#(they couldn't save you then so they will try now)

[sangunary]

Sillouethe Of Your Soul.

BatFam x Neglected Reader.

SYPNOSIS: How could anyone missed something they've never had.

WARNING: NOT FOR SENSETIVE PEOPLE OR WHO HATE GORE. (Daddy issue incoming)

Some abuser never realised the extent of their actions nor do they try to understand the person they have hurt, they relish in being in power to chain an angel on Earth with them so they won't feel so envious of it's wings.

Some don't realise their own abused, the harsh word that left wounds deep inside their sweet angel's heart, their silhouette ligures around the house but their soul were never present... They do not understand that their own actions have consequences that hurt more than themselves.

You were abused in the silent ways, no one to cheer you own, no one to help you sleep, no one to love you.

You would watch a family so happy and perfect just that they were your family and you felt like watching as their perfection together formed an art while you watched. Just another audience watching a beautiful art.

"She was an angel"

Bruce began as he sit inside his office that left somewhere empty now... The guy who he was talking was from CPS conducting an interview after your death.

"I should have realised... she wasn't a bird like the rest, she was an angel who just needs some encouragement to fly"

Bruce was better at nursing helpless birds than an angel. He's been a father for more than he could remember but he never took onto consideration on how some kid's aren't all birds and he gave up so soon... After he realised he could nurture you like a bird.

"I would watch her silently, I couldn't realise what I was doing wrong... I didn't knew how to raise a bird like her and I realised something was wrong with her."

You would sit there at the side quietly as the rest of the family played around treating you like a ghost. Their playful banter and smile never reached yourside, you were treated like a guest at your own home.

"I kept trying tho, I pushed and pushed trying to force her to open her wings... Like the rest of the family, but it wouldn't budge"

Bruce would watch as he ordered you to do certain thing's that no one else had to, doing everybody else laundry, extra studies, outside tuition and even excluding you from certain family function.

He knew you weren't strong enough to be a vigilante, that's why the rest of your siblings have a hard time being near you... Your life were different. You were just too 'odd' to be include as a family to them.

"I never knew how much it hurt her..."

You could barely hold back your tears sometimes, everyone get the idle father but to you he was never a father he was just an instructor... Who clearly have favourite.

"I told Alfred to stop making food for her... To learn how to survive on her own, she was already weak I thought I was helping her survive"

You would stood there your eyes looking into the abyss, everyone had their plate on the table yet yours was missing. They did not asked or have a single concern as they happily ate their meal... As your flesh began to decay.

Every Christmas you were gone nowhere to be seen but everyone carried on their life like you were never there at the first place.

Your bones were crushed, your blood being drained slowly as their smile and laughter taunt you.

Why? Why would you ever missed something you never had?

You've spent your whole life without them. Why would you suddenly need them, they were heros... They were obliged to love everyone but you were being singled out.

"I don't know why she didn't scream when they dunk her head into the water"

The brutal scene of your death, some thugs decided to kidnapped you for money but when they realised your family nor the bats were coming they used you to fulfill twisted dreams.

Your wrist was red and some soft skin were pelling off. Tears, sweat and snot on your face as you begged God to save you.

Tim got kidnapped before and he was saved before an hour.. You've been down here for six hours, bruised and broken.

You thought for once that your family would show some mercy and come but they didn't, left you behind in the hands of two merciless people.

For six hour straight you've been beaten, they dunked your head into some cold water and before you could passed out and just let go they would pull your head back.

Your clothes were torn and dirty, your body was aching and there was a fine line of cut on your neck as blood wouldn't stop spewing out of it. Your fingers were mostly broken and you're been hit with a rench which left your jaw broken and your head bleeding.

"Dad...I, mis-ed u..."

You could barely speak but you used the bit of your strength on calling for your father, for him to embrace you in your dying moment... That's what you've wanted for a long time .

Memories flash across your mind as your breath began to slow down. You've watched alot of movies, you always wanted your father to pick you up into the sky and told you that he loved you.

The way a father would look at their daughter and be proud of. Everybody had a father by their side growing up atleast in your eyes, the one to hold their hands while they cheer, the one to embrace them when they accomplish even the smallest of thing.

But, he was never a present father to you. Ever award you won the only thing you care for was your father, you looked into the crowd of faces to see his proud face or just him but he wasn't there.

Unlike everyone else who had a father holding their hands to guide them through the darkness you only had yourself. Every compliment felt meaningless and every compliment was replaced with untold hatred.

"I couldn't stop myself that day... I hold onto her and cried. My baby was dead"

He continued as his face show a slight sorrow but he was holding it back.

"My child, my little angel... Lifeless on the dirty street left there to be eaten by the rats... I couldn't control my tears, so many word left untold... So many praise I've kept to myself, she died thinking she was a burden."

His voice cracked as his throat began to heat up from the emotion he was trying to surpass.

Your body was left at some nearby alleyway, you were still concious when they throw your body onto the cold cement. The light of the city blended in your eyes, you lay there paralyzed soaking wet from your blood.

It was cold and empty, trying to imagine the warmth of your father, but you couldn't...You didn't know how it felt to be under a father warmth. You never had that.

All those years filled with unsaid words and tension between the two of you. You couldn't speak and he didn't knew how to care for you. You watched as he would nurture all your siblings buy you.

Every birds by his side cuddling and loving while your feathers began to fall to warmth your heart, to play the role of being loved. You sacrifice your own greatness for fatherly love.

"Her body was cold and empty, not the girl I watched grew up... Her blood were warm, like she was trying to comfort me for the last time..."

Bruce looked at his hands as he looked back at the guy, he recoll running towards the scene, pushing the GCPD aside when they tried to stop him... But a father could never be stopped when their child is at stake.

He saw your body near the trash, they threw you away like you didn't meant anything but a trash to be taken out after it was done with.

He went on his knees as he dirty his perfect suit, his hands holding onto your body as he began to sob... Your face have went pale and he could see the damage done to your jaw and the large bruise on your left eye.

The bruise was swollen, purple and red colouring it... Seemed like they had hit you with something hard.

"Whoever killed her treated her no different from an animal. I hold onto her hands, I prayed to God to do something... I was... Late, too late to be a father to her."

"I ruined a beautiful angel... I wasn't a father... I treated her differently... I was too sucked up to understand that she needed a father and not Bruce..."

"I just, hoped that no father would do this to their child... She was my child, my angel, my baby... And I would die to bring her back and told her... I love you always"

I know this is shittu but im bored.

[rinsnumber1fan]

MDNI 18+

When bllk men think you're cheating but you're really just reading smut. But when they catch you? You're cooked.

Featuring: Itoshi Rin, Itoshi Sae, Michael Kaiser + smut.

Itoshi Rin:

Rin has been watching you for a few days now. Giggling on your phone, thighs pressing together to avoid being caught wet, biting your lip, cheeks red and thousands of other signs.

But he played dumb for now.

Rin knew it was a man, it was his instincts, he called isagi once and asked him about it and isagi tried to be logical "Maybe she's not cheating. It could be anything just because she laughs---" blocked. How dare he not agree with rins opinion?

It got to a point that you would hide your phone behind your back everytime he'd enter the room. And if he spots your phone you flip it to the other side.

You were lying on rins apartment bed, it was a day off and rin had gone to practice so you had the room to yourself. A smug grin forms on your lips as you open ao3 whilst listening to music on Spotify. Your legs and thighs pressed close together as you scroll through the pages, reading through every little line: he grabs a chunk of your hair making you moan in pleasure, "fuck.. I didnt know you were into that."

You didn't even notice when Rin got home, he was standing right behind you his tall frame hovering over yours casting a shadow over you and you still didn't notice. He leans down glancing at your phone and his brows furrow in confusion, "bondage? What the fuck." He asked loudly enough and you screamed. You jumped back, pulling your headphones off and looking at him wide eyes and flushed cheeks. "Y-you-- why didn't you tell me you were home??" You paced and he scoffed, "what the hell are you reading?" He somehow snatches your phone from your hands and has you frozen in embarrassment. "No..." you murmured as you watched his eyes trail left and right over the text on your phone. "NOOO!! I-it opened on accident!! See I was watching a movie and uh it was a pop up ad!! So I clicked and it led me to this strange website!!!"

Rin glanced at you and back at the screen,

Bondage, pet play, breeding kink, degradation, spanking, hair pulling, exhibitionist, public teasing, corruption kink...

"So that's what you've been doing." Rin said, his voice low and raspy as he puts the phone down on the side table. You knew you were absolutely fucked when he leaned closer. You pulled back, trying to slide off the bed but he grabs your ankle quick and pulls you back towards him. "That's what you were into?" He laughed, not in happiness or whatever but in mocking. You couldn't speak. You remained quiet. "So this is what you get off on? Books..?" He furrowed his brows "fucking pervert."

He obviously wanted you to feel atleast a little ashamed but you were a goner at this point. Hearing him call you a pervert made you hornier. Made your thighs shut tighter. Made you feel humiliated. And he noticed it, very well. He blinked once, twice, "are you kidding me?" He rubs circles on your ankle "you like it when I humiliate you? God, there's no saving you. And here I thought you were a good girl." He pulls you towards him, leans down, and grabs your jaw, "you like being humiliated? being a slut?" His words were like weed to you right now and you gasped lightly "yes- yeah.. i-" you panted, "i like it." And he shoves you down, sliding your panties to your side and pulling his shorts just low enough.

"Then be a good girl and take it." He groaned, pushing into you and making you scream loudly, "shut the fuck up. You want someone to hear?" He slaps the surface of your thigh making you squeal.

You lived off of being humiliated by him. "Freak." Is all he said to you, leaning down to whisper in your ear and you came. Hard.

His eyes widened slightly and he spoke "just from that, huh?" He grinned. "I'm gonna have fun with you."

Itoshi Sae:

Sae loved you. But he noticed things about you more than he loved you. Like how you always hide your phone from him. Today he's going to confront you.

You're on your phone again, in a restaurant date. He went off to the bathroom and meanwhile you opened up your phone to check some stuff and while you did, you ended up going back to wattpad to read something.

Sae had returned, your phone was in your hand, and when he sat down? You almost threw your phone away in panic. You didn't sense him coming. Sae blinked, "what is it that you're always doing on that phone?" He glanced at you and you stammered "Uh well.. lots of stuff like-" "let me see your phone." His words made you pause, smile almost run away. "W-why?" "Because I asked you to."

You grab your phone hesitantly and licked your lips. "Okay but why?" You sighed and he deadpanned "because youre cheating on me."

"WHAT?!" You said it out loud, heads turned and you turned red in embarrassment. "I'm not cheating on you, I'd never!!" You put your phone in his hands immidently "then what are you always hiding?" He frowned and you pouted "um..."

He scrolls through your phone, opening up one of the apps called wattpad. "What's this? Book app?" And you froze. Ready for the humiliation, he went through your reading lists. Smut..?

"It's not what it looks like!!" You said in a loud whisper and sae blinked. "Wow." He said, "I didn't know you were into.. cnc." You almost crumbled.

"Sae I'm- no. I'm uh" He tilts his head, "do you like it when I force you?" Your brain stopped functioning at this point and you leaned back and cleared your throat.

"N-.. y-..yes'nt?" You replied and he paused his hand trailed on your thigh for a moment. "You wanted that you couldve just said so" He leans his head down to your level. His hand playing with the hem of your skirt. He puts his hands through, pulling your panties down, just a little bit. "Sae.. what if someone-" "that's better." He cuts off, his hand going through your inner thigh to cut through your walls. He let's his fingers get sucked in as he twists them in a way he knows you'll like. You whimpered, clinging to his arm helplessly with a red face "S-sae..." and he glances down and back up at you, "dont make too much noise." He glances at you. "You didn't want anyone to hear right?" He goes in and out and you hide your face into his arm. "S-saee..." you whimpered as you reached your down, came all over his fingers. "Let's finish this, hm?"

Michael Kaiser:

You thought you were careful.

Reading your spicy books under the blanket, screen dimmed, thighs squished together in a pathetic attempt to be discreet.

But Michael Kaiser? He noticed.

He noticed everything.

From the way your breathing changed.

To how your eyes would go glassy.

To how flustered you got when he walked in suddenly.

So one night, when you’re curled up on the couch, knees pulled up, phone close to your face...

He snatches it.

Just like that.

“What the hell—KAISER!”

“Relax,” he says smoothly, holding the screen up as he scrolls.

Then he stops.

Grins. Slowly.

“spanking?”

You freeze.

“Give it back.”

He doesn’t.

He reads aloud.

“‘He slapped her face and told her to say thank you like a good girl.’”

His voice is mocking. Drawling.

“...Aww. y/n.” He glances at you over the screen.

“You like that shit?”

Your face burns.

“N-no—wait, it’s not like that—”

“Nah, no need to lie now.” He tosses the phone onto the table and stalks toward you. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

You try to scramble away.

He catches your ankle and drags you into his lap, caging you there with his arms.

“Cute little girlfriend, always trying to act innocent, gets off on being called a dumb, used-up whore?”

You squirm. Whimper.

And that’s when he notices:

You’re wet.

“…No way.”

His voice drops.

He presses his fingers over your soaked panties and laughs.

A dark, wicked laugh.

“Oh, this is perfect.”

“You’re actually getting turned on right now.”

You try to push him away, humiliated beyond belief, but he grabs your jaw and forces you to look at him.

“What else do you read?” he hisses against your lips.

“Getting tied up? Slapped? Filled with a stranger’s cum? Is that why you get all shaky when I’m mean?”

You tremble.

And that’s all the confirmation he needs.

You’re His Now. His Little Pervert.

He doesn’t even give you time to think.

Pulls your panties to the side. Pushes two fingers in.

“You know what this means, right?” he breathes against your neck.

“You’re mine now. My little toy. My filthy, depraved, closeted freak who’s gonna say please when I make her crawl.”

You whine. Already falling apart.

He’s relentless.

He Makes you read out loud from one of your bookmarked smut scenes while he fingers you.

“Slower. Louder. If you can read it, you can take it.” he spanks you when you get shy or stumble earning a whine

Marks you. Everywhere. Neck, chest, inner thighs.

“You don’t need books anymore. I’ll give you everything you want, baby.”

You thought he'd stop soon maybe, maybe.. but no.

He Breaks You In.

Kaiser takes full control.

Choking. Spanking. Praise mixed with filthy degradation.

He grabs your face, makes you look him in the eyes as he thrusts deep inside you.

“You’re mine.”

“Say it.”

You choke out: “I’m yours.”

“And what else?”

“I’m… I’m your pervert.”

He smirks. Kisses you deep and slow.

“Good girl.”

“Now moan for me like you do in your head.”

A/n: HII GIYS IM WORKING ON THE REQUEATS IGOT BUT I HAD THIS IDEA AND I D3VIDED TO OOST IT DONT WORRY THO IM GONNA TOTALLY POST THE OTHER REQS TOO SO YEAH AND PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT AND ALIKE BECAUSE 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 JUST BECAUSE.

[estrogenandspite]

I was 14.

In hindsight, I shouldn't have been out there in the first place. I was too young for this, but when I was adopted by the world's richest man and told I could have anything I ever wanted including vengeance on the man who killed my parents, all I had to do was agree to wear a brightly colored costume, be subjected to experiments that would give me powers, and become world-famous as the sidekick to the masked avenger, Foxglove - I mean what child wouldn't have taken the option?

I was 14 fucking years old.

My response to compound zed was good: super strength, super speed, and limited control over my own shadow that I could use to form tentacles and manipulate objects and fight at a distance. It got to the point where I actually had a nemesis of my own – Radiance, the sidekick of The Grim, Foxglove's most hated rival. There were talks about being in magazines, maybe doing some interviews of my own once I finished a media training course.

Then that goddamn fire happened.

Foxglove doesn't have powers of his own. It only occurred to me later that that's because he was worried about what compound zed would do to him. It's not reliable, you see. For every sidekick you see patrolling the streets with him one day, there's four or five bodies that no one ever finds. So he lets his sidekicks do the dangerous stuff, and eventually it gets too dangerous.

"Sorry, Kid."

That was the last thing he ever said to me. The building was on fire, but I thought I could handle it. Shadow control gets unreliable, however, when the light is flickering. I couldn't get a good grasp on it, and the building started to collapse. I begged for help. I screamed for him to save me. He had a fireproof suit on. He had a gas mask. He could have done it, but instead I got a "Sorry, Kid," and he left me behind.

And then The Grim showed up.

Turns out The Grim was the first. Yeah. That was him, back in the day. Foxglove spreads all those rumors about him and frames him for crimes so that no one takes him seriously. Radiance? A project Foxglove thought had died on the testing table. Turns out her power only manifested after her heart stopped. There's two others, Cleaver and Whipvine. Yeah, they're both one of Foxglove's abandoned sidekicks. And of course, me. I don't use the name he gave me anymore – that was a whole lifetime ago. It's Umbra now.

That's why I was there when he left you behind.

It gets better. We don't let you fight until you're 18, if you still want to. Radiance and I are the same age, but The Grim just couldn't stop her from fighting. We're dating now. Enemies to lovers, yeah. But I didn't fight until I was 18, and with all four of us, we will sit on you if you try to go out there before you're old enough. Still, we'll take care of you until then. If you want to fight once you're an adult? We'll support you. If you don't? We'll still support you. And if you want to leave now – we'll make sure you get a good home, loving family. Long as you don't suit up before you're 18, we'll leave you alone. You get choices. Things he never gave you.

Unlike him, we know what family means.

You interested, Kid Wonder #5?

That's what I thought.

Welcome to the Rejects.

You were the sidekick to a super hero. You worked hard, doing all the labor while he got the credit but it's fine. Anyways, while saving people in a fire, you get trapped. You scream out for help, but all he does is stare at you. "Sorry, kid." He shrugs and leaves you there to die.

[mingoooossii]

Not calling ATEEZ hyung line by their nicknames.

warnings: fluff, a bit of angst? not proofread

a/n: also super old I'm just clearing out the drafts atp and i realised I haven't posted anything atz in a while and that's unacceptable 😤

ateez masterlist.

Hongjoong.

• side eyed you the first time you did it

• though he brushed it off, not thinking too much of it

• but then he starts to get kind of annoyed as you continued it

• what's going on?

• reflects on what he has done this past week but comes up with nothing strange

• even if there was, he trusts that you'll be honest with him

• so he concludes that you were just trying to annoy him

• and boy, he is annoyed. More than he likes to admit

• though he had always claimed to hate those 'silly ass nicknames', as he called it, you gave him

• he really misses it

• but he wasn't going to say that

• instead, he planned to make you give up. How?

• he just started ignoring you 😭 until you had to call him by his nickname to get him to respond

"... you're so sneaky..."

"And you're hanging out with Wooyoung too much."

Seonghwa.

• worried

• initially thinks that you did it accidentally

• but obviously that wasn't the case when you kept doing it

• worries thinking if he did something wrong

• were you annoyed with him? Did he do something to upset you?

• he couldn't really think of anything he has done, making him sort of frustrated

• did he forget something?

• he didn't want think too much so he decided to finally ask you

• "honey, did I do something to upset you?"

• faced with his concerned face, you instantly felt guilty for worrying him

• you didn't expect him to take it so seriously

• you spewed out apologies while hugging him, saying that you only wanted to see his reaction

• he's relieved now but also a bit upset

• but alas, he could never stay mad at you for too long

"... you're giving me early gray hairs..."

Yunho.

• ok so for context, you were kind of annoyed with him

• he had eaten that last piece of pistachio pastry that YOU were saving!

• you had already told him that before but you guessed he forgot it

• you knew he wouldn't have done that if he remembered and even if he did

• you knew that he'll buy the entire thing for you if you just mention it

• but you didn't, not wanting to seem petty (definitely not self reflecting)

• you couldn't help your behaviour though, you had a bad day so now it only annoyed you more

• he noticed almost immediately (hard not to when you basically wear your emotions on your sleeves)

• concerned but also a bit amused, he tried asking you but you just brushed him off saying 'it was nothing'

• it was never nothing

• but he quickly figured it out after seeing you sulking near the fridge. The cake!

• he booked it out of there after realising, saying that he'll be back soon

• you were confused but then gaped, seeing him come back precisely 15 mins later after buying basically the whole shop

• "Honey, I'm sorry...."

• so of course, you couldn't stay mad at his stupidly handsome smile and sweet self

"So if you forgive me then, can I have another bite?"

Yeosang.

• took him a while to notice it

• but when he did, he was mostly confused.

• maybe it was an accident?? You probably didn't realise..

• but then he kinda started to worry when you kept doing it..

• wonders if he did something wrong, thinking you were mad at him

• it doesn't really mention it tho, not wanting to accidentally upset you anymore..

• though it's obvious that he's sad

• looking like a kicked puppy. you could just the imagine the droopy puppy ears on him 😭

• you felt so bad and immediately hugged him saying that you only did it to see his reaction

• and then proceeded to shower him with affection (his little shy smile as you do 🥹)

• he wasn't upset but just glad that you weren't mad at him or anything

"So you weren't mad at me?"

[quesocheeso]

*At this point it's your fault. Hello my friend from the other side of the darkness.*

Now this is just a funny idea.

Who do you think is shadowpeach biggest fan?

Nezha? Xiaoxing? MK? No, definitely none of them. It is actually Macaque's doctor.

Hear me out.

He is an old man who had his fair share of poor demons being taken advantage of then thrown away when they couldn't give birth to a powerful child. He loves kids and became a doctor hoping to save as many as possible or at least help the mothers.

At first he hated Wukong and tried to give Macaque a headstart for when Wukong got rid of him and the magicless baby.

But a few visits later he could clearly see how loved the baby and the mother are. Wukong would keep notes of all the things related to them and wouldn't ask twice about any type of treatment. The baby was clearly happy and the mother was very well taken care of.

And so they became his favourite couple.

Now for the fun part:

Macaque and Wukong had a fight before going to doctor and he clearly noticed:

Doctor:"Well, as far as I can see Mr. Macaque, your tests are improving smoothly however the rapid heartbeat is very concerning." (His ass is lying.)

Wukong immediately switching from angry to absolutely concerned:"What? But he's been taking his medication and eating healthy, why would he have that?"

_"I need to do more tests to be sure but just in case, was there any reason for Mr. Macaque to be stressed these past few days?"

_"We had a fight... Why? Is that why he's getting sick?"

_"That's my best guess. I do need to remind you that even though he looks fine, he can still get very sick very quickly, he is not in the safe zone yet." (Macaque has been luxuriously living in the safe zone for a while now.)

Macaque:"So what do I do? Do I need medicine for it?"

Doctor:"I'd like to avoid that if possible, we don't want to exhaust your body. Let's try talking things out first and..."

_"And what?"

_"Well, physical relations are very good to release pent-up stress. I'm just saying to keep that in mind. If you don't want that then I'll have to prescribe you some more medicine."

Wukong:"We'll try talking things out first."

Doctor:"That's wonderful to know. Please speak to the secretary about rescheduling a new appointment to check on the mother and the baby later."

Even though he lied a lot, he was still very professional and kept an eye out for his patient. But these two walked into his office without holding hands and he took it personally. It would be a tragedy in his book to let these break up.

Imagine his happiness when he knew there's another baby on the way. As the shadowpeach fan club president, he was overjoyed and made sure these two would not be one second apart during the pregnancy.

*Imagine it for a second and tell me it's not hilarious. Anyway, have a great day! I'll excuse myself into the darkness.*

Girlypop I let out the loudest ass laugh ever possible when you said Macaques doctor was these two biggest fan, brooooo that old lady HATES their asses (affectionately) lmaoooo

She’s actually the side character the next 3am comic features and I lover her to bits, she is straight to the point and close to being vulgar while at the same time trying to kick these youngsters from her office at all times, she was Macaque’s midwife for Xiaoxing’s birth, and consequently the midwife to the rest of his kids

Although I do love the concept of her grudgingly caring about the youngsters and helping them work out some of their problems, because of the type of relationship she’s seen in her days with powerful couples, and how different the monkeys are.

She did think Wukong was a dead beat dad during Macaque’s first pregnancy since he was out of the picture, but that did change when he broke into the delivery room to be there for the birth and then stuck around for everything else, specifically to make sure Macaque was alright,,,,, you know that video of the dad who keeps looking for his wife and her health through the hospital doors while his family fawns over his child, that’s Wukong fr lol

[astriiformes]

It's hard to put into words just how difficult and winding my undergraduate experience has been, but I'm going to try anyways. I never would have expected it would take 10 years at 3 schools, but I'm unbelievably grateful to everyone that helped me along the way. And proud! I actually did it!

When I graduated high school, everyone told me I was going to thrive in college. I'd been a high-achieving honor student and their expectations made sense.

But I was also a neurotic, closeted trans guy with undiagnosed ADHD, autism, cPTSD, OCD, & a host of other things that made college challenging. It didn't help that I started school in the honors college at a prestigious university that threw me to the wolves as soon as my mental health floundered. My second university tried harder to help me, but it still wasn't enough--though I'm still very grateful to everyone who gave it a go.

Some of you know just how rough those challenges were. I ended up in the hospital at one point, and remained in some really dark places afterwards, unsure if I had a future at all. It was awful, and scary. I felt like I'd failed everyone who told me I was bright and had good things ahead of me, but most of all, I felt like I'd failed myself.

In the end what I needed was time. I needed time to come out and live as myself, to move to another state where I had friends and more of a social support system, to figure out what I was actually interested in. Time to grow & thrive.

I'm not bitter towards the people who told me college would be a breeze for me, but I wish our school system was better at noticing when even high-achieving students are on the path towards burnout. For those of us who are "twice-exceptional," that can be literally life-saving.

In any case. Thank you to my social support system, and to every disability resources coordinator, mental health professional, academic advisor, and understanding professor who helped me get here. I am deeply grateful that even when I was struggling, they saw potential in me. And as someone who wants to pursue a career in academia, difficult as that is right now, I hope I can ultimately be as helpful and encouraging to others as so many people have been to me. I couldn't have gotten here alone, and I'm glad I didn't have to.

[computerwarrior]

((Trimming it down.))

@corruptedcodelines

Tyrace pulled himself as far back from the two as he could still clutching his injured arm close as he stared wide eyed at the rival virus. Horror burned through every process of his core, his words barely shaking above a whisper as he gripped his arm tight. "What... what have... you done..." The viral turned back to face him, an arrogant, crazed smile on his face as he stretched out his hand. His mouth opened reply, some half formed snarky remark dying on his lips as his eyes fell on his claws as a look of confused horror carved over his features. His hand was slowly being consumed by a creeping yellow-green, cracking stain... crawling up the tips of his talons where they had met Tyrace's arm in pixelated cracks. The virus shrieked, trying in vain to shake the spreading corruption off of his hand, but failing. Tyrace stared in horror, his core dropping as the winds of the Outlands seemed to chill to ice. He shakily gripped his wounded forearm, unable to tear his eyes away as that creeping poisoned color continued to grow. "He... didn't... know..." He couldn't have known. Not even the most foolish of his kind wouldn't have done this if they knew what would happen... what his code DID... even to viruses. Tyrace forced his eyes over to Ark, all of the previous act and bravado abandoned for raw fear. He... he hadn't wanted to hurt anyone... why did they always have to FIGHT... The rival's runtime was forfeit now if the transferred corruption kept spreading...

It seemed counter-intuitive that Virus could infect Virus, but, at the end of the day, they were still code, even if it was vastly different from any other program.

As the situation changed, so did her tactics, Ark slid to a halt in front of the newly-infected Virus. She had quite a few options, but chose the one that would potentially give them more going forward.

She spun her staff, then neatly brought it down on the edge of the creeping infection, aiming to sever it and the new Viral code with it.

No matter the result, she then shifts her staff to point at the Virus' throat, but makes no further moves. She's hoping her intent is clear, his life is in their hands, and just as quickly as she saved it, she can end it.

Ark was on the hunt. Using every skill she had as a System Monitor and a Renegade, she had been working hard to track a program without the program knowing that she was there. Unfortunately, that meant that she had to hang back further than she'd like to, but it was the safest option right now, until she got a better understanding of the situation. If she was correct, this program had a chance to be Tron, which meant she had to be on her best game to stay out of his notice.

This was a risk he shouldn't be taking right now.

He kept his head down as he wove his way through the crowds, his helmet rezzed only over the bottom of his face to keep programs from recognizing either of his appearances. He didn't want to draw undue attention as... either... of his faces.

Well... one was hos face anyway.

He kept his senses flowing through the Grid with every step, his eyes sharp as he tried to find any trace of the being that had been haunting this sector. If his information was correct... they could have another virus problem... if not... well then the worst that could happen would just be a random program having a laugh-

He felt his code shift unsettlingly, his steps stumbling for a moment as his processes slowed by just a nano.

Following. Behind. Careful.

He frowned to himself, continuing on his way down the populated street as he casually looked around. This place wasn't extremely popular by his standard... but it was still hosting twenty or so programs all going about their lives. Nothing... quite out of the ordinary just yet.

Suspicious...

He clenched his teeth, glaring down at his shadow.

You stated that before... and there was no one within a twenty click radius.

Silence for a long moment.

Female. Blue circuits. Blackguard Walk. Following.

He shouldered past a group of young programs gathering at one of the energy bars, their voices loud enough to almost drown out the voice in his head as he shielded his eyes against the lights. He stretched out his senses again to the Grid, closing out the bustle and digital noise of the Common Finctions to hone in on anything brighter.

[cynosdaydream]

knight!sylus x royalty!reader sneaking away into the garden to shower each other in affection

ROYAL UNDERCOVER!

When the world gets too loud, your loyal knight will always be there to save you.

Now playing: Moon - The Cab

Word count: 1.4k Author's Note: Here you go! I'm really sorry this took so long to get out, my mid-term exams just finished. This is totally not proof read as I am looking at my computer screen through blurry eyes at 12am, so feel free to dm me if there are any errors. enjoy :) Desc: knight!sylus x royalty!reader, fluff, escaping from royal bums, dancing under the moonlight type shit, nothing much really it's just fun teasing n happy stuff yayy

The atmosphere in the foreign ballroom was suffocating. Noble and royalty alike were dressed to the nines, pearls and jewelry reflecting the light from the enormous chandelier. People were mingling, music was playing, and drinks were flowing.

As lavish and glamorous as this event seemed, you felt overwhelmed. It had been hours, and your head was pounding. You couldn't even remember what the purpose of the event was at this point-- 'something about a King's birthday...?' You thought, trying to recall the details on the piece of parchment that your family had received.

"My lady, are you feeling alright?" A hushed voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and a lock of silvery hair brushed against your ear. Ah, Sylus, your knight. He had been your knight since the both of you were children, so he knew you from the inside out. Your parents tried suggesting a change of your personal knight in the past, or even having an additional knight by your side so you could get familiar with the other guards in the castle. However, you were always quick to shut down the idea, insisting that Sylus was doing his job perfectly. As for the additional knights that your parents tried to implement, they usually lasted a few weeks by your side before they seemed to get scared away by something...

"The air here is suffocating." You breathed, tapping your fingers impatiently on the glass you were holding. You gazed at the contents inside, wondering if you should take a sip, but the sickly sweet scent of the drink quickly demolished that idea. "I wish to leave, but alas, I have to keep up appearances."

Sylus smirks. "How unfortunate." His tone suggests that he has no intention of helping you find a way out, but you knew him better than that. Sylus scans across the room, searching for a way to exit discreetly. After a few beats of silence between the two of you, he spots a door at the corner of the crowded ballroom, and leads you to it wordlessly. He lets you step outside first, and before he exits himself, he looks around, making sure that no one saw you two.

The outdoor air felt deliciously refreshing on your skin. After hours of being cooped up in the ballroom, this was the best thing you could have asked for. The night sky, littered with glittering stars and constellations, was a pleasant change from the glaring and overstimulating crystal ceiling of the castle. You weren't familiar with the layout of the foreign castle, but you could recognize that the place that you were in was the royal gardens. Carefully trimmed bushes and flourishing roses lined the paths, leading to various places.

"Where shall we go, my darling knight?" You inquired, turning to face Sylus. He rolls his eyes at the nickname, but ultimately lists a few options. "There's a flower display with a fountain to our left, and a pond with a gazebo to our right. It's up to you, lady __." You ponder for a moment, and you ended up deciding on the gazebo.

It wasn't a long walk from the castle, but it put enough distance between you and the ballroom to ease your headache from the noise. The once overwhelmingly loud chatter from the ballroom dimmed into a faint hum in the background.

The garden was beautiful, breathtakingly so. A circular pond made up most of the section you had walked into, reflecting the twinkling stars, with a short bridge connecting to the gazebo. Even though there were railings along the bridge, your knight still gingerly took your hand as he guided you across.

Despite the darkness of the night, the warm lanterns hung around the gazebo emitted just enough light for you to see the various lily pads floating on the water and the koi fish swimming underneath. You reached over the railings from where you sat to skim your fingers along the surface of the water, admiring how the light seemed to dance and sway along with your movements.

When you turn around to face Sylus, you find that he is already looking at you.

"Come sit, what are you doing just standing there?" You laugh playfully, clasping his hands in yours to drag him to sit beside you. Smiling gleefully, you say, "Isn't this wonderful? The atmosphere here feels so different from just ten minutes ago. The lighting here also gives me less of a headache then that giant crystal ball they call a chandelier." Sylus nods in agreement, crimson eyes still fixed on you.

You tilt your head, curious about why he wasn't saying anything.

"The lighting from the lanterns makes you look even more beautiful, your grace." He mumbles it quietly, but you still catch it anyway. Sylus looks away, seemingly embarrassed, and you decide to tease him just a little. "What? I didn't quite catch that, my ears are still ringing from the music in the ballroom." You start, cupping your hands around your ears.

He glances back at you, mouth pressed into a thin line. Of course he could tell you were joking, but his ears turned the slightest bit red anyway. Sylus hesitates for a moment before repeating himself louder. "I said, the lighting here enhances your beauty, princess ___." He says gruffly, clearing his throat.

Smiling, you lean on his shoulder and hook your arm around his. "That's good to hear. Thank you, Sylus." He simply nods.

The both of you sit like that in silence for a while, and you were starting to get bored. You didn't know when the party would end, but from the way the silhouettes of the orchestra were still fervently moving, you guessed it wasn't anytime soon. Your eyes darted around the surroundings, before you finally got an idea.

"Sylus, let's dance!" You propose, getting up and tugging him up with you. Your knight quirks an eyebrow at you. "Why the sudden burst of energy?" He asks.

"I'm bored to half-death, and it would be a waste of good music to let this moment slip by!"

"I thought you said that the music was giving you a splitting migraine just now?"

"...whatever. Just get up here and dance with me, please?"

You knew that he wouldn't refuse. He never did.

"Alright, at least let me ask you formally first. It would be rude of me not to." Sylus grins. "Lady ___, would you let me have this dance?"

You nodded enthusiastically, taking his hand in yours and letting him spin you around. The two of you danced for a good while, twirling and prancing around with uncoordinated steps. After all, there were no nobles or royals around to watch you, so all normal dancing etiquette was thrown out of the window. As a knight, Sylus wasn't even supposed to be dancing with you like this, a protective hand on your waist and fingers intertwined with yours.

After what felt like forever, the both of you finally stopped dancing, stamina drained from silly leaps in the air and overly exaggerated twirls. Out of breath, you looked up at Sylus and grinned. Obviously, he wasn't as exhausted as you, but his hair was the perfect balanced between tousled and neat. You threw your arms around his shoulders and smiled into his jacket, suddenly overcome with a wave of appreciation for him.

"Thank you, Sylus. For all of this. It really means a great deal to me." Your voice was muffled. As his arms snake around you, you hear his voice, "No need to thank me, I was only doing my duty as your knight, your gr-"

You cut him off, telling him that it was alright to use your name as it was just the two of you around. And you swore you could hear the proud smirk in his voice as he said, "Alright, ___. I'll do whatever you say." You could feel your face warm up due to Sylus' silky smooth voice, and you suddenly felt oddly flustered.

So you did the first thing that came to mind.

You slipped out of his arms and started running back to the palace, yelling out behind you. "People-- are going to get-- suspicious if we're gone for -- too long!" You shout between breaths, tripping on your precariously long skirt every few seconds.

Even though you could see him pinch his nose bridge and sigh in frustration, it was hard to miss the adoring glint in his eyes as he hurriedly ran to catch up with you.

--

additional a/n: I was GOING to make this angst, but i can't be miserable forever

[the-oblivious-writer]

With Her I Die |22|

Past J.T to Eventual S.S x Female Reader

Chapter Twenty-Two: Ashes and Exodus

warnings: death, grief, cannibalism, trauma, parental abandonment, and psychological distress.

note(s): this chapter was originally titled "benji's world" but i'm gonna save that... for what? no idea.

taglist: @morganismspam23 @slutforabbyanderson @serendippindots @mikuley @sleepyjackets @wnbawag

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

The night after Javi's death stretched into an endless void. Sleep came in fragments—brief, fitful moments punctuated by the image of small hands disappearing beneath fractured ice. Each time you jolted awake, your heart beating against your ribs like something feral trying to escape, Shauna would shift beside you, her presence both comfort and reminder of what had happened. Of what you had all become.

Dawn arrived with the same unforgiving light that had illuminated every other day in this wilderness, indifferent to the grief that now saturated the cabin's walls. You extracted yourself from Shauna's sleeping form, careful not to wake her as you slipped outside. The cold hit your lungs like a physical blow, but you welcomed it—anything to feel something beyond the numbness that had settled into your bones.

You found Coach Scott sitting on a fallen log at the edge of the clearing, his gaze fixed on the tree line as if watching for something. Or someone. The crutch he'd fashioned from a broken branch lay beside him, a permanent extension of himself since the crash. Since the amputation.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked without turning, somehow sensing your approach despite your silent footfalls.

"No," you answered, your voice rough from disuse. "You neither?"

He gestured for you to join him, shifting slightly to make room on the log. You hesitated only briefly before sitting, the wood cold even through your layers of clothing. For several minutes, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like a living thing.

"I know about Javi," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "Nat told me."

You stiffened, suddenly hyperaware of your body—the hands that had failed to reach Javi in time, the stomach that had refused food last night, the heart that continued beating while his had stopped. Guilt crawled up your throat like bile.

"Did he tell you everything?" you asked, not meeting his eyes.

Coach was quiet for so long that you finally looked up, finding his face etched with lines that hadn't been there before the crash—grief and hardship carved into the once-smooth features.

"Enough," he replied simply.

You nodded, looking away again. Coach Scott had been the only adult who hadn't participated in the desperate meals that had kept you all alive through the winter. He'd never explicitly condemned what necessity had forced upon you, but his abstention spoke volumes. A silent monument to principles that the rest of you had been forced to abandon.

"You don't belong here," you said suddenly, the words escaping before you could consider them. "With us."

His eyebrows rose slightly, but he didn't seem offended. "None of us belong here, kiddo."

"That's not what I mean," you continued, something desperate clawing at your chest. "We're not... we're not who we were anymore. But you—you're still you."

Coach turned toward you fully now, his eyes searching your face with an intensity that made you want to look away. You didn't.

"And who exactly am I?" he asked quietly.

The question unleashed something inside you—a flood of memories that didn't belong in this blood-soaked wilderness.

"You're the only adult who ever saw me," you said, your voice threatening to break. "Really saw me."

------

Four Years Earlier:

The metal can skittered across the asphalt, your foot connecting with it again and again as you paced the empty school parking lot. Everyone else had gone home, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the growing bruise on your knuckles from when you'd punched the brick wall after seventh period.

New Jersey was supposed to be a fresh start. That's what Dad had said when he'd packed up your life in Aberdeen after Mom left. "She just needs time," he'd told you, the lie evident in his eyes even as he said it. You'd both known the truth—she wasn't coming back. Your "episodes," your "sensitivity," your "intensity" had worn her down until leaving seemed easier than staying.

Almost two years later, and nothing had changed. New school, same problems. No friends, too many fights, teachers who looked at you with that mixture of pity and wariness that made your skin crawl. The only difference was that now it was just you and Dad, him working double shifts to keep a roof over your heads, you trying and failing to be someone he could be proud of.

The can bounced off a light post with a satisfying clang, and you drew back your foot for another kick.

"Nice form," a voice called from behind you. "But your follow-through could use some work."

You whirled around, adrenaline spiking, to find Coach Scott watching you from near the gym doors. You'd never spoken to him directly, had only seen him from a distance during assemblies or passing in the hallways.

"Sorry," you muttered, expecting a lecture about loitering or property damage or whatever else adults liked to yell at you about.

Instead, he approached slowly, stopping a respectful distance away. "Try planting your non-kicking foot more firmly," he suggested, demonstrating the motion. "Gives you better control."

You stared at him, baffled by this unexpected interaction.

"Go on," he encouraged, nodding toward the can. "Try it."

Feeling self-conscious but oddly compelled, you repositioned your stance, planted your left foot as he'd suggested, and kicked the can with your right. It sailed across the parking lot in a perfect arc, landing with a distant clatter.

"Much better," Coach Scott said, a small smile lighting his face. "You've got a natural talent there."

You shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. "It's just a can."

"Maybe," he conceded, studying you with an expression you couldn't quite read. "But I've been looking for someone with a good kick for the soccer team. We're down a forward since Jessie Green moved."

The suggestion was so unexpected that you nearly laughed. "Me? On a team? No way."

"Why not?" he asked, his tone genuinely curious rather than challenging.

You gestured vaguely at yourself, at the scuffed knuckles and the permanent scowl you wore like armor. "I'm not exactly team material, Coach."

He considered this, then shrugged. "Maybe not yet. But skills can be taught. Passion is either there or it isn't." He nodded toward the can you'd kicked. "And you've got passion to spare."

Before you could formulate a response, he was reaching into his bag, pulling out a card and extending it toward you. "Tryouts. Tuesday after school. No pressure, just come see what it's about."

You took the card automatically, still trying to process what was happening.

"What's your name?" he asked.

You told him, the words feeling strange in your mouth, as if you'd rarely heard them spoken with genuine interest.

"Well," he said, shouldering his bag again, "I hope to see you Tuesday." He turned to leave, then paused. "And hey—whatever you're working through with that can? There are better outlets. Believe me."

As he walked away, you stared at the card in your hand. A simple invitation to something you'd never considered, from someone who had no reason to offer it.

You showed up on Tuesday. And Wednesday. And every practice after that.

------

"You remember that?" Coach Scott asked, his voice pulling you back to the present—to the wilderness, to the cabin where a boy's bones were now buried beneath floorboards.

"Of course I remember," you said, a bitter laugh escaping you. "It was the first time I felt like I might actually belong somewhere."

Coach's face softened with something like pride. "You were a hell of a player. Still are."

"No," you said, shaking your head. "I'm not a player anymore. I'm not even the same person."

The weight of everything—Jackie's death, the hunger, the madness that had driven you all onto the ice—pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe.

"You have to leave," you said suddenly, the urgency in your voice surprising even you. "Coach, you have to get out of here."

He frowned, confusion etching deeper lines into his face. "Leave? Where would I go?"

"Anywhere," you insisted, leaning forward. "Find the others. Find rescue. Just... don't stay here. Not with us. Not with what we've become."

Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by a sadness so profound it made your chest ache. "I can't just leave you girls—"

"You can," you interrupted, your voice breaking. "You have to. It's too late for us, but not for you. You're still good, Coach. You haven't... you haven't done what we've done."

The unspoken truth hung between you—the meals he'd refused, the line he'd refused to cross even as starvation gnawed at his insides. The humanity he'd maintained while the rest of you had slipped into something feral and desperate.

"It's not too late for any of you," he said gently, reaching out to touch your shoulder. "This place, what's happened here—it doesn't define you. Not if you don't let it."

You laughed, the sound hollow and painful. "Pretty sure cannibalism leaves a mark, Coach."

He didn't flinch at the word, simply held your gaze with a steadiness that felt like the last remnant of the world before the crash. "Survival leaves a mark," he corrected. "But surviving isn't the same as being lost."

Tears filled your eyes, hot and unwelcome. "I am lost," you whispered. "We all are. And you'll be lost too if you stay."

Something shifted in his expression then—a subtle change that told you he was actually considering your words. He looked away, toward the cabin where the others still slept, then back to you.

"Your mother was wrong," he said abruptly, his voice low but firm.

The sudden change of subject caught you off guard. "What?"

"Your mother," he repeated. "She was wrong to leave. Your dad told me, that first parent-teacher conference. Said soccer was the first thing that made you smile since she left."

Your throat tightened, old pain rising fresh and raw. "He shouldn't have—"

"No, he should have," Coach interrupted. "Because I needed to understand what I was seeing in you. That anger, that intensity—it wasn't just teenage rebellion. It was pain."

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze as he laid you bare. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"It matters," he insisted. "Because she was wrong. Your mind, your heart—the very things she couldn't handle—they're your strengths, not your weaknesses. Even here, especially here."

You shook your head, unwilling to accept the absolution he offered. "You don't know what I've done. What we did to Javi—"

"I know enough," he said softly. "I know you tried to save him. That says something about who you still are."

The tears spilled over then, hot tracks down your cold cheeks. "Please," you whispered. "Please just go. Before this place takes you too."

For a long moment, Coach Scott said nothing, his expression impossible to read in the dim morning light. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"Okay," he said simply.

The agreement startled you. "Okay?"

"You're right. I'm not making a difference here anymore. Not since..." he gestured vaguely at his leg, at the changes that had shifted power away from him to Lottie, to Taissa, to the wilderness itself. "Maybe I can find help. Maybe I can at least try."

Relief and terror flooded you in equal measure. "When?"

"Today," he said, his voice steady with newfound resolve. "While everyone's still processing... everything. Less chance of anyone trying to stop me."

You nodded, understanding the logic even as your heart rebelled against the finality of it. Coach Scott had been your last tether to the world before, to who you'd been before the crash. His leaving felt like severing that final connection.

"I'll get some supplies together," he continued. "Map out a route based on what Travis and I discussed before..." he trailed off, both of you aware of what had happened to Travis's search party. To Javi.

"Don't tell anyone," you urged. "Just go. If they know—"

"I know," he said grimly. "I've seen what fear does to people. Even good people."

You looked toward the cabin, thinking of Shauna's hands steady on a knife, of Nat's eyes hollow with guilt, of Travis broken beyond repair.

"Be careful," you said, the words inadequate but all you had to offer.

Coach Scott reached out, his hand catching yours in a brief, firm grip. "You too," he said, and in those two words was everything he couldn't say—his concern, his hope, his belief in you despite everything.

As you walked back to the cabin, you didn't look back, didn't let yourself watch him gathering his things. It was easier to pretend this was just another morning, that the tightness in your chest was just hunger, not the knowledge that you'd just said goodbye to the last adult who'd ever believed in you.

The day passed in a haze of grief and tension. No one spoke much, the horror of Javi's death still too fresh, the guilt too raw. Taissa and Van disappeared into the woods to check snares. Nat sat with Travis, neither speaking, both lost in private hells. Misty hovered at the edges, her helpful facade cracking to reveal glimpses of the fear beneath.

Shauna found you in the late afternoon, her eyes questioning as she sat beside you on the cabin's porch steps.

"Where were you this morning?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral.

You shrugged, not meeting her gaze. "Needed some air."

She nodded, accepting the half-truth, perhaps too preoccupied with her own demons to probe further. Her hand found yours, fingers intertwining with a familiarity that still startled you sometimes—this strange, terrible intimacy that had grown between you in the aftermath of Jackie's death, strengthened by shared secrets and survival.

"You okay?" she asked after a moment.

You almost laughed at the absurdity of the question, but caught yourself. Was anyone okay? Would any of you ever be okay again?

"No," you answered honestly. 

You sat in silence, watching the sun begin its descent toward the horizon. You wondered where Coach Scott was now, how far he'd managed to get, whether he'd tell anyone what had happened here if—when—he made it back to civilization.

Night fell with the same indifference as day had broken. The group gathered in the cabin, the routine of dinner performed with mechanical precision despite the new absence at your table. No one mentioned Coach Scott's absence, whether from respect for his mourning or simply because he'd grown increasingly peripheral to the group's functioning in recent months.

You lay beside Shauna that night, listening to her breathing slow into sleep, wondering if you'd done the right thing encouraging Coach to leave. The thought that he might make it, might bring rescue, felt distant and unreal—a fairy tale from another life.

Sleep had just begun to claim you when a sound jolted you awake—not a scream or a cry, but a strange, crackling noise that didn't belong in the nighttime symphony of the wilderness.

Beside you, Shauna stirred, her body tensing as she too registered the wrong sound. "Do you smell that?" she whispered, her voice tight with alarm.

You did—acrid and sharp, cutting through the cabin's usual scents of unwashed bodies and pine.

Smoke.

Shauna was on her feet before you could respond, pulling you up with her. "Fire," she gasped, the word galvanizing you into action.

The smoke was visible now, thin tendrils seeping through the cabin's walls, dancing in the dim light of dying embers. Panic rose in your throat, primal and overwhelming, as Shauna's hand tightened around yours.

"FIRE!" she screamed, the cry echoing through the cabin, jolting others awake with its urgency.

What followed was chaos—bodies scrambling for the door, confusion giving way to terror as the smoke thickened. Shauna never let go of your hand, dragging you toward her corner of the cabin where Jackie's butterfly shirt lay carefully folded. She grabbed it, stuffing it into her pocket before turning back toward the door.

"Wait," you gasped, breaking free of her grip to lunge toward your own meager possessions. Your fingers closed around the small carved wooden figures—the rabbit and wolf that Javi had made for you—and Jackie's dress that you'd been sleeping with since her death, her scent long faded but the comfort still tangible.

"Y/N!" Shauna's voice cut through the growing roar of flames, her hand finding yours again, pulling you toward safety.

Outside, the night air was sharp with cold and heavy smoke as you stumbled into the clearing. Around you, teammates emerged from the cabin—coughing, crying, confused. A headcount revealed everyone accounted for, though many had escaped with nothing but the clothes on their backs.

From a safe distance, you all watched in stunned silence as flames consumed the structure that had been your shelter, your prison, your home. The fire moved with unnatural speed, as if the cabin itself had been waiting for this moment of release.

No one spoke. No one cried. The shock was too complete, the loss too absolute to process. You felt Shauna's arm around your waist, steadying you as much as herself as you watched months of survival go up in flames.

It was Lottie's laughter that finally broke the silence—high and wild, bordering on hysterical. She stood apart from the group, face illuminated by the dancing flames, eyes reflecting the inferno with an almost ecstatic light.

"It's cleansing us," she said between bursts of laughter, her voice carrying clearly through the night. "Burning away what we were to reveal what we're becoming."

No one contradicted her. No one could.

You clutched the carved wooden figures in your palm, feeling the edges dig into your skin—physical anchors to reality as everything else dissolved into ash and smoke. Beside you, Shauna's grip tightened, her body pressed against yours as if to share what little warmth remained between you.

In the distance, through the trees beyond the burning cabin, you thought you caught a glimpse of movement—a solitary figure moving away from the destruction, a silhouette that might have been Coach Scott's distinctive gait. But when you blinked, the vision was gone, swallowed by darkness and smoke.

The cabin collapsed inward with a thunderous crash, sending a shower of sparks into the night sky. In their brief, brilliant ascent, you saw your past—the person you'd been, the life you'd lived—disintegrating into nothing.

All that remained was this: the heat of flames on your face, Shauna's arm around your waist, and the cold certainty that whatever came next would be something entirely new, something born of fire and loss and the terrible, beautiful necessity of survival.

[sirbonesly]

Shut up for once in your life.

@anonmousegosqueak @writer-fennec @ihaventgotaclue-really

cw: hurt no comfort :(

A rough mission leads to Johnny

It always hurt to hear it. Doesn't matter if it was his mom saying it or just an annoyed civilian, hearing those words just always hurt. Johnny knows that he talks too much, that he's too loud and too touchy. He learnt to control himself, managed to keep his hands to himself and learn when people expected him to stop talking, the way their eyes would start to drift or their responses would taper off. Joining the military was... a little better. He was allowed to hang off of his teammates in the name of celebrating a mission well done, no one questioned if he got a little loud because it was probably just his nerves.

Joining the 141 was his saving grace, his final destination in life, his salvation. Starting with a Captain that would give him task after task until Jon knew was out of energy, then dragging him to the cafeteria for food. Kyle always had questions for his stories, was always engaged and shot back with his own thoughts, staying up late in their shared room whispering to each other past curfew. They've even had a few sleepovers now that they're in solitary rooms.

Then there was Ghost. Simon Riley. No matter how much John talked, or how close he would get to the man, or how loud he'd get, Simon listened. A naturally quiet man, Simon would offer the questioning hum or the nod to continue as John chatted his ear off. And while he thought that maybe Simon had stopped listening, if Johnny stopped talking, the man would look at him and prompt him to continue, reciting the last minute of information back to him.

John had found his family, people who finally liked his voice. Maybe it was just that the mission had been rough on all of them; too many hostiles they didn't know about, incompetent back-up, faulty charges that left them scrambling. John should've stayed quiet, but he couldn't handle sitting still on the cargo plane back to base, pacing the length of the floor and talking about anything and everything that popped into his head. He doesn't know what he was talking about, just that his voice is hoarse and it's Jon who grabs his wrist suddenly.

"Sit down and be quiet, son. You're running on fumes, we all are."

It's said in good faith, but the undertone of annoyance doesn't go unnoticed. Right. Johnny understands. They're all stressed and beat, being loud probably isn't helping the headache he knows the Captain is getting. He sits away from the others, mumbling to himself about the mission, about what he wants for dinner, about how itchy his shirt is. He stays quiet about it, doesn't bother the others, but he needs to talk or he'll start pacing again.

Things are normal for the rest of the flight, though Johnny feels like ants are crawling under his skin with every minute he sits still. Jon was right, they're all running on fumes, but Johnny's mind is going a mile a minute with too many thoughts by the time they land. He's the first on the tarmac, already heading to his room to decompress. He falls into step with Kyle clapping the man on the shoulder with a tired grin.

"Was thinkin' 'bout heading to the gym-"

Kyle shrugs his hand off with a tired glare, dark brown eyes catching the light of the setting sun and making John shrink back a little. He's never seen Kyle's eyes look so tired, almost... unfiltered. Discomfort is practically swimming in his irises, mixing with what Johnny hopes isn't disgust.

"I'm going to bed, Tav. Don't you ever stop, mate?"

He's gone before John can say anything, but it's alright. Johnny understands. Kyle has always hated going to bed too late, and he's fucking religious about his skin care routine. It was stupid of John to try and ask. He keeps walking, staying away from Kyle and Jon, heading to his room instead.

It's nearly 2300 by the time Johnny leaves the gym showers, energy finally put to good use and his muscles sore from the workout. He heads for the kitchens, boots squeaking against the tile floor as he rubs at his hair with a towel. The kitchen in the 141 common area is empty except for Simon, and his mood lifts at seeing the big bastard. The man is sitting at a table, staring off into the distance in a position that John recognises all too well.

His movements are fluid as he makes a cup of tea for Simon, getting himself a glass of orange juice in the process. Simon doesn't react when he sets the cuppa down, but his hands do eventually find the mug, wrapping tightly around the steaming thing.

Johnny talks. He talks about how shite the mission was, about the leftovers in the kitchen that were rather pitiful, even talks about the letter from his mum waiting to be read in his room. He's dealt with Simon's episodes before, and the man said that John's talking helped ground him. But not even thirty minutes go by before Simon is standing up. He hasn't responded to any of John's talking, not even a grunt, but John hadn't questioned it. He'd grown used to Simon's quiet presence.

"Just shut up for once."

John hears the hall door close, feels sweat collecting on his skin and his heart pounding against his chest. He sits in the kitchen, staring at the table in front of him, and doesn't move. Ants and spiders crawl over his skin, digging into his muscles as water rushes past his ears. Something covers his eyes, makes the world go hazy and clouded, and yet nothing gags him.

John mumbles to himself in the kitchen, has to talk or he feels like he'll explode. He talks about the mission, about why Jon and Kyle are probably just tired. He connects the dots on month old interactions, other moments where John just needed to sit down for a moment, or just stop, or to "listen up, Johnny." He tries to find the minute changes in Simon's body as he was talking, can't find the subtle turn or the relaxed shoulders. But Johnny understands.

He just needs to be quiet.

[alexanderlightweight]

Hi, an another prompt, because I love your writing. I understand it takes time to fill.

Prompt for stronger ties: Magus and Alec enjoying their honeymoon and maybe meeting Ragnor and Cat. Or The Institute, and Alec’s family panicking over his disappearance.

SFW/ NSFW

thank you for the understanding <3 and I appreciate the prompts! last part here

this was supposed to involve Cat and Ragnor but Malec are having too good a time on their honeymoon currently and Alec has decided that since Izzy and Jace are at least safe, they can handle the fallout along with all the people who have more authority than him (aka Lydia/Imogen/maryse etc).

Alec's tired, okay? Nothing has been going his way AT ALL, his whole family got implicated in treason (again) and then actually committed several flavors of treason and also implicated Alec. so Alec is tired. maybe he'd be less 'fuck them' if he'd been there to see Jace and Clary 'heroically try to save the day' except they didn't save the day and he knows that.

Suddenly one thing goes his way. he saves his sister. he might lose the institute but that's better than losing himself to a marriage that isn't doing anything to help his family when push comes to shove. Alec has a marriage now that actually gave him something worthwhile (Izzy not being deruned when Lydia couldn't do anything)

alec's like: this one thing? this is mine now. goodbye and ty for coming to my talk.

i hope you enjoy <3

-lumine

the stronger of claims

Alec wakes to silk sheets as soft and luxurious as he’s imagined Magnus’ many shirts are. Golden light dapples across his body and he groans, despite his muscles being fine he feels as if he’s been thrown through several layers of concrete by a demon.

The bed smells like Magnus.

That’s the only thing keeping him calm and then there’s a deep chuckle against his back and Alec realizes there’s an arm around his waist and cool rings pressed against the skin of his belly.

“We go' marri'd.” Alec means to be articulate but it comes out in a hoarse slurry of words and Magnus laughs again, louder this time.  His warm muscles shake Alec’s body with his humor and Alec presses back into his warmth greedily.

Whatever it is that has Alec unable to think straight, being closer to Magnus helps.

“We aren’t married darling, we’re bonded. Which is something far more permanent than marriage. In fact, even by Clave standards a bond like ours is higher than marriage. So give your pretty head a break, your attachment to Lydia is no longer viable.”

The small pulse of sadness that went through Alec at the thought that they aren’t actually married is swept away by relief at Magnus’ words.

“Good.”

That’s about all he’s able to say really and if he had more energy, Alec would turn so he can burrow his nose into Magnus’ chest.  Instead he just wiggles back, content when Magnus chin slots against his shoulder, stubble tickling Alec’s skin.

“Izzy?”

Magnus wouldn’t be here, calm and with the magic between them settled if she weren't okay but still, Alec has to ask.

—-

“Safe and sound though demoted for the next year and with a few other restrictions, shadowhunter business. Once I knew she was safe I didn’t pay quite as much attention I fear.”

A lie, but Alexander is too tired to listen beyond the relief of knowing his little sister is safe.

Alexander falls back asleep before Magnus can ask him anything important and while he’s already moved the loft, that doesn’t mean Magnus needs to be obvious about where they are and staying in Brooklyn is obvious.

Within half an hour Magnus is booked at one of the most private and luxurious selkie run resorts and is portaling both himself and Alexander to one of their private bungalows. The one half of a wardstone he’s been given is the only reason the coordinates even work, or they’d have to take a boat. 

After all, they can be tracked on land but on the water, they’ll be untraceable.

Instead it’s out on the ocean, magical stilts holding up water worn wood and crystal and ocean mined rock that create a paradise of beauty without interruption.  

Mundanes can’t sail through this area, it doesn’t exist to them and the wind wards will redirect their boats and bodies, no matter what.

It also means they’ll be completely impossible to track, which will be necessary once Alexander’s family remembers he exists and is missing.

Honestly, the fact that over twenty-four hours have passed since Alexander first came to him and yet Magnus has yet to receive so much as a text or fire message.  That kind of behavior says more than enough about his boy’s family.

They’ll need to make a stop at the Labyrinth after their honeymoon. Alexander’s new status will need to be documented and recorded and the vows he’ll need to swear as Magnus’ consort will need to happen as soon as possible.

But still, after this.

Alexander wakes to sunshine, cradled by both Magnus arms and the hammock he magicked them both into.  

There’s awe on his face as he looks around and almost knocks them both out of the hammock and into the water with a laugh as he sits up.

“Keep it up and I’ll let you fall in the water.” Magnus threatens and Alexander just grins cheekily at him, as if the pain of the new bond has finally faded and then his boy tips himself out of the hammock.

Magnus curses.

Not from the seawater splashing him, but from the fact that Alexander doesn’t immediately surface.  There’s a moment where concern and terror grip him, and then Alexander is surfacing further away, a look of delight on his face and he’s holding... Magnus deliberately drops his glamour to get a better look.

“Why are you holding a fish, Alexander?”

Alexander grins at him, hair slick and half in his eyes as he treads water.

“To eat? It seems pretty isolated out here. Aren’t you hungry?” While Magnus could eat again — he’s made sure to eat while Alexander slept — it’s not surprising that his boy is ravenous. What is surprising is that he caught a fish rather than just asking for something.

“Yes darling, but that’s what I have magic for.” 

Alexander looks dubious as he swims closer, somehow holding onto the slick fish with only one hand before pulling himself and the fish up onto the dock where he drops it pointedly in an empty bucket. Magnus resigns himself to losing this argument even before it's begun.

“But fresh fish tastes the best.” Alexander has his arms crossed and is pointedly staring Magnus down as Magnus tries to avoid looking at both Alexander and the suffocating fish he can hear flailing around the bucket .

“I can summon us the freshest of—” Alexander’s eyes darken with sadness and Magnus sighs and deliberately doesn’t pinch his nose. “Do you know how to dress and cook fresh fish?”

Alexander does it seems.  

He’s a little unsure and lacking in confidence once they get into the kitchen but it seems he knows how to clean and dress a fish.  Magnus even summons an apron for him, some dark purple piece he’d once gotten for Cat and Alexander just asks Magnus to help him tie it.

The real hiccup starts when Alexander summons a small blade to his palm, the knife glowing and bright as it unfurls.

“If I use an adamas blade to clean the fish, will you be allergic?” 

It’s such an absurd thing to consider but also an absurdly thoughtful check-in and Magnus has to kiss Alexander. Ignoring both the still wriggling fish and the small glowing blade his consort is holding. Magnus is also trying not to mention how there is an entire knife-block and drawer full of sharpened knives already in the kitchen that Alexander could use instead.

“I’ll be fine darling. Also I’m summoning bread and side dishes. We are not eating just fish, Alexander. There is a limit to my tolerance.”

There’s a huff of protest but when Magnus looks at him, Alexander is grinning down at the fish he’s cleaning, eyes soft and cheeks vibrant with delight.

It’s a look Magnus has never seen on Alexander before and while that shouldn’t be too much of a surprise — they barely know each other all things considered, it means something. Magnus doubts that this is a normal or frequent expression on Alexander's face and yet something as simple as this, teasingly arguing about dinner is enough to bring it out.

They eat on the dock.

So far Alexander hasn’t asked a single question about why Magnus portaled them somewhere else and seems to be ignoring everything else beyond enjoying himself.

Magnus summons a thick blanket and they sit in nothing but boxers with their feet in the water as they eat.  The fish is delicious. Flaky and succulent and with plenty of lemon and from Alexander’s smug face, he knows exactly how good it is.

However, Alexander’s face when he bites into the bread Magnus summoned is just as delighted and before Magnus can tease him, Alexander’s already recanted his previous statement.

“So from now on, I’ll fish and you summon everything else?” Alexander asks, almost eager as he eyes the now empty basket of bread and Magnus summons another, just because he can.

And of course for the way Alexander smiles at him, crumbs catching on his growing stubble until Magnus wipes them away.

“I’d rather not eat fish every meal, Alexander. The selkies running this place might consider your efforts an effective show and try to woo you away from me.”

Alexander scoffs at the thought and Magnus laughs, because while he’s not completely joking he also simply has no wish to eat seafood for every single meal.

Besides, he plans to keep them there for at least five days. That might be a bit long considering whatever crisis the shadowworld is currently going through, however Magnus kicked up a bit of a hornets nest for the Clave.

It will be days before Imogen Herondale thinks of anything besides her newly ground grandson, something Magnus will still need to explain to Alexander at some point.

AN:

Alec: i'm with Magnus and we're on water so we can't be tracked. I know nothing. i'm living my best life... oh fish. Magnus might like fish too.

Magnus: ... look I understand that fresh fish is best but that doesn't mean I want Alexander fishing with his bare hands when his hands could instead be on me?? is this hard to understand? I can summon fish still alive so they're the freshest of fresh but I want my consort's hands all to myself. this is not complicated.

Alec *wakes up in paradise aka Magnus' arms and in a really nice place*: so this is new- nice. I meant nice. this is totally normal and where I went to sleep. carry on.

Magnus: ... you don't want to know where we are? or how long we'll be here? or even why we are here?"

Alec: if I ask questions then you'll give me answers and right now, I just want to exist with you. reality doesn't exist outside us right now. that's my stance.

Alec: I don't have to marry lydia? I don't have to wear her rune? or kiss her? or make medically induced babies I don't want with her? I am on vacation and I don't care if the institute explodes or implodes or whatever. it goes to hell whether i'm there or not and literally everything is above my pay grade right now. that's what my mother, Lydia and imogen exist for. they can deal with it.

Magnus: darling, don't you need to return to the Institute at some point? i'm not complaining, you just haven't mentioned it once

Alec who is sharpening a wooden spear to use for fishing looking up, eyes glinting violently: what institute, Magnus?

Magnus: your... ah. well I suppose it's not really your institute anymore, is it?

Alec: no. no it isn't. therefore, are the problems mine?

Magnus wisely shaking his head: no darling, of course not.

Alec: when they want me back, they can contact me. I currently don't hold an active rank in the Institute. I'm technically just an off-duty Commander sometimes pulled onto teams. and while Lydia's been relying on me to run things behind the scenes, she can just do them herself or delegate. this is our honeymoon, isn't it? why are you trying to cut it short?

Magnus: you're completely right. forget the institute. I shan't bring it up again, now darling did you say you saw oysters?

*honestly i'm still not sure what path Alec's going to take in this verse. he's kind of at the point where he's not sure either

[thatnightlamp]

THE GUESSING GAME. NSFW.

You couldn't remember how long you'd been here.

Not just here. This room, this bed, these silk restraints wound expertly around your wrists and ankles, but here, with them. You'd long stopped counting the days. Time blurred into a haze of whispered commands, cool fingers trailing along sensitive skin, and pleasure that became its own form of torment. Somewhere along the way, your will had dissolved like mist under twin suns.

Now you were just theirs. Mind-softened, body obedient, waiting.

The room was dark, save for the gentle blue glow of a lumen strip running along the ceiling. It was always dim here. Intimate. Controlled. Like everything they did. The silk cuffs were tight enough to remind you you couldn’t move, not unless they let you.

A cool hand brushed down your thigh.

You shivered.

A second hand cupped your jaw.

You whimpered.

Two presences loomed over you, familiar in the way a cage becomes comforting after too long. You couldn't see their faces, one always wore a mask, the other liked to change his appearance just to confuse you. One of them laughed softly. It rumbled through your bones.

"Ready to play again, little one?" one of them murmured near your ear, breath hot. You couldn’t tell which of them it was. That was the point.

"Rules are the same," the other said. You could hear the smirk in his voice. "Guess who’s touching you."

"And if you're wrong..." A fingertip circled your nipple, sending a sharp jolt straight down your spine.

"...we punish you."

You whimpered again. Not out of fear. Not anymore.

"And if you're right..." Another mouth pressed to your thigh, tongue warm and slow.

"...you might get a reward."

They began. Slow, as always. Hands moving over your body like artists sketching the outline of a masterpiece. One hand at your throat. Another slipping between your legs. Hot breath on your stomach. One of them nipped at your ribs, gentle teeth dragging across skin made hypersensitive by endless training. A slow slide of fingers teased you open, slick, skilled, patient. Measured only by your moans.

"Guess," one whispered, voice husky.

"Who am I, pet?"

Your lips parted, trembled. You thought. Tried to remember the little tricks they taught you to tell them apart, Alpharius always touched with surgical precision. Omegon was more erratic, improvisational. But they'd long since learned to mimic each other just to break your mind further.

"...Alpharius?" you breathed.

A chuckle.

Wrong.

The fingers inside you withdrew with cruel slowness. A slap echoed, sharp across your thigh.

"Wrong," said the voice. "Again."

A hand closed around your throat, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make your pulse pound.

Then lips were at your chest. Tongue swirling, teeth nipping. The other slid behind you, how had they moved so fast? You were on your side now, body held like a doll between them.

"Try again," one cooed.

"Who's holding you now?"

The hand at your throat slid upward, threading into your hair. Another hand gripped your hip possessively, fingers digging into your skin.

You bit your lip. "O... Omegon?"

Silence.

Then, pleasure.

The fingers returned, thrusting with punishing rhythm, coaxing moans from you. The other kissed you hungrily, lips devouring yours, tongue claiming. You moaned into his mouth as your hips bucked helplessly into the hand between your thighs.

"Good pet," the one in front whispered.

"You got it right," the other praised, voice hot against your neck. "Do it again."

You didn’t want to guess wrong. But they made it impossible.

One pulled back. The other flipped you onto your stomach, silk restraints tugging just enough to leave you breathless. Your legs were spread, knees sinking into the soft mattress. The cool air licked between your thighs, and then, warmth. A tongue. One of them was licking you from behind, slow and greedy.

"Guess," came the muffled voice from between your thighs.

Your head lolled back, lips parted in a whimper. That tongue worked like a machine. Controlled, insistent.

"...Alpharius," you gasped.

A growl of approval.

Nails raked down your back, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make you arch. A second hand slid beneath your belly, pressing your hips up, forcing you to feel everything.

The tongue moved faster.

"That’s twice now," someone whispered at your ear, licking the shell of it. "Maybe your brain isn’t as broken as we thought."

Then teeth sank into your shoulder.

You cried out.

"Or maybe it is," came the other voice, smug and laughing.

They switched. You knew it. Their touch changed. The rhythm altered.

Now it was fingers again. Deep. Curling just right. The other one kissed down your spine, whispering your name, whispering things he’d done to you, things he would do.

"Guess."

You were shaking now. The pleasure too much. Everything hurt, but not in a way you wanted to stop. Your wrists pulled against the silks, but not to get free, just to have something to hold onto as you started to fall apart.

"...Omegon," you sobbed.

The hand withdrew.

Wrong.

"No," came the purr. "That was me."

A slap across your ass made you cry out. Another on your inner thigh. You whimpered, back arching instinctively. They loved when you cried from being denied. When you writhed helplessly on the bed they’d made your prison.

"Try again."

The other was behind you now, lining up with your slick entrance. He paused.

"Last chance."

"Alpharius," you whispered, voice trembling.

They said nothing.

Then he pushed in.

You screamed. In pleasure. In surrender. He was too thick, too deep, too much, and you wanted all of it. He moved with slow, punishing thrusts, forcing you to feel every inch. The other climbed onto the bed in front of you, fingers tangling in your hair, guiding your mouth where he wanted it.

You opened obediently.

"Good girl," he whispered. "You know your place."

You moaned around him, tears streaming down your face, not from pain, but from how good it all felt. Alpharius fucked you like he owned you. Omegon used your mouth like it belonged to him.

Because it did.

You belonged to both of them.

Every time they played this game, you broke a little more. Every time you guessed wrong, they pushed further. Every time you guessed right, they made you need them even more.

They were training you. Shaping you. Twisting your mind until you didn’t want to guess right anymore. Until the punishment felt like reward.

Until you begged for the confusion. For the touch. For the voice that wasn’t quite the same. For the two hands that felt like one soul dividing you from within.

And even as the world blurred again, and your body began to tremble with the beginning of release, you knew–

They would never let you go.

And you would never want them to.

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

i’ve been wondering,,, what is the like worst imaginable punishment baby can get. like how far can he go when he’s absolutely fuming and nothing is able to calm him down.

also i saw one of your other followers give themselves a name and since i send you like 284838 thoughts a day about the babyverse i was thinking 🫀- anon :P

➯a/n: ooooo 🫀anon buckle uuuup cause mommy hwa is willing to go FAR. lemme just rant about thiiiiis because this is the third ask ive gotten about baby's punishments/escape attempts and im working on a chapter for it but i dont wanna leave yall hanginnnn

what are we talking about ? Baby Series !

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: uuuuuuuuuuhm yikes ! physical violence, like seriously it's bad, trauma bonding, like seriously seriously i'm warning you he is CRUEL, mommy hwa's mental illness, forced nudity, mind breaking, claustrophobia, panic attacks

so let me start by saying that seonghwa isn't the "act in the moment" type of angry. he'll never accidentally go too far as to seriously maim or heaven forbid kill you. because his mind is already fifty steps ahead and planning your punishment, even if his consciousness is lagging behind. he'll most definitely regret some of the things he does to you. but that won't stop him. some deep dark part of his brain tells him that he has to punish his baby in a way that will stick.

he's a cold, quiet, and calculated type of angry. and that's wayyyy worse than someone who might just beat you. because he can do more than that. he can break you.

seonghwa likes to think that he's fair with you. your punishment almost always fits the crime. but if you cross a line, he will shove you back over it. he doesn't like to hurt you — of course not ! after some of your punishments, he even cries with you because of what he's done.

two times come to mind for the "worst" punishment. "Losing Dogs", where his baby screamed curse words and insults at him and ended it with "i hate you, park seonghwa" — and we all know how he feels about that word and about not being called "mommy". spanking you so hard it left bruises for a few weeks and then leaving you alone for hours was certainly bad. no denying that.

but the "rapunzel" escape attempt was worse. by a lot. it was the only time he got so cruel. because that's all it took. one time. it was that bad.

(this is what i'm writing now, so buckle in for a BUMPY ride)

he caught you trying to escape out the window with a sheet. not only did you try and leave him, you did so in a ridiculously dangerous way !! there was no possible way in hell he was going to go easy on you. after he yanked you back up and fell to the floor with you while sobbing his eyes out, he realized just what you were trying to do. then he got mad.

nothing you could say was going to calm him down in that moment, not even if you confessed your undying love for him and promised him you'd take your soul out and give it to him. no amount of tears would save you. no volume of screams. he may as well have been a different person with the way he treated you.

after he shoved mingi out of the room (who had come when he heard you crying) he had zero remorse as he ripped your clothes off of you, not even stopping when you started thrashing and calling him a liar — but by the end of it you realize he wasn't taking your clothes off to violate you. not in that sense anyway. he did it to make you completely vulnerable before throwing you to the floor and asking "what the hell was that ?" in a tone so calm you almost peed yourself from fright.

when you couldn't give him an answer, only hyperventilating and crying — he shoved you into the dark closet. and he left you there, the son of a bitch !

no sound, no light. just you and your darkest thoughts. you had the largest panic attack of your life in that closet. your fingertips were numb from lack of oxygen and your head was light and pounding. you had to suck on your thumb to calm yourself down so you didn't pass out. maybe it was better if you did, in retrospect. maybe seeing that he's forced you into passing out from fear would have snapped him out of whatever rage induced trance he was in.

you didn't even hear him come back home a few hours later, not until he opened the closet. he looked down at you and it was clear your punishment wasn't over. he gave you a chance to beg for forgiveness; not knowing that no matter how hard you begged, no matter what you said — the outcome was still going to be the same. he was still going to use the hammer that was in his hand.

because he wasn't going to let you try and run again. he gave you a new rule that day. and a new punishment to fit the crime.

don't try to run away. or you won't be able to walk. walking is a privilege, baby.

when he said that, you tried to get back into the damned closet because you knew what that meant. he dragged you back out, he didn't care that he was scratching up your legs — or maybe he was so deep in his rage that he didn't notice.

there's no easy way to put this. he smashed your foot. with a fucking hammer, he smashed it. you're lucky he didn't break any major bones. and you're lucky that he's so calculated with his punishments, even when you've pissed him off so badly.

he didn't say anything as he picked you up and carried you to the bathroom. not even to comfort you as you sobbed.

the first thing he said to you after "walking is a privilege" was after he was done wrapping your foot. he said "hurts really bad, doesn't it ?" then he said "good. you'll think about that next time you decide to act so stupid". he'd never called you stupid before. it hurt your heart almost as much as the hammer hurt your foot. you didn't even really take in his next words of, "next time, i'll break your leg".

the thing that finally snapped him out of his trance, what got him back to being his doting mommy self, was your trembling pout while saying "i didn't mean to be stupid" that was the moment everything came crashing down on him, the way you were holding back your millionth round of tears and holding your naked body to comfort yourself because he wasn't giving you any.

it's like a damn switch flipped, like night and day, dark and light, and 'mommy' hwa came back.

he took back his words immediately, hugging your head to his chest and shushing you, saying he didn't mean you were stupid; you had simply done something stupid. didn't you think about what would have happened if you fell ? you live on the third story, baby ! this is why mommy has to take care of you, you know ? you'd have more than a messed up foot if mommy didn't catch you.

whether he thinks so or not, the way he treats you after your "punishment" is a continuation of it. his sweet words and gentle touches sending you falling straight into little space after such a traumatic event. making you deeply confused as to why, after all he's done, are you letting him dress you in your favorite pajamas and eating the food he makes you and cuddling to his chest as he sings to you and why do you feel guilty for trying to leave ? wait... why did you try to leave ? your mommy is the best.

he noticed what you were thinking while you played with the fur on your stuffed animal. of course he did. and he smiled. job well done, mommy. baby won't be leaving anytime soon.

(i have cried three times while writing the full chapter so far... plz send help)

[lheslie]

Becoming a Hero

In the middle of the night, you were still awake, worried.

You already texted Mark for a status update but he wasn't replying.

"It's that confidential, huh?" You sighed as you shifted your body, yawning from exhaustion and worry.

But you heard a sudden knock on the window, your body jolts standing up, immediately running to the window, letting Mark in.

You immediately hugged Mark, then you looked at him.

"What happened? Are you okay? You haven't been replying to my texts." You questioned, visibly worried.

"I'm fine, Dad's in the GDA Private hospital. He's in a bad condition." Mark spoke, avoiding your gaze.

"I'm sorry that happened Mark, I'm sure they're doing everything to tend to your father's help." You looked at him hugging him again, as he hugged you back tightly.

"I don't know what to do right now

Y/N, I feel absolutely lost." He said as he withdraws himself from your embrace sitting on your bed.

You immediately followed, sitting beside him holding his hands.

"Look, As I've said before. I don't know how to comfort you, as I've never been through this before. Although I'm here beside you, if you ever need a hug or even just my company or some other advice." You said giving a soft but a sadden smile, hating that you couldn't do anything to help your friend.

"I know, but who will protect earth now that the Guardians are gone an Dad's in a coma." He muttered.

"Wait? The Guardians are dead?" You looked at him shocked from the revelation.

"Yes, but please keep this a secret between us. We can't let anyone know that they're dead until Cecil or the Director of GDA says something else." He explains.

"Of course, you can trust me. So what'll happen now?" You asked him.

"I'm going to try and protect earth while my father's away." He declared as he had a look of conviction in his eyes, raging with fury.

You looked at him, worried yet again. As you knew that Mark isn't up to the task, he lacked the experience.

He can't even take a punch or land a punch, much less save earth from it's dangerous foes.

Although he was the son of the strongest, he grew up from a normal background.

He never really got into any fights, nor was he trained by his father, as he was powerless before.

He is a stubborn man with Good morals, but Good morals isn't enough to win a fight against an enemy.

But right now, he's the only fighting chance that the world has, as it's former guardians are now dead.

"Look, I am not under estimating you Mark, but you need more training before you get into an actual superhero fight, because a normal fight is different from what you're about to experience." You spoke softly but straight with him.

"I already trained with my father, Y/N although I know I am not strong as he. I am confident I can help, even if it's just a little." He looked at his hands forming a strong grip.

You looked at him feeling helpless, eager to help him.

So you tried to help him in ways that you can.

"Well, I can't stop you choosing your own path, but if you ever need, free therapy from the aftershocks of a fight I'm free, can't help much though I don't have a degree in psychiatry yet." You smiled at him giving a thumbs up.

He had let out a small giggle looking at you.

"I'm happy that I have you and mom with me, I wouldn't know what to do if you both weren't here." He smiled at you.

"Yeah, I suddenly barged inside your life, and I ain't getting out anytime soon." You snorted.

"And I wouldn't want you to leave either way, you're stuck with me." He retorted, his face having a light blush, smiling at you.

"Aye, aye is you falling in love?" You teased him.

He gasped as his eyes widened, throwing a pillow at your face.

"Aweee, pretty boy became a bit shy. So is true that you like me?" You leaned closer, trying to get more reaction from his face.

He covered his face on your bed, as you tried flipping him to see his face.

"OH COME ON YOU KNOW I CAN'T FLIP YOU IF YOU USE YOUR POWERS. THIS IS CHEATING." You angrily yelled trying to flip him with your full strength but immediately giving up.

You exhaled, thinking of another way to provoke him, as you tried tickling him, he jolted as he turned pushing you down, ending up in an awkward position with him above you.

He became even flustered as he immediately, pulled away from you.

"Woah, what the fuck was that." You commented as you also got a bit flustered from the weird scenario.

"What if- what if I do" He started.

"HOLY SHIT YOU CAPPIN." You sat up looking at him as he was still hiding his face from your line of sight.

"Look Mark if we're going to talk about this, it's best if you're facing the person." You told him.

"You're going to tease me even more, that's unfair." He grumbled.

"Well it's also unfair for me you know, you're suddenly attacking me out of nowhere."

"How was that attacking you?!" He turned, finally looking at you.

"Uh, sudden confession? I wasn't prepared." You reasoned crossing your arms pouting looking away from him now.

"Now you're the one avoiding me." He said as he copies you.

"Hey, this is my first time being confessed to, let me process this shit." You explained.

"Sooo? Is this a rejection-"

"I just said I needed time to process right? I never said I'm rejecting you, WHY WOULD YOU THINK I'D REJECT YOU." You whined.

"So is this a yes? Are we dating then-?"

"DUDE HOLD YOUR MOTHERFUCKING HORSES LET ME BREATHEEEE." You exhaled deeply.

"Alright alright." He said as he let you flopped yourself down to bed.

"I'm scared." You spoke.

"Of me?" He asked.

"No- WHY WOULD YOU EVEN THINK THAT- okay you dumb motherfucker." You said sitting back up.

"I liked you for a long time too, I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to ruin our friendship." You explained.

"And you're my only friend, the only one I trust, you know me from head to toe, my past AND present, and the future too. I am afraid of losing you if I confessed, BUT HERE WE ARE." You continued, pinching your face.

"Well atleast I know I'm not dreaming" you looked at him trying to see his reaction.

He softly smiled as he crawled to sit next to you.

He exhaled, "look this is my first time too, I was also and still am afraid of losing you and the thing we currently have right now, but I can only promise you that whatever happens I will not leave you." He smiled, as you looked at him smiling at his comforting words.

"But- I still am wondering- so is it-?"

"Yes, you dumb fuck." You laughed throwing a pillow at his face.

"YES!" He exclaimed hugging you, as you both plopped down to your bed.

You both pulled each other for an embrace feeling each other's warmth.

Next Chapter:

[highfantasy-soul]

I really loved re-watching Rogue One after watching Andor and reading Rebel Rising - they lead so perfectly into each other and really do fill in the gaps as to why Jyn views the world the way she does and what's going on with Cassian.

Tevik is complaining he's been trying to contact Cassian - and we now know that it was because Cass was saving Kleya on Coruscant and getting the intel that Lonnie had passed on. So when Cassian gets to him and he's confirming so much of what they've just learned - and adding more info to it - everything falling together like puzzle pieces.

There's no indication of how long it was between finding out the info about Galen Erso and prison breaking Jyn, but from the novel, we know that people who had run with Saw and knew Jyn were now working with the rebellion - there are still factions that exchange info and Jyn had been working with one when she got caught - I'm sure it took a little bit of time, but everyone putting together their own puzzle pieces could have led them to realize who Jyn really was and how to find her.

I see Cassian seeing the same rebellious and independent streak he himself has in Jyn - and can't trust that she'll use it to agree with his side of things. But in the end, their first 'confrontation', he does let her keep the blaster - he knows how the average person can make a difference with the right tools even if they'd never been part of the Rebellion before (but also knows the damage they can cause if they do the wrong thing). It's not to protocol, but the first thing Jyn experiences is Cassian breaking protocol to let her, an unknown, be able to defend herself.

Krennic's scenes with Tarkin even take on a deeper understanding - when Tarkin complains about leaks, he's talking about failure after failure, not just Bodhi defecting. We see in Andor all the failures of Krennic with Dedra and her fallout and no matter how much Krennic did with the Ghorman massacre and all his machinations, it wasn't enough and Tarkin still took control.

Cassian was sent to kill Galen but he disobeyed orders - knowing the power of a message and detailed information and how to change a plan mid-mission. Each small piece of the puzzle helps them get closer to the end game and he knows exactly when and why to disobey. He watched as Galen threw himself in front of his men who were about to be gunned down, he made a calculation and decided that Galen either had been turned or could be to help the rebellion - and keeping one more family together couldn't be a bad thing.

Jyn accusing him of being no better than a trooper was from her perspective, one we completely understand from Rebel Rising and her experience with the rebel sects in her past. But even in the 'omniscient' perspective of the scene, we know Cassian didn’t "just follow orders" nor has he this entire movie: he let Jyn keep the blaster - a hint that he's not all 'perfect soldier' and we haven't seen him ever 'just follow orders' when they were wrong. He also HAS lost everything due to the Empire - maybe not in the literal sense that people took it when Rogue One came out, but just because he has a found family in the rebellion doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss Maarva, B2, Brasso, Bix, his sister, Ferrix, freedom.

Why would the point of a war story about rebels against a cruel and unfeeling Empire be that the Rebels, too, are cold and unfeeling and have no family? That's the whole crux of rebellions: connection and empathy for others. Why would a major theme be 'actually, none of them have anyone and they spent all this time at the Rebel base and chose to not connect with anyone there except for Jyn because she's the chosen one'? When he said Jyn wasn't the only one who lost everything, I think it was opening up the theme of 'even after you've lost so much, there's still the opportunity to connect again - that's what's waiting for you in the rebellion and that's what we've all experienced'.

Cassian knows when and where and how to break orders - he knows the cost of breaking those orders and the havoc it causes in the organization. Jyn doesn't understand the ripple effect and how hard it is to make those decisions (like keeping a hidden radio and rushing off to save someone without getting permission) and Jyn is blaming him for…. doing the right thing. Exactly how Cassian used to do before he was fully 'in' the rebellion. He's giving her Luthen's tough love his own way - and it makes sense he's so pissed because Luthen would have taken the shot - Cassian didn't and yet is still getting chastised for thinking about it by someone who has avoided making big-picture calls. Jyn doesn’t know him (nor do the watchers) but everything we've actually seen Cassian do hasn't been 'rebellion approved'.

I don't know where the fandom version of Cassian who's a "good rebel soldier who only starts questioning it when Jyn arrives" came from because I think his frustration in the getaway ship is that he's /been/ choosing his own path but Jyn hasn't been there to see it and is just making a bunch of assumptions about him. Understandable assumptions due to her past, but that's part of Jyn's journey: unlearning her assumptions about the rebels. But Cassian has been getting chewed out by leadership his entire life so I can imagine it's mind-numbingly frustrating to have just disobeyed to help someone he doesn't even know only to have them, also, chew him out for it.

I love the scene after Jyn tries to convince the council so much: Cassian wasn't even in the meeting because he /knew/ what the council would say, so he went ahead and gathered a team to be waiting when she got out.

When Cassian says "They were never going to believe you" he's talking from experience. He just had the same argument with them right before Kafrene. He really sees himself in Jyn and he believes her, he saw Galen throw himself in front of his men about to be gunned down - he's disobeyed orders for the right reasons before and so has Melshi. The refrain "make it worth it" has been a thread through all of Andor and it comes to a head here in Rogue One - we've seen the things Cassian has done and we've seen how his decisions to do it hinged on the success of the Rebellion and a hope for a future. This is Luthen's last mission and he's not just going to sit it out because the council said so. He believes in Jyn's hope, so he's going to follow through.

When Jyn says "I'm not used to people sticking around when things go bad" and Cassian says "Welcome home" - it shows that this is what he does. This isn't out of the ordinary, it's natural and 'home' to not give up when you're in the rebellion, even when the council says no. This is who he is, not some change in him. And we see the same in Mon Mothma and Bail: they ignore the council's wishes too and prepare for war. Bail wanting to go down swinging, Mon knowing that you have to work around group decisions and set things up for war. This is further emphasized when the rebels get the Imperial transmission that there are rebels on Scarif and General Raddus has already taken off in his ship to go fight with them. Despite the surface-level 'we agree as a committee' they try to stick to, there are TONS of rebels who will go off-book to do what they feel is right.

Jyn and Cassian are great parallels as characters: Jyn tries desperately to not care about anything and everything around her tries to tell her not to but she ends up caring anyways. Cassian is desperately trying to pretend that he's a just a random guy who has some luck and not taking initiative, but he ends up putting himself on the line and taking those wild chances anyways because of the faintest chance of a hope.

They both try to intellect and logic their way out of doing illogical things for the rebellion, but the thing is:

"There will be times when the struggle seems impossible. I know this already. Alone, unsure, dwarfed by the scale of the enemy. [the Death Star, invading Scarif and getting the plans out while overwhelmed by the enemy]

Remember this, Freedom is a pure idea. It occurs spontaneously and without instruction. Random acts of insurrection are occurring constantly throughout the galaxy. There are whole armies, battalions that have no idea that they’ve already enlisted in the cause. [Jyn, Baze, Chirrut, Bhodi]

Remember that the frontier of the Rebellion is everywhere. And even the smallest act of insurrection pushes our lines forward. [literally everything in Andor that led to Rogue One, Raddus setting off already with his crew, Bail sending Leia to get Obi Wan so that she's in the right position to get the plans and pass them on]

And remember this: the Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. [Krennic and Tarkin]

Remember that. And know this, the day will come when all these skirmishes and battles, these moments of defiance will have flooded the banks of the Empires’s authority and then there will be one too many. One single thing will break the siege. [the rebels that get the Death Star plans off Scarif by sacrificing their lives]

Remember this: Try.

And that's exactly what Jyn and Cassian (and the rest of the crew) do: they try because it is so natural for them to do so. Because the rebellion isn't about following orders and ceding control - it's about community and empathy and freedom. There is no one, grand leader to show the way and to be obeyed - it's a collective striving together, making mistakes, finding love, sacrificing everything for someone else's sunrise.

[eunchacha]

HOW COULD U LOVE SOMEBODY LIKE ME? - sae-byeok x ji-yeong x f!reader GENRE: dead dove??? angsty maybe.. Thriller.. Idkk? WARNINGS mentions of killing, murder.u. SYPNOSIS having yandere gfs are not for the weak.. try to survive!!1111!.. part 5 to the headcannons i did!! ty for the req anon!! WC n/a TAGLIST none yet!

⟢ It all started with you being nice — once, only one time. Only one time of giving ji-yeong a bandage, only one time of smiling at sae-byeok sweetly. And that was all it took to get them hooked. ⟢ Sae-byeok noticed you first, watched you, memorized you. She even recited your schedule like its something she needs to do to be considered a human being. Quietly eliminating those who disturbed her process. ⟢ Ji-yeong followed in suit — but she did it in her own eerie way. She would take time out your day to speak to you. As if she was actually just a normal woman trying to make you hers. She sat beside you, smiled, bought you things. But it was so much more than that. ⟢ randomly, you were ranting to your 'close friends' about a annoying bitch at work — the following week? they disappeared randomly - you thought it was just a coincidence. It wasnt. ⟢ now, when you first started dating them — they masked it as 'we both want you, and were fighting each other for you' knowing damn well they were using their shared braincells to take you for themselves. ⟢ they knew you would feel bad, would feel the need to make them both happy, they planned it already. So of course, you being you - would try to calm the dispute and pick them both! ⟢ 2 months into the relationship - you started to realize who they really were. They're dangerous alone and deadly together. ⟢ Sae-byeok's love is cold. calculating, protective — she knows how to break bones and wouldn't mine breaking yours if you ever tried to leave her.

⟢ Ji-yeong's love is unpredictable, closed off, quick — She was the one who made you trust them, all those sweet talks were apart of the plan too.

⟢ They love you, but not peacefully. Ji-yeong's soft threats and Sae-byeok's not so gentle touches mixed well, but at the same time it threw you off. "if you ever left, you'll be like those people we tried oh-so-hard to protect you from." Ji-yeong coos, looking at your scared-yet trying to be composed expression. Sae-byeok smirks, while she grips your jaw. "You wouldn't dare try to leave us, right?" ⟢ It was all so overwhelming, so new. But at the same time, you couldn't help but feel a deep thrill in your body, knowing you were so protected and whipped over. ⟢ They fight over you sometimes, not with words, with silence. Threats. Glares. And somehow, at the end — you're always in the middle, on someones lap while the other stares. ⟢ They're so possesive it hurts. Phone? Monitored. Sae-byeok already installed trackers. Ji-yeong reads your messages in that sing- song voice, trying to be sweet, most specifically those where you're begging your friends to save you from that mess of a relationship.

⟢ You're not even allowed to be alone, not even while using the bathroom. Sae-byeok leans on the door and whispers "You're still with me in there?"

⟢ If someone touches you - atleast once? Sae-byeok GLARES daggers at them, and wraps an arm around your waist, while ji-yeong looks at them amused. Then tells you privately "they dont need eyes now, do they?" ⟢ You tried to break up with them, once. You three were in a heated argument, spouting insults and harsh truths. That was before you tried to end the argument. "You know what? we need to break up. This isn't going to work-" You felt a sharp sting to your head, the whole world went dark. And then you woke up - the house locked, soft blankets, and them pampering you. To try to convince you that they were amazing girlfriends. ⟢ They never hurt you. Unless you try to run and reject their love. The threat is always there in soft threats, maybe rough objects. ⟢ They treat you like a porcelain doll, feeding you, clothing you, bathe you - whether you like it or not.