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icarryitin · 3 months

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Trade Deal

spencer reid/gn!reader

i started this bc i was ill and feeling sorry for myself and it turned into a very not to me not if it’s you kind of vibe, mostly bc i frankensteined a couple of my favourite translations of That Scene so they could have their own version🥰🥰

series masterlist

word count: 1.5k // warnings: reader has a cold and all the grossness that comes with it, spencer is so Cute™️ it causes me physical pain

summary: In which Spencer Reid, known germaphobe, pretends he doesn’t know exactly how many pathogens have made their home in your sinuses.

It starts with a scratchy throat on a Tuesday morning.

You don’t think much of it, blame it on seasonal allergies, knock back a multivitamin - you’re not about to be bested by a cough of all things. That is, until it gets to Friday afternoon. You’re trying, you really are. Your immune system has other plans.

“You stay right there, Patient Zero.”

Rossi’s comment would be funny if you didn’t think that laughing might trigger a coughing fit that could very well be the end of you, right there in the doorway of Hotch’s office. That’d be one hell of an epitaph - too stubborn to take a sick day, choked to death in boss’s office. Hotch, at least, already seems to know why you’re hovering.

“I’m-“

“Going home, I hope.” He interrupts you with all the fondness of a concerned father. You don’t have the energy to argue, or to hold up an unaffected front. The men standing by the window soften a little as they watch you visibly deflate. Dave promises to send you his Nonna’s minestrone recipe, there’s nothing it can’t cure; right now, though, you’re only thinking about your bed.

The well wishes follow you through the bullpen, old wives tales and family cures that have never failed. JJ tells you to sweeten your tea with honey, Derek swears that a hot water bottle on your back will work magic. Even Emily pipes up from behind her germ shield, the folder held across her face so you can only see her eyes, and tells you to take a hot shower first thing in the morning - the steam will clear you out for the day. There’s a chorus of agreement, or disagreement you’re not sure. It’s a struggle to hear much over the cotton wool in your ears.

“We’ll see, with any luck I’ll die in my sleep. Love you!” You sniffle as you back out of the office, feeling all kinds of sorry for yourself, and determined to make it as far as you can without touching anything. Lest you actually start the next plague.

Spencer watches you go, shuffling backwards out of the office and turning towards the elevators. He’d elected not to add his own suggestions to the plethora of options supplied by the rest of the team. Unable to focus on much beyond just how tired you look. You’ve been fighting this thing all week, he’d passed over his own supply of hand sanitiser only that morning when you ran out. Ultimately, you put up a good fight, but there’s no cure for a virus. It just has to run its course. Just like his own feelings.

Okay, maybe he shouldn’t be comparing a virus to whatever it is he feels for you. Has felt, will feel - if there’s an end to this tunnel, he can’t see it yet.

“What about you, Spence?”

JJ’s voice pulls him from his thoughts before he can start spiralling down that particular hole. It takes him a moment to recall what they’d been chattering about before your long overdue exit - drinks, right. Yeah, that’s not happening.

“I’m busy, actually.” He shrugs, content to miss out on one night in favour of the plan currently coming to fruition in his mind. They won’t miss him too much.

“Busy? You weren’t busy when we talked about it last week.” Emily makes no effort to conceal her surprise. To be fair to them, it’s not like him to blow them off. There’s just something that’s come up, something decidedly you shaped, that’s far more important.

“Yeah, I forgot. Sorry.”

Spencer doesn’t miss the look that JJ and Emily share, he doesn’t miss the eyebrow that Derek raises in his direction. He simply chooses to ignore them.

At least the walk to your apartment is short, there’s still heat leeching from the plastic bag around Spencer’s wrist as he fumbles with his keys. You’d given him a bright pink key cap, so he’d know which one was yours, as if he wouldn’t know anyway. Eidetic or not, that’s one he would have committed to memory. The excuse had been because he was helping you out whilst you were down an arm, takedown gone wrong, you’d dislocated your shoulder. And then you’d insisted he keep it, because someone should have your spare key, and he’s the least likely of the lot of you to lose it.

He thinks you might be asleep at first, open plan living area lit only by a salt lamp and a set of fairy lights draped over your kitchen window, it’s cosy. And then you appear in the bedroom doorway, wrapped in a jewel toned blanket. The low light is forgiving, but Spencer would be able to spot the bags under your eyes from a mile away. Without his glasses.

“I brought noodles.” He says as he turns back to set the steaming bag on your kitchen counter.

“I’m so gross right now.” As if to demonstrate your point, another cough racks your body. You just about manage to catch it under the swathes of blanket clutched in your fingers, but at least he can’t claim you’re not truly disgusting in this moment.

“I don’t mind.”

You’re so set on denying him entry that you don’t even really register what he said - Spencer Reid doesn’t mind that you’re ill. He doesn’t mind. A younger, healthier version of you would swoon. You might anyway, although that’s probably the vertigo talking.

“You’ll get sick.” Your rebuttal is weak, resolve crumbling. Warm noodles do sound pretty good right now.

“Will you let me help you, please?” It’s the firmest he’s ever been with you. No room for argument, doctor’s orders. So you have to relent. Not that you have much of a choice, he’s already pottering about in your kitchen in search of bowls. As if he doesn’t remember where they are.

“Did you get me a number three?” Your voice is brighter than he’s heard it all week.

“With extra toppings, of course.”

And those extra toppings go down a treat, of course they do.

Spencer watches you carefully as you eat - usually he’d be a little more subtle about it, but there’s not a lot that could pull your attention away from the bowl in your hands. You’re cross legged on the couch, blanket bunched around your middle, happy as a clam. Something his mother would say. He wonders what else she might say, what she might think about the abandonment of his germaphobia. Convenient, probably. Diana would say it with a raised eyebrow and a sly smile, the one that’s just for him. She has always liked you.

He promises he’ll be back tomorrow, once dishes are washed and leftovers are tucked neatly in your fridge, to make sure you get that hot shower Emily mentioned. The steam will definitely help, he’s read about it. Arguing with him would be pointless. You don’t have the energy, he’d only show up anyway, and it’s kind of nice to feel looked after. Spencer’s never failed to make you feel like that. You’re far too delirious to start thinking about that, not while he’s still standing in front of you at least. So you let him tuck you into bed, let him leave a glass of water on the table, let him dote. Pretending is a comfort when you feel as awful as you do. You’re already drifting off before he’s even ready to leave, content enough in your bed with the sound of him in the other room. Just, tinkering.

The sound of your front door opening rouses you the next morning, just about. Just enough to raise your head from your pillow and witness the sorry sight in your bedroom doorway.

Spencer’s trying - key word, trying - to suppress his sniffles, but the red rimmed eyes and tissue clutched in his fist give him away. It’s impossible to keep the sad little smile off of your face.

“Oh no.” You reach out a tired arm to pat the space beside you. There’s enough room for the two of you in amongst the blankets, and Spencer’s so far gone that he doesn’t even argue. His shoes and bag find a home at the foot of your bed as he lets himself collapse into the nest you’ve built. Tension leeches out of his body the moment he hits the mattress.

You have to lean across him to get your phone, right arm outstretched over his back - you can feel the heat rising off of him through his sweater and yours. Fever, that’s day two. Which means he spent yesterday evening taking care of you whilst he began to feel worse and worse. Softie.

“Egg or no egg?”

There’s an affirmative grunt from where his face is buried in your blankets. Egg it is, then. You dial the number mostly from memory, elbow still resting on his shoulder blade when you put the phone to your ear. You feel a little better than you did, but dragging yourself to the front door is still probably all you’ll be capable of today. At least you won’t be suffering alone. The line rings for a moment, then clicks, and a grainy hello sounds from the other side.

“Hi, can I place a breakfast order for delivery, please?”

i’m stuck on which chapter to work on next, do we want angst or yearning or fun flirty activities????🧡

#the canyouniverse #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds #lou writes

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feministkomaeda · 5 months

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It looks like today is my birthday. Time sure does fly, huh?

To be honest, I never anticipated that I might make it this long. I kind of assumed my luck would have taken care of me years ago, ahah…Even my doctor said I wouldn’t live to see my twenties! But I’m here anyways. It’s funny how things work out.

…But, ah, maybe…maybe try to take it easy on the well wishes, okay everybody? Though my luck has taken me this far, I don’t trust it not to sabotage things for me to offset whatever kind words you might throw my way. I can’t die now! I’d rather not leave my classmates to deal with my rotting carcass. That’d just be uncouth of me.

#nagito komaeda #danganronpa

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impactedfates · 9 months

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Yay requests are now open! So can I request a reader who is yanqing's sibling who plays sympathetic immersia (video game equivalent in Luofu) Genshin that Guinafein introduces them to it, even JY knew the game's hype and reader is immersed with the game's scenery, music and archon quests Reader also would blush every time they see genshin fanart of Wanderer or Xiao. Yanqing and JY would notice how they would look down and grin widely in their phone screen. Also the early AR shenanigans like unlocking dragonspine, trying to ice bridge to Inazuma and getting yeeted by a hilichurl and ofc the infamous dendro slime attacking when exploring Liyue. Overall, reader plays it and YQ is curious and JY is interested

★ A/N: If that were me they would hear me screaming at night when I get my various different characters (esp Kaveh and Zhongli) I hope you like this anon :>

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic + Fluff

★ Format: Mini Scenarios (Separate)

☆ Warnings: None (I think?)

★ Extra: Reader is older then Yanqing // Readers job is whatever you want their job as // Father JY :D

Jing Yuan's heard of the game before however it wasn't until he heard you yelling in delight over a 5* you had gotten that he found out you were one of the many people that also has a delight in playing the game.

He's amused to see how much you like certain characters and how you, in your words, "simp" for others. In fact, I honestly think you probably did the "My parents rate Genshin Characters" trend with him. He ranked most of the characters very highly honestly. (He especially liked Cyno along with some of the sleepy characters like Lisa, Layla and Sayu)

Honestly he's very amused by all your reactions throughout the game, the audible gasps you may do when something surprises you, the loud cursing when you're fighting an enemy and the cries when you lose your 50/50 (maybe if you ask nice enough he'll give you his credit card)

I'd think he wishes to try out the game himself, however with the fact he's busy with General duties he doesn't get much time to really play. However he does get all the characters he wants with just a swipe of his card, however he's stuck at level 45 as a) no time to really continue and b) he honestly seems like the type to not bother with the ascension mission and in fact wants it to build up till he knows he's AR 60. THEN he'll actually do it.

Overall, he doesn't mind that you play it and enjoys it himself when he can. However don't expect him to be so willing to give you his card so you can get the Genesis Crystals to get the characters you want.

(Also I see his team consisting of off-field dps like Xiangling and Furina so he can just sit back and relax as they do the fighting and he doesn't need to lift a finger much)

I feel like Yanqing was already a player. Like he joined when it was first released but he didn't really play much. He'd log in once or twice a week then not log in for months. It's not that he isn't interested, he is. It's just he has things he enjoys more.

When he finds out you play it then he might be more inclined to try harder at it, so the two of you can do some sibling bonding time and play. Depending on AR levels between the two of you, he's either asking you to help defeat bosses when he still cannot after the nth time or you both can cry as you die to the electro hypostasis.

I feel like his luck is like, amazing as well. Like he got Keqing on the beginner banner and managed to get a good 5* weapon for her on the standard. And he's always won his 50/50s

However his luck cannot be transferred to how his artifact luck is. It takes his weeks upon weeks to get ONE decent artifact for his new 5* Ayaka.

He still doesn't play much but his game time has increased a lot more and he can understand why you like it so much...however he cannot understand why you seem to like certain characters and beg him to get you merch of them for your birthday.

He definitely struggled in DragonSpine and thought pyro and cryo characters were immune to sheer cold.

Overall, he understands a lot where you're coming from when it comes to gameplay and lore but when it comes to you simping over certain characters then he can't help but feel confused, and if he particularly dislikes a character you simp for. Perhaps disgusted (jokingly and lovingly of course)

(I'm unsure what his team would be, but he'd be a mono sword team imo)

Honestly, with my personal experiences with Genshin. I thankfully did not struggle with DragonSpine (not as much as other people did)

However, I will say that I probably should've started building sooner. I only started once I hit about AR 56 and finished most of the Inazuma quest (don't ask me how I survived, idk either lmao)

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr imagines #platonic hsr #hsr platonic #Jing Yuan x Reader #Jing Yuan x You #Platonic Jing Yuan x Reader #Platonic Jing Yuan x You #Yanqing x Reader #Yanqing x You #Platonic Yanqing x Reader #Platonic Yanqing x You #🎭 masked fools

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mimi-cee-genshin · 1 year

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Denial is Futile: Wanderer x f!reader - Chapter 3

Read on AO3 | Series Masterlist

« Chapter 1 | < Chapter 2

Summary: The cute and sweet guy from the bazaar was brought to your place while unconscious. But when he woke up, you were appalled by the amount of snark he had. Was he even the same person? And now you were stuck with him because he could literally die if he stopped holding your hand. You weren't sure if you could tolerate him any longer. Little did you know he was exactly the type of person you needed in your life.

Other info: Fluff, humor, sfw, enemies to lovers, some hurt/comfort and angst later, character growth, occurs after the version 3.3 Archon quest and Tighnari's story quest, female reader

Word count: 2.0k

*****

"You need to let go," you told Wanderer.

You dropped your bag about a foot or two away from the campfire. A table was set up near it, presumably for food preparation considering the pots and utensils on it. It seemed like a location where anyone who lived in Gandharva Ville could use as a kitchen as long as they cleaned up after themselves.

"Did you expect me to light the fire with one hand?" you said while tapping your foot.

"You know I can't let go," he told you, rolling his eyes. "Get someone else to do it."

You grabbed his hand and shoved it onto your shoulder. "Why don't you try to use your brain?" you told him. "Or do you not have one of those?"

As you attempted to light the campfire, Wanderer decided to squeeze your shoulder until you yelped and howled like a dog in pain. You shot him a look. Did you not realize he was just as petty as you were?

With a huff, you returned to the fire and struck the flint. Every single time you hit it, there was no hint of a fire forming. There wasn't even a spark.

"Wow," he said. "And I thought I'd seen it all. Is this a hidden talent of yours? You must have some special powers bestowed upon by the gods."

You struck the rock again.

"You might as well wish for a pyro vision at this rate," he told you. "You'd probably have more luck with that."

The flint went silent; you had stopped scraping it. You clenched your jaw and ground your teeth in the process. A gritty voice left your lips.

"I don't need one."

Wanderer couldn't pinpoint where this bitterness had come from. Your tone and expression reminded him all too much of the days when he was angry at the world, at both human and archon. Perhaps, and this was only a speculation, there was something about visions that you had resented.

You struck the metal against the flint once more and yet there was still no fire. You'd think that with the amount of force you put in, you'd light up the whole forest. You had attempted at least ten times at this point.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Thirteen–

"Give me that!" Wanderer struck the flint and the wood caught fire. "Done." He threw a smirk at you.

You rolled your eyes.

"Just how useless are you?" he asked.

"You're not exactly helping."

"I literally just lit the fire for you."

"Ugh!" You groaned with an exaggeration that could rival an actress performing at the Zubayr Theatre.

You stuck your hand in your bag and whipped out whatever was inside. Wanderer took a step back and braced himself for whatever you were going to do to him.

"What? Do you think it was a weapon?" you asked.

He opened an eyelid.

It was a rice scoop.

"Ugh, what's with you?" he told you. "There's seriously something wrong in that brain of yours. If you think for one minute that I have the patience to deal with someone like you, I–"

You cracked an egg.

On his head.

"Huh…" you said with a hand on your hip. "So that head is useful for something."

The bird egg's cool liquid ran past his brow and down his cheek.

"You..." he said through gritted teeth. His hand searched the table for something he could use to get back at you. A sneer formed across his face.

Another bird egg.

"Hm? What are you up to, Wanderer?"

His arm froze in the middle of his swing.

Two green eyes stared straight up at him.

"You're still here?" he asked, lowering his arm. Ugh. How inconvenient.

Nahida eyed his forehead and a drop of egg white fell off a stand of his hair. "Need any help?" she asked with a smile.

He clicked his tongue and used his anemo powers to blow the egg away. "No."

"Hey!" you snapped at him, waving a notebook which was now covered with egg. "You did that on purpose!"

"Tch. Who told you to leave your work in a cooking area?"

"Wanderer, Y/n," said Nahida. "I know the two of you don't exactly see eye-to-eye, but it wouldn't hurt to put more effort into getting along."

Ha. Niwa had always said the same thing to the people under his care. Be a good example to Kabukimono, he had told them. Unfortunately for him, his rebukes were in vain.

If he saw how he was now…

He shook his head. The way he viewed those memories from Tatarasuna had changed drastically ever since that moment in Irminsul. Memories he tossed aside like a ragged doll neglected on a desert trail. They occasionally returned as drops of water that soothed his sores, and if he didn't experience them himself, they'd be as real as a mirage.

"Lesser Lord Kusenali," you said, "do you even know what this guy is like? He's simply unbearable."

He sighed and crouched down, scooping rice from the bag and pouring them in a pot. "How much do you want?" he asked.

"You're actually co-operating?" you said.

"Did you want me to stop?"

"Did you expect me to say yes?"

He rolled his eyes. "With how petty you are, it wouldn't surprise me if you did."

The two of you continued to bicker but somehow finished cooking your breakfast in the process. Beating the eggs took the eternity that his mother tried to achieve. The rice miraculously didn't boil over, and there was so much heat between the two of you that you could have created your own desert in the process.

But the two of you made omelette rice.

Disgustingly sweet omelette rice.

You sat down across the table from him. If anyone saw the two of you, they'd think you were on a date with your hand holding his. Your other hand was holding a bottle of ketchup and you covered the plate of omelette rice with an amount of it that made him physically cringe.

He was right.

It was disgusting.

"Kabukimono," Katsuragi had reminded him. "The grandma who cooked it will be sad if you don't finish it all."

He took another bite.

"Hey! Stop taking my food!" you told him. "I thought you didn't need to eat!"

He rolled his eyes. "I don't."

He took another bite.

Still horrible.

You grabbed the plate from him before he could have another complaining he had eaten more than half of it. Seemed like you had the ability to flat out lie to yourself. He barely even touched it. It was nothing like that grandma's recipe.

He scraped the wooden table with his chopsticks, not at all paying attention to the ebbs and flows of your voice. His shoulders grew heavy as he stared at the bare table in front of him.

It was difficult to bear the guilt from his past, but this was still much better than being oblivious to the actions in his previous life.

Denying that it happened would never ease his conscience.

*****

You were in denial.

You reread the papers Tighnari had given you and dug your fingers through your hair. Why was this research assignment so hard? Your previous ones were simple to solve, but this one boggled your mind.

This couldn't be happening.

"You're actually trying to work in this situation?" Wanderer held up your hand as if you'd forgotten.

"Did you have something better in mind?" you asked. "I still have a job to do and if I'm not mistaken, the Archon even told you to help me."

He slumped into his chair and continued to tap a finger on the desk. Was he really just going to sit there and do nothing?

Never mind him. You dragged him to your bookshelf and picked up a textbook you had used last semester. You were sure the correct formula was here. An example similar to Tighnari's data set was in this chapter if you remembered correctly.

You returned to your desk and as you continued your work, Wanderer simply trapped his foot.

And fidgeted in his chair.

And started scraping Collei's desk.

"Can't you do something else?" you snapped at him.

"It's not like I have a choice," he said.

"Don't you have any hobbies?"

"Do I look like the type of person who'd have meaningless pursuits?"

"The Wanderer from back then definitely seemed pleasant enough to stop and look at the flowers."

"Ha. Sounds like you're still stuck in the past," he replied.

You ground your teeth and glared at him before picking up your pencil and attempting to solve this frustrating problem. Whatever. It didn't matter if he was there as long as he wasn't bothering you.

You tried to use the formula you found, but the answer didn't make any sense. After a few more times, you groaned, not being able to make any progress.

You flipped through your textbook again and when you finally you found the right answer, Wanderer snatched the book from in front of you.

"What the heck are you doing?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He opened the textbook to a random page and slammed it on your desk. "Just how stupid are you?" he said.

"Well, if you didn't take the textbook from me, I would've been halfway through solving it by now."

"Halfway through wasting more of your time. Unless getting things wrong is your hobby."

"You…"

He sat back down on his chair and rolled his eyes. "If you actually looked, you'd see that the answer was right in front of you."

You glanced at your textbook and an example problem filled the page from top to bottom. You grumbled and reluctantly erased the work you had done.

"Don't tell me a guy like him is actually a scholar…" you mumbled to yourself.

"Hmph. If studying these things gets me closer to my revenge, then so be it," he said.

"Good luck with that," you told him sarcastically. You knew better than anyone that revenge over-promises and never satisfies. You bet that was the reason the gods gave him his vision in the first place. Their inability to make wise decisions made you lose faith in them all the more.

"Well, if you'd been lied to your whole life and got people killed, wouldn't you want revenge as well?"

A fiery blaze entered your mind and a man with white hair stood in front of you.

The paper in your hand crumbled under your grip. "No," you replied. Your breath was caught in your throat. "I wouldn't."

You attempted to slow your heart rate by taking another breath. Everything was fine, you told yourself. Your brother was safe at home. The vision was locked away. There was nothing to worry about. The war was long over so just concentrate on your studies. Everything was fine.

As you took another breath, you felt a gentle squeeze around your hand. Wanderer's head was turned away from you, facing your random assortment of textbooks on the upper shelf. Your heart beat slowed to its normal pace.

"What's with you today?" you asked in a voice softer than usual.

Wanderer got up and tugged you to the entrance of the house. With the amount of strength in his arms, you had no power to fight back.

"What do you think you're doing?" you asked.

"I don't know. Getting some sunsettias? You liked wasting time, right?"

"What are you even–"

"Don't you know that eating sunsettias keep you from being stupid," he said. "And if I'm stuck with you, I don't want it to rub onto me."

You blinked a few times.

"Why are you laughing?" he snapped.

Maybe it was the baffled look on his face. Maybe it was his poor attempt at pretending to be critical. Either way, it gave you a brief feeling of relief that you hadn't had for a while.

"What an annoying woman," he muttered under his breath.

This was the first time you thought Wanderer was pleasant to be around, not counting the time at the Grand Bazaar.

Unfortunately, that feeling didn't last very long.

I hope you enjoyed it!

*****

Chapter 4 >

If you want to be added to my taglist, you can fill out this Google form or just let me know in a reply or ask.

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love-hatred-stuff · 1 year

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He sits there and watches. Looks at you and feels like he's admiring someone people would call a goddess. Someone men would fight and die for. Because that's what he would do for you. All those feelings and you had not a single clue.

Not that Bucky wouldn't come up to you and tell you how he feels. But he knew he couldn't, and he hated the reason for that more than anything else in his life.

It was you. It wasn't you that he hated, no, it was the fact that you hated him. And we aren't talking about the hate where you yell at people and cuss at them. It's the kind of hate where you ignore the person you despise because you just can't handle being near them even if you can't pinpoint exactly what pisses you off about them.

If someone had asked you, you wouldn't necessarily say that you hated Bucky Barnes. If you were asked what you think of him you would shrug and say "he's just not very approachable or friendly looking". He rather looks like his ultimate life goal is hooking up with as much woman as possible. You'd keep that part to yourself, say you're not interested in befriending him and start a better topic to talk about. Because there were plenty, you thought.

And it wasn't like you had no reason to think of him like that, he knows that, he's just not quite sure if it's something he did to you that he doesn't remember or if it's his reputation as the college f*ckboy.

But it didn't matter. Bucky had probably not the slightest chance of ever winning you over, as much as he wished he did.

So he continued to watch you from afar, trying to be subtle about it.

"Dude, are you even listening?" One of his friends shoved his shoulder, trying to get his attention.

Bucky was pulled out of his mind, which was, per usual, occupied with daydreams about you.

"You know, you should go talk to y/n. She's not only like one of the hottest girls on campus, she's also really nice. You two know each other, right?" His friend attempted.

Bucky sighed. "I know her, but she doesn't wanna know me. I should respect that. Whatever reason she might have." He answered in a low tone, exhausted from training the whole week and also not getting to talk to you, which bothers him more than anyone would know.

To his luck. After that, his team and your friend group only became closer through the months and practically spend every weekend with each other. Bucky though, had still zero chances to get you to genuinely listen to him rather than showing all those signs that you were more interested in every one else than him.

It made his chest ache, witnessing the way you had built a wall to protect yourself from him. Not once would he catch you glancing at him, not even out of decency. He figured he must look really unfriendly for you to treat him like that. But he couldn't blame you. He'd done a lot of things in his life that he wasn't proud of.

•••

Pls tell me if I should continue writing this or not and if you like it! I need some motivation :)

Love,

love-hatred-stuff

Here you go ;)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky moodboards #bucky barnes fic #enemies to lovers #college bucky barnes

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aoharushiyo · 3 months

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the recipes for... | track 1 — chocolate pudding

Translation: en Proofreading: aca, dimi, kimi, myun, jay, jelly

Content Warning: light jokes about death

PatiBattle is my life. A masterpiece containing the quintessential element, the character that gives meaning to my very existence— yeah, you heard that right: his name is Chiyoda Reito.

---

"Come the hell on, if I don't get there soon, it might all be gone…!"

I was held back after school for ages by the teachers today. Some lecture about my behaviour in class or something. Stuff like my attitude being all over the place, or reading manga under my desk in class… But why today, of all days? Of course, I just had to run my mouth and say that I'd listen any other day, please let me off just for today… but that just ended up adding oil to the fire and I got held back even longer.

[ Next Restock TBA ] "…"

I flew into the anime shop I frequented and stopped in front of the display case for newly stocked merch. I hadn't been able to pre-order, so all the merch I wanted had all already been snagged.

"Seriously… I wish this would stop happening…"

And it's just my luck that I don't have any friends I can ask to buy merch for me.

"'Restock TBA'…? The very concept of this should fuck right off."

Student life may as well be slavery. Sure, pointing and laughing at the working class and calling them corporate slaves has been a thing since ages ago, but isn't being a student pretty much the same thing? At these places called 'schools', you're physically limited to what you can do, you're forced into doing club activities after school, and even once you get home, you've gotta do homework or chores… All that takes up a shit ton of time. Adults always overestimate the amount of free time we kids have.

"Fuck…!"

Despite all of that, somehow I'm making do with the little free time I have. Attending events, making shrines, exchanging official and blind box merch, buying out merch stocks[1], nui outings, birthday pilgrimages…

"Aah… my life has no meaning anymore… Just end me already…"

I just couldn't take it any longer. I stumbled out of the store, and, after sparing only a glance to make sure no one was around, started hitting my head against the wall, over and over. Over, and over, and over. I failed. I'm a failure. I'm sorry, Reito, I'm so sorry that I couldn't bring you home.

The theme for the acrylic standee set this time around was 'Training Camp - First Year, Winter ~Wedding Cake~'. A set that dressed every single character in exquisite bridal attire. Not being able to get something like that on the day of its release is absolutely unforgivable. I might as well just die.

The way back was freezing cold. The weather sucked ass, too.

---

Today, I decided to go home instead of returning to the dorms. Here, I can do whatever I want without anyone getting in my way.

"…Yeah, I guess it'll do."

My feelings of frustration needed some kind of outlet. All of the love I was so ready to shower on my new standee had to go somewhere, too — so I eagerly channelled it into something else.

"Aren't you looking pretty good now?"

I held up my apron, extremely pleased with the crooked rows of can badges and pins that covered its entirety. Naturally, the apron was in Reito's image colour. And right over the chest, where my new merch should have been, shone in its place a new, extra-large aluminium standee.[2] That's right. In this patisserie kitchen, we don't have ita-bags — we have ita-aprons, obviously.

"I've gotta finish this before Reito's birthday…"

I guess you could say it's like a way of measuring love. If this weight is the weight of my love, then even if it's heavy because of how many things I've slowly added to it, I can't get enough. I just can't get enough of the insanity of wearing it. Merch of Reito is in ridiculously high demand, so it's really not great for my wallet, but… I'm fine with that. Because only then does it feel like I'm giving up even my soul for Reito.

"Now then…"

Finally satisfied with my sparkling, gleaming rows of badges, I moved onto the next part of my daily routine — checking socials. After all, numerous new fanworks are being created every day.

"Searching for… 'PatiBattle!'…" With great enthusiasm, I searched for every single keyword that I could think of. 'Patissier Battle', 'Chiyoda Reito', 'ReiOu', 'Rei0u', 'ChocoPudding'…[3]

"Damn, this person's art is so good… wait— wait, they drew this!? This is insane! Fuck, oh fuck… I can't take it, it's so radiant that I can't even look at it properly…!"

This must be what it means to be happy. Being able to see the masterpieces being born every day is happiness. While happily wading through my feed, I spent hours lost in the online world.

"…Ah."

There it was: Reito/Shouta. And… blocked. It's like I never saw it in the first place. It really was a shame that they didn't understand the better dynamic. But staying in your own lane makes the world go 'round, so never having to see it again was good enough.

And finally, after checking everything else, I'd left the best for last:

"Sanseiu-sensei…!"

Sanseiu-sensei, the god of ReiOu. Even if they hadn't uploaded anything new, I could spend hours rereading all of their older works.

"What's wrong? Could it be… is that embarrassment I see?" "H-hey! I still can't believe it… What would someone like you see in me…?" "If you keep saying things like that, I'll just go ahead and eat you up." "Mmph…!?" "…Delicious." "R-Reito-kun!" "Aren't you so sweet? Maybe… even sweeter than chocolate."

"Aaah, it's still this good every time I read this!? Even though I've read it before? This flavour never gets old no matter how many times I reread it! Seriously! What the fuck! I'm gonna go insane!"

After rolling around on my bed, I grabbed my pillow and screamed into it while writhing in glee. How was I supposed to remain sane after reading that!?

"It's so cute! It's so cute that I'm gonna die! Killing me directly would be less painful, Sanseiu-sensei!"

Throwing my emotions into this much disarray… that was the power of the great Sanseiu-sensei. I'd heard that they tabled at a large convention a few months ago, but…

"I wanna meet them and thank them…!"

I wanted to go so badly, but…

"…I can't deal with crowds…"

---

[1] 無限回収 mugen kaishuu refers to the act of buying the same merch over and over without caring about the cost. If you've ever seen one of those huge birthday shrines with a million of the same pins? That's the energy.

[2] アルミ arumi basically is a shortened form of ‘aluminium’. This could refer to a can badge, but it could also be an aluminium standee, which is a cutout of an artwork from an aluminium can. Since Ushio is saying that instead of the acrylic standee, he got an arumi, and also that he mentioned can badges earlier, I've gone with this option.

[3] 礼王 is Ushio's OTP, Reito/Ouji. He'll explain this later! After this, he searches for 礼玉. Note that 玉 looks like 王; it's pretty common to use something to censor part of the name so that it doesn't appear in searches. I've replaced the O with a 0 to replicate the same effect since it wouldn't make much sense to literally transcribe it. 'ChocoPudding' is another version of their ship name (which he will also explain later).

---

masterlist | next →

#en tl #series: 18trip #he's so fucking real bros

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angelsanarchy · 1 year

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Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 6

Tagging: @ophelialaufey @madamemaximoff06 @forever-not-gonna-sink @ajmiila02 @liquidsmoothdomme @shady-the-simp @that-one-persons-posts

TW: Self Harm, Blood

Y/n knew that tonight was Mayhem's first show and as much as she wanted to be there for support, she knew she had to work. She had tried to call and wish him good luck but she got the voicemail. Since he lived with the band, she decided against leaving a message and just hoped he would come by and tell her how it went.

When they all piled into the restaurant, face paint half smudged off and louder than normal, Hammed started taking orders as quickly as he could. Y/n couldn't really interact at the moment as she was working the line instead of tables. The amount of drinks she had to uncap hurt her hands but she made sure to stack them all on a tray to be dropped off to them. Once Hammed got tired of taking orders, he switched onto grill and Y/n was able to greet Oystein.

"How did it go?" She asked brightly seeing little bits of his makeup still on the corners of his eyes and mouth.

"It went really well. Wish you could have seen it." He smiled back taking his food.

"Maybe someday." She knew it wasn't her scene but she would tough it out to see Oystein play.

"You didn't stick around for the party. I looked for you but they said you took off pretty early." He looked disappointed.

"I was still on the clock so I couldn't really stick around. I figured you wouldn't even have noticed surrounded by groupies." Y/n tried to keep it light but Oystein screwed up his face.

"Hardly. I don't give a shit about groupies." Y/n felt a slight uptick in her heart but she didn't want him to know it. She took a napkin and leaned over the counter to rub some of the smeared makeup away from his eye.

"I'm definitely going to need a shower at some point." Oystein laughed.

"I'd say so. I can't believe you brought your stench in here with that crew of misfits." Y/n finally noticed Pelle sitting in a chair with his head down.

"Ey he might need some more tape." One of the guys shouted to Oystein.

"Hey do you have any duct tape?" Y/n cocked an eyebrow.

"Um we should. Let me check the back." Oystein nodded and went to sit his food down on the table. When Y/n found the tape, she walked of the door and immediately say Oystein trying to help Pelle pull tape from his bloody wrists.

"Fuck!" Y/n's eyes went wide pushing the swinging bathroom door and seeing what they were doing.

"What the fuck happened and why are you putting fucking duct tape on it?!" Y/n looked at Pelle who was paler than normal.

"It's not as bad as it looks." Oystein said stupidly. Pelle made eye contact with Y/n and she walked back out of the bathroom towards the office. She grabbed the first aid kit and her purse from her locker. When she returned they had gotten all the tape off and she was staring at how scarred his arms were.

"Grab me a chair from the table please." Oystein ran out to grab the chair and Pelle was shaking.

"You don't have to-" Pelle started.

"Listen, I'm not here to judge you. If you want to die or feel or whatever, its your life to have or end but you can't come here and expect me to serve meat sandwiches when you're bleeding out in a booth." Y/n wasn't trying to scold him. She had a brother who battled terrible mental illness so she knew the anguish someone must feel to do this to themselves but she knew Hammed would lose his shit.

Oystein sat the chair down and she pushed Pelle into it. She knelt in front of him and Oystein watched her clean his wounds up, disinfect them and attempt to put bandages on them.

"These are only butterfly band aids but you need fucking stitches, Pelle." Y/n was about to open her second box of band aids.

"Dead....my name is Dead." She clicked her tongue against her teeth annoyed.

"You know, these stage names are starting to piss me off." Y/n looked at Oystein in the mirror. She put a long gauze pad on his wounds before getting up from the floor.

"Take him to get stitches as soon as you can." Y/n said as Pelle walked past her as if she didn't just stitch up his gapping wounds.

"He'll be okay. I'll make sure to get him stitched up." Oystein assure Y/n as she cleaned up the bloody gauze and bandage wrappers. She felt a hand on her back and she tensed.

"Hey...it's fine. He's done much worse than that." Oystein's words made her turn around.

"I can see that but that doesn't mean he's fine. If anything he's furthest from fine Oystein." She felt a weight on her chest like she wanted to cry and he could tell she was upset. He pulled her to his chest and she dodged it as the door swung open again.

It was the guy who was lurking around at the party the other night.

"Hey I wanted to say you guys were very good tonight...at your gig. My name is Christian-"

"Do you see I'm a little busy here?" Oystein snapped. The way he spoke to Oystein gave off much different vibes than she would have thought. She assumed it was a friend but he came off more as a fanboy. He backed out of the bathroom leaving them both standing alone. Y/n quickly scrubbed her hands in the sink wanting to be out of that confined space.

"Y/n.." Oystein reached out again.

"I've got to get back to work." Y/n wiped her face and pushing past him. They continued to cut up and eat for another 20 minutes before they finally left. Y/n felt so tense and uneasy, all she wanted to do was scream.

#R!Euronymous #FIlm: Lords of Chaos #One Shot Series #Alkaline #Alkaline Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #R!Euronymous x Y/N #6/35

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cinnamilkekouhai · 1 year

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Bonten's Reaction Of Reader Giving Attention to her fav pet bird, Wiwi,

Author Extra：Wiwi really does exist, aka my guest cockatiel of honor♡ Shes my bff's bird and so far my fav baby.

Mikey：I know i shouldnt be mad at some stupid pest...but now her attention is all over that damn bird, whats so great about it? Chirps everyday makes me pissed, its that fucking chirping steals my precious cuddles and kisses time with my princess..i wanna kill it..i wanna burned it..whatever that gets in my way with my princess needs to be remove. But she will be mad about it that i killed her little baby, i dont want her to be mad..especially at me..i will keep it quiet, out of the room and in the garden, whatever it takes i will get my princess's attention back on me...

Sanzu：Really? Our years of bonding really couldnt compared to a little creature? Princess really adores it huh...maybe i should get rid of it. But on the other thought, she might be upset about it and thats the last thing i wanna do, i never wanted to get myself on her bad side, i want her to see all goods in me. I rather die than to have a her despise me, i will prob ask one of our underlings to take care of it, then maybe splatter some blood or get a few scars, princess is too kind to ignore any injuries, so her attention will be mine.

Kakucho：That thing got a little tricky, i will just guilt-trip my princess into thinking i will take care of it, that her attention should go on me. She should know me well, that im more responsible and more reliable when it comes to care-taking..and whose idea was it to let her keep it.

Mikey：well princess came to me and beg me to keep it...i cant reject her..

Kakucho：I mean..who would reject her

Ran：Prob make excuses to distract princess away from the bird, and ask rindou to steal the bird. Anyways if she finds out, it will be rindou's bad luck, since it isnt me that shes mad about so i couldnt care less.

Rindou：U LITTLE SH-

Rindou：I would prob do the same as ran BUT WE R FREAKING SWITCHING THE ROLES

Kokonoi：I would take princess on a fancy date, buy her anything she wants or wish to have, maybe take some time to learn about her little thing, in that way princess will be very happy that she gets to buy things for her small friend and i get to spend shopping time with her, She might even reward me with her attention.

Kakucho：Koko is smart-

Mochi：I have no words- i'd let her do anything she want.

#bonten x yn #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revengers #bonten x reader #bonten #bonten x y/n

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mychoombatheroomba · 5 months

Text

Still I Can't Escape the Ghost of You

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 43

The night everything changed for him . . . and the night everything changed for you.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

CW: More blood/gore, gunshot wounds, stab wounds, death and near-death experiences, suicidal thoughts, all-around angst and terrible cauterization technique (don't try and cauterize a wound with a road flare unless you've got no other choice, gang)

His heart racing, his body tensing. There was a shotgun to Leon’s head. The man behind it was brow-beaten and bloody, standing between Leon and the figure of a little girl watching them impassively.

A little girl whose skin was gray in the glow of the streetlights, one eye already turning a milky white. Leon couldn’t see where she’d been bitten, but it was obvious that she had been.

A child. No older than twelve. And she was going to die.

“Step aside,” Ada ordered. “We need to terminate her before she turns.”

Maybe it was a mercy, but Leon was still horrified at the words, because whatever was going to happen to her, this was still a child.

“Terminate?” the man hissed. “That’s my fucking daughter!”

Ada didn’t lower her gun, nor did the father protecting his daughter. Not until Leon spoke.

“Ada . . . just let them be,” he said, his voice solemn because there was nothing else he could do. He’d fought the monsters back in the police station, and he’d fight whatever was to come, but he couldn’t fight the virus in the girl’s blood. He couldn’t save her from this. He couldn’t stop this from happening any more than the girl’s father could.

He didn’t have help for the man, nor did he have answers for him. All Leon could do was let his heart slowly crater into his stomach as, after a moment, the man lifted his daughter in his arms and took her away. Embracing her as he embraced the inevitable.

“Just give us some privacy.”

The sound of a gunshot moments later nearly made Leon sick, because it shouldn’t have ended like that. And it wouldn’t for anyone else. He would lay down his life before that happened.

So, a plan was formed. A mission, however desperate. Ada would lead him down into the tunnels beneath the city, into the belly of the beast. There, with any luck they would find the people responsible for this. The scientist. The one who’d created this virus, the one they needed to bring to justice.

A scientist . . . and the sample. The virus that started all of this.

And he would trust this woman with him . . . even if her arrival was strange. Even if she wouldn’t show her full face. Even if she avoided so many of his questions. He would trust her because, exhausted and outnumbered as he was, what choice was there?

“We might not make it out,” Ada warned, with genuine concern hidden beneath the smooth veneer of her voice. She was giving him an out.

But Leon shook his head. “Whatever it takes to save this city, count me in.”

He wished he’d known then that all his determination, all the blood he would shed . . . none of it would make a difference.

⧫⧫⧫

Your heart racing, your body tensing. There was a submachine gun to your head. The man behind it was unreadable behind his mask, standing on one side of you, with your Captain behind you.

Reynolds, whose blood-flecked skin still held color and life, even if his eyes were wide with dread. His arm bled, though, crimson dripping from a jagged bite mark that had torn through his fatigues.

Your Captain. The man who’d been your rock to cling to for years. And he was going to die.

“Step aside,” the masked man ordered. “He’s infected. We have to take him out.”

Maybe he was right, but you felt molten as you heard the words, rage boiling over in you because whatever was going to happen, this was your Captain.

“Like hell we do,” you snarled. “We’re not fucking shooting him.”

The masked man didn’t move, nor did the other soldiers with him, but you stood firm. At least until Reynolds spoke.

“It takes a while, doesn’t it?” he asked, his voice solemn because there was nothing else he could do. He’d fought the monsters that had become of his men, and you knew he’d fight whatever was to come, but he couldn’t beat the enemy lurking beneath his skin. He couldn’t stop this from happening any more than you could.

You didn’t have help, nor did you have answers for him. All you could do was fight the urge to scream as Simon Reynolds resolved to help as long as he was able. Clinging to his duty while you tried to cling to some hope.

“If it gets that bad, I’ll do it myself.”

The promise had you shaking your head, because it couldn’t end like that. It wouldn’t. You would tear the world apart before that happened.

So, a plan was formed. A mission, however desperate. While the rest of the newly arrived soldiers escorted your men to their transport, to safety, you, Reynolds and the masked man before you would find the one person who might know something about this, the one person who might be able to help. If she was still alive. The researcher, the woman the Spec Ops soldiers had detained, who had warned against all of this when she arrived.

A researcher . . . and the sample. The virus that started all of this.

And you would trust these newcomers . . . even if their arrival was strange. Even if they wouldn’t show their faces. Even if the weapons they used weren’t standard issue. You would trust them because, exhausted and outnumbered as you were, what choice was there?

“Kid,” Reynolds said, shaking his head. “You don’t gotta do this. You can go with the others.” You could get out.

But you shook your head. “Can’t do that, Captain.” You smiled at him, despite it all. “You might need me to carry you.”

You wished you’d known then that all your resolve, all the strength you would conjure up . . . none of it would make a difference.

⧫⧫⧫

Leon had been trained to protect. He reminded himself of that as he descended into the tunnels beneath Raccoon City, his mysterious companion at his side. It didn’t matter what they faced, how sharp the claws or how big the teeth. He would overcome it all. He had to. For what remained of the city he’d vowed to serve, he had to.

So, he fought.

Even a maw of teeth big enough to swallow him whole wasn’t enough to stop him. If there was even a hope that Umbrella could be brought to justice, if the lives lost wouldn’t be for nothing, then Leon would face down the whole world to see it through. So, after surviving the horrors lurking in the sewers, he and Ada pressed on.

But it wasn’t the monsters that finally brought him down.

The scientist wasn’t what Leon expected. He hadn’t thought her to be such a simple-looking woman, his mind conjuring some image of a madman in her place. Instead, it was a woman who had helped create this plague. A wife. A mother.

“Annette Birkin.” Ada’s gun was already trained on the woman. So was Leon’s.

“She’s who we’re looking for?”

The woman stood, calm and composed, staring down the pair.

Ada wasted no time. “We’re here for the G-Virus.”

A scoff. Then, the woman smiled, confident in her conviction. “That’s not going to happen.”

“I’m warning you, Doctor.”

“Oh yeah?”

And then she was running. Leon broke after her, but Ada was faster. She raised her weapon as she rounded the corner-

A series of bangs.

A showering of sparks.

Leon was moving before he could even think of what he was doing.

“Ada!”

He moved because she might die if he didn’t . . .

And he was just fast enough.

⧫⧫⧫

You had been trained for war. You reminded yourself of that as you carved a path through Dorne Base once more, your Captain and a masked soldier at your side. It didn’t matter what you faced, how many of your former friends tried to tear into you. You would get through it all. You had to. For the man who’d guided you for so many years, you had to.

So, you fought.

You let yourself get lost in a single purpose, a single mission. If there was even a chance that the woman in the holding cells could save an ever-weakening Reynolds, then you would move heaven and earth to get to her. So, after obtaining the sample that the soldiers had arrived with, you and your group pressed on.

But it wasn’t the monsters that finally brought you down.

The researcher was more terrified than the last time you’d seen her. The woman who’d tried to warn all of you what was coming - a prophet you’d all chosen to ignore.

“It’s your lucky day,” you hissed to her, unlocking her cell.

The woman - another mystery to you and everyone on base, was frantic to join you when the door slid open.

“Thank god,” she said, looking between you and a now-pale Reynolds.

You wasted no time. “The virus. Is there a cure for it?”

“W-what?” she stammered, her eyes focusing on Reynolds, doubled over now as pain ripped through him. “No. No there’s-”

Her eyes found the red lenses of the gas mask moving towards her. Towards the three of you. You watched as her face paled in recognition. Terror.

And then she was running. You moved after her, but the masked soldier was faster. He grabbed her arm as she tried to slip past him-

A flash of steel.

A wet splattering of blood.

You were frozen in place, trying to understand what you were seeing.

“What are you-”

You tried to move as the knife came at you, because it had just opened a red smile in the researcher’s throat . . .

And you weren’t fast enough.

⧫⧫⧫

The gun went off once. Twice. Three more times.

He was moving, his feet leaving the ground as he jumped, becoming a shield. Protecting. Doing what he had been trying to do all night. Leon barely felt the bullet impact at first, until he and Ada hit the ground and his freshly pierced shoulder screamed in agony. Leon cried out as he landed on the concrete, head spinning as something in his shoulder came out of alignment and slipped where it shouldn’t have been. It was all he could manage because in his twenty-one years of living, he’d never felt pain like this.

He looked up, and wide, dark eyes where a pair of glasses should have been greeted him.

That, and the sound of Ada speaking his name, soft and worried. He barely heard her.

I’m bleeding. That was the only clear thought in his mind. The only thing that mattered as the world blurred and twisted and darkened. As pain washed over and dissolved all other thought. I’m bleeding and I-

He had just enough left in him to murmur a few words, a plea for the woman looking down at him.

“Just go! Stop her before she gets away.”

Darkness took him a moment later.

⧫⧫⧫

The knife went into you once. Twice. Three times.

You were too slow. That was all you could think as your gun remained idle in your hands. Unable to reach for your training or your instincts because this wasn’t happening. You heard more than felt the bone break under the steel, a pathetic sound escaping your lips. It was all you could manage because in your twenty years of living, you had never felt pain like this.

You looked up, and red lenses where eyes should have been were all that greeted you.

That, and the sound of someone screaming your name. The blade coming free of you, spilling blood with it, and then a struggle. Gunfire.

I’m bleeding. That was the only clear thought in your mind. The only thing that mattered as the world blurred and twisted and darkened. As pain washed over and dissolved all other thought. I’m bleeding and I-

You had just enough of you left of you to feel a gloved hand take the virus sample from you and to hear a few words, spoken in a cold voice.

“Target eliminated, sample in hand.”

Darkness took you a moment later.

⧫⧫⧫

Leon awoke in the dark, pained but propped against the wall, something warm draped over him. His arm, his shoulder, he could still feel the pain, but bandages kept the blood in place, wrapped around him masterfully and with great care.

“Ada.”

He hadn’t even felt her dressing his wound, hadn’t felt those hands wrapping him in gauze and then draping her own jacket over his body. He hadn’t seen her leave him there, in pursuit of the woman who did this.

He had to help her. That was what he resolved once his mind was clear enough to think it.

Because she’d taken the time to tend to him. This beautiful, mysterious woman who had kept him alive. Ada, for all her withdrawnness, had saved his life. He would save hers now, if he could.

So he bared his teeth and pushed himself to his feet, groaning in pain as he did. The bullet wound in his shoulder flared as he stood, as he reached for the gun Ada had holstered at his side. He took a steadying breath as he checked his ammo once more, the blade that Marvin had given him, and then he set out into the dark.

Step by painful step.

It may be the last thing he ever did, he knew it, but he had to try.

⧫⧫⧫

You awoke screaming. You thrashed against the floor, something burning and bright pressed against your bleeding belly. The flare was held in shaky, weak hands, a desperate attempt to close bleeding wounds.

“I know kid, I know I know I know, I’m sorry-”

You clung to Reynold’s hand, squeezing it tight enough you thought you might break his bones as he tried to melt your parted flesh back together. There was no time for anything else. Not when the man who did this had gone. Not when Reynolds too bled from a wound at his side, and one of his eyes had already started to pale.

“We have . . . to go after him,” Reynolds said, once the flare was set aside. “We have to . . . stop him.”

Because he’d taken the virus that caused all this. He’d nearly gutted you and shot your Captain. He was no ally, whatever he was, and what few survivors from your base left alive, were with his men now. You knew in your slow-beating heart that their fate would be the same as yours. Unless you did something.

So you bared your teeth and pushed yourself to your feet, a sound escaping you that was more animal than human. The world blurred around you as you stood, as you helped Reynolds to his feet as well. His breath wheezed as you both slung arms around each other, struggling to keep each other up.

Step by excruciating step.

It would be the last thing either of you would ever do, you knew, but you had to try.

⧫⧫⧫

“I’m a liability now.” Ada’s declaration was bitter, and it made Leon’s heart sink. The bandages he’d wrapped around her wounded leg were holding, but they didn’t make it easier for her to walk. “If I’m going to finish this case, you’re the last hope I’ve got.” She was asking him to go on without her. To find the sample they needed as evidence of Umbrella’s crimes - he knew she was right. He knew it was their best bet, but still . . .

“I’m not just gonna leave you here.” He couldn’t. “What if you’re attacked, what if you need help-”

She leaned forward and silenced him, looking him in the eye . . . and his heart stammered as her kiss made him feel alive. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. I’ve gotta see this through . . .” a hand on his thigh, “. . . and I want to see you again. I’ve got plenty to live for, trust me.”

Leon held her gaze, conviction growing alongside something else in his heart. He trusted her. He knew she’d be alright, somehow. Something about the look in her eyes. Or the way her lips had felt against his. Could he manage this? Could he do this by himself?

Yes. He had to. For everyone in Raccoon City, he would.

“Okay.” He stood, feeling a strength in himself that he’d never needed before. He ignored the pain in his shoulder, the shifting of torn tissue and cracked bone, and he readied himself for what was to come.

“Leon,” Ada said, stopping him for a moment. “I’m counting on you.”

That fact alone spurred him onward. “I know.”

⧫⧫⧫

“You should . . . you should go.” Reynolds pleaded from his place on the ground, his voice full of pain. The bullet wound in his side seeped blood, just as the poorly cauterized wounds in your belly still did. “Find him. Stop him. I’ll just slow you down.” He was asking you to go on without him. To find the masked man and the sample he’d stolen. But your legs shook beneath you and your vision blurred even now. Even if you could make it on your own . . .

“I’m not . . . just gonna leave you here.” You couldn’t. “Don’t . . . don’t fucking ask me to-”

“Kid,” he stopped and silenced you, looking you in the eye . . . and your heart stopped as you saw a face of death looking back at you. “Go. Forget about me. You’ve . . . you’ve gotta see this through . . .” a weak hand on your shoulder, “. . . you’ve gotta stop him. That’s . . . that’s an order.”

You looked away, because you couldn’t bear that half-dead gaze. Not from him. He was dying. Turning. You could see it. Would you make it further without him? Or would the torn guts in your belly kill you before you even got to the man responsible for all of this? Would you be able to stop him at all?

No. You wouldn’t. You were both as good as dead. So you would both die together.

“Fuck that.” you groaned, one hand pressed to your wound as the other hoisted him up, ignoring the shifting of broken bones and organs and the blood that spilled where it shouldn’t. You pulled your Captain to his feet, because neither of you could move without leaning on each other.

“You’re . . . you’re gonna get yourself killed,” Reynolds protested.

That fact didn’t matter to you then. “I know.”

⧫⧫⧫

No terror could prepare Leon for what he faced. A mess of eyes and teeth and claws that towered over him. Even with his heart hammering and his shoulder aching, he knew what it was he was facing. A husband, a father, and a man consumed by his own creation. A man become a monster.

He’d shattered his own wife’s bones, the way he intended to shatter Leon’s.

Just more prey to hunt and kill.

He couldn’t let himself feel that terror.

All he could feel was determination and focus. He had the sample. He could get it to Ada. Then the FBI could stop this from ever happening again. He clung to the kiss she’d given him.

That only made it sting all the more when the Doctor whispered with labored breath the truth.

He’d fallen for a lie.

One that ended with him staring down the barrel of a gun, a beautiful woman on the other end.

Even with the betrayal, even with the damage this woman could do to the world . . . Leon couldn’t pull the trigger. Neither could Ada. Not when it came down to it. Not even when Leon lowered his weapon, letting himself be all that stood between the woman in front of him and her goal. He would never forget the look in her eyes as she lowered her pistol . . .

Or the look of surprise as another gunshot rang out, piercing a hole straight through her . . .

Or the way the ground trembled as the Umbrella facility began to self-destruct . . .

Or the feeling of them both falling towards darkness.

⧫⧫⧫

No pain could prepare you for what you faced. A mess of bodies, bloodied and limp lay in the snow, dusted by the dying storm. Even as more blood and pain spilled from your poorly cauterized wounds, you knew what it was you were facing. Your men, your friends, your family . . . their faces weren’t like the others. They weren’t a mess of decomposition and rot, they were whole.

They’d executed them all, the way he’d tried to execute you.

Just another loose end to tie up.

You couldn’t let yourself feel that pain.

All you could feel was rage and desperation. He had the sample. He’d killed your men. If you could kill him and destroy that sample, somehow, then maybe this would never happen again. You clung to your Captain, your strength, refusing to let him go.

That only made it sting more when you heard the whirring of helicopter blades.

You’d all fallen for a lie.

One that ended with you bleeding and broken, staring up as a helicopter began to take off in the dying storm.

You fired desperately, you and Reynolds both. It was all shaky aim as the last of the masked men - the one who’d taken the sample and perhaps your life along with it – climbed into the chopper. He was far away, but maybe, just maybe, you could bring him down before he got away. Killing just him might be enough. You would never forget that feeling of desperation . . .

Or the echo of gunfire as his fellows covered him, your Captain using the last of his strength to shield you . . .

Or the heat at your back as charges you didn’t know had been placed were detonated . . .

Or the feeling of falling towards the snow.

⧫⧫⧫

The platform was holding, barely. Leon could feel the metal creaking beneath him, threatening to give way. He heard the clinking of glass, and watched as the vial, the virus sample that this had all been for, fell. It disappeared into the chasm below, vanishing like some sick joke.

He’d failed. He’d been a fool and he’d failed . . . but for one fact.

She was still hanging on.

He needed her to hang on, because this couldn’t be the end.

Even if he knew it was.

Ada looked up at him, her wrist caged in his grasp. Her other arm hung limp at her side, painted red with her own blood.

“Leon-” it sounded more genuine than anything she’d said that night. “Forget it.”

“Shut up - I’ve got you!” he cried, even if there was no point. Still, he tried. He tried, even with his wounded arm, to pull her up. He strained and struggled, but the platform buckled, and they grew ever closer to oblivion. She knew as he did.

“It’s not worth it.”

“Don’t do this-” his arm shook with the strain of holding her and he hoped beyond all hope - he prayed - that he could pull her up. That he could save this one life, when he had failed everyone else.

But as Ada looked up at him, a look of acceptance on her face, he knew that he couldn’t.

“Take care of yourself, Leon.”

Whatever had kept her holding on, whatever strength he’d had to keep her there, she slipped from his grasp.

Then she was falling, and Leon screamed as he reached for her in vain. His fingertips met only air as he watched her fall. Falling and falling until she disappeared into the darkness below. Leon could only lay there on his belly, staring at the nothingness that had taken the woman he’d only just met.

The woman who’d used him.

The woman he might have loved, if things had been different.

The woman he couldn’t save.

⧫⧫⧫

Your base was on fire. You could feel the heat, the lingering flames from the explosions. You heard the slicing of helicopter blades, and watched as the craft took off. The craft and the masked man who’d outplayed you. He and the sample he’d taken disappeared into the dark sky, one final insult to injury.

You’d failed. You’d been a fool and you’d failed . . . and now all you could do was watch as one last life was taken from you.

He was still hanging on.

You needed him to hang on, because this couldn’t be the end.

Even if you knew it was.

Reynolds was doubled over in the snow, his fingers twitching, his breathing ragged. He was shaking, groaning, the ground painted red with his blood.

“Kid-” it didn’t sound like him. It didn’t sound like your Captain. “K- . . . kill . . .”

“Don’t-” you begged, even though you knew it was futile. Even as you pushed your broken, bleeding body up. The fall or the exertion had reopened your wounds, leaving your own blood spilling down your side again. You held one hand there, shaking. The other . . .

“Kill . . .”

“Simon-” the gun shook in your hand, and you hoped beyond all hope - you prayed - that you might reach him. That you could bring him back to you with his name alone.

But as Reynolds looked up at you, his lips pulling back in a snarl, you knew that you couldn’t.

No final words of wisdom. Not this time.

Whatever he’d been holding onto, whatever part of him was left, it slipped from his grasp.

Then he was lunging at you, and you screamed as you fired. Your finger squeezed against the trigger over and over again, even as he tackled you to the ground. Over and over until bits of his skull came loose and he slumped on top of you. You could only lie there on your back, staring at the broken face of the man you’d known for years.

The man who’d guided you.

The man who, for reasons you’d never fathom, had loved you.

The man you’d killed.

⧫⧫⧫

He stumbled to his feet. He didn’t know where he was going, exactly. Only that he’d felt relief when he’d seen Claire’s face on the cameras and heard her voice. “We can make it!” she told him.

The chance to live. He honestly didn’t know if he should even take it. Was it even worth trying at this point? He didn’t know if he could outrun the destruction of the facility or survive the monsters in his path. But he had to try. For Elliot, Marvin, for Kendo and his daughter . . . for Ada. He had to believe he had enough strength to see this through for them. His eyes narrowed into a hard focus one last time and he made his decision.

So, with hope lingering on the horizon, he ran.

⧫⧫⧫

You dragged yourself away. You didn’t know where you were going, exactly. Only that you couldn’t look at him. Only that you’d used all the bullets in your gun and his was empty too.

The promise of death. It was looming over you, and you were all too happy to welcome it. A bullet would have been faster - more preferable. Maybe you could make it back towards the fire to burn with the bodies of your brothers in arms. To be with Rain, David, James, Spence, Sasha and all the rest. Your strength wouldn’t allow that, though. All you managed to do with what you had left was roll onto your back once more, eyes glazing over as you beheld the night sky.

So, knowing your torn belly or the cold would do the work for you, you waited.

⧫⧫⧫

The sky was painted a triumphant gold. Gold like the hair of the child walking alongside him, and the heart of the woman who’d saved her. Claire had done the impossible - she’d saved a life, brought a little girl through hell itself. Claire, who’d managed to make sure she and Sherry could see another sunrise.

And Leon had helped to keep them safe, even if only at the very end. He and Claire had faced down Birkin one last time to save the scientists’ daughter from himself. She’d nearly died, nearly been transformed into something else. Something other.

But here she was, safe with them.

He had made it. It was done. He’d fought, and somehow, he’d survived it all. Now, as birds sang in the morning sky, he could only take in the fresh air. He’d won . . . but he knew that he’d carry more than just the scar of a bullet wound with him.

He took some solace in the warmth of the sun. In the promise of a new day.

A small hand fitted against his palm, the girl smiling up at him and Claire, wrapped in a red leather jacket that was too big for her.

“Long as we stick together,” Leon resolved, “we’ll be fine.”

Because despite it all, they were alive.

He was alive. He shouldn’t have been, but he was.

Alive, but changed, because Leon knew as he, Sherry and Claire walked away from Raccoon City, who he was would be left behind in the ruined streets of Raccoon City. Pieces given to those he couldn’t save, until there was almost nothing left.

Leon was changed, and Sherry and Claire walked with someone entirely new down that lonely road.

He knew only one thing with certainty:

The people who did this had to be stopped.

He would make sure of it.

Whatever it took.

He would stop them.

⧫⧫⧫

The sky was bleeding a rising red. Bleeding just like you, a halo of crimson building beneath you. You knew it wouldn’t be long, now. You couldn’t move anymore, could barely keep your eyes open to see one last sunrise.

You’d be with your friends soon enough. Your mentor. Or you’d be gone into nothingness. Whatever waited for you once your heart stopped, you just hoped that your body would remain still in the snow. You hoped that you wouldn’t somehow become something else. Something other.

You supposed you wouldn’t know.

All you knew was that you were ready. You wanted it to be done. You’d fought, and you’d lost. Now, as you watched the ravens circling overhead, at least maybe you wouldn’t hurt anymore. At least you wouldn’t have to carry the weight of them all with you.

But then a shadow passed over the sun. One that even your fading mind recognized as a person.

A scarred hand reached down for your pulse, and a sharp-featured face contorted in concern. A red beret above you that became all you could really focus on.

A gruff voice broke through the fog. “This one’s still alive!”

Words that brought no comfort.

You were alive. You shouldn’t have been, but you were.

Alive but changed, because you knew as you felt arms carefully lift you from the snow, who you had been was being left in the smoldering embers of Dorne Base. Bled dry with the corpses of your second family.

You were changed, and that morning, Major Jack Krauser carried something entirely different away from the wreckage.

You knew only one thing with certainty:

The people who did this would pay.

You would see to it.

Whatever it took.

You would end them.

⧫⧫⧫

A small room. Leon and one other man were all that occupied it, empty otherwise but for the choice being offered to him.

As if “choice” was even the right word.

Weeks of sleepless nights, of memories, of weighing his gun in his hands . . . and not pulling the trigger for one reason and one reason only.

Sherry.

The girl he and Claire had saved . . . and the one they threatened now.

“We have the authority to do as we please with you. You and that girl.” Leon was still healing. Still struggling to understand what he’d seen, to find some semblance of peace or normalcy again. That didn’t matter to them. Only one thing did. “Bottom line is: you have the experience we’re looking for. So, if you want this to end peacefully, you really have only one choice.”

Choice.

He almost laughed.

No . . . no there was no choice at all. Not for him.

⧫⧫⧫

A small room. You and Krauser were all that occupied it, empty but for the choice being offered to you.

As if “choice” was even the right word.

Months of sleepless nights, of memories, of weighing your gun in your hands . . . and not pulling the trigger for one reason and one reason only.

Revenge.

The thing you’d dreamed of . . . and the opportunity he offered you now.

“You don’t have to decide now. Take the time to get yourself into fighting shape again.” You were done healing, though. You were done trying to rationalize what happened, done trying to banish the thoughts of it from your mind. That didn’t matter to you. Only one thing did. “But if you want to take the fight to the bastards who did this, if you want that chance, come find me when you’ve made your choice.”

Choice.

You almost laughed.

No . . . no there was no choice at all. Not for you.

⧫⧫⧫

You looked at him, and he looked at you. Seeing each other more fully than you ever had, knowing what no one else on this earth knew.

There, in the infirmary, with the radio playing, you and Leon Kennedy finally knew each other. And all either of you could think to do as you took one another in, all the loss, the scars, all of it, was to reach out. His arms fell around you like they belonged and yours settled around him like home.

You clung to each other as song after song played, the air heavy with the names of those you couldn’t save. Elliot. Marvin. Robert. Emma. Ada. Rain. Spence. David. James. Sasha. Simon. Countless others. Too many souls. Too much weight to bear alone.

So, in that moment, you shouldered it together.

It was why you cared so much for Leon, you realized. Because he was always willing to carry you.

It was why you were terrified for him.

It was why you would raze the world for him.

It was why you loved him-

You loved him.

“Huh.” You didn’t mean for it to escape you.

“What?” he asked, and you had to swallow down too many emotions at once.

Luckily, as Leon pulled away from you, there was a good excuse playing you could use as cover. “Nothing, just . . . haven’t heard this song in a while.” That much was true.

“What has happened to it all?”

“Crazy, some'd say . . .”

Leon looked at you like he didn’t quite believe you, but whatever his suspicions, he took a moment to listen to the song too. “It’s no Spice Girls,” he said, when he finally turned back to give you a gentle smile.

“Where is the life that I recognize?”

“Gone away.”

You laughed just as softly, studying his face. His eyes, the light shade of their blue, the sharpened cut of his cheekbones, the little mole next to his nose and the ones on his neck . . . taking in every detail because you knew better than anyone you might not get a better chance. “No . . .” you agreed, deciding to give him another piece of you, “it’s better, actually. One of my favorites.”

One you’d listened to with a kind, wise-eyed Captain a few times in another life.

“But I won't cry for yesterday”

“There's an ordinary world”

“Somehow I have to find . . .”

Leon’s smile widened as he listened, and he nodded his approval. “It’s a good one.”

“And as I try to make my way”

“To the ordinary world”

“I will learn to survive.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, feeling somehow heavy and weightless at the same time. You would never be free of what happened . . . but for today, for this moment, you weren’t alone. “It is.”

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Chapter Index

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #resident evil #between the bones #gender neutral reader #leon kennedy x you #no y/n #raccoon city #ada wong #HUNK

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bionicle-ramblings · 11 days

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Onto our boy himself:

Onewa!

@chancetimespace I hope I did him justice!😅

I mentioned in the intro post he was trying to get his honor back and make a name for himself.

Before the AU takes place, he was actually a renowned carver and was working his way into knighthood, as he was skilled with handling weapons and was pretty well known for building statues and a few buildings. People had a lot of respect for him, knew he was someone that was reliable, even though he often had a chip on his shoulder. By all accounts, he was honored as a skilled architect and an artist. He was also able to support his family(namely his parents and younger siblings) pretty easily, and had really made something of himself.

So what happened?

A night where the village was attacked and he not only worked alongside a fugitive to save everyone, but then also didn't think to capture or alert the guards that the fugitive was even there in the first place. And when he tried explaining what had really happened, most people didn't believe him, as a rival carver who saw everything twisted the events and spread it like wild fire. It cost him just about everything, as his titles of artist, carver, builder, etc, were all stripped from him and his family was left in shambles. Hard times fell on them and most family members blamed him for it, doing so to his face and behind his back.

The only one who really believed him and was still in his corner was his friend Matau, who had heard what happened from his travels(we'll get there when we get there), and offered what he could to support his friend, even offering to helping supporting his family and offered Onewa an easy way out; "Long-travel with me! You never know! People in the North love a good share-story, especially when the hero's someone like them!"

As much as he appreciated it, he turned both down and instead did whatever work he could, much of it being physically taxing for hum and not paying well because people knew who he was and didn't really trust him.

He started getting ideas when someone from a group of ten returned from a journey, being in pure hysterics and going on about a princess locked in a castle and being guarded by a dragon, one that was cunning and ruthless and killed the rest of his group. The dragon also guards a vault, but no one's been able to get close enough to it.

While everyone fretted about an unstoppable creature and a poor girl doomed to die in its clutches, Onewa really got to thinking about what he'd heard and tracked down the princess's family, who revealed their daughter was indeed trapped, having been trapped under a curse and now with a dragon, and they don't have the means to rescue her; everyone they send winds up never returning.

It's here that Onewa offers himself and himself alone to take on the task: he will rescue the princess and bring her home and defeat the dragon, but in return, he wants the treasure in the vault and he wants to be able to be a carver again. They are skeptical on letting him go through with it, but Onewa never mentions that in saving someone who really might need help, he'll get his honor back and show that he's good for something. And if he fails, at least Matau will mourn him.

After some negotiations and talking, the family agrees and Onewa prepares for his trek and his mission. His own family is even more livid, but this time it's the kind of anger where you don't know how to express that you're scared for your son/brother, so it comes off more as, "You're a fool and an idiot and this will literally be the end of you," rather than, "We don't want you to do this because what if we never see you again?"

The only one to really voice the latter is his sister, who makes him promise he'll come home.

With that, he leaves, and everyone has now heard what he's planning to do and equally bid their farewells and wish him luck, as he really is going to need it.

He's not alone, though: Matau has tagged along and won't be leaving because if Onewa wins against this dragon, he wants to see it, and the GLORY it will bring them both is terrific to even think about: "They'll cheer-hail us! Write songs! Drink-toast our names! WE CAN HAVE OUR OWN STATUES!"

#bionicle #ramblings #fairytale au #onewa #long post #not saying who the rival is yet

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penny00dreadful · 9 months

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Spies AU - Part 12

Part 1 Part 13 AO3

Happy new year 😘

18th November 2015

With a short glance around the corner of the statue, Eddie slipped out of the shadows, dragging Steve along beside him, still holding his hand.

They kept close to the walls, Eddie steering him the whole time, keeping him close to the wall and blocking him with his body as they walked.

Steve could feel his heart kicking around in his chest and his breathing becoming a little more laboured as Eddie brought him in closer again.

He was worried.

He was worried that Eddie was going to get himself killed or hurt again helping Steve. He always got hurt helping him. Though his skin was pristine again and his movements were fluid, Steve vividly remembered what Eddie had looked like.

Looking at him right now, there wasn’t a single trace left of the broken and battered man who had draped himself across Steve’s couch nearly a month ago.

But at the same time, while he was worried, there was a part of him that was excited.

Steve didn’t get into this line of work because he liked the cosy comfort of safety.

There was a thrill being here with Eddie.

There was a thrill at the idea of getting caught, the danger that came along with trying to sneak out of a packed room, unseen, moving slowly and close together, half in the shadows around the periphery.

Steve wasn’t sure exactly what Eddie was avoiding, probably multiple people at once, but he could tell he didn’t want to end up back in the crowd again.

But in all honesty how much danger could Steve have possibly been in?

He could have been dragged somewhere quiet but he was hardly going to be drawn and quartered in this room.

But all in all it was very thrilling.

It really shouldn’t have been, but it was.

Every time Eddie’s fingers tightened around his own, he felt it the whole way up his arm, straight towards his heart, hoping, just hoping that as soon as they were in the clear, he wouldn’t have to wait a number of weeks to see Eddie again.

Honestly Steve was maybe a little lucky that Eddie still had a hold of him because he, again, had stopped paying attention to where they were going, too busy staring at Eddie who had a slightly intense look on his face, eyes constantly darting around the room and with body language that said ‘stay away’.

And it was all for Steve. He was doing it all for him. To keep him safe. To get him out of a dangerous situation he had put himself in.

“Check in, dingus. Everything going okay? Your heart rate has been up for a while.” Robin’s voice sounded in his head.

Steve raised his hand, flipping the switch. “Yeah, everything’s good Birdie.” He muttered.

Eddie glanced back at him, his eyes flicking between Steve’s and then towards the hearing aid. He gave his fingers a squeeze before turning forward again.

“Okay. Are you gonna head out soon? Do you need an exit plan?”

“No, I have- I’m with… he-”

“Oh my god.” Robing breathed. “Kas showed up?” She whispered, so low that Steve barely caught it, trying not to be overheard by the other analysts who might still be in the office.

Steve couldn’t help the soft smile that spread over his face. “He did.”

“Ugh. Sappy. And you’re taking him home to fuck his brains out?”

“If I’m lucky.”

“As long as you remember to take the communicator off this time, I wish you luck.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“That’s such a weird phrase, but okay. I’ll hang out here until you give me the signal but please god switch your mic off. I don’t want to hear whatever boy-flirting you two get up to.”

Steve smiled to himself again. “Sure thing, boss.” He flipped the switch back off and looked up to find Eddie watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“Your analyst knows about me?” He asked, his body a little tenser than it had been.

“She’s my best friend.”

Eddie glanced over, his eyes getting softer. “That’s sweet.” He came to a stop next to a swinging door tucked out of sight.

“Okay, I don’t think anyone paid us much attention. Luckily, it’s getting later into the night and everyone’s already had plenty to drink because, apparently, professionalism is a dated concept-”

Eddie cut himself off, when he turned back around, coming face to face with Steve, pulling away a little and giving him a small bewildered smile.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Steve blinked back. “Like what?”

“Like you- like… Nevermind.” Eddie shook his head. “We’re going through the staff halls. Think your rich boy sensibilities can handle that?”

Steve rolled his eyes, pulling them both around until the door was behind him. “I thought I told you I don’t go in for that lifestyle anymore.”

“Yeah, but I saw you in there, sweetheart.” Eddie leaned forward and Steve leaned away, pushing the door open with his back but Eddie just followed through. “It’s like you were born to schmooze with boring old money and crooked elite.”

“How long were you watching me?”

Eddie spun, dragging him down a bright but deserted hallway at a much brisker pace this time, their hands still clasped together.

“A while.”

They passed by a door that Steve could clearly hear through, the bustling sounds of a kitchen hard at work, getting every hors d'oeuvre exactly correct if he had to guess.

Through various twists and turns, Steve found himself being led underground, where the cold November night air was slowly able to seep through the concrete more and more until they were in a wide open garage, filled with rows and rows of cars.

“Did you drive here?” Eddie asked, holding Steve a little closer, their breath fogging up in the cold air.

“Are you going to warn me that maybe Creel has put a bomb under my car?”

“Nah.” Eddie smiled, wide and dazzling and mesmerising. “He’d never be as crass as that.”

“And you would be?” Steve asked as he scanned over the cars, itching to get behind the wheel of quite a few of them. Sports cars, vintage cars, a Rolls, a… fuck was that a Ford Model K?

Steve found himself drifting towards it, he wanted to touch but at the same time touching a car like that felt like a sin.

He didn’t get very far either way because Eddie kept pulling him in the opposite direction.

“You can look at the pretty cars another time, sweetheart. But to answer your question, explosives aren’t really my style. Way too loud, draws way too much attention. Ostentatious, if you ask me.”

Steve finally managed to tear his eyes away from the vintage car. “Sounds exactly like you.”

“You’re being very cheeky.”

“I’m just…” Steve huffed, trying to keep the blush away from his face. “I’m really happy to see you again.” He muttered before straightening his shoulders. “And no. I didn’t drive.”

Eddie blinked at him, chewing on the inside of his cheek with a small smile, but seemed to settle on pushing on with his line of questioning rather than commenting on the words Steve wished he could swallow back down.

“Then how did you get here? And how the hell did you plan on getting home?”

“Should have brought a chauffeur, huh?” He grinned. “I took an uber.”

“An- an uber?” Eddie looked scandalised. “You took an uber to a Creel Gala?”

“It was a luxury uber!”

“Not from your apartment building, I hope.”

“No. I’m not that stupid, thank you.” He gave Eddie a little shove. “What about you? Did you get chauffeured by someone, or something?”

“Not exactly.”

Eddie continued to face him, dragging him backwards until they came to a complete stop and Steve looked over.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Eddie grinned, eyes flashing.

“Problem, sweetheart?”

"You're telling me you drove to a Gala, in a tux, on a motorbike?” It was a sleek and powerful looking thing. All black angles and harsh metal. “At least I was in a fucking car. Creel wouldn’t spring for you?" He smiled back.

“I… well… I wasn’t exactly supposed to be here tonight?” Eddie said, tilting the end of the sentence up like it was a question.

“Were you supposed to be out killing someone?”

“Not really.” He held a helmet out to Steve who took it. “I was just told I wasn’t needed.”

“That seems… suspicious.”

“Not that suspicious.” In the time it took for Steve to get the helmet over his head, Eddie had moved closer to him, gently bucking the strap under his chin. “It might surprise you to find out but bringing an assassin to a party generally tends to lower the mood.”

“But would they even know who you were?”

“Probably not. Probably think I’m someone hired to look mean and scary.” Eddie shrugged, forcing his own helmet down over his head, swinging his leg over the bike and straddling it with just a touch too much of a curve to his back to be natural.

Not that Steve was complaining.

“Hop on, sweetheart."

Steve raised an eyebrow but did as he was told, taking his time to press himself up against Eddie's back far harder than he needed to, winding his arms around his waist and holding on tight.

If he hadn’t been prepared for it, the roar of the bike as it took off would have made him jump.

He gave a little squeeze of his legs when they turned to stop his body lurching around. They sped up the incline towards the garage doors that opened automatically and then they were out into the night.

When they stopped outside Steve’s apartment building, Eddie made no move to get off the bike, he stayed firmly planted with the machine between his thighs and his face impossible to determine through the helmet while Steve slipped off behind him.

He stayed firmly within Eddie’s space as he pulled his helmet off, shaking his hair out and trying to get it to behave.

He gently pulled Eddie’s helmet from his head and tried not to smile at the atrocious state it had left his hair in.

“Gonna give me a kiss goodnight, sweetheart?” Eddie grinned at him all roguish bravado and white hot flirting that didn’t do a good enough job of hiding the nervous set of his jaw and the stiffness along his body, like he was ready to bolt at the slightest hint of rejection.

Steve tilted his head, reaching out to carefully run his hand over Eddie’s arm, tracing it the whole way down until he could lace their fingers together.

“Something like that.” Steve said softly, bringing his free hand up and running his thumb over Eddie’s bottom lip, featherlight. “Will you let me take care of you tonight, baby?”

Eddie stared up at him, lips parting ever so slightly under the weight of Steve’s thumb and tongue flicking out just a little to skim over the top.

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

Eddie finally rose from his seat, swinging his leg over so he was standing right in front of Steve, their hands still clasped between them.

“Lead the way.”

Despite how soft everything had started out, the energy in the elevator was charged, the two of them close to one another, Steve’s arm around Eddie’s shoulder, their hands clasped, not wanting to let each other go like they’d disappear into a puff of smoke if they did.

But they also seemed to be under a mutual agreement not to start anything until they were safely locked in Steve’s apartment or things could very well begin and end in that elevator.

Steve’s blood was already alight in anticipation. He felt like he was suffocating in the best way, being trapped in a tiny metal box with Eddie pressed into his side, completely surrounded by him.

He almost let out a sigh of relief when the doors opened, but he refused to let Eddie go far.

It just felt so right to have him tucked into his side, like they were two puzzle pieces that finally fit.

It took longer than he would have liked to get into his apartment, all those fucking locks be damned.

Eddie didn’t waste a second.

Almost as soon as the door was closed behind them, he was on him, kissing him with so much heat and desperation Steve was left momentarily breathless, hands up under Eddie’s jacket fisted in the back of his shirt while Eddie managed to walk him back until he was pressed up against the door.

“Dingus, I swear to our Lord and Saviour Judy Garland, give me the fucking signal, I know what you’re doing. I can see your vitals, I can see you’re back at your apartment-”

Steve pulled back, reaching up to flip the switch and trying to control his breathing as Eddie latched onto his neck, biting and sucking and licking.

“I’ve dropped anchor.”

“God, that sounds disgusting right now. Okay, I’m leaving, go get ‘em tiger. Happy slutting.”

“Love you too, Birdie.”

Steve practically ripped the hearing aid out, dropping it onto the side table by the door and grabbing at Eddie’s face, crashing their lips back together.

The two of them were hungry, desperate, after months and months of flirting and teasing and just barely being on the edge of danger every time they saw each other.

It was almost savage.

Eddie kissed him in a very similar way he had before but where the last kiss was full of anger and hurt and a little bit of confusion, this one was full of craving and eagerness and desire.

Steve was almost delirious with it, finally having him here was magical. He held Eddie close with a hand at the back of his neck, refusing to let him go anywhere, slipping his tongue into his mouth and trying to lick at everything he could reach.

Eddie’s hands were running up and down his body, diving under his jacket and untucking his shirt from his pants.

His muffled shout of surprise was drowned in Eddie’s mouth as Eddie’s hands, cold from the bike, grabbed at the skin at his waist, mapping out the scars there by touch.

Steve pushed, keeping them connected with wandering hands and nipping teeth but pushed nonetheless until Eddie was now the one being walked backwards, down the dim hall to Steve’s bedroom.

Eddie’s hands came up to fumble at Steve’s bowtie, getting it loose enough to tug free and throwing it away to the side somewhere while slipping Steve’s suit jacket off his shoulders.

Steve had his eyes closed, he couldn’t see anything, he didn’t need to, he knew the way to his bedroom blindfolded.

He could feel Eddie’s lips on his and Eddie’s fingers as they started to fumble with the buttons of his shirt and the frustrated puff of air and the muttered words let out over his lips.

“Fuck this.”

Next thing Steve knew there was a great wrenching at the front of his shirt, the sound of fabric ripping and buttons pinging off the walls and Eddie’s fingers digging into his chest hair and pulling.

Steve’s knees nearly went out from under him.

Glancing down he saw that not only had Eddie torn his fucking shirt open, he had also managed to tear his undershirt down the middle as well at the same fucking time, while looking immensely proud of himself.

“Was that necessary?” Steve growled, boxing him in against the wall right next to his open bedroom doorway.

Eddie ran a hand up his stomach, burying his fingers into Steve’s chest hair again and tugged hard while grinning across at him, sharp and wolfish.

“Entirely.”

Steve glared at him. “When did you decide to become a brat?”

“Awh.” Eddie cooed back. “Are you gonna pretend you don’t like it?”

“No.” Steve snapped his hands down, grabbing Eddie's thighs and hoisting him up, barely giving him a chance to scrabble to hold on.

Steve dove back in, capturing up Eddie’s lips again in a kiss before he could let his mouth run away with him. He could feel Eddie’s hard cock against his stomach as he stepped away from the wall and entered his bedroom, Eddie throwing a leg out to kick the door closed behind them.

With a great heave Steve threw him onto the bed, relishing in the surprised little squeak he let out before the air was punched out of his lungs when he landed. He just lay there, bouncing slightly, staring at Steve slack jawed and red faced.

“Clothes.” Steve waved his finger in a circular motion. “Off. Now.”

Eddie glanced down at himself then back up and Steve before surprisingly starting to pull himself out of his various layers with nary a bitchy comment to be heard.

While Steve shucked off the tattered remains of his shirt, letting it flutter to the floor along with his undershirt and kicking his way out of his pants, he watched enraptured as Eddie slowly revealed more and more of his body.

Steve had seen some of his tattoos before, but most had been marred by horrible bruises and cuts, but now, Steve had the opportunity to examine them.

With not even a whisper of embarrassment, Eddie had stripped himself completely nude, all that dark black and grey inkwork standing out against his pale skin, complimenting it beautifully along with his delicious hard and heavy cock, red at the tip and laying against his hip, nestled in dark curls.

Steve took the barest of steps forward when Eddie made a move to sit up, standing between his spread legs, feeling the heat radiating between the two of them. He kept his body back, keeping all touch as minimal as possible as he slowly bent over and pushed Eddie back down with a gentle hand on his chest.

“Let me look at you.” Steve whispered, watching the way the tattoos rippled under his touch, fascinated.

Eddie swallowed before his face broke into a wide grin, conceding and relaxing himself back onto the sheets with a satisfied look on his face. “Whatever you say, big boy.” His voice rumbled low and teasing. Steve could feel it through his hand.

He took his time, stepping back to take it all in, steadily cataloguing everything he could about Eddie’s body, raking his eyes over the tattoos as Eddie’s face got pinker and pinker under his continued silent scrutiny.

There were the ones he'd seen before, the Kas tattoo, the D&D dice, the cracking marble, the mug with a hat inside with the Chicago Bulls logo on it. The tree on his ribs with the roots extending down his hip and the hourglass on the opposite side.

But now that he was looking and allowed to look, he took everything new in with hungry eyes.

There was a raven in flight spread in between his hips, drawing Steve’s eye down. Though he could have spent far longer than was necessary staring down at Eddie’s cock, mapping it with his eyes, learning where every vein settled, the different colours it would turn as he got more painfully aroused, how it looked when it was weeping and twitching and pulsing, how the velvety smooth skin sat stretched, there would be plenty of time for that.

He dragged his eyes lower. Over Eddie’s left thigh was a shadowed image of the grim reaper, a pocket watch hanging from one outstretched clawed and skeletal hand. His right leg was completely covered in an elaborate sleeve of a dragon, shaded and highlighted beautifully in black and grey, making the scales look like glinting silver.

Steve looked back up. Eddie was watching him, his big brown eyes half lidded and lustful, his chest was fluttering with his heavy breaths under Steve’s gaze, there was a beautiful dusting of pink across his cheeks and down his neck and he squirmed a little under the scrutiny.

Like having Steve’s eyes on his face was more intimate than everything they’d just done.

“Anything I’m missing out on the back?”

Eddie’s face split into another mischievous and smug smile. “I dunno.” He shrugged a little, gripping the sheets between his fingers. “Maybe.”

“Well, I’d better find out then, hadn’t I?” He motioned Eddie to turn. “Hands and knees, baby.”

Eddie bit his lip, looking like he was trying to decide between bratting out and biting back or being good. Eventually he let his lip fall from his mouth, red and glistening.

Eddie rolled himself over, all brash confidence and performance, pulling himself up onto all fours, spreading his knees wide and bowing his back, stretching his arms out in front of him like a cat, putting his whole asshole on display and giving a little satisfied hum when the breath was completely stolen from Steve’s body at the sight.

Eddie’s front was more decorated than his back, though there were still those spindly bat wings spread over his shoulders and down his arms but it was the others, three smaller ones by comparison to all of Eddie’s others, that made Steve finally reach back out and touch.

Over his right ass cheek he had a bite mark inked in, the indents where the canines should have been were made to look deep and round, like something with fangs had bitten in.

On his left cheek were just two words. ‘Spank Here’.

Steve had to grab at it, gripping the flesh between his fingers, looking at how the words distorted as he pulled Eddie’s cheek to the side, feeling something white hot flood his body when Eddie inhaled in surprise.

“You are a little minx.” Steve muttered, dragging the thumb of his free hand over the third tattoo that caught his attention.

The word ‘Harder’ inked into Eddie’s lower back.

“Seems like I’m getting some instructions back here, baby.” He said, almost taken by surprise at himself and how hungry he sounded.

Eddie was panting like Steve was doing so much more to him and Steve couldn’t wait to find out just how much he could get him to unravel.

He pressed his palm over the word ‘Harder’, letting his thumb rest against Eddie’s hole, just the lightest of touches but it was enough to have Eddie trying to push back.

“I-“ Eddie gasped out, his thundering heartbeat nearly audible in his voice. “I prepped.”

Steve smiled, sharp and feral. He put some pressure behind the weight of his thumb, just barely breaching. Based on how tight Eddie was Steve could guess he hadn’t tried to open himself up much, even if he had, he wouldn’t have stayed open this long. He’d probably just flushed himself.

“Did you?”

Eddie tried to rock his hips back but Steve held him firm with his other hand, still gripping at the flesh of his cheek.

“Stop teasing me.”

“Don’t be impatient.”

Eddie tried to push back again, glaring at Steve over his shoulder.

“Are you going to put something in me this year because-” Eddie cut off with a strangled noise of surprise as Steve pushed his thumb in, just up to the first knuckle before pulling it back.

“Tell me why you prepped and I'll give you what you want.”

Even though it was what Steve had asked for, he was still maybe being a little bit mean because when Eddie opened his mouth to answer he started putting pressure against his hole again, not quite pushing in but just teasing at it, enjoying the way he could make it more difficult for him to speak, just with his hands.

“I- ah, fuck. I… I hoped I’d get to talk to you again.” Eddie groaned out, still trying to push back.

“Just talk to me?”

Eddie whined, dropping his chin down and shaking his head. “No. No.” He gasped. “I hoped you’d rearrange my guts for me, so could you get to it please?”

Steve hummed, both satisfied and even more feral than before. He bent down to place a kiss against the small of Eddie’s back before dropping himself to his knees, dragging his tongue down, hot and wet over Eddie’s hole, pushing in as much as he could without warning.

He had both hands on Eddie’s cheeks, pulling them apart and licking in like a starving man, wanting to devour him whole while Eddie writhed above him, cursing and moaning, letting out those delicious little ‘ah, ah, ah’ noises that had Steve’s blood thundering.

He would have liked to keep going until he physically couldn’t anymore, driving Eddie insane until he could no longer talk but Steve was not very patient at that moment. With one last lick as deep as he could get, he pulled his tongue out and ignored Eddie’s debauched and bratty whine of complaint.

“Can’t rearrange your guts with my tongue, baby.”

“You sure?” Eddie breathed out, shaking and trying to get his arms to behave, holding him up. “You could give it a try.”

“I could.” Steve smiled, pulling his lube and a condom out of his bedside table, dribbling some out onto his fingers and warming it up a little before pressing his wet finger against Eddie’s hole again, teasing. “How do you like it?”

“Thought you were reading the instructions?”

Steve brought his hand down in a hard smack, right over the ‘Spank Here’ tattoo.

Eddie jerked forward with a cry, a dribble of precum dripping out onto the bed sheets below.

“Like that?”

“Yup.” He nodded quickly. “Mm-hmm. Yeah. Like that. Please, sweetheart,” Eddie rocked his hips back and Steve let him this time, allowing him to fuck himself on his finger, hard and unforgiving, “need you in me yesterday.”

Again, Steve could hardly argue. He wanted the same damn thing and his patience was wearing thin.

When he pulled his finger back to try and ease a second in, Eddie speared himself on the two of them at once with barely a shudder.

“Fuck.” Steve cursed under his breath before ripping the condom packet open with his teeth, fumbling to get it on with his slippery fingers. “You like it rough?” He asked, lubing himself up again. “You like it to hurt?”

“Yes, Jesus H. Christ.” Eddie hissed, his teeth clenched. “Come on, or I’ll-”

Steve didn’t get to find out what Eddie was going to threaten him with as he pushed in, slow and steady, everything tight and hot and wet around him. He didn’t give Eddie any time to adjust, letting him have exactly what he wanted, pulling back out and slamming back in with enough force to punch a loud moan out of his throat.

He started up a hard pace, watching with relish as Eddie was reduced to a puddle beneath him, grabbing at his trim waist, using it to bend his back down even further, dragging him back and forth, fucking into him mercilessly.

Eddie was only able to speak the barest of curses under his breath and that wasn’t good enough. Steve wanted to wreck him, he wanted to ruin him, he wanted him so fucked out he couldn’t string a sentence together, he wanted to give him exactly what he asked for.

So in one hand he grabbed a fistful of hair, using that to drag Eddie back for a few thrusts, bring his other hand down as hard as he could in a smack that should have been loud enough to bounce around the room, but it was drowned out by Eddie’s responding shout.

He wasn’t going to be able to keep this up, he was getting close already. He’d been aching to have Eddie this way for such a long time and now that he had him, it was intoxicating. He’d never be able to forget it and Steve knew he’d be wanting it for the rest of his life.

He knelt his way up onto the mattress, nudging Eddie’s knees further apart until he was practically splayed wide open, spine bowed and head bent back by Steve’s fist in his hair, his whole body shaking.

Steve released his grip from Eddie’s hair but didn’t let up, grabbing at his shoulders and shoving him face down into the mattress, pounding into him relentlessly.

Eddie’s eyes were rolling back in his head and his mouth was hanging open, drooling onto the sheets below as small moans and whimpers were being punched out of his lungs by Steve’s cock.

“You close, baby?” Steve asked, his voice strained as he tried to keep his own orgasm at bay.

Eddie closed his mouth, trying to form the words, before just nodding, watching Steve over him with dark eyes and a flushed face.

Steve felt something animalistic and possessive take over him, looping his hands underneath Eddie’s shoulders and pulling him up onto his lap, sitting back on his heels and spearing Eddie deeper and harder than he had before while Eddie screamed out.

He dragged one hand down Eddie’s chest and stomach, wrapping his fingers around his cock.

He used his other hand to turn Eddie’s face towards him, holding him by the jaw and neck, hand just under his ear and kissed him deep and filthy.

Eddie’s lips trampled against his as he moaned into his mouth, trying to kiss him back. It only took a few tugs of Steve’s hand before Eddie was cumming with an entire full body shudder and a cry that Steve swallowed down, feeling him tighten around him, sending him over the edge.

He dragged Eddie’s hips down against him, deep and harsh, grinding up as he filled the condom, nearly having an out of body experience.

Eddie was completely limp in his grasp, the only sign that he hadn’t blacked out was the fluttering of his eyelashes against Steve’s neck as he blinked and panted, trying to catch his breath.

Steve guided the two of them to lay down, hissing lightly as he slipped out, kissing up and down Eddie’s neck as he let out a little whimper. He made quick work of the condom, tying it off and throwing it off the bed somewhere to be dealt with in the morning.

There were a few wet spots on the bed sheets, lube, drool, precum, cum, but it seemed like they had managed to avoid the worst of it, if the spatter across the floor was anything to go by.

Again another problem for the morning. Steve didn’t want to do anything at that moment except take care of his man.

He pushed himself up onto his elbow, brushing some hair from Eddie’s face, who smiled up at him, exhausted and completely fucked out.

“You good, baby?”

Eddie nodded, wriggling back a little so he was pressed up against Steve’s chest.

“You wanna be little spoon again?”

When Eddie nodded a second time, Steve leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek, tugging him in close and holding him tight, using his legs to kick the bedsheets up over the two of them, not wanting to let go of him for a second.

As he tucked the duvet in around the both of them, Eddie’s breathing already evened out and steady, his face relaxed in sleep, Steve snuggled down and tried really hard not to think about sticking that giant ‘L’ word label on the feelings that had been lingering at the back of his mind for a while now.

Part 1 Part 13 AO3

Divider by firefly-graphics

@geekymagicalpotato @estrellami-1

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for the magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #penny00dreadful #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #fanfic #pennys anniversary event #spies au #spy steve harrington #robin buckley #guy in the chair robin #cat and mouse spy fic #assassin eddie

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aslitheryprinx · 9 days

Text

I wish that I were a streamer, bc what just happened to me is SO insane.

So despite having played Minecraft for years I've never actually beaten the game on a survival world. I always get distracted and end up creating a new world before I actually get to that point. Earlier today, I decided to log onto a slightly older world (like a year or so, not very old, but it's been a bit) since I'd already progressed pretty far.

I gather all my stuff and start hunting down the stronghold. It takes a bit, especially cause I'm not super practiced at this, but I find it! I also happen to find a bunch of old stuff from when I apparently died trying to find the stronghold ages ago- that was a nice surprise!

You know what wasn't a nice surprise??

The stronghold sitting snug up against the deep dark.

Honestly, at first I think it's pretty cool. It's the first time I've actually seen the deep dark in person, so I'm more intrigued than anything else.

I set my spawn, and start looking for the portal room.

I open a single door and hear a shrieker go off.

Darkness starts pulsing.

Right about then is when I start thinking 'ok this might be a Problem!!!'

I'm hoping the shrieker or catalyst or whatever it is that actually spawns the warden is outside the door, so I press my luck and go forward. I end up setting it off again, so I retreat to try and figure out my next move.

I'm wondering if I should just abandon this stronghold and find a new one, but that would be a pretty long journey. If I can just get rid of the catalyst, I should be set to explore the stronghold.

I leave the actual stronghold itself and start carefully going around looking for where the problem spot is, but I can't actually see anything important except for a diamond. I crouch the whole way, grab it, and come back to the top.

And then. A zombie villager sneaks up behind me and knocks me off into the deep dark.

I land on the catalyst, setting a shrieker off again of course.

Now, I wasn't sure how many times you could set the warden off. I thought it ran on a 3 strikes you're out system, so I am PANICKING.

I try to break the catalyst.

The catalyst is also under a water stream so I'm splashing around the whole time and. Of course. I set off a shrieker again.

The Warden spawns.

Somehow, I manage to swim back up the water stream without dying. I turn around. The Warden is about six blocks away.

It is at this point that I just fully pause the game to contemplate my fate.

Maybe I should've logged out at that point, to lose that aggro on myself. But I didn't think about that.

I was incredibly certain I was about to die, and having just gained back a ton of stuff that I'd been devastated by losing in the first place, (enough that I had kind of lost interest in this world originally), I decided that making sure I didn't lose any of my stuff was the priority.

And my spawn point was basically right there...

I dropped back into the stronghold and was almost immediately killed by the Warden. But when I respawned, I could see my stuff all right there, still safe.

New problem: the Warden had dropped down and was also right in front of my spawn point.

And thus begins my death loop.

I put all of my stuff save my sword in a chest- which didn't help the warden being mad at me- and decided to try and brute force kill this thing through multiple deaths.

But by the time I had everything situated, the warden had sort of disappeared.

It was still there. It was shooting me with sonic blasts and killing me over and over again. But I couldn't actually see it, so I couldn't kill it.

It was at this point that I decided to log out, get a snack, and come back with a clearer head afterwards.

I don't know if wardens despawn. I don't know if it's going to be there when I come back. But I'm in too deep now, I am going to find the portal room of this Stronghold if I have to kill the Warden with my bare fists to do it!!!!!

#minecraft #minecraft warden

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sexhaver · 1 year

Note

How do we feel about drivers who maintain the speed limit while driving the left lane, while on four lane roads. Because only two weeks ago I got ticketed for doing 40 in a 30 to get around an Amazon delivery truck parked in the street/road/whatever, and now I feel too pussy to push my luck at speeding, at least during the near future. But I also don't want to piss someone off who might be unhinged enough to ram the rear of my car.

in general, if you are doing the speed limit, stay out of the left lane as much as possible. the way you avoid pissing people off and getting rearended is actually extremely simple and was taught to me as a core component of driver's ed in Texas because Altimas with paper dealership tags and lifted F350s both make up a large chunk of traffic and have death wishes. here's the trick: when you're in the left lane, check your rearview mirror every so often and take note of the car behind you, specifically how fast it's approaching. if they're gaining on you, either speed up until they aren't or temporarily duck out into the lane to your right at the soonest opportunity. the faster car behind you will pass you without having to weave in and out of lanes, and you get to avoid having someone who hates you ride your bumper for a few miles. if you do this often enough you get into Heaven when you die. also whichever cop ticketed you for doing 40 in a 30 was probably trying to hit a quota

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bestworstcase · 11 months

Text

hello its irregularly scheduled SONGS TIME once again. have you ever thought about how weird ‘all things must die’ is i have i think about it all the time it’s really weird except no it isn’t it’s about summer

(<- sound of me succumbing to the eldritch vapors i am going to try so hard to be coherent wish me luck)

anyway the confounding the maddening thing about ATMD is it very directly calls back to, inexplicably, ‘this will be the day’ and: why. why! what? summer it’s about summer

specifically.

fourteen years ago raven and summer fought in the vault under haven academy and, listen to me because this is the important part, summer did not die. but raven thinks she should have. this is what ATMD is about. raven is fighting cinder but also no she isn’t, it’s fourteen years ago and she’s back here again and she is so angry. because summer rose is not the one who died that night.

ok? ok. ok ok ok

this will be the day: a story will be told. red like roses ii: this bedtime story ends with misery ever after/the pages are torn and there’s no final chapter. all things must die: all tales conclude.

grabs you by the shoulders. shakes you. DO YOU SEE

this will be the day:

beware that the light is fading beware, as the dark returns this world’s unforgiving even brilliant lights will cease to burn legends scatter day and night will sever hope and peace are lost forever

divide (now we’re cooking with gas!):

legends and fairytales scattered in time maidens and kingdoms wrapped up in a lie

all things must die:

this is the end here’s where you’ll die legends should scatter so just say goodbye no one will miss you when you’re fin’lly gone at your conclusion sing your swan song

folds hands. a bird is known by its song, a man by his words. the truth is that ‘truth’ is hard to come by; a story of victory for one person is a story of defeat for someone else. by now, i’m sure your uncle has told ruby and her friends plenty of stories.

(and which “her” is raven referring to?)

summer was the best of us, qrow says.

raven knows the truth. she’s also the one who told the story—or at least, she told a story. or maybe she didn’t, but silence tells its own kind of story. the point is this: summer rose, the person, chose to walk away and left raven branwen to decide how the story ended.

summer rose, the idea, is dead because raven slit her throat in front of that vault fourteen years ago. this is the end: here’s where you’ll die. legends should scatter, so just say goodbye. no one will miss you, when you’re finally gone; at your conclusion, sing your swan song.

does she regret that choice? letting summer rose die a hero so that summer rose could be free? did she do it for spite? for love? was she afraid? did she just want it to be done?

fourteen years later, she’s back here and there’s blood on the floor again.

murder, unkindness, conspiracy embers extinguished in effigy

to burn something in effigy: to destroy a figure, a facsimile, a symbol of someone hated. cinder fall is not summer rose, but summer rose isn’t here and the past is alive and howling all around them; and whatever raven may have felt then the only thing she feels now is it’s happening again.

(an unkindness of ravens—a conspiracy of ravens—but it’s a murder of crows. or, as it might be, just a murder.)

anyways.

sacrifice:

close your eyes now, time for dreams death is never what it seems […] show them gods and deities blind and keep the people on their knees pierce the sky, escape your fate the more you try, the more you’ll just breed hate and lies truth will rise revealed by mirrored eyes

when it falls:

swallowed by the darkness soon the moon is bathed in black the light of hope is taken and discontent is the contagion the blinding eyes that burn a yellow flame the embers that remain will light the fuse of condemnation mirrors will shatter crushed by the weight of the world

all things must die:

just close your eyes don’t fear demise black out the sky all things must die

ok. ok . can you see it?

this will be the day:

we are lightning straying from the thunder miracles of ancient wonder this will be the day we’ve waited for this will be the day we open up the door i don’t wanna hear your absolution hope you’re ready for a revolution welcome to a world of new solutions welcome to a world of bloody evolution

all things must die:

life is just a journey yours is near its end bloody evolution this world transcend

can you—

all things must die:

all tales conclude all bonds dissolve infinite matter will always evolve just pray for mercy at your time of death be glad you existed enjoy your last breath

rising:

the sky is turning black light is fading fast but we don’t surrender radiant and bright shattering the night armored in splendor shining forever we are paragons of virtue and glory death can’t stop our endless story infinite and unbound

—see it?

just pray for mercy.

don’t wanna hear your absolution (hope you’re ready for a revolution!)

welcome to a world of new solutions: the blinding eyes that burn a yellow flame, the embers that remain will light the fuse of condemnation—mirrors will shatter, crushed by the weight of the world. truth will rise, revealed by mirrored eyes. welcome to a world of bloody evolution.

life is just a journey; yours is near its end. bloody evolution: this world transcend.

black out the sky; all things must die. swallowed by the darkness, soon the moon is bathed in black; the light of hope is taken and discontent is the contagion. the sky is turning black, the light is fading fast, but we don’t surrender. radiant and bright, shattering the night, shining forever. we are paragons of virtue and glory; death can’t bind our endless story, infinite and unbound.

for it is in passing we achieve immortality; through this we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all, infinite in distance and unbound by death. i release your soul, and by my shoulder protect thee.

all things must die.

our souls transcend death.

it’s—ok. ok! this will be the day? salem. when it falls? salem and cinder. rising? summer and salem. for every life? salem. rising is the only one of these that is remotely ambiguous but trust me. (“farran it seems unlikely that half the opening numbers are secretly—” salem is literally the narrator)

so what is happening here, with ‘all things must die,’ is it’s in dialogue with the whole triumvirate of cinder + summer + salem

(<- maiden mother crone. hi)

—as i said, ATMD fundamentally is about the death of summer rose, the idea, and the not-death of summer rose, the person, and the feelings raven has about both of those things as drawn out by the echo the reflection the effigy that is cinder fall.

banging pots and pans. salem drowns in the fountain of life and reawakens immortal. she drowns in the pool of grimm and creates herself anew. raven kills summer rose, the idea (this is the end, here’s where you’ll die) and summer rose, the person, rips herself free (the pages are torn and there’s no final chapter). cinder gets electrocuted in the face frozen solid dropped hundreds of feet into a subterranean lake and just. Survives That.

like mother, like—

anyway.

grips your shoulders listen to me very carefully. raven branwen turns into a raven. she leads a warlike group of bandits. she is the spring maiden, the maiden of knowledge. her weapon is called omen. her semblance allows her to know when her loved ones are in mortal danger and appear to them to turn the tide of battle. she wears a grimm mask. she “tore her team apart.” thought and memory though she and her brother may be, huginn is only what she was to ozpin.

day by day it’s nearer step by step you go closer to your ruin soon your time to go life is just a journey yours is near its end […] this is the end here’s where you’ll die […] it’s time to accept to abide admit that the hour’s arrived resign, comply it’s time to be one with the sky surrender your pride let death be your guide all things must die

i told you beacon would fall, and it did. i told you ozpin would fail, and he has.

she can’t be stopped, she can’t be reasoned with, and she will not rest until humanity crumbles at her feet.

her weapon is named omen.

her song is spoken in future tense!!! hello!!!

She also prophesied the end of the world, foretelling every evil that would occur then, and every disease and every vengeance; and she chanted the following poem: ‘I shall not see a world Which will be dear to me: Summer without blossoms, Cattle will be without milk, Women without modesty, Men without valour. Conquests without a king […] False judgements of old men…’ ( 167 )

the morrígan.

wheeze ok. all things must die is prophetic but all that is already was; raven sees, in cinder fall, the end and the beginning of summer rose, That Is What The Song Is About. nothing new under the sun. fourteen years ago all of this happened before, differently. here’s where you’ll die. she writes the ending of summer rose. she flings cinder to her (SYMBOLIC SYMBOLIC IT IS A METAPHOR) death and resurrection from the roots of the tree.

she’s the spring maiden. she is death’s herald. she’s stared death in the face over and over again and every time she spat back in its face and survived. she knows people who can come back from the dead. without the spring maiden, we’re all going to die.

death and the maiden.

i only know the raven dad told me about; she was troubled and complicated, but she fought for what she believed in—whether it was her family or her tribe. did you kill her too?

no, but summer rose did.

gleefully voicing this eulogy spawn of the tenets of treachery

cinder’s heard so many stories about raven; that she’s a cunning leader, strong, clever. (it’s a shame they’re wrong.) truth is hard to come by; i’m sure your uncle has told ruby and her friends plenty of stories. summer rose telling lies! she was the best of us. she would have pressed on, if she found out the truth.

burning summer rose in effigy, gleefully voicing this eulogy. no one will miss you when you’re finally gone.

…how did salem know the maidens are vulnerable to silver eyes. much to think about

#and that’s enough glimpsing beyond the veil for now i think

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