#what’s hard to understand 😭😭💔💔💔

[zepskies]

Legit I almost called this mini series "Boiling Point" lmaooo. This chapter comes in hot, doesn't it? 🥲 That's the question for real: Drama or Trauma™️

But thanks for being on board with the angsty ride, my friend!! I'm so excited to see what you thought of this chapter! 🥰💚💚

God, the opening scene still takes me out! The rain of bullets, her fear but fighter spirit at the same time, and then the call to Reenie and Russell! But man, I feel so much for Russell in that situation. Worst possible nightmare coming to life and he's far away and can't protect his girl 😭💔

She's doing her best, and surely Charlie and Russell taught her some things, but the truth is she's not trained for this shit. 😭 Reenie playing the middleman here, but it was hard even for me to write Russell's side of that phone call. At this point, this really is one of his worst fears come to life 💔💔

I especially hate you for putting me through this. My heart shattered for him during that moment 🥺

It's that terrible thing of "knowing but not knowing" what's happening, right? 😥

Colter has no sense of awareness, does he? 😂 Like dude, the man is going through it. Read the room. (But reminded me a lot of the Sam and Dean dynamic lol)

lol right? My HC is that Colter cares about people, absolutely. But he doesn't have a lot of experience with being in an actual relationship and having that fear carving your insides, knowing your person is in danger. 🥲 I love that comparison to Sam and Dean! Like Sam, Colter's prone to think about these things very logically. Whereas Russell is acting very much like Dean would in this situation. 🥲

Betsy and the kneecaps made me snort. Thank you for that little bit of comedic relief, especially since I know what's coming down the line 🙈😅

hahaa I'm glad you appreciated Betsy, because there won't be much relief for the rest of this chapter. 😅 That part is also another SPN Easter egg, since Russ's gun is the same as Dean's Colt M1911. 🤓

Are we talking about OC Adam Brody? Or are we talking about the little psycho in Jennifer's Body?

Omg lol I actually haven't seen either of those shows, made up the name without realizing those were actual characters, but I think you're right on Jennifer's Body "Adam." That guy is pretty much what I picture, except this Adam is more dirty blonde. 😂

But I'm putting "Nobody Wants This" on my watchlist if you say it's gonna be good for my rom-com heart and soul! 😘 Plus I love Kristen Bell!

That's such an interesting tidbit! I'm so curious to see what comes of it. Did Horizon recruit Russell on purpose because they knew about Ashton and this was a good way to keep an eye on him? Or did he just by pure coincidence start working there? 👀

Honestly, after what they did to the reader for no real reason at all other than to fuck with Russell, I totally get why he'd wanna put the lights out in this guy. I still hope his need for revenge won't get him into trouble or worse – hurt 😭

Yeah it does seem like that, doesn't it? 😭 (That's def something that's going to be addressed in future chapters.) And your instincts are right there...

Reminded me of Beau right there 🤠💚

ahahaaa I love you for catching that!! Right now Russ is feeling even more frustrated than Barlen...

Yup, my thoughts exactly! God, the Shaw family story is driving me nuts. Not sure how far you've gotten with the book yet, but I always felt the real reason took such a dystopian turn lol. Basically sounded like this 😂👇

Ah YEP. I learned the reason behind Ashton's death and it soo wasn't what I expected with BlackBridge. But he was a historian so I guess it makes sense that it would be related to history!

But OMG, are you in my head, Wayne?? In a future chapter of BP, there's going to be a big National Treasure-inspired moment. 🤭💛💛

Jesus, she can barely speak and drove straight in, didn't she? 😅 But I can soooo understand her grievances, especially after their fight beforehand and Russell not wanting to quit for months, even after he promised her he would. And getting shot and beaten after some strangers with gun break into your home because of your goddamn boyfriend, I'd be super fucking pissed and so, so scared. This is a lot for a civilian and would even be a lot for someone like Russell. You wanna be safe in your home, at least 🥲

Straight the fuck in. 😅 Yes, for ALL of these reasons. She's still a civilian even though she's seen a fair bit of shit. Even though it can be argued that it wasn't exactly Russell's fault, he's still responsible for making her a target. Her home was basically made into a war zone.

This exactly 🫶 Even when you know what your boyfriend does and the dangers of his job, it's still different when it hits you. And I feel for Russell as well. I really do. But swearing up and down he'll protect her is a pretty empty promise. He can't be by her side 24/7. It's not realistic in the long run. And he already "failed" at it once, so now her illusion that he can really keep her safe from this dark life are completely shattered. She'd be insane to trust him so easily and quickly again after this whole ordeal 💔

She thought she could handle being with a man like him, but she really didn't think about it hard enough, let's be honest. 🥲 And you're exactly right - it is an empty promise. He's already marked her, and "failed." He can't protect her at all times. He can't promise that he won't be killed by these people either.

She really would be, which is why it takes her a few days to come back around to missing him, and ultimately forgiving him. Maybe she does take him back too quickly, but at the same time, it's hard when you love someone that much, have lived with them for a year, and knowing there were so many things out of his control. 💙💙

That was so goddamn heartbreaking for both of them! 😭 Russell's realization that she really was pulling the plug on their relationship in that moment – that something irreparable shattered – and the whole aftermath of this – losing his one and only home he loved, the domestic and quiet life he'd built with her – my God, it fucking broke me 💔🥺

I'm so sorry to do this to you, friend!! 😭😭 I hated myself for it, but you're right, this is the moment Russell realizes where his actions have led him. Having a foot in each world, not making a decision, has cost him almost everything. 💔

And then my heart broke here a little too – for Charlie. For Russell. There was just this deep sense of disappointment in the air. Totally understand Charlie, tho. He's gotta look out for his little sister, and he entrusted her life with Russell, seeing a bit of himself in him, so it's just twice as heartbreaking 🥲

I couldn't leave out Charlie from this, especially since he's given Russell a lot of leeway for what he did for them in ESC. But you know from Lost Time that Charlie's had his well-deserved reservations about Russell, and this is unfortunately proving him right. Charlie would probably say that he and Russ have a little too much in common. 😅 Ultimately though, it's because of Charlie's own lingering guilt/understanding of being in Russell's shoes that he comes around to giving him another chance.

That reminded me of Beau too, by the way – but your version when he cleaned up at reader's after her ex pushed her into that coffee table. Totally seems such personality trait for them both 🤓 (or all JA characters minus SB lol)

Girl I love you for that TMH parallel! 💗💗 It's really similar to that Good Man move. Honestly yeah, Jackles' characters have a lot of similar traits lol (minus SB killed me tho 🤣)

Such a pivotal moment between the Shaw brothers and so on point! Completely understand both Russell and Colter here. On one hand, you want to know what really happened back then, right? I mean, yeah, Ashton's dead, but considering the circumstances, I'd wanna know too. Especially since that whole weirdness caused them to have the life they have. But on the other hand, I completely see Russell's point in protecting what he has now, holding on to it and protecting it with his life. Answers to their dad's death are for sure not worth the reader's life or risking Russell's happy end.

Thank you!!! Even though TV Russ's characterization is very different from book Russell, I wanted to emulate the idea from the books that he wants nothing to do with this at this point, while Colter is the one who wants to unravel the mystery shrouding their dad's death. I felt like this ups the stakes for Russell on being a hard "no." Exactly like you said, "protecting what he has now, holding on to it and protecting it with his life." Like he tells the reader later, it's not worth risking her life or what they've been building together. 🥲🥲

I loved this bit so much, especially Charlie's little quip at the end there 😂🫶

ehehe Charlie coming in with that comic relief. 😂 I honestly loved writing this little scene between them, showing the lighter side of her relationship with her bro and how they probably argue about movies and stuff like that all the time, but they can still "real talk" with each other like best friend-siblings should.

God, this gets me every time. My heart breaks for her so much for thinking this, but I love you just as much for writing it the way you have and have Russell instantly correct it. Melted my fucking heart down to its core 😭❤️

At this point it's not hard to see why she would think that, right? But I'm so glad you liked how Russell came right in to dispel that fear for her. Her heart melted just like yours did lol 🥹💗💗

And we've already talked at length over the Shaw matriarch and her motivations. Now with that season 2 finale I'm really curious to see where they take this. I'm afraid my suspicions have been right, tho, and they're not sure they can get Jensen back for S3 with his busy schedule. Still hope they do somehow, just to see Russell's reaction and thoughts to all of this unfolding 🥲 (Also, have you seen this bit where the showrunner said he'd love to do a Tracker spinoff with Jensen? Like yes please 😍👏)

Oh God yeah. I have a plan of "attack" for Mary in this mini series, but I thought I saw something about Jensen coming back for season 3 at some point. They really need his character in order to move that part of the story forward I feel like, if they're going to follow the books at all (even tho they're really diverging with that cliffhanger lol).

Omg I hadn't seen that, but I would devour that spinoff! 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

I love him so much here 😆🫶 So happy they're back together 🥹❤️

Hahaa I feel like his sense of humor/charm is one of his coping mechanisms, but still sweet here in its own way. 🥹 I couldn't keep them broken up for long, just didn't have it in me considering I didn't know how long I was gonna have to keep you guys waiting for more chapters 😂😂

But man, what a chapter! Again, I love so much what you're doing with this story, Alex! How you're making it your own while also working in bits from both book and show. Surely not easy to navigate and you're doing it so wonderfully 💜💜💜

Wayne, you're the best fr! 🥹💕 It's been a fun challenge trying to decide what to use from show and book, while still being its own thing in the ESC world. I'm trying my best to keep the authenticity of source materials while giving you guys the romance and the drama in between. 💗💗💗

As for Adam and the whole Ashton story, I can totally see Russell going after Adam and Horizon and then stumbling more into his dad's death on accident. He's there for revenge (and let's be honest, he can't just let it go since they'll always pose a threat to him and reader from here on out), but during that mission, more about Ashton's death is revealed, which probably forces him to work with Colter after all – my theory of where you take this next 🤓 Gaaaaaah, I can't wait for more!!! 😍👏

Girl you're RED HOT. Because you're smart as hell and you know where I've gotta go next, logically. 😂 That "always pose a threat to him and reader from here on out" is how Russell is going to justify going after Adam, but it's tricky of course. Never pursue revenge is obviously going to be a major theme, and we're going to get to a few more of those "never rules" along the way. Thanks again for your notes on that! 😆💚💚

I just have 3 more chapters to write for BP, but they're big ones. So I think I'm going to start posting the next chapters toward the end of Unravel Me or right after. (So mid-June or beginning of July!)

BREAKING POINT - Part 2

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Reader

Summary: Russell made you a promise, but “getting out” of government contract work is even more difficult than he thought it would be. Is he willing to put the past aside, or is this going to be your breaking point?

AN: Deep breaths, friends. It's about to be another angsty fun time. 😅

Song Inspo: “Come in From the Night” by Chicago

Posted on Patreon: 4/04/2025

Word Count: 8K

Tags/Warnings: 2x02 events, perilous situations, blood and violence, injuries, protective Russell, another Shaw sibling reunion, secrets and confessions come to light, major angst, but also major hurt/comfort…

⌖ Series Masterlist

Part 2: One Chance

You still hadn’t been able to get in touch with Russell. All your texts had been going unanswered. You grabbed your phone and began to find Reenie in your contacts, but you paused. You were reminded of something you forgot to do when you walked in the door. 

Along with the coded door lock, there was an app on your phone where you could monitor the cameras strategically placed outside the house. However, when you checked the app, you realized that the camera feed said Unavailable. For every single camera. 

Your brows furrowed. That’s weird… 

Seconds later, the first bullet broke through your impact windows. 

You flinched at the fracture of glass, the splintering corner of your Pottery Barn coffee table. Shock made your entire body stiffen. 

But when the second and third bullet became lodged in your couch and finished shattering two windows, you screamed and dove for the ground. You crawled on hands and knees across the hardwood floor, no doubt cutting your palms on broken glass. The coffee table only somewhat protected your body, but seeing the edge of something black in the corner of your eye, you managed to grab one of Russell’s Glocks taped under the wood that typically held your empty wine glasses and lavender candles.

Your mad scramble took you across the living room and into the bathroom, where you locked the door and backed away from the door, to the farthest corner beside the tub. Your path on the white tile was streaked with your own blood. 

You clutched Russell’s gun with shaking hands, your thumb just barely managing to pull back the safety. When you tried to shift your body away from where the bottom of the sink hung over your head, you whimpered at a sharp twinge in your side. Looking down, you realized that blood had plumed through your shirt, right along the curve of your waist. 

You took one trembling hand off the gun to lift the hem of your shirt, and a shaky breath escaped you. 

Fuck. You’d been hit. 

You didn’t see the bullet, or even a hole puncture. You prayed that you had just been grazed.

But! You still had your cell phone. It was lodged in the back pocket of your jeans. Your hands were occupied though, so you had to make a choice—keeping your weapon at the ready, stopping yourself from bleeding out, or calling for help. 

You heard the front door splintering open at a distance, footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors. Holding in a whimper, you heeded your instincts and reached for your phone. You tried calling Russell first, but it just went to voicemail. Goddamn it…

You considered calling 9-1-1, but in your manic desperation, all you could think of was reaching your boyfriend. 

So you called Reenie next.

While the phone rang, tucked between your shoulder and your ear, you were forced to set down the gun. You quietly rifled through your medicine cabinet for gauze or an ace bandage. Fuck, yes! Okay. This could work. You found the big square bandages that stick on. Russell bought them the last time he came home with a couple of nasty abrasions from a job.

Still, the phone rang.

Come on, come on, come onnnn!

“Hello?” The lawyer’s voice was smooth and retaining a note of exasperation.

“Reenie! Where’s Russell?” you whisper-hissed. You forgot about the bandage for the moment.

“I have him right here. What’s wrong?” she asked. Immediately, her tone shifted to concern. You’d never met Reenie in person, but you knew she worked with Colter and, according to Russell, was damn good at what she did. 

You didn’t give a shit about any of that right now.

“Put him on the phone, please!” 

In a few seconds of shuffling, you finally, finally heard his voice. 

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?”

A breath of relief escaped you in a rush.

“Russell,” you sobbed.

The raw panic in your voice made his spine stiffen. Every muscle in his body coiled in alarm. Russell sat up straight in the backseat of the SUV with Colter right beside him, along with the retired Scott Palmer, the conspiracy theorist they saved from a government black site. Reenie looked back in concern from the front seat.  

“Someone’s in the house,” you said on the line. Every word was ragged, like you were trying to stay quiet, but crying all the same. “I got hit, bleeding a lot. I’m locked in the bathroom…”

In a beat of a second, Russell processed the words, I got hit. 

The fucker was armed. You were shot. He wasn’t there to help you.

His blood turned to ice in his veins. A nightmare. A waking nightmare.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Russell said, immediately hiding what he felt under calm reassurance. His dark brows became a knitted line. “Were you able to get to one of my guns? Under the bed, under the—”

“Coffee table,” you said, in a tremulous voice. “Russ, what do I—”

Your scream was shrill in his ear after a gunshot went off, even making him flinch. His eyes never blinked though. He could hear the door ripping open, and a rustle of clothing preceded your sharp yelp. Someone manhandled you to your feet. 

Russell’s jaw clenched tight. His heart hammered under his ribcage as he followed every sound. He yelled at the driver of this SUV to fucking floor it. 

The sounds reaching him on the phone fuzzed over then, like someone was grabbing the phone out of your hand. You screamed and struggled, but a man’s grunt and a sharp hit echoed in the phone speaker. Russell’s teeth ground together so hard, he could feel them creaking with strain. He shouted your name.

The call ended abruptly.

Russell felt every minute, every second that clipped by. 

Another half hour would pass before he reached his car. In that time, Colter had to explain to Reenie why calling the police right now was a bad idea. 

“The police are going to trigger them to react. It’s more likely they’ll take her and move her than leave her behind,” Colter said, sharing a grim look with his brother. “Worst case…”

Russell shook his head and stared out the window, his lips pursing tight. He didn’t need to hear that said out loud. He was already thinking it, his mind shooting off sparks of one scenario after another. Each and every one of them shredded his insides to ribbons. His fingers clenched around the interior door handle of the car.  

“Okay, but who’s doing this? The shady-ass government operatives you just pissed off?” Rennie asked. 

“That’s my bet,” Russell said gruffly. He could picture that blue-eyed smarmy dick in his mind’s eye too—the shadow government stooge who took his brother captive, and thought he could get the drop on Russell at that lab. 

He was probably still salty about the way Russell broke his goddamn nose. 

“This one’s coming out of their ass,” he groused.

“We can’t underestimate them,” Colter said. His tone wasn’t censuring, but a reminder. “They got to Dr. Blair.”

Dr. Blair was an astrophysics professor who had taken special interest in some of Scott Palmer’s theories, particularly into the idea of extraterrestrial life. The professor had been found dead in her own car that afternoon, barely a couple of hours after Russell and Colter questioned her about the missing Scott’s whereabouts and her involvement with him. The police had ruled it a suicide. 

Russell did glare at Colter this time. What happened to that professor wasn’t going to happen to you. You weren’t directly involved in this mess…

Russell’s fists clenched at his sides. He slid a hand over his bearded face and thought hard. Whoever had you was going to answer to him. Anything they’d done to you was going to be a mercy, compared to what he had in mind for them.

Colter parked his truck and airstream just behind Russell’s Chevy in your neighborhood. They hadn’t parked directly in front of your house, however. They wanted to retain the element of surprise, just in case your captors were still here. 

Looks like they are, Russell noted by the dark gray SUV parked on the street, right next to your mailbox.   

If they hadn’t moved, it was because they wanted Russell to go into the house. They wanted to make a show of this, drag this out. 

Russell could just see that arrogant fuck in his mind’s eye already, waiting for him, smirking at him when he walked in. 

“Like your father, Ashton Shaw. You have a long family history of getting in the government’s way,” he’d said, while holding Russell at gunpoint.

Then Russell proceeded to talk a little shit, as was his specialty, followed by a thorough ass-kicking. Also his specialty. 

But he was interrupted from that satisfying recap by Colter’s subtle tap on his shoulder. He pointed toward the house with two fingers. Russell nodded and signaled back, leading him in. 

Both of them had suited up with bullet-proof vests and proper weapons, with Russell favoring his usual .45 caliber M1911. He called her Betsy. She’d take your kneecaps off if you weren’t careful, and Russell was always careful. Especially about kneecaps. 

He and Colter cased the house and veered to the left, where they caught sight of the carnage that wrecked the living room. Whoever broke in must’ve used silencers on their guns, because surely in a residential neighborhood like this, someone would’ve heard the commotion and called the cops themselves. All three windows at the front of the house were shattered, littering glass across the floor. The couch was a Swiss cheese rendering of fabric and stuffing, with picture frames, candles, books and bookshelves, and other keepsakes battered, ruined, and scattered. 

Russell was sorry to see it, feeling an angry twinge, but it only got worse when he saw who was sitting on the edge of the couch. The man was flanked by four other men in solid black uniforms and guns, their faces obscured by masks.  

Russell’s eyes widened in shock at first. And then in anger, and steely determination. After giving his brother a nod, he and Colter split up without needing to speak or signal. Colter went around the back and stirred the men’s attention. Three of them split off and went toward the diversion of the back door caving in. 

Meanwhile, Russell shot out the window near the kitchen. It allowed him to tumble into the house, protecting his head from glass as he went. By the time he rolled to a crouch, he had his gun at the ready to shoot the remaining two men—headshot for the first one, arm and neck for the second one. 

Adam Brody stood ready to shoot him next. He wore tactical gear as well, but he didn’t bother to mask up his face.

“Hey, Russ,” he said, with a humorless smile. There was something melancholy in his blue eyes. 

“It’s simple. Start fucking talking, or I start shooting,” Russell snapped. Inside, he raged at the betrayal. It roiled like acid deep in his gut and solidified like a stone.  

Adam sighed heavily. “Trust me, this wasn’t an assignment I wanted.”

He shifted the aim of his gun away from Russell…and directly to the ground, just a few feet away from him. Russell followed the trajectory with his eyes, and his throat constricted.

You were lying there on the cold floor, half twisted onto your side. Your arm was bent at the wrong angle beneath your cheek. The left side of your face that Russell could see was bruised and bloody, and there were shards of glass in your hair. But the sight that stopped him cold was the large patch of blood staining your waist and stomach through your shirt. It was slowly getting worse. 

Russell’s gaze flicked back to Adam, and it sharpened, his fingers tightening a fraction on his gun.

“Let her go,” Russell demanded. 

“We got what we came for. I don’t think we need to take it any further than this,” Adam said. “Just consider tonight as a warning. And word of advice? Stay off of the fucking black sites. You could get into some real trouble out there.”

“That’s not fucking good enough," Russell seethed through clenched teeth. "Why this? Because I quit?”

Adam gave him a look that was slightly pitying. Like a teacher who secretly thought you were the dumbest kid alive.  

“No,” he replied. “That gig was just our way of keeping an eye on you.”

Russell blinked, a new layer of shock rattling down his spine.

“What, Horizon wanted to keep tabs on me?" he said. "Before I fucking joined up?” 

Adam didn’t answer him, but there was more there in his silence than his slimy words could’ve spoken. He slowly leaned over and grabbed up an old white shoebox from where it was placed on the arm of the couch. 

“I’m here for this,” he said. There seemed to be real conflict in his eyes when he looked back at his friend, a man who once was his brother in the deepest of fucking trenches. “Look, Russ, I had a job to do and I did it. It’s really all just business.”

Russell’s eyes narrowed with cold fire.

“It’s never just business, you stupid fuck.”

Adam’s mouth twitched at a frown. He knew the look in Russell’s eye. It held a deadly promise, marked right here and now. And as Adam knew better than anyone, Russell never forgot to make good on a promise.

Adam’s fingers slowly flexed over his gun. Before he could make a decision about Russell, he saw Colter coming out of the corner of his eye. Adam moved fast, shooting off a clip at Colter first. Colter manage to dive back behind the wall that led to your bedroom. Then Adam ducked and dodged Russell’s aim at his head, all while still holding onto the box.

Adam threw himself through the last remaining window in the living room to make his escape. Russell moved to follow him, but he spared a second to lock eyes with his brother and gesture at you.

“Stay with her!” Russell barked.

Colter nodded and was already kneeling by your side to check your pulse. It tore at Russell’s heart, but he couldn’t just let Adam go. Russell ripped the front door open and sprinted outside. Dawn was just approaching over the horizon, with rays of orange-gold peeking out behind rows of suburbia and picket fences. Adam was half a shadow getting into the black SUV parked out front.

Russell fired off a shot that somewhat made its mark. He couldn’t aim for the heart; Adam was wearing a bullet-proof vest. Couldn’t aim for the head; he was moving too quick. But when Adam opened the car door, the bullet caught him under the arm, where the vest couldn’t cover. The projectile could rip through the chest cavity and at least knick an artery, if not a lung.

Adam cried out in pain and grabbed at the bleeding wound, but he still managed to climb into the passenger seat and shut the door as the car sped off. The windows were tinted, so Russell couldn’t see inside. It didn’t stop him from emptying his clip at the car’s windows and tires as he ran into the street.

Russell’s dark brows knitted in anger as he watched the SUV drive on and turn the corner, even with a blown tire. 2Y5-M20 read the license plate. Russell muttered the number to himself over and over while he ran back inside.

There he found you and Colter in the same place in the living room, except that he had carefully turned you over onto your back and moved your broken arm into a more stable position. He also grabbed your favorite throw blanket off the back of the couch; he had the corner of it crumpled in his hand to put pressure against the wound in your side.

“She was grazed, no bullet entry,” Colter said, hearing his brother’s boots approaching. “I need to grab some stuff from the car to help stabilize her arm before the ambulance gets here. Police are on their way too.”

Russell’s knees hit the ground beside you, where he carefully took control of keeping pressure on your wound. He then gathered you into his arms. He stroked your bruised cheek with a gentle, half-gloved hand. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Can you open your eyes for me? Huh?” he said. 

When you didn’t respond, still unconscious, he had to check your pulse for himself. It was weaker than it should’ve been, but it was there. 

You were alive. 

While Colter ran back out to the car, Russell’s thoughts led him in exhaustive circles, questioning every word that had come out of Adam’s mouth, questioning himself and his choices, worrying for you, and what you would say when you opened your eyes.

It was good that Colter called the police too though. There would be no other way to explain your injuries at the hospital than a break-in, else they might suspect Russell himself as the culprit. Always the boyfriend, as they said. 

Maybe that was the case in civilian life, but not in Russell’s. In his, it was much crueler than that.

A couple of minutes later, Colter returned with the supplies he needed. He found his brother holding you as tightly as he dared, his face deep and brooding as he rested his cheek against the side of your head. Between the brothers, they were able to stem the bleeding on your wounded side and stabilize your broken arm. Russell tried to rub some warmth back into your bare arms. 

“Come on, sweetheart. I know you can hear me,” he murmured into your hair. There was a subtle shake growing in his voice. 

Colter glanced up and met his gaze. There Russell saw the weight of concern, for you and for him.

The hospital room was tense from all angles while you slept.

Russell sat in a chair on your right side, Dory to your left. Again, he silently brooded with his hands folded under his chin, elbows resting on his thighs. Dory was slumped in her seat, head in hand; tear tracks remained on her pale skin. Colter leaned against the wall by the door. 

None of them spoke, because they all knew what each other was thinking. All of them wore shades of guilt, along with underlying anger. Colter had some measure of a grudge at Dory for giving you a burden you weren’t meant to have. He thought she should’ve given that damn box to him or Russell directly. Dory carried that guilt in hindsight, but she was also angry at Russell, and to some extent Colter too, for exposing you to this kind of danger. 

Russell could harbor resentment for both of his siblings right now, but mainly, he was angry at himself. 

“So Adam doesn’t really work for Horizon?” Colter asked, keeping his voice quiet. The question was aimed at his brother, who glanced up at him. 

“Not sure,” Russell replied after a moment. “Could be. Or could be that whoever he works for does business with Horizon. Either way, I think he might’ve been planted there to recruit me, then watch me, keep me occupied.” 

To keep him from looking into his father’s death.

Colter nodded. He directed his attention to Dory. “We’re going to have to do a sweep of your apartment for bugs. Likely they were watching you too.”

Dory’s eyes widened. “That’s how they knew I had Dad’s stuff, that I gave it to her. But why did they want it so bad?”

“Dad must've been into some shady shit,” Russell replied, shaking his head. 

“The question is what,” Colter said. 

“Check…m’ cloth-s,” you interrupted. 

All three Shaw siblings stirred to attention with concern, their heads swiveling toward you.

You finally clawed your way through the anesthesia to keep your eyes open. It hurt, even to speak. The bruising around your throat betrayed Adam’s iron grip, choking you halfway to unconsciousness. The left side of your face was one mottled, ugly bruise all the way to your eyebrow, your lower lip split near the corner. 

Russell stood quickly, his chair scraping the floor. He drew closer to you and sat at the edge of your bed so he could gently take up your hand. Dory came up on your other side and touched your shoulder—the one not currently wrapped in a sling. The doctor told them you’d broken your arm in two places. Not only would you need surgery, but you would also be in a cast for several weeks. The bullet wound had been a graze, for which you’d still lost a decent amount of blood. You would need to stay at the hospital for a week, at least.

“What, baby?” Russell asked. But then he thought better of it. “Don’t worry about it, just take it easy.”

“Check…m’clothes,” you repeated, with slightly more strength. You blinked your weary eyes open and found Russell. Your lips twitched when he pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles and threaded your fingers together. 

Then he shot Dory an imploring look. He’d rather it be her sorting through your bag of bloody clothing than Colter, and Russell didn’t want to let go of your hand. 

With a small sigh, she grabbed it from under the hospital bed and sorted through, finding just your jeans, shoes, and underwear, since the Emergency Department has cut through your shirt and bra.

“I don’t…” Dory began to say, but she cut herself off short when she found a small, old-fashioned film tube mixed in with your panties. 

You hadn’t just taken the box with you into the house. On the way home last night, you’d stopped at a red light. Your curiosity was insatiable at the best of times, and you couldn’t stop yourself from having a look inside the box.

You found a short stack of essays and a couple of small wood carvings, but you also found that film tube. It reminded you of the disposable Kodak cameras you used to buy as a kid, complete with a little container for undeveloped rolls of film. 

You took out the little canister and examined it. When you popped it open, you found rolled up papers inside.

And then the light turned green, a car honking behind you. You shot the black SUV behind you a narrowed look of annoyance. Instead of tossing the thing back into the box, you folded the papers back up into the little canister, secured the lid, and slipped it into your pocket on reflex. 

Later, when you sat huddled and terrified and bloody on your bathroom floor, you set down the gun and took out the film tube from your pocket. If this thing was important, if it had anything to do with Ashton Shaw’s death, then you didn’t want to give it up so easily. 

You stuffed it behind the waistband of your jeans, hopefully for safe keeping. The thought was dubious at best, but it was still worth a shot, you thought.

Now, Dory stared at the tube with the cap popped open. She saw the papers rolled up inside, but didn’t bother to unfurl them. She didn’t want to know what they were, but she knew instinctively that this was what you almost died for.

She bit her lip and gazed back at you in apologetic sorrow. Handing the item off to Colter, she went back to you and laid a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said tearfully. “I should’ve never given…”

Her tears sparked your own, welling up in your eyes. You managed to shake your head a little.

“Y’didn’t know,” you replied.

Dory tried and failed to stifle her weeping. Colter came up to your bedside as well.

"I'm sorry for what happened," he said. You managed to roll your head somewhat in his direction, your gaze reflecting some wryness.

“Why? ‘S not like you work…for Horizon,” you said, glancing over at Russell. He pursed his lips, lowering your hand to the bed. 

Colter picked up on the vibe that you and Russell had things to talk about. Sharing a nod with Dory, he helped her up out of her chair and subtly led her out of the room with him. After the door clicked closed, Russell sighed, hanging his head.

After a moment, he drew enough courage to look up at your beaten face. His eyes were full of devastation, and the remnants of self-loathing.

“Sweetheart, I’m so—”

“Don’t you sweetheart me,” you warned. Your eyes stung all over again, and you sucked in a shaking, painful breath. “The world you’re a part of…you and Colter…it’s dangerous. I knew that full well when we got together, but…I naively thought you knew you what you were doing.” 

Russell’s shoulders sunk. His gaze fell to his hands, resting on his thighs.

“You said you wouldn’t bring your work home with you,” you accused. 

“I’m gonna protect you, I swear,” he vowed. 

“From what? Horizon? Your friend? Whoever he works for? You don’t. Have. A clue,” you said. You still struggled for breath, for every word. “Regardless, you’re not breaking out of this life anytime soon. And I…I can’t do this anymore.”

Hot tears slid down your cheeks. They stung over cuts and nicks in your skin. But the distressed look on Russell’s face was what threatened to break you. His jaw worked as he processed your words. He looked away for a moment to gather himself, but he soon met your gaze again. 

“I was just starting to turn things around, wasn’t I? Please, give me a chance to fix this,” he said. 

You shook your head wearily. “Russell, there are parts of you that I’m never going to know. There are things that you either can’t or won’t let go of, things you can't control. I’m tired of getting caught in the crossfire.”

You didn’t know if you were being fair, but you couldn’t help how you felt. And yet, you also felt shredded from the inside just looking at him, knowing that you were breaking his heart as well as your own. But how else could you protect yourself at this point? It was all just too much.

“I need you to go,” you said. 

Russell’s eyes widened. That was the one thing you’d never asked of him, no matter how pissed off you got. You might’ve wanted a little space in bed, but you never told him to sleep on the couch, never told him to go find a motel, or sleep in his truck. There was space, and there was space. This was fucking it.

“Baby, come on. I’m not leaving you,” he said. His hand itched to take hold of yours again, but you moved it away from his grasp, resting carefully over your bruised ribs.

“No,” you said more firmly, even though it hurt to strain your voice. “Just go.”

Everything within him protested. But, at that hard, angry, broken look on your face, he rose to his feet. He forced himself to head for the door, briefly hesitating there. He cast you one last look, his jaw and his heart clenching in tandem at the sight of your watery eyes, your swollen face, your pained attempts for even breaths.

He left your hospital room.

But, of fuckin’ course, the man he ran into in the hall was Charlie.

“Hey, where’re you going?” Charlie asked, grabbing Russell’s arm. “What happened? You barely told me anything on the phone—”

Russell sighed. He led your brother a little further away from your door so you hopefully wouldn’t overhear, but he tried to explain it all in its simplest terms, avoiding any talk about his father’s death. He understood Charlie’s anger. It mounted and mounted in your hothead brother, until he was gripping Russell’s jacket in half a threat.

“It was my fault,” Russell said. He didn’t even bother to grab Charlie’s wrist. He fucking deserved the hit if it was coming. “They were using me, and I didn’t know. Just waiting for an opening to grab something they thought was important.”

“Did they get it?” Charlie asked. “What even was it?”

Russell hesitated. “It doesn’t matter. But I’m going to make sure she’s safe.”

Charlie made a sound of frustration and shoved at Russell’s chest.

“I fucking trusted you!” he shouted. “I thought you’d be the last one to let some shit like this happen to her!”

“I know,” Russell said, swallowing his shame. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Charlie paced in the hall like an agitated animal. He seemed to be warring with his instincts to throw that punch, maybe more than one. But Charlie knew what kind of guilt was on Russell’s shoulders. Charlie still bore the weight of that guilt, even today. It would never leave him for as long as he lived.

So, Charlie simmered down, pressing a fist against the wall to try and calm himself.

“I’ve, uh…I’ve gotta go,” Russell said.

Charlie frowned and glared back at him again. “You’re leaving?”

Russell met his gaze, but he couldn’t hold it. Otherwise, his shame would break through the cracks.  

“She asked me to,” he said. 

Charlie shook his head. “Do you love her?”

“Charlie.” The look on Russell’s face warned him not to ask stupid questions. There was only so much he could handle right now.

“Okay,” Charlie nodded. “So are you gonna make good? Are you gonna protect her, or not?”

Russell didn’t know why, but he felt pinned to ground by that question. His heart, his soul, and his mind were all at war, pulling in different directions of what he should do, what he wanted to do, and what he knew he couldn’t.

Charlie’s frown deepened, with a spark of his anger returning.

“Make a fucking decision, Russell,” he snapped, and made the last few strides over to your room.

It left Russell in the hall, contemplating his next move. His fingers twitched at his sides. He stared hard at the linoleum, until the tiny blue patterns became smudges in his vision.

Then, he kept walking, even took the elevator downstairs. You’d told him to leave after all, but to go where? Back home? 

That was your house. Hadn’t you broken up with him? All his stuff was still there though. Not to mention, your house was a mess. He wouldn’t leave it like that for you to come home to.

Even with all those thoughts swirling like angry coils of snakes through his mind, he stopped short of leaving the hospital. He stood in the way of the lobby’s glass double doors, his fingers flexing at his sides and nearly closing into fists. His jaw clenched and ticked with strain. 

He turned back and took a seat in the lobby. He sat there for an hour, and then two. He passed time on his phone, but really, he was watching every single person who walked in through the double doors. He made a note of each face and scanned the way they walked and what they were bringing in the building with them. He checked each of them off as not a threat. 

He couldn’t be certain that Adam would keep his word about backing off for now. If he realized that you took something important from that damn box…

Every muscle in Russell’s body wanted to go back up to your hospital room. He wanted to tell you again that he was sorry. Matter of fact, he’d be content if you just let him sit there beside you in silence. 

Okay, maybe he’d try to crack a joke or two, see if he could make you smile. Extra brownie points if he could make you laugh. 

Yeah, don’t bet on that one.

Russell sighed and rubbed at his face with both hands. 

Colter came around to find him, first asking how you were. The look on Russell’s face was good enough of an answer.

Colter let him know that he’d just dropped off Dory at her place. He was going to stick around for a couple of days to keep an eye on her, just in case Adam came poking around. 

“For the record, I don’t think he will,” Colter said. He took out the film tube you recovered from the box. Russell’s gaze fell to the little black canister. 

“I had a look, and—” Colter began, but Russell raised up a hand. 

“I don’t care,” he said. He slowly stood and met his younger brother’s gaze. “Look, if you wanna go chasing ghosts, that’s your prerogative, but count me out. I don’t wanna know about it, don’t wanna hear about it. As far as I’m concerned, Dad’s dead, and he ain’t coming back no matter what the fuck we find at the end of that tunnel.”

For once, Colter looked taken aback. It wasn’t a big expression, but it was enough to make his eyes widen a little, his mouth parting with almost nothing to say. 

“You’re saying you won’t help me?” he asked. 

“I’m saying if you open that door, you’re on your own. I’m not losing anything more to this,” Russell said. His eyes burned with his determination, and perhaps other emotions he wasn’t willing to let fly in front of his brother.

He lowered back down into his seat and crossed his arms. Colter watched him with a measure of dismay. But ultimately, he respected his brother’s choice.

“I’m sorry. Really, I am,” Colter said. He hesitated, and even drew closer to lay a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Then, he left. 

Out in the parking lot as he headed over to his pickup truck, Colter’s hand tightened on that film tube. In his mind’s eye, he already saw the map that was hastily scrawled on the curled-up page inside.  

As for Russell, he spent the rest of the evening there in the waiting room. 

A security guard eventually came over to tell him that visiting hours were over. Russell only pretended to leave. He waited until the guard was distracted, flirting with the receptionist, and Russell snuck back into the stairwell. 

He found his way up to the second floor, then the third. He slipped down the empty halls. He didn’t intend to check in on you in your room, but that was where his feet ended up, stopping just outside of the door. It was open a crack. 

When he peeked inside, he saw that you were sleeping after your surgery on your arm. Charlie was watching over you, so Russell pulled back. He stayed in the hospital all night, ducking nurses and doctors on the night shift. He retained some of his peace of mind, knowing you weren’t alone. 

In the morning, Russell headed back home just to shower. He felt all right about it, knowing Dory was at the hospital with you today after relieving Charlie. Russell arrived at the house, just to remember that it was still an incredible mess after the police had cleared out. 

Russell took the time to sweep up the glass, and mop up your blood from the hardwood floors in the living room and the bathroom tiles. He righted picture frames and whatever else he could. The rest, he stored in a big black garbage bag in case you wanted to sort through it later. Then he finally ate a sandwich and showered up. He hadn’t slept in 48 hours, but he kept pushing himself.

He took measurements of every window that got busted, and he went to the closest hardware store to buy replacements. He installed them himself.

Finally, Russell allowed himself to sleep for just a few hours. Afterward, he returned to the hospital. He resumed his seat in the lobby, and he subtly monitored who came in and out while looking busy on his phone. He never forgot a single face. 

The cycle repeated itself. Three days.

He didn’t let himself see you.

Your voice was still weak and muffled, being that half your face was swollen, but you had enough energy to argue with your brother.

“Saving Private Ryan is more historically accurate than Jurassic Park is scientifically accurate,” you said, more than a little testy already. 

“You’re giving me a stats-based argument,” said Charlie, “when all that really matters is the dinosaurs still look real! The CGI holds up—”

“Oh, please,” you huffed. “Lincoln, War Horse, Schindler’s List—Spielberg movies that actually matter.”

“Hey, tell my eight-year-old self that dinosaurs don’t matter,” he said. “Raiders of the Lost Ark, Temple of Doom, Close Encounters, fucking Jaws—these are the staples of Hollywood, my friend. Those are the movies people actually remember when they think of Spielberg and his Steve Jobs glasses.”

“Raiders is all right,” you grumbled, after a moment of deliberation. “At least it’s rooted in some real history.”

Charlie snorted. “You’re such a nerd.”

Your smile weakened. “That’s Russ’s favorite.”

Charlie perked up in attention, noticing your shift in demeanor. 

“What, Raiders?” he asked. When you merely nodded, seeming lost in thought, Charlie smiled a little. “It’s a classic.”

You knew that it was one of the few movies Russell remembered watching before his father moved the Shaw family to that compound in the Sierra National Forest.

You tried to take in a deep breath. Letting it out was painful though, a sharp twinge in your side making you wince. Goddamn stitches.

“You okay?” Charlie asked. He was coiled and ready to spring into action, whatever you needed. “Want me to adjust your pillow? Or you want to lay on your side again?”

“‘M fine,” you managed. You both knew they were empty words.

The room fell quiet, save for the movie playing on your small TV screen that was mounted against the wall. Laura Dern was limping on one foot away from a velociraptor. 

After lowering the volume, you turned your head on your pillow toward Charlie, even though you couldn’t quite hold his gaze. 

“He’s still here, isn’t he?” you said. There was a knowing gleam in your eyes. 

Charlie feigned innocence. “Who?”

You just gave him a look. Your brother’s lips twitched at a smile, and he leaned back in the recliner seat, folding his hands over his chest.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Your Mountain Man’s still here.”

You blew out a sigh of exasperation. “I told him to go home.”

“To an empty house that isn’t his, not knowing how long he’s gonna be able to stay there?” Charlie pointed out. “Did you break up with him for sure?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer. You knew you weren’t all that specific when you told Russell to leave, but…maybe it was because your heart hadn’t totally decided on the matter.

“You know, he finds a way to dodge security every night, just so he can keep an eye on you, make sure you’re okay when I’m not here,” Charlie said. “Hell, even when I am here. Don’t know whether I should be insulted by that one.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, fighting a swell of emotion. Looking back on that conversation after you woke up, you’d felt so raw and frayed. You knew what happened to you wasn’t exactly Russell's fault. He’d needed to help his brother. His own friend had likely sold him out as well as betrayed him.

You just couldn’t help the deep well of insecurity lying far underneath your skin, a bone-deep thought…

“He’s never going to be happy with a boring, normal life,” you said, with tears burning behind your lids. “I’m never going to be enough.”

Charlie frowned in sadness. For once, he felt bad for Russell. He opened his mouth to reply, but someone else beat him to it.

“Sorry,” Russell said from the doorway. “But that’s just categorically untrue, baby.” 

Your eyes widened at the sight of him. Your breath stilled in your lungs. He entered the room cautiously, waiting for you to throw him out. When you just stared back at him with those weary, uncertain, glassy eyes, he tried to give you a smile.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

After a beat of hesitation, you nodded. It was barely a movement of your head, but he’d take it. 

And Charlie took his cue to stand up, rubbing his hands together. 

“Think I’ll get myself a burger or something,” he said. 

On his way out, he and Russell shared a look. On Charlie’s end, it was imbued with a cautious trust. 

One chance. 

Russell understood full well. He nodded in agreement.

The door shut behind Charlie. Russell lowered himself into a chair and tugged it over to your bedside, resting his hand on the mattress. You still didn’t know what to say, but despite your reluctance, your heart swelled just to see him. You missed him beyond belief.

You slowly moved your hand toward his on the bed. Russell noticed, and he smiled. He took your hand with both of his big, calloused ones, and he laid a tender kiss across your knuckles. 

You trembled inside as your tears spilled over, hot and unfettered. Your breathing shallowed with it, your emotions bubbling up and over the surface. On your first hiccupping sob, Russell moved. He got up to sit on the edge of your bed, and he cupped your uninjured cheek, so he could press a gentle kiss to your forehead. Your hand, still clasped in his, he pressed over his heart. He was sure you'd be able to feel the uptick beating of it.

Once chance.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he said. It was a confession from the very depths of him, laden with grit. “This is on me. But I’m done, you understand? I’m done with all that shit.”

You pulled away a little. “What do you mean?” 

“I’m more than ready to be my own boss,” he said, grinning some. “When you’re feeling better, I’m gonna need your help tasting the menu for the brewery. Plus, the décor. You know me, I’m shit at figuring out what kinda lamps go with beige walls.”

You uttered a weak laugh through your tears. You raised a trembling hand to cup his cheek. Your thumb brushed tenderly there. All too soon though, your smile dimmed.

“Look, I know what I said, but understand if you want to find your father’s killer,” you whispered.   

Russell released a sigh through his nose. He appreciated you for that, and even kind of marveled that you could say that to him from your hospital bed. But this was enough.

What he couldn’t tell you, not just yet, was that he planned to track down Adam Brody. Russell could care less who the man worked for now, but once he dealt with that unfinished business, he fully intended to devote the rest of his attention toward building a steadier life, that firm foundation. He wasn’t about to take this second chance with you for granted.

“I’m done with contract work, and with anything having to do with my father,” he said firmly, grasping your hand. “It’s not worth losing you.”

Your lips trembled. You were still a hint uncertain, trying to figure out if he was being sincere. You knew he wanted to protect you, to be with you, but could he really give up all the rest of it?

“Are you sure?” you asked. 

Russell sobered further. He licked his lips, debating something in his mind. He could be honest about one thing, at least. 

“When I was a kid, I saw a man up on that cliff with my dad,” he said. “You know that part. Now, I didn’t see what happened. Maybe they argued, scuffled. Maybe that guy was a part of what my dad was running from all those years. But when I got up there and I looked over that cliff, even in the rain I saw his body down below, mangled up…”

He shook his head. You squeezed his hand. Even now, you let him know that you were listening, that he had an anchor. He let out a slightly shaky breath.

“Colter was there,” he admitted. “He was just a kid. All he could do was try to connect the dots on what he saw, and that was me on the top of that cliff.”

Your eyes widened. “No, he…he thought you did it?”

Russell nodded. “When I got back to the house, my mom told me it’d be best for the family if I got gone. So, I left. And I stayed gone. Wasn’t ‘til last year that I could get Colter to hear me out, let alone believe me.”

“God, Russ,” you said in dismay. His mom told him to leave? How could she do that? What the hell was in her head?

Questions, too many questions…and you wondered if Russell had those same ones. How could he not? The more you learned about his parents, the more you understood his and Dory’s decision to try to bury it, and leave the past behind.

“My dad was a paranoid son of a bitch. You know, he even pulled a fucking knife on me once,” Russell said, earning your gasp. “Yeah. One of his little episodes. Mom calmed him down, but…"

He thought better of diving into that one, considering what you'd just been through. He met your gaze.

"No, the line for me was when he started going off again on his bullshit, grabbed my little sister and pinned her to the wall," he said. "I saw fucking red then. Pulled him away, made him snap the fuck out of it. That was the night he took off.”

Your lips pursed in shock. Russell shook his head at the old memory, though it still got to him. He rolled his shoulders and forced himself to relax. 

“Man, I was fucking relieved when he did,” he said, an edge of anger lacing his words. “But I didn’t kill him.”

You nodded. There was conviction in every word, and your heart ached terribly for him. You tugged him closer by his shirt, so you could slip your good arm around his broad shoulders and pull him in for as good of a hug as you could give him. His long hair tickled your cheek and your neck, but you didn’t care. You sucked in a breath, your eyes glistening with tears, and you kissed his cheek. It was a weak press of your lips, but he felt it.

Russell couldn’t believe that you were the one comforting him right now. Grateful, relieved, those words didn’t even cover what he felt. His chest swelled with warmth, allowing him to let go of some of that bitterness. Some of that hurt, buried deep. His arms slipped around you, strong, secure, but gentle.

Eventually he pulled away, just so he could stroke your cheek and smile down on you. He took in the bruising around your eye. Your right arm, too, was still in a sling. The doctor would probably fit you for a cast next week, after the swelling went down. 

“This is probably a stupid question, but how’re you feeling?” he asked, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I’m okay,” you replied. “Pain meds are awesome, when they want to give them to me.”

“They’re being fucking stingy, huh?” Russell gave you a conspiring look. “Want me to break into the pharmacy, grab you a couple of the little blue pills? They’re fun, I promise.”

You snorted a laugh, even though it hurt your side and your face. You winced in pain. Gotta stop doing that.

Russell slipped a hand over your hip in concern, and to try and soothe you. 

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” you said. 

He wasn’t buying it, but he didn’t press you either. 

“Will you stay with me tonight?” you asked, your lips tugging at a smile. “Legally I mean, in this room. We can let Charlie go home.”

Russell met your gaze and held it.

“Sweetheart, I’m not leaving you. Not if you don’t want me to.” 

Slowly releasing a deep breath, you nodded.

“I believe you,” you said.

Again, you tugged him closer with your hand on his cheek. He read the imploring request in your eyes. 

Russell leaned in, carefully brushing his lips against yours. You felt bold enough to meet him a second time with a better kiss. It hurt your cut lip, just a little, but it was worth it. 

You finally felt safe again.

AN: 🥹 whew! Okay, so perhaps a lot to unpack there, some 2x02 stuff, some plot stuff from the book cheekily making its way in here. I will say that this is an end to Breaking Point...for now.

I will probably continue this as a mini series within the ESC word, but I want to wait for the show to catch up to see what they do with certain book plotlines. Or, I might just get impatient and write my own spin on things. We'll see! 😂

Until then, what did you think about Russell's decision? How do you think he could settle his "unfinished business" with Adam, considering it might mire himself deeper with Horizon/the "mystery" employer Adam really works for? Or should Russ leave well enough alone on that one? 🤔

(Hint: We both know he won't.)

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[noburden]

i’m sorry there’s actually no way tumblr now has a video scroll tab get me out of here

[coqueverette]

i can’t even be bothered making a funny ironic post for april fool’s day because my subconscious mind literally april fooled me this morning by making me have a dream that we were getting a new twdg-adjacent video game centered specifically on ben. the premise makes waaaaay less sense now that i’m awake and rational but it was like… a character study esque thing with a vague fantasy setting? and it was supposed to be an adventure game as opposed to a choice oriented one 😭 so obviously completely different from the actual original games both conceptually and visually (hard to describe the change in art style but the models were a lot less comic-esque and more whimsical and slightly… cutesy/simplistic in comparison? for lack of a better word? but it looked nice!) and probably set in an entirely separate universe. but travis was a major character (my friends were showing me every leak and promo they could find with him in it, thanks guys) which meant new content of both of my faves as well as the rest of the s1 cast

woke up thinking “i’m so excited!!!” and then as i gained consciousness it started dawning on me like a dramatic slow realization in a horror movie or smth. and then my stomach started hurting and then i got a brief headache because i was so pissed. never recovering from this. why would i do that to myself. sick and twisted

[cocoabubbelle-newblog]

Spoilers:

[neige-leblanche]

also y'all

does anybody have the original japanese of this line from book 5 ch 27???

bc rereading it i was like. O_O. is he. not talking about vil.

i was thinking like "the first read through you're definitely meant to think so, and vil did absolutely change rook's life, but with context from both book 6 and his halloween vignette, what he's describing here leans more towards the latter" which is like. masterful gaybait i can't even be mad. it's like that post saying "some gaybaiting is like a box propped up with a stick and a block of cheese underneath" except this has all the intricacy of a steampunk clock.

but my VERY shoddy japanese skills r telling me the line translates more to "beauty in your eyes and the darkness, lighting up your entire life for you—in a time in your existence when you'll be able to have [such an experience] (expanding on the prev line where he says they'll be able to understand his ideology in the future)"

^ and i probably mangled this so bad but the main point is i didn't hear him refer to a "someone" like he does in the english tl & i'm wondering if i missed it or if it was in fact added!!!

[luckyreds]

Will be back tomorrow full time trust! Putting together all my research. For the next couple of days

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME LONE STAR MIGHT BE ENDING AND SIERRA IS MOST LIKELY GONE 😭😭😭😭💔💔

[bibleofficial]

where is my fat husband

[kuwupikaa]

Just watched appa's lost days for the first time ever

[fadingstrawberrynightmare]

i miss You already

[miiashiifts]

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♯┆basic things to add to your script pt1 .ᐟ

1. you are great at comforting people, no matter how well you know them you will always be a great comfort to anyone when they need it the most.

2. you have a good attention span, you can easily sit for a while without getting too agitated or bored no matter what you are doing.

3. everybody understands your humour no matter the difference in generations or language barrier, you are naturally funny around anyone.

5. you can easily remember your childhood well & you have amazing memories to reminisce from your days as a child.

6. hair dye, heat & any other hair products of the sort do not damage your hair, or they damage it a lot less than they do here.

7. “free” movie websites will never give you viruses or redirect you to freaky sites (pls script this for me…💔 the amount of times i’ve had to click off a tab when trying to casually watch a movie is PAINFUL)

8. kids act like kids. they aren’t addicted to their ipads, instead they go out and play with their friends and act like how we did growing up.

9. your ribs don’t do that thing where it’s painful when you breathe in too hard…. idk how to explain it i hope you understand what i mean 😭

10. you always pronounce peoples names correctly first try & people always pronounce your name correctly too.

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[ink-perfect]

obsessed bf!gojo x gn!reader ⋆. based on: 22 - lil candy paint, bhad bhabie

gojo had a bad habit.

a bad habit of blowing up your phone.

it wasn’t the 'three texts in a row' kind of blowing up, either.

oh no, gojo satoru didn’t do small-scale chaos.

it was an art form for him. the type of masterpiece that made your phone buzz off your nightstand at 3 a.m. with thirty consecutive messages that alternated between blurry selfies, close-ups of his sunglasses, and texts like:

“hey👋 (with the intention of getting midnight sushi)”

“do u think panda would let me dye him pink? 🤔”

“pick up plzzz i jsut saw the funniest video on instagram but i accidnetally exited tje app it and cant find it anymore so i'm jsut going to explain it to you in excruciatign detail”

and tonight was no different—except this time, it came after your first real argument.

you couldn’t even remember what had set it off anymore, but it had ended with you storming off and gojo… well, doing whatever gojo does when someone’s mad at him (eating mochi and sulking).

soon enough, after an hour or so of no contact, the first barrage had begun: thirty consecutive texts ranging from the initial

“i’m sorry 🥺👉👈”

to a dramatic

“why do you hate me? 😭💔 (don't answer that.)”

you’d ignored all of them, determined to let him stew.

but then the calls begun.

ring after ring, voicemail after voicemail, starting out with intense professions of love that slowly faded into desperate pleas for you to call him back, text him back, to respond just once.

and when those went unanswered too, he escalated.

your phone buzzed on your nightstand, flashing yet another text. this time, it came with a photo—gojo lying facedown on what appeared to be megumi’s couch, his hand clutching an empty box of tissues. the caption read:

“i’ve been crying for 84 years 😢 come back pls”

you rolled your eyes, but found the corner of your mouth twitching up despite yourself. he was impossible.

another buzz. this one said,

“fine if ur not gonna answer just know ur the light of my life and i’ll literally wither away like an unwatered houseplant if u don’t forgive me soon 😭 also ur socks are still in my room do u want me to wash them or nah”

the buzz after that said,

“actually nah i'm not bothered to wash them"

and then another buzz.

"also u look hotter when ur mad 🥰”

the audacity of this man.

you let your impulses get the better of you and texted back a stern "leave. me. alone."

and not even a second later, your phone screen lit up with gojo's face for the umpteenth time.

you groaned, snatching it up and finally swiping to answer to put an end to all of this.

“gojo, what part of ‘leave me alone’ don’t you understand?!”

“oh my god,” he gasped, his voice overflowing with fake relief. “you’re alive!”

“i—”

“you weren’t answering, so i thought maybe you’d been kidnapped! or fallen down a well! or—”

“i ignored you,” you interrupted sharply. “on purpose.”

“no yeah, i got that,” he said breezily, completely unfazed. “but we're talking now! the devil sure does work hard, but gojo works harderrrrr."

"gojo—"

"so, how much did ya miss me?”

"gojo."

"also did you see my text about the socks?”

"gojo!"

“aaaaand i’m outside your window by the way.”

“you’re what?”

“outside!” he chirped back like it was the most normal thing in the world.

sure enough, when you yanked open your curtains, there he was—gojo satoru, standing on your lawn in a hoodie two sizes too big, clutching a mismatched bouquet of convenience store snacks and flowers that you could just tell he had made himself.

“ta-da~!” he grinned into the phone as you watched him hold up the haul like it was an olympic medal. “i come bearing gifts!”

you gawked at him. “are you serious?”

“deadly,” he said, his smile widening so much you could even see it from your vantage point. “i brought your favourite snacks, and also, i stole these flowers from my neighbour’s garden. don’t tell anyone.”

“oh my god.” you smacked your forehead, torn between laughing and drawing your curtains shut. “it’s three in the morning.”

“yeah, well, you didn’t answer my texts,” he said, pouting dramatically. “do you have any idea how sad that made me? i’m so sad, baby, like, devastated. i swear i saw my life flash before my eyes.”

you folded your arms, mock unimpressed. “what’s sad is that you think this is going to work.”

“it’s already working,” he shot back smugly. “you’re talking to me, aren’t you?”

you hated that he was right. you hated even more that your annoyance was quickly being replaced by amusement. he was lucky he was cute.

“toru, just go home,” you sighed, though your voice lacked its earlier venom.

“not until you forgive me,” he declared, dropping to one knee with such theatrics you were surprised broadway hadn't whisked him away already. “or at least let me in so i can grovel properly.”

“you’re unbelievable.”

“yeah. unbelievably in love with you.”

you threw a pillow at the window, even though it wouldn’t reach him, giving yourself a minute to think.

okay, more like a few seconds.

to be fair, you were sure he had learnt his lesson. and, well...you were craving ramen, which happened to be placed front and centre in his haphazard bouquet.

“fine!" you whisper-yelled into the phone, a smile already creeping its way onto your face despite your best efforts to stay mad. "but if you wake up my neighbours, i swear i'm locking you out.”

his grin practically lit up the yard. “deal!”

and just like that, you were stomping down the stairs, blanket in hand, ready to let in the most exasperating, ridiculous, adorable man you’d ever met.

because, really, how could you stay mad at him?

masterlist

© ink-perfect; est. 2024.

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki x reader (fem) | prohero!bakugou x ex!reader (civilian)

a.n; HEAVY ANGST. PREPARE YOUSELVES TO CRY LIKE BABIES (like i did while writing this😭). Also, heavily inspired by this scene of a k-drama (LINK), but it doesn't follow the story of it or anything. I only used a little bit of the dialogue cuz 💔💔💔💔

02:01 a.m.

It's very late at night and Katsuki knows he shouldn’t be here. The moon is up in the night sky, shining bright, and the cold, winter wind would chill any other person’s bones. Yet he runs hot, so his level of cold is minimal; still, he wears his puff jacket, zipped up, and hands inside his pockets. The hoody over his head conceals his person a bit, yet it’s not necessary considering how cold it is no soul is wandering the streets. No sane person would willingly take a night walk in this weather.

Thanks to the old hag and dad for the quirk they give him, he literally is a walking human heater.

That’s what you used to call him. 

Katsuki sighs, the air he breathes out creating a mist that evaporates quickly due to the weather. He knows for sure you’d be cold right now. He would never admit it out loud, but even though the cold made it a tiny bit hard for him to use his quirk to its full potential, he liked the cold thanks to you. Or well, he liked the fact that you would stick to his side and be all over him thanks to how warm he was.

Your own personal human heater, it’s what you mockingly called him, smiling as you hide your face in his neck, arms hugging his torso inside his opened jacket –the same one he’s currently wearing, that you gifted him for one of his birthdays. Your body would stick so close to his, like trying to become one with him. Bakugou Katsuki would never admit it out loud, but he loved that you did that. He loved that you were so small compared to him that you would practically disappear from view whenever his body shielded yours. He loved that your cold nose over the skin of his neck made him want to purr like some stupid cat, spreading tingles all over his body. 

He loved that you used him for warmth when you were cold.

He loved you. He still fucking does. He loves you so fucking much it hurts.

And he knows you’re probably cold now.

And he’s not your human heater anymore. That hurts even more.

Katsuki sighs again, the vapor of his breath colliding with his face once again, as he stops in his tracks looking down at his shoes. He doesn’t need to look to know where he is. He has been taking this route on purpose for the last month.

He doesn’t know why he is doing this to himself. Maybe he is a fucking masochist who loves getting his heart beaten bloody and in pain. Yeah, maybe that’s it. Or maybe is because he still loves you and he couldn’t get you out of his head since Izuku shot him with the news.

You’re back. You're back in Japan. You even made your dream come true and opened a cozy coffee shop in the center of Tokyo, like you always wanted.

Katsuki had stayed. He stayed in Japan. He even made his own dream come true and became a successful pro hero, ranking number 2 –right behind Deku, but always competing with him for the first spot that goes up and down between the two. Like he always wanted.

You both got what you wanted. Except not all.

He doesn’t understand why he is here, in front of your little coffee shop crossing the street. Maybe he just wants a peek at you, a short glance at who you’ve become. Yet he knows. He knows you’re the freaking best. He knows you’re successful, you have always been fucking number one at everything you did. And your little business isn’t the exception. It is the talk of the city. He even saw a publicity of it on the TV yesterday. He had smiled proudly, thinking, “That’s my girl”. He had slapped his face in correction. You weren’t his anymore. He was not yours anymore. You two weren't together any-fucking-more.

Yet, here he is, yearning for a little glimpse of you like the air he needs to live.

It’s very late at night, it shouldn’t be even possible for you to be at the little shop at this hour. But if he knows you better, which he fucking does, he knows you’re there. Staying after hours to clean and let everything be prepped for the next day, like the overachiever little thing you are and always have been.

When Katsuki finally raises his head and looks, his eyes find you with ease. Your shop has glass walls, so it isn’t very difficult to distinguish where you are inside and what you’re doing. Your little form comes and goes around the empty shop, putting the last little Christmas decorations around. He chuckles, he was right, you’re still there. Figures.

He watches from a distance like he has been doing for the last month. He hadn’t run into you yet, considering his apartment is on the other side of the city –and fuck, yes, he has been avoiding patrols on this side where your coffee shop is. Call him a coward, he doesn’t fucking care. However, Izuku had bumped into you. He said you hugged him tightly, almost cried even, saying how much you have missed everyone. It made Katsuki wonder if he was included.

He snorts. Wouldn’t his wretched heart love that. Fucking masochist.

Katsuki watches you struggle a bit with an old ladder that you set right at the open door of the shop, clearly intending to climb it, decorations on your hands to put right over the frame. He frowns when you climb two steps and the ladder trembles. Fuck, you're fucking serious?? It’s pretty clear the thing is old enough to already be made barbecue fire. Why the hell do you have that thing?? After you’ve climbed almost half of it and still don’t reach the frame, the stupid ladder shaking like is about to fucking break under you, his worry said enough. His legs move fast, almost without will, but fully knowing you’re about to kiss the fucking floor thanks to that old ladder if he doesn’t move quickly. 

When he gets closer, he hears the distinctive crack of wood and your small worried gasp as you fall. You never get to touch the floor, because Bakugou Katsuki is already there, catching you on time.

Your eyes find his, opened wide in surprise. The warmth you used to hold in them is still there, capturing him like a moth stuck in honey, and he feels like he can breathe again.

“Kat– Bakugou…” The almost slip of his name doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you, tinting your cheeks in a cute shade of pink. Ah, yes, the little sparks inside his being you produced every time you even looked at him are still there too. He thought he had already extinguished them. But no, they’re still there.

“H-hi,” he wanted his voice to sound more sure, more firm. Yet it sounded like his throat was dry and constricted. Like he was holding back a fucking cry –which is true.

His eyes are glued to yours, his arms hold you tight against his body as both your breathing go back to normal. He doesn’t want to be the first one to break with any contact, so he waits. He enjoys this little bubble that’s been created between you two after years of not knowing anything about each other. Of being so far away from each other that Katsuki felt for the first time the piercing cold everyone talks about in winter. It literally felt like years of winter for him. A cold and merciless winter that made his heartache burn. And now, a simple touch, a closeness of your body to his, and he feels like spring just bloomed again.

How fucking pathetic of him.

“Hi,” you finally answer back, your breath colliding with his face. He breathes it in, feeling like that is just all he needs to survive –at least for one more second. The shy smile that adorns your face makes him want to smother you in kisses all over your face like he used to do. But he can’t. He fucking can’t now.

“I… Thanks,” your beautiful smiling eyes make him want to punch his stomach so the damn butterflies stop fluttering.

“Your ladder was fucking old,” he complains, putting your feet back on the ground.

Your giggles sound like the symphony of heaven in Katsuki’s ears.

“I know, I shouldn’t have trusted it would help me at all.”

“You could have had a stupid accident, dumbass,” he squats to pick up the broken pieces of the ladder and what was left of it under your watch.

He doesn’t see the way you smile at him, but he hears you say, “Some things never change, huh?”

You’re right. His feelings for you would never change. And, fucking hell, he tried. He tried so hard not to feel anything for you all these years. Yet every mention of your name made him melt like a weak ass marshmallow in a hot chocolate drink. He even found himself daydreaming about seeing you, talking to you, touching you in any way you would let him.

Again, how fucking pathetic.

Bakugou Katsuki hasn’t stopped loving you since the day you parted ways.

It had been a mutual decision. He was very focused on his training and work to be a pro hero; lots of agencies wanted him to join. You were surrounded by options too, yet you decided to quit any hero dream you once had and chose to live a mundane, quiet life. That’s when Thirteen offered to speak of you to a colleague in the USA for a scholarship to join a cooking course. Katsuki saw your eyes shine lively, happy when you told him.

He knew then and there that you were going away from him. And he was not going to stop you. You had your dream, he had his. He was never going to make you choose between him and your dream. Because if he had to pick between you and his own, he would have picked his dream. Don’t misunderstand, he loved you, and still does, to death. But both of you were young, kids trying to find a path in the new world left after the war. Healing, failing, succeeding. Sometimes tripping down and getting back up. You were simply kids trying to understand life. Not that it has been any easier as adults, on the contrary. But now the circumstances are different. All of you have matured, gotten wise even. And it’s that same wisdom that made Katsuki not reach out to you again, despite his all-consuming feelings for you.

Bakugou Katsuki is now pro hero Dynamight, one of the most successful heroes of this generation. Which also means, he is a target most of the time. Villains hate him as much as he hates them.

Katsuki would cut his own hands himself if something ever happened to you, especially if it was because of him.

“Where do you want this trash?” He asks standing up and looking back at you. Your eyes shine, glassy and watering looking under the night lights. His chest tightens when he realizes you’re holding back tears. Fuck, he can’t look at you, or he’ll start fucking crying too.

“T-there’s… umm…” you clear your throat, trying to find your normal voice. “There’s a small closet at the back of the shop, on the left side. Just throw it there.”

Katsuki nods, entering the nice coffee shop and following your directions. This whole interaction is more than he expected, more than he hoped for. He has been watching you from afar, like a pathetic stalker. Avoiding to breathe in the same direction you did. Because of this.

The tears. The yearning. The fucking love that clouded every sense in him. All for you.

When he walks back to the front of the shop, he finds you sitting at one of the small tables for two. You’re holding a cup of something, and another waits for him in the seat in front of you.

Katsuki takes one deep breath in before walking towards where you are. He sits but you don’t look at him, you’re looking down at the cup between your small hands. He slightly smiles, he knows what you’re doing. Your hands are always cold, so you like holding the cup between your hands with anything warm in it to try to warm them. You have done this since he could remember, and that thought makes his insides sparkle. You haven’t changed at all.

Yet many things have changed.

The sweet and warm smell of hot chocolate fills his nostrils, and the smile widens on his face as he sees the contents of his cup. Katsuki isn’t the type to like sweet things, yet your hot chocolate has always been his weakness.

He hasn’t had it in years, since you moved away to another continent, so he can avoid to enjoy quite thoroughly the first sip. And yeah, it tastes just as he remembers. All you.

There’s silence. He doesn’t push a conversation and neither do you. You both just drink your hot cocoa and wait. Wait for anyone to gather some courage and say something.

There’s so much to say, so much to ask, so much to answer. Yet the bubble is nice and cozy, Katsuki really doesn’t want to be the one to pop it.

Right at the last sip of the drink, you are the one who decides to finally pop the bubble.

“I know,” it’s all you say, and Katsuki understands it perfectly.

You know he has been around. You know he has been watching from afar, carefully protecting you from the shadows. You know he has sent Izuku and Eijirou more times than he cares to admit just so he knew you were okay, safe. You know it had been Katsuki the one who dealt with that piece of trash who left the shop without paying and sent the money via mailing to you. You know he was the one who hung the big sign of your shop after it fell due to a strong windy day. You know he has been aware of every one of your moves around the shop for a month.

You know.

“I was… I didn’t want to-...” His voice breaks when he looks up and sees the tears running down your cheeks. His own eyes fill with uncontrollable tears he knows he won’t be able to hold back any longer either.

For the first time, Katsuki thinks his heart won’t survive this.

Despite this, he smiles genuinely at you and asks, “H-how have you been doing?”

You don’t break eye contact as you clean the tears from your face and murmur a simple, “Good.”

Katsuki knows himself well, and he knows he is a complete bastard. Because it pisses him off. It makes him mad that you’re good when he carries this turmoil of feelings for you that are making him go insane day by day.

He feels his insides bursting, all the emotions spilling out from his being pathetically as he cries in front of you. “Really?” One nod in answer. And he can’t stand looking at your facade of neutral features as tears keep escaping your eyes in betrayal.

Katsuki snorts, forearms leaning over the table and his head hanging low, “Why it fuckin’ annoys me that you’re doing well? Damn it.”

“You don’t actually mean that…”

“I do, I always mean everything I fuckin’ say,” he leans back against the chair, eyes going back to yours. His probably are even redder thanks to his tears, just like yours already look puffy from yours.

Katsuki decides then that this is the moment. This is the moment to finally pour out everything he has been carrying inside for you.

“Because you see, as I’m sure you’re aware now, day by fuckin’ day, I’m dying a little more inside without you. And you’re just– doing well.”

The sudden cry that leaves your being makes him want to hold you, and the little sobs only sink him more into the pit of feelings he named ‘Y/N’. Because he hasn’t been able to get out of it, nor has he actually put enough effort to, swimming there painfully pleasantly.

And yet… there you are. Doing well.

So well, that you are going to marry another guy.

Katsuki stretches his arm over the table and reaches without struggle the wrist of one of your hands that hides your crying face. You let him bring that hand toward the table, and he holds it in between his. He smiles again; he was right, your hands are always cold.

“Y-you waited…” you weep, your other hand resting over your chest, right where your heart is.

He nods, “I waited…”

You close your eyes, head going to a side and sobbing again. It hurts him so much to see you like this, just as much as the thought of another man being the carer of that precious heart of yours.

“Oh, Katsuki…”

The way you whimper his name like it physically hurts you, made him want to vomit. It brought a new deep pain to his chest that he doubts he is ever going to recover from.

There’s silence again, both of you sniffing and trying to gather your emotions back in control.

He doesn’t know why he came here. Probably he needed a confirmation of what Izuku told him after his first encounter with you.

“She’s going to marry, Kacchan,” Izuku’s words had been like an ice-cold bucket of water thrown at his back, leaving him breathless and distressed. But it didn’t compare with the next bomb, “because she’s pregnant. She wanted the ceremony to be here, in commemoration of her parents.”

He pucked right then and there; Izuku being the best fucking friend he always has been tended to Katsuki’s breakdown that day. The nerd even held him in a tight hug as he bawled his soul out.

But again, the pain doesn’t compare to the living proof right in front of his eyes now.

The hand he’s holding in between his is the one where an engagement ring adorns your beautiful finger. A ring that should have been from him, and not that other guy.

The very discreet little bump on your abdomen he got to feel when he caught you when you fell from the old ladder makes him boil with frustration. That should have been his little brat inside you, and not the other guy’s.

Bakugou Katsuki really feels like a sword has stroked right through the middle of his heart.

And it doesn’t matter anymore, he’s going to die watching from afar how the love of his life is being united to another guy. Well, you already are.

Ah. 

Katsuki didn’t mind the cold. The quirk his parents gave him made him run hot most of the time. 

Yet, from now on, Katsuki thinks he’s going to feel the piercing cold everyone talks about in winter forever.

He thinks he’s going to hate the cold now.

[lewisvinga]

not so soft launch | alexia putellas x fem! reader

summary; alexia really doesn’t know what a soft launch is

fc; christina nadin

warnings; cursing

all works taglist; @goldenmclaren @namgification @c-losur3 @minkyungseokie @lavisenri @ollieshifts

note; first woso fic / smau 😋 i rlly love smaus

masterlist !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; mornings from mexico 🌞] [caption 2; beach beach beach]

username rue… when was this??

username Y/N?????1&/@929

friendone oh i know ur having the time of ur life

yourusername oh yes i am😋

yourbestfriend soft launch eraaa

yourusername if she can even do one,i am having my doubts 😞

yourbestfriend i mean it’s alexia,,, im sure she’d get what a soft launch is…..

yourusername we shall see 🤓

alexiaputellas amor???? my face isn’t even in the pictures?🤔

yourusername bc that’s what a soft launch is, babe😕

alexiaputellas todavía no entiendo 🙄 [i still don’t understand]

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liked by alexiaputellas, yourbestfriend, and others !

yourusername: 🌴

username: are u soft launching 😞😞😞

username: body is tea tho😍

username: did we just lose y/n 💔💔

username: y/n w a gf? A WIN FOR THE GAYS!!🏳️‍🌈

username: those tattoos look familiar…👀👀

username: I KNOWW, maybe she’s dating a certain fcb player???🤔🤔

friendone:🫢🫢

friendtwo: tell her i say hola😋

yourusername: she said hi🤗

username: who is she plz y/n😠😠

username: when i shout my girl my girl my girl too much n i fr lost her ( i never had a chance )

alexiaputellas: why’d you crop my face out 🙁

yourbestfriend: i told u her ass doesn’t know what a soft launch is🥱

alexiaputellas: i do know🙄🙄

alexiaputellas: oh wait

yourusername: you’re so lucky i love you 😒

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liked by yourusername, marialeonn16, and others !

alexiaputellas: what is a soft launch anyways ?

tagged; yourusername

yourusername: i’m done u ruined my absolutely perfect soft launch😔😔

alexiaputellas: i’ll make it up to you😁

marialeonn16: there are?? children present???

alexiaputellas: you mean yourself 🤨????

marialeonn16: ???????

yourusername: love u but just accept it mapi

marialeonn16: NO???

yourusername: are u single ????🤭🤭

alexiaputellas: i’m dating this one girl who keeps whining in my ear about ruining her soft launch😕

yourusername: was gonna say ur hot or whatever but nvm🙄🙄

alexiaputellas: i can feel your eyes on me

yourbestfriend: y/n just has 0 shame unfortunately 😔

username: GOOD MORNING TO YOU TOO????

username: oh she’s gorgeous 😍

username: IS THAT Y/N????

username: my two world colliding 😭😭

username: oh this is an it couple for sure

jennihermoso: you really couldn’t hold back, could you?

alexiaputellas: nope !

ingrid_engen: cuties 😍

marialeonn16: INGRID NO. they’re mean and they’re bullies

ingrid_engen: to be fair you do like to bother them a lot…

yourusername: 😁😁😁

marialeonn16: is this attack mapi day or what??

alexiaputellas: yes

username: i know damn well she knows what a soft launch is 😭

username: she rlly said fuck a soft launch and hard launches the most gorgeous girl ever😫

[teddyberrii]

Re: your tags about full company requests .. So, I really like full company stuff that shows off N and J being cute together (specifically in the context of full company though, like as opposed to just shipping N/J one on one, to clarify what I mean), because I just like the idea of them getting along better post-series and I think the big polycule has the best chemistry for that. If you're up for it, would you be willing do draw some full company N and J? Could totally include V and/or Uzi too! They could all be doing something! Like snuggling or doing an activity, I'd just love if there an emphasis on N and J somehow being niceys together <3 Doesn't have to be romantically charged either, or it can, honestly w/e you want! (Sorry this ask is long I'm probs over explaining I'm just trying to make it clear I'm not trying to be weird and disrespect your "won't draw" ship list or anything. >< )

If you're feeling meh about it though I understand and you could consider this a request for any full company dynamic at all! Your art's just super cute and it's honestly so hard to find sweet full company stuff, I was so stoked to see you were into it! >o< tysm for posting your art in general!

Tried some new stylistic stuff and I’m pretty happy with it I think

(I’ll keep it real with you anon: I have so much hatred in my heart for codegold 😭 unless you frankenstein some insane character development with N and J, I honestly cannot see a universe where they would be in a relationship and have it be healthy because of how ruthless J has been to N [on top of that, I’m a pretty big nuzi and jessa truther so 💔] HOWEVER, I’m willing to let it slide within the context of full company I think… plus you’re really nice so I figured the least I can do is fulfill your request ^_^)

[astrolook]

🔮 Astrology’s Best-Kept Secrets: What Your Birth Chart Reveals That No One Talks About

Today I'm back with another post and don't forget to comment below!

You’ve probably heard the basics: ✨ Your Sun Sign is your personality. ✨ Your Moon Sign is your emotions. ✨ Your Rising Sign is how people see you.

But let’s be real—your birth chart holds WAY more secrets than that. And I’m here to spill the cosmic tea. ☕🌌

The 12th House – The “You” That Even You Don’t Know About

The 12th house is the hidden realm of your chart—it rules dreams, subconscious fears, past life karma, and the parts of yourself that you repress without realizing it. It’s basically the shadow version of you that leaks out when you're alone, emotional, or half-asleep at 3 AM.

💀 Planets in the 12th House? They operate in the background, influencing you in ways you don’t always understand.

🌀 Example:

Mars in the 12th House? You suppress anger until it EXPLODES. People might say you have "chill vibes," but deep down, you’re constantly in a mental boxing match. 🥊

Venus in the 12th House? You love in secret. You might be drawn to unavailable people, or you attract love that feels like a soulmate connection but in a tragic novel way. 💔

Mercury in the 12th House? You think FAST, but when you try to explain your thoughts, it comes out as ???—like your brain is buffering in real time.

💭 Ever feel like something’s holding you back, but you can’t explain it? That’s your 12th house at work.

The North Node – Your Karmic Destiny (a.k.a. What the Universe Keeps Pushing You Toward)

Your North Node is your soul’s assignment in this lifetime. It’s what you’re meant to learn, but it’s also the thing you naturally resist the most. 😭

🔥 Example:

North Node in Aries? You need to stop people-pleasing and become your own main character. You weren’t born to follow.

North Node in Libra? Relationships and balance are your destiny—but first, you have to stop running from love.

North Node in Capricorn? The universe is forcing you to step into leadership and take control of your life. No more “I’ll do it later” excuses!

👀 Knowing your North Node helps explain why life keeps slapping you with the same lesson over and over.

The 8th House – The “Dark Side” of You That People Feel But You Don’t See

The 8th house is deep, intense, and a little terrifying. It rules transformation, intimacy, secrets, power, and things that are “taboo.” People with strong 8th house placements have magnetic, mysterious energy—they either draw people in or make them nervous.

⚡ Example:

Pluto in the 8th House? You’re basically a walking X-ray machine. You can spot fake energy in seconds, and you’re probably low-key psychic. 🔮

Moon in the 8th House? You feel EVERYTHING too deeply but pretend you don’t. Your emotions come with a built-in intensity setting at 100%. Family and ancestral secrets.

Venus in the 8th House? When you love, you love with your entire soul. Your relationships are either all-consuming or simply casual flings. You won't settle down until you find the one and also your spouse could be richer than you.

💀 8th house placements = People either obsess over you or avoid you. No in-between.

Chiron – Your Deepest Wound (That You Keep Repeating Until You Heal It)

Chiron is the “wound” you carry throughout life—the thing that keeps hurting no matter how much you try to ignore it. But here’s the twist: once you heal it, you become a guide for others.

💔 Example:

Chiron in the 1st House? You always feel like you’re not good enough, no matter how much you glow up.

Chiron in the 7th House? You might struggle with relationships because deep down, you fear rejection.

Chiron in the 10th House? No matter how hard you work, you feel like success is always just out of reach.

💡 Healing your Chiron = stepping into your true power. But first, you have to acknowledge the pain.

Saturn – The Cosmic Life Coach (a.k.a. Why Life Feels Hard Sometimes)

Saturn is like that strict teacher who expects the best from you but never hands out A’s easily. It rules karma, discipline, and hard lessons. If something in your life feels extra difficult, check where Saturn is in your chart.

Example:

Saturn in the 2nd House? You’ll have to WORK for financial stability—no trust fund luck here. But once you learn the lessons, you build lasting wealth.

Saturn in the 5th House? Creativity and romance might feel blocked in early life. But once you unlock your confidence, you’re unstoppable.

Saturn in the 7th House? You’re probably not the “love at first sight” type. Relationships come with extra lessons—but they also get better with age. Either marry age or would have a significant age difference with your partner.

⏳ Saturn rewards patience. What feels impossible now will make sense later.

The IC (Imum Coeli) – The “Hidden Core” of Who You Are

Your IC (Imum Coeli) is the lowest point in your chart, ruling your deepest self, your upbringing, and what makes you feel safe. It’s often linked to childhood patterns and the part of you that only comes out when you’re truly comfortable.

🏡 Example:

IC in Cancer? You need emotional security like oxygen. A cozy home, family vibes, and deep connections = your safe space.

IC in Scorpio? You grew up learning that trust is earned, not given. You keep your emotions locked up unless someone proves they’re worthy.

IC in Aquarius? You never quite felt “normal” growing up—maybe you were the black sheep or had unique interests. But deep down, you just want to be accepted for who you truly are.

✨ Want to Know YOUR Hidden Birth Chart Secrets?

Your chart holds so many clues about your life purpose, struggles, and the cosmic blueprint of your soul. 🚀

📩 DM me for a complete birth chart reading! Let’s uncover what the stars are really saying about you. 🔮✨

Karmic Paths & Soul Purpose: A Complete Guide to the North Nodes & South Nodes in Astrology (13-page report) - $5

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