Soviet leadership, even though It looks like an American car, and the Soviets hated the Americans. Ironic hypocrisy.

Design-wise, It's an American-styled car simple as that. Given that it was styled for Communist officials, I can see why they did this, but it's coming off as copying someone's work. I think it feels good inside.

Technical details are independent suspension with spring coils

The engine is basically the same as in the Tatra 603, the V8 so nothing has really changed much there.

The speed is 159km/h ( 99mph), Which is surprisingly fast for a limo. This thing was used by the Communist officials of Soviet Russia as well as East Germany and Hungary for example. The limo was also used and rented for weddings.

Overall, Not a bad car. Given the design resembles American cars in the 50s and since the car industry was at its peak there, It looks a little bit better than most, but not by much.

I would put it above the Vaz 2101 but bellow the Wartburg 353.

Lada Niva

Possibly the first Suv of Soviet Russia, The Lada Niva is the longest-running off-road light vehicle still produced in its original form. Produced from 1977 to the present day in a total of 650,000, Possibly more, the Niva is an icon of a Suv.

Design-wise, It looks great. It looks like a compact SUV in general, Considering that this is the Soviet Union we are talking about here, the fact they even made this SUV at all is something.

Technically, It definitely has modern stuff for its age. Independent suspension, coil springs, rear seatbelts, Right external mirror, an anti-locking service mirror, The list goes on and on.

The Engine is powered by a petrol engine, which proved to be effective when traversing the high terrain of the Soviet Union and later Russia.

The speed is okay, A mild 130km/h (81mph) Never really hurt anyone. Also, the safety is horrendous, during tests in the 2000s, the car's survivability was so bad that if a crash happened, the person could suffer traumatic brain incidents.

Overall, the Lada Nia is a cool SUV that is incredibly useful when traversing difficult roads, and has a lot of features, But needs to improve safety.

Behind the Chaika, but above the Vaz 2101.

Lada Riva

The Lada Riva is the last of the Lada series of cars that are on this list. Out of all of them, this is basically a modernized Vaz 2101 and one of my favorite eastern bloc cars. Produced from 1980 to 2012 with a total of 3,000,000 units, the Lada Riva was the successor to the old generation of Ladas.

Design-wise, Like I said it's a modern Vaz 2101, the front does look a little more streamlined than the original, like it's a Mercedes, and the hull and car, in general, are noticeably bigger than the Vaz 2101, But it's still a Vaz 2101. through and through.

The technical stuff is basically drum brakes with brake shoes on them, Coil springs, and manual transmissions.

The engine turned out to be a straight four petro engine, Which definitely helped it survive until 2012.

The speed of the Lada Riva was however insane about 180km/h(112mph), Making it the fastest car in the Soviet Union and the eastern bloc.

This probably beats the Fso Polonez in terms of well, everything. The design, while a redesign of an older car, still looks good, The engine is great, the technicals are decent, And the speed is madness.

I said I would not change this, but come on, I have to, The Riva takes the top spot from the Polonez. It's without a doubt the best of the Eastern Bloc.

Overall, really decent car to have.

Gaz 24 Volga

Last but not least we have the Gaz 24 Volga from the Soviet Union. Produced from 1970 to 1985 and then produced as the Gaz 24 10 during the Gorbachev Years from 1985 to 1992, with a total of 1 and a half million, this car struck fear into people. If you lived in Russia during the 1970s, You would fear the Volga.

Designwise, It looks modern compared to its predecessor. The front looks like something you would see in a horror film, The body is progressively bulkier than before, And the back has a trunk in the back.

Technical-wise, it's more modern than the Gaz 21 with it having a rear bumper, flat ashtrays in rear doors, and a modern radio. More modern upgrades include the use of seatbelts instead of central armrests, Windshield wipers, and many more.

The engine of the car flip-flops between a straight four engine at one time or a v8 engine at the other. All I know is that these two engines were used throughout this car's lifetime.

The speed of the car is 145km/h(90 mph), slightly faster than the Lada. this was also used as a taxi car, pretty much being the only taxi car in the Ussr. In fact, nobody privately owned these except for the higher-ups

Overall the Gaz 24 is a solid car, With a modern design, technical improvements, and nice speed. I will have to deduct points for its police car status.

I will put it ahead of the Vaz 2101 but behind the Lada Niva.

Conclusion

Well, this was a long time for me to make. I never expected to make it this long, I had more to put in here but after seeing the amount of time I took and how much I put in, I started to reduce it. Maybe I will do part 2 of this, But I don't know if I could.

In the end, though, it was fun to talk about the Eastern Bloc cars and see if they are better, which are ehhh.

So before I Sign off, Let me give you the final results of the list as well as some honorable mentions.

1st: Lada Riva

2nd: Fso Polonez

3rd: Tatra 603

4th: Wartburg 353

5th: Gaz 13 Chaika

6th: Lada Niva

7th: Gaz 24 volga

8th: Vaz 2101 (Lada)

9th Skoda 110r

10th: Dacia 1300

11th: Moskovich 408

12th: Skoda Octavia

13th: Trabant 601

14th: Yugo

Honorable mentions

Zaporthzets series.

Gaz 21 Volga

Fso Syrena

Wartburg 311

Skoda 100

Barkas B 1000

Zil 114

Skoda 1203

This has been Sam and I hope you all enjoyed it. This might be the only car review I will ever make, But it was nice to do something different for once. Have a good rest of your day! :)

[splatsvilles-fashionista]

The Trouble with Tenta Missiles

So it has been some time since I wrote something more competitive-minded for this blog, but this is something I’ve seen some people be a bit confused by, so I wanted to discuss it. Let’s talk about Tenta Missiles!

If you’re a more casual Splatoon fan, or are a former Ranked player who hasn’t kept up with the meta for some time, you might be confused by the uproar that the return of Tenta Missiles caused upon being revealed. And you’re not wrong to do so, Tenta Missiles was considered a very mediocre Special for most of Splatoon 2′s lifespan, some would even argue it was the single worst Special, at least until Splashdown took that title after changes to the way it was affected by latency made it significantly easier to shoot down. Over time, however, Tenta Missiles got a lot of small but very significant buffs that rocketed it to the top of the meta, becoming the most popular Special by a huge margin.

“but so what?” You might say. “Sure, they’re annoying to deal with, but they’re almost never a real threat. People never die to Missiles, they’re too easy to avoid.”

And that’s true, but the ability to kill isn’t all there is to a Special. Let’s break down all the aspects of Tenta Missiles that make them so potent, and frustrating, at a competitive level.

But first, if you’d rather watch a video than read a post about this, here is one about Tenta Missiles by competitive player ProChara, and check out his other videos while you’re at it! He does a lot of good work!

That said, let’s get into all the strengths of Tenta Missiles, and why they end up causing problems as a result.

- They have global range: Tenta Missiles can target you from anywhere on the stage, and can be used from anywhere on the stage as well, meaning the person using it can impact a match regardless of their position. Tenta Missiles isn’t alone in this, of course, it’s also true for Ink Armor and Stingray, but both of those have also been considered problematic at various points Splatoon 2′s life cycle, so make out of that what you will.

- They are very spammable: Most Weapons that have Tenta Missiles are pretty good painters, with a couple of exceptions like Grim Range Blaster, and they generally have pretty low points required to use it, usually 170-180p. As a result, most Missile weapons will get their Special fast and often. Additionally, unlike just about every single other Special in the game, you don’t actually need to wait for the Missiles to land before you can starting building Special points again, but as soon as you’ve fired all of them and get your weapon back. This basically makes their charge time even shorter than it actually is.

- They are very disruptive: Remember how I said that Tenta Missiles rarely getting kills didn’t matter? Well, that’s because even if it will rarely kill the opponent, Tenta Missiles will always force your opponent to move. Backline weapons like Chargers and Splatlings need to give up important perches and overlooks, people standing on the Splat Zone need to back away, and people on the Tower need to jump off it. These are just a few of the many situations that Tenta Missiles force its targets into, and unlike something like Inkjet or Booyah Bomb, there is nothing they can do to fight back against it. Splatoon is heavily objective-focused, and being unable to control the objective is how you lose. Tenta Missiles forces you, even if for just a moment, to stop defending the objective, and that can be just as important as actually getting splats, if not even more so.

- They require no aiming: Tenta Missiles is good at displacing opponents, sure, but so are Booyah Bomb and Inkjet, and the latter splats instantly as well, so what’s the difference? Well, it’s the simple fact that you actually need to hit your Inkjet shots to splat someone, and that’s not always easy. And the same goes for most other Specials, save Ink Armor. Tenta Missiles, on the other hand, lock onto a target as long as they’re in your targeting reticle, and once you fire, they are going to be hit unless they move, no ifs or buts.

- They instantly give you the locations of the entire enemy team: On the subject of the targeting reticle, one upside of Tenta Missiles that is much more apparent in organized play is that using it gives you a ton of information on the positions of the enemy team. With a single click of a button, you can tell if someone is trying to sneak around the side of the stage for a flank, you can tell where the other team’s backline weapon is trying to set up, and you can tell what route the person who just respawned is taking back to the fight. Sure, it’s not as exact as the Echolocator, but for a team that communicates over voice the information is just as valuable.

So why does all of this matter? What problems does all of this cause?

When your opponent uses a Special, there is usually something you can do about it. The Inkjet can be shot down, an Ultra Stamp can be flanked. You might not be able to fight the Inkstorm directly, but you can at the choose to risk damage to fight back by going through the storm, so you have options on how to deal with it. Tenta Missiles, on the other hand, offers no such counterplay. When the Missiles are used you are instantly targeted, from anywhere on the map, through cover, and you have no choice but to move or die.

Tenta Missiles also disproportionately affects some weapons more than others, and this has had a massive negative effect on the diversity of the competitive meta. Weapons that need to commit a lot of time to their attacks like Chargers and Splatlings, or have a tough time making an easy escape path like Ranged Blaster and Dynamo Roller, have an incredibly hard time with the constant barrage of Tenta Missiles the meta confronts them with. Hydra Splating, as an another example, is absolutely hamstrung by Missiles, as it needs to instantly throw away 2.5 seconds and 35% of the ink tank if it was fully charged at the time.

As a result, the competitive meta ends up favoring fast, mobile and well-rounded weapons that can react and move without needing to commit much to any one action, and this has resulted in Shooters absolutely dominating high-level play. Teams consisting of nothing but four shooters are extremely common, usually some mix of Kensa .52 Gal, Kensa Splattershot, Jet Squelcher, Splattershot Jr., N-Zap 85 and Foil Squeezer. Some other weapon classes occasionally rear their heads, it’s not too uncommon to see something like Nautilus, Dualie Squelchers and Tri-Slosher, but by and large those six Shooters are what you’ll see. This is a far cry from Splatoon 2′s competitive past, where almost every Main Weapon saw use at some point, and a while some of the blame lies on direct nerfs to previous meta choices, Tenta Missiles being used on average 15-20 times total each match absolutely has something to do with it as well.

But the most insidious issue with Tenta Missiles is that way they work encourages a passive, uninteractive playstyle. If you can impact the fight from anywhere with your Special, why even put yourself at risk by being part of it to begin with? It is simply better to stay back and focus on paint, throwing bombs and farming for Specials, than to engage the other team directly. Jet Squelcher has risen to become one of the most popular weapons in competitive play for this very reason, even though it isn’t a fantastic weapon for painting it can stay so far away from the fight and paint at such a long distance that it regularly gets 10+ Specials used anyway. A meta with low diversity can still be fun as long as what is being is enjoyable to play, but not even competitive players enjoy the Tenta Missiles meta. It’s slow and safe and passive, and that’s not fun for anyone.

Tenta Missiles is not the first Special to cause a lot of problems in the Splatoon games. The first game had its invincibility Specials with Bubbler and Kraken, and Splatoon 2 also dealt with the terrors of Ink Armor and Stingray, as well. The one thing all of these have in common, however is that they have had very little counterplay, or even none at all. Splatoon matches are, by shooter standards, fairly short, intimate affairs that thrive on a constant flow of interaction with the other team. Even if you’re not actively fighting an opponent you are still interacting with them by covering the ground in your ink, a constant tug of war as each team takes and loses territory to the other. Splatoon is at its very best when it, at every level of design, engenders this interactivity. And this is why, in a lineup of what otherwise feels like very thoughtfully and deliberately chosen Specials to bring back from Splatoon 2, Tenta Missiles sticks out like a sore thumb.