#And it's hurting but not killing. You won't be like them

[vamplvs]

notes: avengers tower era of marvel fandom is so BACK!! anyways, left that movie feeling crazy, so here's this :) i wrote it in one single sitting immediately after getting home so be gentle with me

bob watched you as you wiped down the bar top. it was methodical—a spray of some kind of cleaning solution, a scrub from the cloth, and onto the next section until you were satisfied.

the night before, alexei had held what he called a "bonding night" for the team (with his tracksuit on, and all). you had even offered to mix the drinks! in reality, it was walker and yelena threatening each other, bucky rolling his eyes over his whiskey, and ava disappearing the moment the fighting had begun.

bob was... well, he was trying. he wasn't part of the team, really. he was just there, quiet and present, waiting for his turn in the immensely confusing card game alexei insisted on teaching them. the night ended with many spilled drinks over the bar top, and you and bob staying behind.

well, alexei too, but he was busy mourning the deck of cards that was now soaked in tequila.

you laughed with him about all kinds of things. you asked him about his past, about how void worked, about what the memory loss was like. it was refreshing talking to someone unafraid of him—whether that be of his powers or of hurting him.

yelena was so careful around him, and alexei was certainly still haunted by the girl bob had apparently vanished (he still didn't remember it, but when alexei recalled it to him, he nearly threw up). the team treated him like glass or a loose canon, but with you things were different.

so now, he watched you clean up—something he offered to do, but you wouldn't let him. you had said something about needing to get out your anger, so he just left you to it and watched quietly from his perch on the couch at the opposite end of the room.

he tried not to stare—he wasn't trying to creep on you. the thought alone made him wince. he just... he thought you looked good. the way your arm worked against the counter, the focus in your eye and the twitch of your mouth when a spot was particularly tough-

"just talk to them," bucky said, quietly enough that you wouldn't hear, from his armchair in the corner of the living room with a lovingly worn copy of the great gatsby in his hands.

bob flushed, "huh?"

"it won't kill you," bucky was still focused on the novel in his hands, "matter of fact, it might be in your best interest."

before bob had the chance to ask what bucky meant, you called bucky over to help dispose of the trash. grumbling, he walked over, mumbling something about "this damn metal arm" under his breath.

you wandered off with bucky, laughing about something or another, and bob was left to his own devices.

left to think about your laugh and the ways your eyes crinkled. left to think about the intensity you looked at him with. left to think about your hands on that damn counter and on his arm and-

maybe bucky was right.

[siryouarebeingmocked]

This is the most hilarious post I've read on this trash

I love it when people don't know the difference between people disagreeing wuth them and causing cognitive dissonance, and people being wrong.

I'm lucky to be in a country where the large majority of people don't have guns. So even if I wanted to be a professional home breaker I wouldn't be afraid of being shot because that's not a thing here, especially in cities.

Turns out deadly force is generally considered a justified response to (a threat of) deadly force, regardless of form.

So if someone were menacing you with a knife, a gun would still be a "legit" response.

Also, I'm from a country without "gun culture", with low legal ownership, and I still knew at least three people who were murdered with guns.

Also, I live in the UK, and I've been subject to a home invasion were people were almost beaten to death by unarmed randos.

Also, I love how you discuss guns to say the burglars probably won't get shot, but never acknowledge the fact that the bad guys might be armed with guns.

In fact, I don't think you ever say thieves can use any form of deadly force in any of your posts.

Violating someone's space causes a lot of damages. I don't support that for anyone, no matter their backgrounds, their past, or their beliefs.

Wow! That's some very nice virtue signalling, that does absolutely nothing to walk back or acknowledge your absurd claims about self-defense, or even that the idea of supporting individual self defense rights is "fascist".

I'm being honest when I say this is barbaric and isn't gonna fix the issue, because I have the knowledge and studies supporting that view point.

If you argue it's morally ok to kill people because they hurt you, you have fascist ideas. That's just how it is.

People are saying it's morally okay to kill people who are threatening to use deadly force, or who could be assumed to do so.

You posted downstream of my more moderate view, and you're acting like it wasn't there.

Also, I love how you're so smug and patronizing, yet you haven't said a word actually explaining how this is inherently related to right-wing authoritarian nationalism.

Because I'm pretty sure people had the same sentiment before fascism ever existed.

The only real difference was that they might not use guns.

I would bet money you have no actual reasoning, it just made you uncomfy, so you called it a Bad Thing™.

Just read someone claiming that being ok with killing someone breaking into your house is a "facist usamerican opinion".

As a victim of a home break in, where I got beaten up for the sin of dropping a plastic bag holding snacks I had just bought, where I then had to witness an aunt and her daughter crying their eyes out tied to a bed, fearing they would get raped, myself fearing the same for them after I too was tied and gagged next to them.

And also as the son of another victim of a break in, who got stabbed in the gut and almost died of blood loss half naked right in front of his infant daughter.

I have to say

Kill all home intruders, if they have committed the sin of breaking into the place most safe for you and your family, with the intention of taking everything you worked so hard to get, not to mention the lives of you and your family, you have all the right in the world to respond with deadly force, no questions asked.

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

Quarter mile at a time.

Synopsis: Bruce finds out he has another biological kid ,and not only are they a girl but the best street racer in Gotham!!

Notes: reader is described as female and black, poc ,or in this case I guess she might be mixed. I do not hate cops I just wrote them like this for the fic. So please don't take anything to personally.

Warnings: Illegal things ofc. Drugs, mentions of sex and prostitution. Child abandonment. Underage drinking and smoking and prostitution. Not proofread!!

Ride or die.

'Do you understand how much trouble your in kid?'

'Do you ever shut up?'

This was the third time this week you had gotten yourself in this position.

Handcuffed and seated infront of some cop who was writing down your statement.

Still being underaged meant you'd get away with more then adults would.

Sadly that also meant you were usually the one to take the fall for your so called 'friends'.

'You gotta help me out here kid. I'm trying to help you.'

You were sixteen. That age that people would consider 'young and dumb'.

But you knew better then to tell anything to the cops. People got hurt from doing that.

People got killed.

'Cmon kid. Your sixteen and I see you in here three times a week.'

'Don't remind me." You scoff rolling your eyes.

Cops like these almost make you feel bad. Almost. They always claim their just 'trying to do their job'. But you see through that.

You see the way they pin your friends down. Gun to their head. Cuffs tighter then needed and for what?

For power.

And with a gun to a scared kid's head they feel like they got it......

So you stay silent and give them headaches with your words.

'Well I guess all that's left to do is call your mom.'

'Go ahead and try it.'

You've seen this to many times to count. The cop tries to threaten you with him calling your mom. She doesn't answer.

They let you go. Because Gotham's got bigger problems then a kid who they don't have proof did something.

'Ya know kid. If you weren't so caught up with friends like yours you'd have a good life.'

Of course the cop would say that. By looking at your record. Your a straight A student good grades you even tutor for extra credits.

'Am I free to go?'

The cops sighs after getting nothing but a ring from you mother's phone.

'Yeah go ahead.'

You scoff standing up and grabbing your things. Smug like smile planted your face from finally being free.

'Wait.'

You hum turning back around to face the sitting cop.

'Kid, I say this with respect. Going the way your going you won't make it to twenty.'

You knew he was right. Your friends were living proof of that. Some of your friends were dead while others in prison.

More friends came but they never could beat the system.

You didn't blame them and you never would. They were trapped in a system were this felt like the only way out.

Just like you.

'Maybe that's the plan.'

Fear owned Gotham, consumed it like a virus.

Even the wealthy and powerful people slept with one eye open.

Everyone was afraid of something ,and in Gotham your worst fear was most likely to happen.

But your not really helping yourself when you go to places like this. But then again you didn't really care.

It's dark as you walk to suspiciously dark allies but you knew ever road in gotham.... just not like other people would....

By the time you reach your destination the place is already filled with people. Some drunk most high ,and more likely then not they were shit broke with nothing to lose.

So to say this place wasn't a place for a teenager was an understatement.

By now you knew who to stick around. The people who could protect got and the people who couldn't.

So you had no trouble as you walk around and greet your usual 'friends'.

It smells like smoke but not from cigarettes.

Smoke from tires rubbing against the harsh concrete. It's warm but that kind of from car engines and cigarettes.

Girls crowed around cars and boys do too. All looking for attention or money. They'd do just about anything to get cash.

Some of them were mean almost forcing men to sleep with them to get money , but others were soft much to shy to do anything like that.

You felt bad for them but you held your tongue, as both the men and women belittled them infront of you.

Most of them were older then you but some we're your age some even younger. They new you quite well.

Well just about everyone knew you.

You couldn't be seen with them though. No, you were too popular around this place to be seen with them.

You'd be considered a stupid kid to be seen with them. And in a place like this, if you're seen as a kid they'll treat you like one.

A loud voice breaks through the crowned and reaches your ears.

'Looks who's back.'

Mikey your so called 'boss' says. Mikey met you when you were dirt poor and took pity on you.

Instead of giving you money. He gave you a job. Claiming 'you gotta work for your money. Cause ain't shit free.'

Mikey owned a car shop and he taught you alot. Even stuff you shouldn't know. Like how to make a car go the fastest it can with blowing up.

Or how to hide drugs in car seats that even the best canines won't be able to smell.

Eventually he took you to your first street race and from there it clicked.

That was your passion, that was your thing.

You made him teach you stick and eventually you built your own car out of scraps.

And slowly by slowly you came up in ranks.

And bought a better car.

Thanks to Mikey of course. He got in you every race since he knew just about everyone, even the people you shouldn't know.

He started you with small races and moved you up inch by inch.

But the time you were twelve you were the best street racer in Gotham. But not everyone can take losing to a kid well.

So Mikey introduced you to his friends. So atleast you'd have their protection. Their older then you and did just about anything illegal you could think of.

But they were your protection so you didn't complain.

You smile as you see Mikeys crooked smile.

You knew he wasn't a Saint ,or anything but he was the closest thing you have as family.

He's all you got.

He used to pay your rent and bills for you until eventually you could pay them yourself.

Lord knows your mom never did....

'Hey Mikey. Where's my baby?'

'In the back. She's already ready.'

He points behind him and low and behold there she is. Your baby.

Your pink Honda S2000 covered in glitter and with rims that the moon illuminated off of.

She was perfect. The fastest thing in Gotham and it made your opponents even angrier to lose to such a feminine car.

Following Mikey to your car you walk past various people and their cars.

All different cars modified from their colors, to their shapes ,and designs that comstomize them to their owner.

It was easy walking past the cars some you admired for their creativity others you thought looked ridiculous.

Walking past the people wasn't so easy.

Some gave you a simple nod others looked you up and down clearly sizing you for the race.

Grazing your hands against the hood of your car you smile.

You never took your car home with you after a race. The cops would catch you before you could say 'shit'.

Mikey taught you that.

So instead you left it with Mikey ,and he took care of her when you weren't racing.

Opening your door and starting the engine you smile at the noise she makes. Everyone knew the sounds of your car by now. Loud, strong, and confident.

'You ready? They paying good this race.' Mikey says as he looks you over.

It was never about the money. You and Mikey new that. It was about the thrill.

The excitement of the race.

It was exhilaration you felt right before you won. It was feeling of not feeling anything for a moment.

It was the way your stomach dropped as you hit the gas half way through a curve. The way the moon shined on your dark skin and the way the chilly air felt against your face.

It was the fact that when you were racing you didn't worry about anything. Not school, not the cops, not your life, not your mom. Nothing.

It was just you and your car and that was enough....

'I'm always ready.'

The noise from the Crowed died down a bit when the racer girl announced the biggest race was about to begin. This was the most expensive race of the night so of course you were in it.

You new mostly everyone you were racing but their was one guy you didn't. No one did. You ignored that feeling that something was off about him. After all as long as he had money to pay that's all that mattered.

The race started of the same motorcycles went out and stopped the traffic and horns from the busy and annoyed people rang through the air as you raced through the city like you always did.

The roads were dark and this was definitely the fastest your car had ever gone.

You hanged in second place the unknown boy in front. But right he could pass that finish line you pushed your secret weapon. And just like always.

You won.

The Crowed was loud and people surrounded you touching you and your car. Compliments filled the air but your eyes weren't on them. No, your eyes were on the new guy.

He looked normal but something about how he acted gave him away. How he kept looking around but tried to act calm.

He wasn't a junky. No, he was dressed to nice and his car was nice enough to prove he wasn't.

He looks almost awkward but people continue talking to him. He doesn't fit In here that's clear as day when you notice how he talks. It's to nice, to cocky.

He's smart you'll give him that. Probably the best at what he does. That's probably why they sent him. He's got that kinda charm that he can smooth talk his way into anything and everything.

But if he was gonna come here he should've known what not to do. And most people are way to high and drunk to notice but you do.

His gaze always goes to people hands first.

People here didn't do that.

No, here you look at their eyes or If you like them their body.

Never their hands. People here throw their hands around but they usually don't mean any harm that's just how the express themselves.

Cops tried to read people by their hands to watch what they were gonna do before they did it.

You knew that from how much you were constantly arrested.

That's probably why most of your friends were treated harsher then necessary by cops when all they were trying to do was communicate.

'Only cops do that shit.' You mutter pushing off your car and walking over to Mikey trying to give him your keys.

'Leaving so soon?' Mikey ask his voice almost concerned but he hides that well.

You always stayed late. Because it was better then going home to empty apartment.

You nod your hands still holding your keys and eyeing the boy.

You don't say anything to Mikey about the boy being a cop incase you were wrong. But your not gonna stay here long enough incase you were right.

You toss your drink, your hand opening to give Mikey your keys but before you know it loud sirens fill the air and blue flashing lights are everywhere.

People scatters like cockroaches when you turn on the light.

Your quick to grip your keys and get in your car. Before you even know what your doing your already racing down the dark streets of Gotham.

You don't have time to count how many police cars follow behind you and for a moment you wonder if they only want you.

They probably did considering how many times you had gotten away from them.

You'd been running from cops since you started racing and on foot you weren't that fast but in your car?

They couldn't get close enough to scratch your paint.

You sigh turning off your engine and leaning your head on your steering wheel as you parked into a dark ally.

You had escaped all ten of the cops with ease but there was still that adrenaline rushing through your viens.

You don't have much time to rest though because before you can think of what to do there's a loud thumb against the top of your car.

'The fuck?' You whisper still out of breath and kinda scared.

Your head still slightly dizzy and your eyes have never been the best so this must he your imagination right?

Because there's no fucking way batman just landed on the back of your car.

You groan muttering a 'just my luck.' Under your breath and put up your hands in defeat.

Because of course your a good driver but your to tired and far to drunk to race against fucking batman himself.

He opens your door and his scowl is cold harsh.

Harsher then the criminals you face on the daily but it softens at the sight of you....

You look like a dream. Not the kind that he falls inlove with but the kind that he's supposed to know.

Someone he's supposed to remember but he cant.

He feels weird but still takes your arm and without a word puts you in the batmobil.

He decides to ignore the way you almost rip out his door handle by how hard your trying to open it.

'Even if you did get out. You won't make it far.' He says as his car automatically buckling up.

'Worth a shot.'

You huff annoyed about your situation and scared even though your trying to hide it.

'Whats your name?'

'Whats your name?' You repeat his question with a question. Ah, so you were that kinda kid.

The stubborn kind.

Well he can't judge he has a handful of stubborn kids of his own. And he thanks God for that on night like these.

It just makes it easier to talk to you.

'Tell me your name and I'll let you go.'

'Huh?'

Your surprised by the amazing deal he's offering you and really can't believe it.

He on the other hand had no real intention of handing you over to the police after all he had sent Dick their as an undercover cop to stop a big drug deal not stop a kid.

Little did he know you were the best street racer in Gotham. But he quickly figured that out as you escaped not one but ten trained cops.

You sigh telling him your name. Even if this was a trap it was worth a shot.

He unlocks the door and you uncross your arms open the door. Confused you look back at him.

'You really gonna let me go?' You ask trying to make sure that he wouldn't chase you down after this.

'A deals a deal ,kid.' He watches as you step out of the batmobil and his gaze locks onto yours as you close his door.

'See ya around, kid.' His dark voice says and something about the way he says it makes you believe it's more of a promise then just a saying.

'Hopefully not.' You mutter as you get in your car.

'Alfred I'm going to need you to check something for me.'

'B, everyone in my unit has been looking for that kid for years! Years! And you just let her go? The best street racer in Gotham and you let here go?! We didn't even know she was a girl until today!'

Dick voice echos through the batcave and Bruce's headache already forming from his sons distressed voice.

'Well being seeing her soon Dick. Calm down.'

He tries to reason with obviously irrated vigilantly.

'And how can you be so sure? What if this was are only chance?!'

Alfred sends him a knowing glance as he hands Bruce some life changing papers.

Bruce sighs rubbing his temples as he carefully reads the heavy papers in his hands.

Even going so far as rereading them just to make sure.

But eventually after reading enough and his headache intensifying he says.

'Because she's my daughter.'

💕Thanks for reading!!💕

Likes reblogs and comments are appreciated!!

[ollyissleepy]

heyyyy don’t mind if I slip in here … is that hxh I see…….. would you perchance write an platonic yandere Illumi with a child mc? Please and thank you 😊🙏

𝐭𝐡𝐞 (𝐮𝐧)𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝

pairings: platonic yandere!illumi zoldyck x child!reader summary: Illumi takes his precious child home, away from all the people that might hurt them. He also makes sure to take revenge on the ones that already did. cw: yandere behaviours, stalking, murder, child abuse, mentions of torture a/n: sorry it took a while, had to take care of some stuff

Illumi scans the room he was just brought to by one of the servants. A man sitting on one of the couches, staring directly at him. A woman sitting on an armchair, mindlessly stirring the drink in her hand. And a child, no older than five, staring at their feet.

He steps towards the couch across from where the child's father is sitting. Illumi watches the child closely, looking for any sort of movement. The curious eyes didn't go unnoticed by the father.

"No need to worry. I'll make sure they won't say a thing," the man reassures Illumi.

He shifts the conversation for Illumi really was here for the man his clients wanted out of their way. He listens to the man in front of him going on and on about the wrongdoings of his enemy. Illumi nods along, not really caring about the reasons the man might have had to hire an assassin on someone. Bored, his eyes roam the room, trying to find something more interesting. Illumi looks over at the wife, who's not sipping slowly out of her cup. Illumi's eyes then dart towards the child. He takes note of how they haven't moved from their spot. It catches his attention, trying to understand why they won't dare to move a muscle.

Then, he spots it. A bruise decorating the child's left arm. It's faint, barely visible to a normal eye. But Illumi still sees it. It's right there. He wonders what such an obedient child could've done to earn a beating.

Illumi's staring doesn't go unnoticed by the parents of said child. Next thing he knows, the child is being dragged away by their mother, disappearing behind a door. Illumi now had an idea of what type of parents he was dealing with.

The child's father cleared his throat, bringing Illumi's attention back to himself. Illumi sits through the rest of the meeting, barely listening to the man in front of him. He lies about needing to feel the situation to find the right time to get rid of the target. In reality, he wants to be sure about the people he's about to kill for.

Illumi starts observing the family from afar. Quickly noticing that the child seemed to not leave the house. Not with their parents, at least.

He sees the way the parents seem to ignore the existence of their child until they find it doing something that doesn't please them. He sees the way the child tries to make themself as small as possible, trying not to take up too much space.

He saw the child's bedroom, which was more suitable as a guest bedroom. The empty walls and lifeless decorations were not ones a child would enjoy having in their room. He also takes notice of the lack of toys anywhere in the house.

The first time Illumi sees one of the parents getting physical with the child, he's taken aback. He saw how the child tripped while walking up to the couch, causing the coffee table to shake. Illumi's brows furrow more with each hit landing on the child.

With each beating he sees (name), as he learnt was the child's name, he grew more and more angry. Angry for the child who has to live in such conditions.

Back in his hideout, Illumi catches himself thinking about what it would be like to take in the small child. Subconsciously he started changing things around the place, trying to make it more suitable for (name). He buys toys, interactive puzzles, and books. Anything they could want. He smiles at the finished room. It had everything he believed (name) would need: a mountain of toys and books, soft bedding, and small pictures with cartoon characters on them. Illumi also made sure to plant a few cameras. Anything to ensure his baby's safety.

With everything ready for (name)'s moving into the hideout, Illumi finally decides to kill the man the child's father asked him to.

The dead man's head wrapped in cloth is placed in front of (name)'s father. They're back in the same room they met in the first time. The child's father, looking a little sick from the head in front of him, gives a bag of money to Illumi.

He opens the bag, checking if it's the amount they agreed on. He sighs, placing the bag next to the corpse.

"It's not enough." Illumi stretches, pointing at the bag.

"What? That's what you agreed on?" (Name)'s father asked, confused.

"Yeah, well, the target put up a fight," Illumi lies. The target didn't even know he was dead before it was too late.

"We can't give you more…" the mother starts, not wanting to upset an assassin.

"I don't want more money," Illumi states, staring directly into the father's eyes. "I want them." He points towards the child in the corner.

The parents look at each other, trying to decide what their next move should be. The mother calls (name) over. She pushes the child towards Illumi, telling him to take them.

Illumi kneels in front of the child, checking them over. He doesn't comment on the black eye nor on the bruise on their cheek.

That day, his baby finally came home.

The first few days are rough. (Name) didn't seem to know how to act the way a normal child would. They didn't touch any of the toys, not even with Illumi's encouragement. The child also didn't sleep much. Illumi saw the way they just lay in their bed, their eyes wide open. He also hasn't heard a sound coming out of (name)'s mouth.

A small shift happened on the third day. Illumi was sitting at a desk, filling out a few papers with a monitor showing the insides of his baby's room. He glanced over at it. He couldn't believe his eyes at first. His lips curled into a small smile, seeing (name) pick up one of the many toys, holding it at arm's length and staring at it. In Illumi's mind it meant progress; his baby was finally feeling at home.

The next change appeared a few days later. Illumi noticed that the child seemed to be following him around the hideout, always a few steps behind him. He started inviting the child to come closer to him, softly calling out their name. He started reading to them every night, as he noticed that it helped them sleep.

One of those nights, Illumi sneaked away from the hideout. He felt horrible leaving his baby alone, but he had a business to attend to.

Illumi walked through (name)'s old home like a ghost. He only had one goal that night: to avenge his baby.

He finds the child's parents sleeping soundly in their room. For a moment he wonders if he should wake them up, making them suffer the same way they made his baby suffer. He would start with the father, slowly cutting all of his limbs off, letting him bleed till death. Then, he would move to the mother, doing the same.

He snaps out of it, remembering that his baby is at home alone. He would hate for them to wake up in an empty house. He kills the parents in their sleep, not interested in wasting any more time on such scum.

The first thing he does after returning to the hideout is to check on his baby. Illumi opens the door, making (name) stir awake. He coos at them, stepping closer. The child moves over, patting the space on their bed.

Illumi smiles, lying down beside his child. He carefully wraps his arms around them, whispering:

"It's alright, little one. You're home now."

[raileurta]

Humanity vs Cybertronians

I see people debate about whether or not humans could defeat the Decepticons without the Autobots' help every so often and I want to give my take on this. To some it up quickly I feel the same way I do about this I do about the gorilla vs 100 men debate. Yes the gorilla would absolutely DECIMATE the first ten or so guys but after that the gorilla would eventually start getting tired and be slowly killed as the hits start to pile up.

Let me explain my reasoning:

It's a very established part of lore in most continuities that transformers are nearly extinct aka critically endangered. Which according to Google means that there are fewer than fifty individuals left. Which I don't believe their numbers are that bad but I won't say I'm surprised if they were. For the sake of this argument though I will assume that only fifty Decepticons will be fighting with Earth. Which in comparison to humans’ EIGHT BILLION population that is a pitifully low number, and that's not even bringing up the whole underestimating our population thing.

I do believe only heavy weaponry like tanks, missiles, or RPGs should be able to kill/seriously hurt a transformer if they are hit enough with it. With small arms unless you hit a weak point, for instance an optic it should not even dent their armor. And nukes just straight up disintegrate them; I don't care how much plot armor the bot has, the average cybertronian SHOULD NOT BE ABLE TO TANK A NUKE. I've seen people argue for this before and it low-key annoys me. They bring up the whole “how technology more advanced they are to use or their robust practically immortal bodies” but that's not a valid argument. Even a trained modern marine would be killed by cavemen with only mere spears if they were jumped by thousands of them. Humans also can reverse engineer their technology. All they would need to do is just take a random decepticon body/weapon then break it down. It also defeats the whole purpose of the “robots in disguise” part of their lore. Unless that Cybertronian has a special ability that lets them survive, cybertronians should be able to be killed by a nuke.

End of story.

There's also other methods of killing a Cybertronian like scraplets or the rust plague, which are significantly less deadly to humans.

Depending on the continuity I feel the biggest problem for humanity would be instant K.O stuff that needs Optimus to combat or the Nemesis ship. Which I think are pretty fair odds. If Decepticons just started blasting humans out of nowhere and take the Earth head on they will lose. It would have to be a slow infiltration type of invasion to actually work, or just straight up glassing the planet from space.

I'm talking about this from a general of point of view as some continuities would do much worse or better than others.

I do wonder which one would be the easiest to defeat though. I guess maybe g1, or earthspark.

[halfmoonshines]

**this takes places during Thunderbolts*, WILL have spoilers*

Bucky Barnes x F! Reader

summary; Bucky receives the call from Mel to come and find the ragtag bunch that just escaped Valentina; he struggles with what to do. But you've always been there to help him.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿

I feel my brows pinch together in worry when Bucky's shoulders stiffen, my coffee paused just before my lips. I can only hear his part of the conversation, but he seems incessant about something.

"I don't do that anymore." His voice comes out gravelly, and my cup is discarded on the island between us. Something big was happening.

He mumbles something else and hangs up, his phone hitting the counter with a bit too much force. He still doesn't turn to look at me.

"Jamie." I say it quietly, looping around the middle of the kitchen and coming to stand at his side. My hand raises to rest on his taut shoulders and I can feel him twitch just slightly beneath me. He's stiff, and when those eyes finally look up to meet mine there's a storm raging in them.

Just when I think he's going to pull away, like he would in the early days of our relationship and something rocked him like this, he steps toward me instead. Arms banding themselves around my waist and his head dropped to my shoulder, I hold him close to me. I just listen to his breathing, and wait for him.

"There's a situation." He says finally, pulling away from me and showing those tempest eyes. "Valentina tried to trick her ghost operatives into killing each other and when that didn't work, they escaped. I need to bring them in." Bucky started tidying the mess we had made during dinner, keeping his hands busy. "I arrest them, they testify against her, and everyone's happy. Some assassins are behind bars and Valentina finally gets impeached." He stops fidgeting and heaves a sigh, head dropping back, eyes closed.

My hand goes to rest on the one he has splayed across the counter, but he doesn't open his eyes.

"Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

Bucky's eyes blink open and he looks at me, confused. "Of course. I'm a congressman now, doll. Even apprehending them is way beyond my jurisdiction. I need to try and put them through due processes. Let the law handle it."

I can see it, the uncertainty in his face and the muscles of his jaw working against the words he's saying, like they taste bad.

"I think that, maybe, you're afraid the law won't handle it justly." I proceed carefully, not wanting to upset him farther. "Weren't you telling me a few days ago that Natasha's sister was one of Valentina's assets?" Bucky had always talked about Natasha and Steve like they hung the moon. A former Red Room assassin, Natasha Romanoff was everything that Bucky strives to be. Better. Someone who faces their mistakes head on, and works through them. Apologizes for them. Dies for them, though he never glorifies that, I know that he respects it on a level I could never understand.

His silence is the answer I need.

"Do you think it's fair? That Yelena would be behind bars but you get to go to the next congressional meeting?" His eyes snap to mine, a glacier blue burning against my own. I wasn't trying to hurt him, but make him understand these complicated emotions I know were cementing him in place right now.

"I've done my time, babe. Yelena has showed no signs of changing her life around. She's still killing people, just for a different organization." He pulls his hand out from under mine and walks to the fridge, putting his half empty water in there to retrieve later.

The light of the refrigerator cuts a stark image of him in our kitchen; this man in his newly pressed dress shirt, metal arm glinting in the low light. This was a new Bucky; one of many that I had seen, and I wasn't convinced that this was the one he felt most comfortable being.

I follow him, hands coming up to rub small circles along his back as he shuts the fridge door. "Certainly we can't compare the CIA and the Red Room?" Quietly, I do. But that won't help matters here. "How do we know that she isn't trying to turn over a new leaf in the only way she knows how? You had a support system, Buck. She has nothing."

He doesn't say anything and we stand like that for a moment. His hands braced on either side of the fridge, I can see indents forming there where he's squeezing just a little too hard. A war raging in him that I don't control. There's no ceasefire to be called; he has to reconcile with himself.

He turns to be abruptly and pulls me against him. I feel his cool hand at the back of my head before he draws me forward, lips melding to mine with a bruising force. When he pulls away, there's a new resolve there. He's made his decision, whatever that may be.

"I'm going to go and get them." He pauses for a moment, worrying his lip between his teeth. "But I think I'm going to talk to them first. Try to gauge what they're thinking. Maybe you're right."

I smile as he pulls away from me, holding his hand in mine as long as I can before he's across the room heading to change.

"But if I find an excuse to hit Walker, I'm taking it." He throws over his shoulder, a small smile as a gift to me.

My laugh is light. "I would expect nothing less."

I'll be staying up tonight, as long as my already tired body would let me, to be sure that I'm awake when he gets home. His demons in tow and uncertainty in every step. It's nights like this that he'll need to be reminded how far he's come; who he is now.

I want nothing more than that.

[triciawritesstuff]

Summary: An altercation with some union boys doesn't end well

Pairing: seo Juntae x reader

Cw: angst, major character death, violence, blood, pain, and suffering.

Notes: lowkey inspired by the scene in warfare, but we dont get bombed, also random tv girl lyric at end.

You noticed them as soon as you stepped out of the school building. Exchanging glances with one another when they spot you. You see one nod knowingly at the boy in the middle, all of them starting to head directly for you.

You picked up the pace, clutching the straps of your backpack anxiously. Perhaps you were just being paranoid. They weren't really following you. You weave in-between back alleys and streets until you find yourself heading through the tunnel. You feel something, someone grab you from behind. Pulling you backwards, then shoving you into the wall. The air is knocked out of your lungs from the impact.

Your back hits the dirty wall of the underpass. "Where are your friends?" One of them questioned, smirking at the boys who caught up with him. Clearly out of breath. "You just have to tell us– then we won't have to hurt you."

You catch a glimpse of the silvery blade he's concealing in his right hand, hidden mostly by the burgundy blazer that he's wearing. Your breath catches in your throat. There's no way Baekjin would allow this kind of collateral damage; you tell yourself. It was reckless. They are just trying to scare you, that's it.

Your mouth remains closed, glaring at the leader. You shift further backwards, the sound of glass crunching underfoot. Your gaze shifts towards the opposite end of the underpass, praying that someone would come to your rescue. Juntae. You'd planned to meet after school–he'd be looking for you. He had to be.

The leader takes a calculated step forward. His grin widens, clearly enjoying the fear that tumbled off you in waves. "You're lucky you're beautiful– I'll make sure not to cut your face." He laughs out, the boys around him scoffing.

Your heart drops. Panic taking over.

You bolt.

You make it a couple meters before you are tackled to the ground by one of them. A red hot pain sears through your abdomen. Your nerves feel like they are on fire, suddenly feeling light-headed.

The boy immediately gets up off of you, the sound of something metallic clattering onto the floor beside you. You gasp for air, lungs burning as they try to take oxygen in. You turn onto your back, broken glass pressing into your spine, piercing through your uniform. You look up at the boy. He stumbles backwards, looking at his hands. They are covered in a viscous crimson liquid. Who's blood is that? You reach down, feeling a dampness slowly spreading across the front of your shirt.

His face pales, and you can tell he's afraid. The noise infiltrating your ears feels muffled, hazy, as if you were dreaming.

"I told you to stop her! Not kill her!" You hear from a few steps away. "Are you fucking crazy?" You attempt to sit up, the pain unbearable. The floor around you is wet. You manage to push up onto your elbows, the agony intensifying. You let out stuttered breaths.

"We have got to get out of here– this is low even for seongje's standards." They mutter to each other. "He won't find out about this–will he?"

You hear another boys voice. This one seems familiar. Juntae. His slow steps come to a holt at the entrance of the underpass, where he takes in the situation before him. The other boys panic, making a run for it. leaving you both alone.

You hear the noise of a bag hitting the floor, the footsteps turning into a running pace. He skids to a stop by you, immediately crashing onto his knees. Not caring about the glass that lay underneath. "Are you hurt? D-did they touch you?" He wispers out, eyes searching your face for the answer. His gaze slowly travels down your body, coming to a stop on your left side, just under your ribs.

"N-no, no, no. This can't be happening–" He wimpers out softly. His hands reach out, applying pressure to the source of your discomfort. You convulse in pain.

"Juntae–" You gasp out. "S-stop it, it hurts.."

"M'sorry, just hold on, okay? I'm going to get you of this–" His voice breaks,"I promise."

"D-do you think you can walk?" He loops an arm underneath you, trying to lift you off the ground.

You scream in pain. "N-no, stop, stop, stop–"

"We have to at least make it to the street– m'sorry.. just a bit further—please." He wraps your arm over his shoulders, dragging you a few steps further. The pain consumes you, etching its way into your very being.

Your legs completely lose their feeling, causing you both to collapse onto the floor. "I can't go any further." You sob out breathlessly.

He sits up, gently reaching for you. His cold hands interlink with yours, fingers tentatively weaving together with your weak ones. You rest your head on his lap; gazing upwards, finding comfort within his warm brown eyes. If this was the last thing you saw, you think to yourself– then you think it would be okay.

"Hey, keep your eyes open–" you hear him wisper to you. "Just hold on... help is coming, okay?" You feel warm tears dropping onto your face from above. The boy beneath you shakes, chest heaving as his breathing becomes irregular.

"Jun–" You murmer out, barely audible. He learns forward, desperately. "J-just take care of yourself." He makes out through your wispers.

The gentle rising and falling of your chest begins to slow. "Just hold on–please," He calls to you desperately. But to his call, there is no answer.

[ladykailitha]

The Dragon Slayer Part 3

Boom, baby! We are back!! This is my new schedule for fics here! Be sure to check it out so you don't miss your favorites!

I would just go back and reread both chapters starting here. I cringe to think how long it's been. But I think I have where I'm going with it sorted out and hopefully I won't hit another road block.

Part 1 Part 2

Cliffhanger warning? That's more likely than you think. ;)

~

Steffan loved to sit on the rock outcropping near the entrance of the cave and watch Edgewraith fly around the mountain as he got ready to land. He thought he was the most beautiful dragon he had ever seen. And he had seen a lot. Killed a fair portion, that was true, but only the ones that people were genuinely frightened of.

Because there was a major difference between singing the dragon’s praises because it was well-beloved and singing its praises lest it be near and eat them.

Edgewraith landed deftly a hundred feet from where Steffan was sitting, buffeting him with wind from his wings. Steffan huffed as he struggled to get his hair back in place.

“You are a vain man, Sir Steffan,” Edgewraith growled, the fire and ash kept to a minimum as to not burn the grass around the entrance. “Always fussing with your hair or your clothes.”

Steffan laughed. “Got to look pretty for the beautiful creature who rescued me from a life of starvation and ennui.”

If dragons could blush, he was sure his friend would have been. Edgewraith ducked his head and turned away.

“Flattery will get you everywhere with me,” he huffed, smoke coming from his nostrils.

“Oh?” Steffan teased. “Everywhere you say? Duly noted.” He hopped off his rock and trotted up to him. “Does that include touching you?”

Edgewraith’s eyes went wide. “You’d want to touch me? Not hurt me or harm me, just to touch?”

“Very much so,” Steffan murmured, getting as close as he could to him.

Edgewraith lowered his head placed it within arms reach. Steffan reached out and touched the snout just above the nostrils. He huffed out a short, giddy laugh.

“You’re so warm,” he breathed. “I can feel you.”

Edgewraith ducked his head again, away from Steffan’s touch. “You’re very warm, too.”

Steffan gently took his head and face it around again. Then he pressed their foreheads together, cradling the dragon’s chin.

Edgewraith began to make a sound like a low rumble before an avalanche. Steffan raised his head in delight.

“Are–are you purring?”

Edgewraith jerked his head up in surprise. “No! Of course not! Dragons don’t purr. Despite what people think, we’re not catlike, cats are dragonlike. Thank you very much.”

Steffan burst out laughing. “Well, I thought it was a lovely sound. I hope to hear it soon.”

The dragon pulled up his tail in front of his face and then deftly slipped around him to dive into the cave.

~

Steffan followed his friend into the cave and saw him curled up around the stove.

Pouting.

He went up to Edgewraith and pet his snout. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It was a sweet sound and I was sincere about wanting to hear it again.”

Edgewraith lifted his head and huffed steam out of his nose. “I have never made that noise my whole life and you wander in and suddenly I purring.”

“And how long has that been?” Steffan said with a chuckle, leaning his face away from the fog.

“I am over a thousand years old,” Edgewraith groused. “But then, humans have never gotten this close before and certainly not as willing as you appear to be.”

“Consider me very willing indeed.” Steffan’s voice dropped low and soft. “I adore you.”

“Are you sure it’s not Edwin you adore?” Edgewraith grumbled and Steffan was forced to step back as flames and brimstone slid out of his mouth. Steffan was pretty fire proof, but it was not something he actually wanted to test that close to dragon’s fire.

“Do you think me that naive, dear friend?” Steffan asked tenderly. “I’ve known for awhile that the two of you were one. I was waiting for you to trust me enough to tell me the truth.”

Edgewraith hiccuped and landed on the floor hard as Edwin. He looked up at Steffan in awe.

“Oh!”

Steffan held out his hand to Edwin and he took it. He helped him to his feet and suddenly they were nose to nose. A dark dusky rose blossomed on Edwin’s cheeks, but he couldn’t hide as Steffan had both of his hands.

Steffan let go of one hand to brush Edwin’s hair out his face. “Now I know why you spent your evening hours as a dragon. You blush so beautifully in the dark gleam of the torch light.”

If Edwin could have blushed harder, he would have. Instead he did the only thing he could think of, he kissed the former knight right on the lips. He pulled him close as their bodies would allow.

Steffan could feel a warmth between them an almost glow. He felt like it would consume him. He almost wished it would. How wonderful it would have been to go out in the flame of his beloved. But alas, and also not, Edwin broke off the kiss and panting, pressed their foreheads together.

“I never thought that I would ever fall in love with a human,” Edwin murmured. “But Steffan, I do. I love you so much. I fear your death would be the end of me.”

Steffan cradled Edwin’s face in his hands and then kissed him tenderly. “Then for however long I have, we will be as one.”

Edwin huffed out a watery little laugh. “Such optimism. Humans have it in such spades. I adore it. Yes, Steffan for as long as you have, we are one.”

Steffan surged forward and roamed his hands all over him, trying to get as close as possible. Edwin pushed him back gently. “There is one thing that we cannot do, as it would be very harmful to you.”

Steffan tilted his head to side. “What’s that, my heart’s fire?”

Edwin blushed darker than his red scales. He tapped Steffan’s forehead. “While your father’s spell keeps your outside from being burnt, it down not protect your inside.” He cocked his head to side. “Technically two things we cannot do. You know how hot I run, trust me when I say that you don’t want my cock in any part of you.”

Steffan blinked for a moment. “But what about putting me into you?”

The dragon coughed and turned away. “That would be acceptable, seeing as a dragon’s inside isn’t any different from a human.” He turned to look him in the eye. “That said, my dearest knight, My mouth is a completely different kettle of fish. In this form, I run no hotter than you, but in my dragon form? It is highly protected from the flames of my own belly.”

Steffan carefully stroked the side of Edwin’s face, slowly turning it back to face him. “I think I follow what you are saying. So I propose that we keep our love making to hands and mouths on skin only. That way there is no hard feelings on either side.”

“I can agree to that,” Edwin purred. And he took Steffan’s hand to lead to him to where Edwin slept as a mortal.

The room was vast, vast enough to fit a dragon of Edgewraith’s size should that come that. It was decorated with trinkets and toys and games. Senet, mancala, go, chess and even parchisi littered the area with dolls and wooden toys everywhere and that’s when Steffan realized he was looking his dragon’s hoard.

Edgewraith collected play!

Steffan looked back at Edwin to see that he stopped and was looking down at his feet, picking at the skin around his nails. Gone was the happy, upbeat person that was both Edgewraith and Edwin.

He took a step toward Edwin, who turned away. Steffan placed his arms around him and kissed the crown of curls on his head.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of this hoard, beloved,” he whispered. “It’s beautiful and perfectly you. I’m happy you trusted me enough to let me see it. Now trust me not to mock you for it.”

Edwin raised his head, brown eyes wide and wet with unshed tears. “You don’t think it childish or naive?”

“Yes, to both,” Steffan said gently, “but that’s their point to be those things and if you love them you should get to collect them without fear of recrimination.”

Edwin raised his head and looked at Steffan in awe. The tears had dried up and now his eyes sparkled with something a little bit closer to mischief.

Suddenly Steffan was being swept off his feet and tossed onto the nearby bed. He let out a surprise yelp before he realized what had happened. Edwin stalked his way across the room, and he felt heat pool in the bottom of his stomach.

Their clothes were quickly removed as Steffan situated himself on the bed. Then they were lost to the world for quite sometime as they explored each other’s bodies with their hands and mouths.

~

As they wound their lives together a niggling thought laid its nest in Edwin’s brain and slowly began to hatch.

“Darling?” he asked one night as they lay entwined around each other. “Tell my about your mother. What was she like?”

Steffan sighed. “Of course you know she was killed by a dragon shortly after I was born, but the man that my father gave me to, told me stories about her. She was beauty itself. Long honey-colored tresses and bronze eyes. She was every perfect picture of grace and decorum any man could want.”

“She sounds like she was very lovely indeed,” Edwin murmured against the skin of Steffan’s collar bone. “Did they say how she died? I know you said a dragon killed her, but there must be something more, right?”

Steffan sat up and drew his knees to his chest. “The story Iago told was one of flames and misery. During my birth, I was breech and as the midwife tried to turn me so that I could be born the dragon attacked, killing my mother, and nearly killing the midwife. Her arms were blackened from the fire as she drew me out of the now still body of my mother.

He squeezed his eyes shut. “She would later succumb to her injuries. I think it was then that my father decided to give me to the dragon slayers. Losing both the midwife and the queen was too much to bare.”

Edwin drew him close and laid his head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, sweet one. That must have been hard to hear.”

“I think he blamed my birth for her death,” Steffan murmured into Edwin’s collar bone. “That if I hadn’t been born she might still be alive.”

“Do you have a picture of her?’

Steffan nodded and pulled out the locket he always wore and took it off to hand to Edwin. Edwin opened the locket to a strand of honey colored hair and a miniature portrait of a stunning woman. A woman with whom Steffan bore a strong resemblance to.

“She was beautiful.”

“I wish I could have met her,” Steffan said, gently taking the locket from his hands and putting it back on.

“I wish I could have met her too,” Edwin murmured and pulled them both down to sleep.

~

Edwin kissed Steffan goodbye for a couple of days. He had things that he had to attend to. This wasn’t unusual for Edgewraith to go off for days in search of game or other resources, but it was the first time he did so with such a solemn air.

Steffan busied himself with playing with the children.

Dylan was bright but bossy, Morwen tenacious, but tender. But his favorite was definitely that of Eliwen the head watchman’s daughter. She was bright and curious but had this air of seriousness to her like everything she said was grave importance. Which Steffan supposed it was.

“When will Edgewraith be back?” Laurus moaned. “We wanted to show him our new kites!” Eligia and he both held aloft two beautifully crafted kites. One was black and red and the other was bronze and brown.

“Laurus’s is a boring brown and more brown,” Eligia huffed. “Mine is sleek and stupendous like Edgewraith himself.”

Laurus stuck his tongue at her and she did the same in return.

“It depends on how long the errand takes,” Steffan reminded them. “Sometimes it takes him less than a day, others a fortnight or more.”

All the children pouted.

“How long has he been gone, Steffan?” Matthew whined. “It feels like it’s already been forever.”

Steffan smiled at the thin, lanky boy. “He left but yesterday morning. If he comes back soon, the earliest would tomorrow night.”

Matthew pouted and Steffan got up to try and distract them. He had them all line up to teach them all how to sword fight, yes even the girls.

When Matthew protested, Steffan told him, “They need to be able to defend themselves.”

Eligia was eager, Morwen was intrigued, but Eliwen was unsure. Steffan knelt in front of her. “The world is a harsh place and though you have a lot of people who will protect you at all cost, but if you’re caught unaware or even alone, you need the skills to defend yourself.”

Then after a couple of days he wanted to laugh himself sick, Eliwen was the most tenacious and fierce fighter out of all them, including Eligia.

~

When Edgewraith returned, he was not alone. Behind him flew the most beautiful dragon he had ever seen and he had seen a lot. Their scales glimmered bronze and shone brightly in the dying light of the day.

Swiftly Edgewraith changed into Edwin and he came rushing up to Steffan, kissing him deeply.

“I have a confession to make, sweet one,” Edwin murmured. “I went in search of the dragon that killed your mother.”

Steffan’s heart dropped to his stomach. “Is that them?” He jutted his chin toward the beautiful creature sunning on his favorite rock.

Edwin shook his head. “No, Steffan. It’s better than that.” He tugged on his hand. “Come. Come meet Mirrorwing.”

Steffan allowed himself to be lead to the new dragon, but as they approached the dragon changed into their human form. Her hair was the color of honey and it flowed all the way to her slim waist. She wore a brown dress over a white shift, tied at the waist with a dark brown leather belt.

“Mama?” Steffan cried.

She held open her arms and he ran into them. She wrapped him up tight and held on for dear life. “Oh, my little Steffan.” She kissed the top of his head. “I’m so sorry. I did not know your father had been so cruel. Otherwise I would have stolen you away with me.”

“What happened?”

She led him over to the rock and sat him down.

“The midwife was also a dragon,” she explained. “And birth for dragons is harder than for humans, so I was trying to give birth to you as a human, if nothing else than to protect both our identities. But you were breech and Olga–Oddwing reached into turn you, the pain was too much for me and I accidentally turned back into my dragon form...” She took his hands and held them.

“Burning her arms.”

Mirrorwing nodded. “Your father came rushing in and understood everything at glance. He knew who I was, he knew what you most certainly could be.”

“A half dragon,” Steffan breathed.

~

Tag List: TWO SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs @chaotic-waffle

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @cryptid-system @kultiras @themoonagainstmers

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @wheneverfeasible @notaqueenakhaleesi @stripey82 @estrellami-1 @irregular-child

10- @steddieislife @ollyxar @eyehartart

[karespocketboyfriends]

𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍

Chapter Ten

A Love and Deepspace Fanfiction (Sylus X OC)

Warnings -> Major violence (murder/death, blood, gun violence)

<- Chapter Nine

An original fan-fiction for Love and Deepspace. I appreciate reblogs but reposting to Tumblr or any other site is not okay with me.

The hour drags more slowly than it ever has before, the thin hands on the giant ornate clock mounted to the wall refusing to budge and end my suffering. I've nearly chewed my bottom lip raw, my nails picked at and bitten until they're short. It’s a habit I thought I broke free from years ago. Apparently not.

Finally, the massive black doors open. Luke and Kieran stroll inside, their black outfits splattered with dark stains that make my stomach drop. Neither Sylus nor Mephisto follow them in.

“What happened? Are you two hurt?” I question is rushed as I dash up to them.

Luke stretches his neck from side to side while his twin rolls his shoulders. “Nah, this blood isn’t ours. The sucker who was stationed in your apartment though…”

Kieran pushes his brother’s chest. “Let’s not give her the details on that, okay? She’s already paler than a ghost.”

They’re okay. It relieves my worries a smidge. Just a smidge, though. “Where’s Sylus?”

“Tracking down your brothers.” Luke replies, patting my shoulder in what I take is his way of showing comfort. I’ve never needed to be comforted by them before. “The chairman of Eternity Jewels is holding them hostage to negotiate with Sylus.”

My mind, which has been racing all night, goes quiet.

Kieran nods, reaching for my other shoulder but squeezing it instead. "Don't worry. Boss man is hard to kill. He'll be back with your brothers in no time."

Guilt tears into me like a shark, a pit opening in the bottom of my stomach to swallow everything that I am and rip it to shreds.

"Is this my fault?" "Let's wait and see who's behind this before assigning blame. But, no. This isn't your fault."

"It's my fault." I whisper, a fresh batch of tears making my eyes sting. "I begged Sylus not to kill him. I... I didn't want anyone to die because of me."

In the hour that I've paced this room, waiting for news or for my brothers return, it did cross my mind that Vincent could be involved. He was the most likely suspect, given that only a week ago, we ran into him at Miss. Natalia's event. Before that, Sylus brought down his company, and before that, we ruined his horrendous auction. Sylus warned me that keeping him alive could very well be an invitation for him to take revenge, but I wanted to put my faith in mercy. Wanted to believe that showing him kindness would be enough to keep him out of our hair.

I was wrong. I was stupid and naive and just wrong. Sylus isn't a cold-blooded killer; he was planning to put an end to Vincent to stop something like this from happening. He didn't go through with it because I asked him not to. He put his trust in me on this, and I've let him down.

If there was anything in my stomach, it would have come up right then.

"I'm sorry." I choke out around a sob. My head drops, arms wrapping around myself tightly as if that would be enough to keep from shattering into a million pieces. "I'm sorry."

Luke curses quietly. "Kieran, she's crying. What do we do?"

Kieran awkwardly rubs my back. "P-Please don't cry, Little V. It'll be okay! Boss will get your brothers back!"

I shake my head, catching the next sob before it can escape and swallowing it down. It hurts, like swallowing a rock, but crying won't get us anywhere right now. I know that, yet I can't stop thinking about how I've failed everyone. "People are gonna die tonight because of me - someone already has. My brothers and Sylus could get hurt because of me."

I caused this. I should be the one answering to it.

My mind made up, I tilt my head towards the ceiling and give it a shake. "Where are they? I'm going, too."

"Woah, hey there, slow down." Luke raises a hand as if to say 'stay there'. "You're not cut out for the things that are going on over there, Little V."

"Besides," Kieran steps in, moving his body to block the door. "Boss sent us here to make sure you don't wind up in trouble. So, no can do."

So, this is the game we're going to play?

"Fine." I spin on my heel and return to the couch. Sitting down, I keep my arms folded and cross one leg over the other. "Can you two at least do a quick sweep of the base? I feel like I'm being watched and it's freaking me out."

Kieran nods. "Of course. Sit tight, we'll be quick."

The twins check the base thoroughly, looking in every room, every shadowy corner for anyone who didn't belong. They came up empty handed, and now certain that it's safe, return to Sylus' personal wing to reassure their friend, big sister figure, and one day they hope, future boss lady.

They throw open the doors and bow dramatically, hoping their antics will ease her nerves a little. "We've come to report that the base is... Evie?"

The couch she was sitting on is empty. Sylus' laptop rests on the lavish cushions, open and paused on a video that appears to be recorded surveillance footage. The location of the video is the messy apartment they were at earlier, the figures in the frame easy to identify. The twins can see themselves, the man they took care of tied to a chair, and Sylus.

Kieran presses 'play', and man in the chair recites the address he gave Sylus. On another tab, Mephisto's tracker flashes a bright red at a particular building in the warehouse district.

As his personal assistant, Evie has the passwords and access codes to everything within the base. It appears Sylus has even given her access to his personal electronics as well.

"Uh oh." They say in unison.

Eternity Jewels' former warehouse is structured more like an office building on the inside. Hallways upon hallways, room after room, it's a maze to navigate. Sylus moves as though he knows exactly where to go despite having never stepped foot in here before.

To be fair, Vincent isn't exactly trying hard to stay hidden. The goons standing outside welcomed him and told him where to go upon his arrival.

He thanked them with his Evol.

On the second floor, in the furthest room from the concrete staircase, he finds Vincent. The room appears to have been a staff lounge, plush couches and a small kitchen with a fridge, microwave and coffee maker. Vincent is sitting on the couch that faces the door, loading four silver bullets into a pistol. His movements are slow, casual, but the gleam in his eyes are more unhinged than it was a week ago. He looks more like a petty gang member than a business man now, dressed in a white tank top and torn cargo pants. Both of his shoulders are wrapped with bandages, still healing from the torture Sylus inflicted on them.

The fact that he's not bothering to hide them is a testament to his mental state.

"Mr. Sylus!" Vincent's grin is sinister. "Not who I was expecting, but I'll accept it." He waves the gun towards the couch in front of him. "Go on, take a seat. We're both busy men, so let's get right to my terms, shall we?"

Sylus' fingers twitch as red and black mist spills from his palm.

"Ah, ah~" Vincent sings, extending his arms to rest against the back of the couch. He doesn't drop the gun. "Do that, and the boys are dead. I've got eyes and ears on this room, Sylus. Act out of line, and my men will put a bullet in their heads. I imagine your poor assistant would be devastated to learn that her precious brothers lost their lives because her knight in shining armor couldn't control himself."

"Knight in shining armor?" Sylus chuckles and sinks onto the other couch. Only a marble coffee table separates them. "You're not giving her enough credit. She knows what kind of monster I am."

"But does she know what kind of monster she's tamed?"

Sylus' eyes narrow, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

Vincent's eyes shine with wild amusement. "She's got you wrapped tightly around her little finger, doesn't she? I never thought a day would come where someone would tame you, Sylus, and if I had to guess... you're not happy about it, are you? You're trying to resist her, but she's got her hooks in you too deep to escape now." He chuckles and shakes his head. "I knew she was a siren the moment I set eyes on her. Innocent little things like that call to the ugliest monsters, don't they?"

"You're going through all this trouble to negotiate, so negotiate."

"Oh, I'm not here to negotiate. I'm making demands. One for each brother." Vincent leans forward. "I suggest you agree to them all if you want all four to walk out of here."

Sylus' glare hardens, but he waves his hand as cue for the other man to continue.

"It's quite simple, really." Vincent settles back against the couch and props his feet up on the coffee table. "The first thing I want is for you to surrender part of your territory to me. Second, you are to fund the rebuilding of my company until it's back to what it was before you destroyed it. Third, I want your word that you will never lay a hand on me, or meddle in my affairs again."

The terms are easy enough to fulfill. He can easily claim territory to make up for what he'll lose, has more then enough money to get Eternity Jewels back on its feet. As for staying out of Vincent's way, he can abide by that so long as Vincent stays out of his.

But there's one condition missing, and Sylus isn't about to agree without knowing what it is. "And the fourth?"

The way Vincent tilts his head and smiles made his blood boil. "Hand the woman over. I had a buyer that night who was very interested. He's still willing to pay big bucks for her."

Sylus' hands clench into fists. His Evol hums beneath his skin, presses against his insides in a fight to escape.

Vincent chuckles. "You can't do it, can you? Would you like to pick which brother gets the bullet? Or shall we invite Miss. Evie over to choose?"

If he gave her the choice, Sylus knew that Evie would hand herself over in a heartbeat. She's sacrificed everything, has lived her life for her brothers. Would give her life for her brothers.

It's time someone sacraficed for her.

"You say you're not willing to negotiate, but I have a better deal in mind." Sylus says, and continues without giving Vincent a chance to decide if he wants to hear it. "Instead of selling her off to the highest bidder, why not take my life instead?"

Vincent blinks. Perhaps it's Sylus' casual delivery of the deal, or the fact that he never thought he'd witness Sylus offer up his life in exchange for anything, but he can't hide his shock.

"Think about it." Sylus calmly urges, tapping his temple. "If you take my life, not only will I be unable to interfere in your plans, but you'd get Onychinus and all it's wealth, too. Killing me would make you far richer than selling a woman."

He can see Vincent teetering. Knows he needs to make one more big push to get him to accept.

Sylus goes for the finishing blow. "You'd never have to worry about your wife's medical bills again."

Vincent turns angry, exactly as he wanted. Sylus remains seated as the other man stands, doesn't close his eyes or look away as the pistol is aimed at his chest. "She died months ago, you rotten bastard."

He pulls the trigger.

The impact pushes Sylus into the back of the couch, fire exploding in his chest from the heat of the bullet. Fired at such a close range, the bullet had enough momentum to pass through cleanly, paving way for blood to spill from both his chest and his back. Every inhale comes in sharp and pained, his lungs burning from the damage.

The door swings open, crashing against the wall like thunder. "Sylus!"

Vincent looks up, the look in his eyes crazed. "Have you come to join us, Evie?"

'I'm too late.'

I don't pay Vincent any mind - don't have the ability too. My eyes, my ears, my intent, it's all focused on Sylus as I rush to his side. He's bleeding profusely from the wound in his chest, blood splattered across his neck and face, too.

Sylus inhales sharply. "Sweetie-"

I shush him, pressing my hands over the wound and applying as much pressure as I can. Vincent is saying something behind me, but I can't make out the words. It's fading into white noise as time seems to slow down, my own heartbeat pulsing loudly in my ears. It syncs up with the rhythm of Sylus' heart beneath my hands.

My hands that are warm and slick with his blood.

Spots appear in my vision. My head feels like static. I don't feel like myself as I lift one of my hands from Sylus' chest, turn it over until I'm staring at my dark red palm. The world around me goes from light to dark, light to dark, again and again and again. I see fire and carnage whenever it goes dark, my heartbeat replaced by the sound of an ancient bell tower. The ding-donging of the bell pulls me into a trance.

Someone hurt my dragon.

I'm not in control of my body as I grab the gun from where Sylus hides it beneath the coat hanging off his shoulders. Not in control as I twist and point the barrel at Vincent-

A bang goes off, and his body drops. The gun falls from my hand, clattering to the floor as I turn back to reapply full pressure to Sylus' wound, static still lingering in the corners of my mind.

"Luke and Kieran got my brothers out. They'll be here soon." I say. Even I can hear how robotic I sound.

The twins caught up with me not long after I slipped out of the base. Instead of dragging me back, they shrugged their shoulders and decided it would be best to come with me for backup. They must have also been worried about Sylus, despite their upmost confidence in him.

His voice sounds stronger now. "Evie-"

"I know." I can't bring myself to look at him, or to let him finish, but I know what he's going to say. "I won't regret it."

What I will regret is Sylus dying because of the choice I made.

He wraps one large hand around both of my wrists and pulls my hands away. I open my mouth to argue, to tell him that now isn't the time for a tough guy act, but the sight of his Evol swarming the wound silences me. When the mist vanishes, the bullet wound is gone. Healed perfectly as if it never happened.

Shocked, I sit back on my heels and look him in the eyes. "You just... How did you...?"

"Don't worry. Boss man is hard to kill. He'll be back with your brothers in no time."

A breath of air escapes me. "You... can't die?"

Sylus shakes his head. "I can die, but only by the hands of a single person."

A sob of relief rattles in my chest. I'm throwing myself at him before I realize it, arms wrapping around his shoulders as I bury my face in his neck. My entire body trembles as I cling to him, a fresh cascade of tears rolling down my cheeks. "I'm s-so sorry, Sylus."

I don't ask for his forgiveness. I don't feel that I can.

Sylus’ arms wrap around me like a security blanket. I think his lips brush against my hair, but I'm not certain. "There isn't anything for you to be sorry for. He did what I wanted."

I pull back just enough to look at him, his figure blurry through my tears. "Why would you do that?"

"To stop him from taking you." Before I can say anything more, he gently pushes my head into the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. "Don't look."

Then, as if he hadn't just suffered an injury that should have been fatal, rises with me in his arms and carries me out of the room.

Several days pass, and I haven't left the apartment once. Sylus ordered me to take some time off, to rest and be with my brothers after the ordeal. I haven't been able to look at them without being consumed by guilt. Even worse, they haven't been as harsh with me as they should be. Of course, I got an earful for taking a job at Onychinus and not saying anything about it for months, but when it comes to the abduction, no one is blaming me for it.

And it sucks, because I wish they did. It would be so much easier to deal with the guilt if they were angry with me about it.

"It's just part of living in the N109 Zone, Evie." Mateo had said the other day with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "Sooner or later, we would have gotten jumped. If not by someone you associate with, then it would have been someone we do. Or random."

But we weren't supposed to. We moved to this building because it was supposed to be safe, and now we're stuck here for the remainder of the year until our lease is up.

Someone knocks on my bedroom door for the seventh time today. Or, I guess, the first time this morning. "Guys, I'm fine. You need to focus on healing your own trauma."

I haven't gotten out of bed all night, nor the day before. Haven't had much of an appetite lately, either. My brothers are concerned, I know they are, and I'm being a massive coward for hiding, but I just can't face the world yet. I haven't been able to eat without remembering how it felt to have Sylus' blood coating my hands, and remembering that reminds me that I have Vincent's blood on my hands, too. I haven't wanted to touch my books, either, fearing the blood that's long been washed off will suddenly come back and stain the pages.

The door opens, but I don't look to see which one of my brothers it is. "I see you've decorated more since I was last here."

That voice does not belong to any of my brothers.

"Sir?!" I exclaim, shooting up in bed with wide eyes.

My boss is, in fact, standing beneath the doorframe. He's dressed in a black windbreaker with a leather jacket on top, red and white decals that look like vines of thorns going up his arms and across his shoulders. He's also got on a pair of fingerless leather gloves, tall leather boot and... my god, are his pants leather too?

Hands tucked into his pockets, Sylus leans against the wall and surveys my room. His eyes snag on something, and when I follow his gaze, I'm left looking at the dragon sun-catcher hanging by the window. Having caught the light of the full red moon that hangs above the N109 Zone, the little red dragon glows brightly. It reminds me of Sylus' eyes.

I turn my attention back to my boss, who should not be in my apartment at all, let alone at five-thirty in the morning. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

He shifts his attention back to me. "Your brothers called me."

My eyes narrow. "I wasn't aware they had your number."

"I gave it to them in case of an emergency. You have a tendency to attract trouble, kitten." His playful demeanor drops. "Get dressed and meet me outside. You have ten minutes."

He turns and disappears down the hall. I sit in bed for a solid minute, going back and forth on whether or not I should do as he says, or ignore him and go back to hiding under my blankets. I take another minute to think about what he'd do if I actually did ignore him. The answer I came up with is that he'd probably drag me out looking like the mess that I am right now.

I spend the next six minutes rushing around, throwing on a form-fitted dark green top and jeans, brushing my teeth and working the tangles out of my hair. That took the most time. All the tossing and turning I've done has created some nasty knots.

For some reason, all four of my brothers are awake when I sneak into the main room. Drew is at the coffee maker, Mateo pouring a bowl of cereal at the counter, Simon and Troy digging into their own bowls from where they're sitting at the table.

'Duh, Evie. Someone had to let Sylus in.'

I cross my arms and glare at them. "What are you all planning?"

"Nothing." Drew tosses me a cocky smirk and waves his hand. "Have fun."

I point at them. "Just you wait till I get back."

Mateo rolls his eyes and playfully flips me off. "Get going before your boss storms back up here and throws you over his shoulder."

Troy swallows his mouthful and smirks. "I bet she'd like that."

"I don't know how he does it. I could never work with someone so thirsty." Simon says with a shake of his head.

"You all suck." I huff, then grab my brown spring jacket and rush out the door before Sylus really does come to get me himself.

The elevator arrives quickly and takes me down just as fast. The new security guard on duty nods his head as I appear, but doesn't say anything. Guilt stabs me again, the memory of Elijah greeting me whenever I left and came back too fresh to not be painful.

As promised, Sylus is waiting outside. I find him leaning against a sleek black motorcycle that's parked on the side of the road. I open my mouth to ask him what all of this is about, but before I can get a word out, he's plopping a helmet on my head.

"You're not serious?" I ask, my voice muffled. "I got carsick the last time I rode with you, and now you want to put me on something that goes even faster?”

I can see him smirking through the visor as he helps me adjust the helmet to make sure it fits properly. “Why not? Consider this practice in case we ever have to make a quick getaway.”

Still dumbfounded, I watch as he puts his own helmet on before climbing onto the bike. His head turns towards me, and when I don't make a move to join him, he takes matters into his own hands.

In the blink of an eye, familiar red and black mist lifts me off the ground and plops me down on the seat behind him. The engine rumbles beneath me, and I'm left with no choice but to lean against his back and wrap my arms around his waist as tightly as possible.

"Hold on tight." Sylus' slightly distorted voice comes through a radio installed in the helmet, filling the space as if he were actually speaking inside my head.

Then we take off. I squeal at the sudden speed, snap my eyes shut and hold him even tighter. "A warning would have been nice!"

This is just as terrifying as I imagined it to be in real life, and yet not as bad. Sylus has expert control over the motorcycle, the ride smooth despite the turns he makes throughout the city streets. His body blocks most of the wind, the helmet muffles the roaring of it whipping past us. As the minutes pass, I start to feel less afraid. My arms don't loosen, but they do relax a little.

And then I start to feel it, a rush of adrenaline that excites me. It's like my mind and body have come to terms that I'm safe, that Sylus has this fully under his control. I find the courage to slowly peel my eyes open, and am left breathless by the view. Somewhere along the way, we left the dark, depressing streets of the N109 Zone. Tall trees full of green leaves look like a massive blurry screen as we zip past them, the road ahead empty but lit with streetlights every couple of yards. We're on a higher elevation, I realize, as on the opposite side of the wall of trees, far out in the distance, is a harbor. Linkon's harbor, I assume, as they're our closest neighbor.

It takes me a second to realize that the sound filling my helmet is my own laughter.

Sylus starts to slow down and pulls up to a viewing point off the side of the road that overlooks the harbor. He kills the engine and stays seated, letting me off first. My legs are shaking a little from the ride, but not enough to throw off my balance.

"That wasn't so bad now, was it?" Sylus asks, his voice crystal clear now that I've taken off my helmet.

I shake my head and tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. I can only imagine how badly the wind has tangled it. "No, it wasn't."

Once again, I go to ask about what we're doing and, once again, I'm not given the chance. A beam of light suddenly breaks overhead, pink and yellow creeping in to push away the inky night sky. I move to the railing and lean my arms on it, watching the sun at it starts to climb over the ocean. The water sparkles as the first waves of a crisp, morning breeze kiss my cheeks. I can sense Sylus beside me, and it brings me back to Dyamond City, where I watched my first sunrise in years. He was next to me then, silent and steady, just like this.

I don't look at him as I speak. "I'm guessing my brothers got you involved because I've been worrying them, right?"

The feeling of his eyes on me is strong. "They're right to be worried. It sounds to me like you're letting guilt over someone else's poor decisions eat you alive."

My hands clench into fists. "I made the call to keep him alive-"

"And he stomped on your mercy-"

Finally, I turn away from the sunset. "And then I murdered him, Sylus."

Murder is murder, no matter what the reason behind it is. If I could go back in time to the moment I asked Sylus not to kill Vincent, I'd keep my mouth shut. I'd let Sylus handle him in whatever way he originally intended. I'm sure I'd feel guilty for not trying to stop it, but if Vincent had died that night, my brothers never would have gone through what they did. Elijah never would have been killed. Sylus never would have gotten hurt.

But is it fair to let Sylus have that on his conscious? To let someone rob another of a life for my own benefit? If I'd be guilty by association, then wouldn't it be less harmful to just do it myself?

Sylus studies me for a moment. What he's searching for, I don't know. I don't have the energy to guess. "Do you regret it?"

That's the question, isn't it? I don't know what came over me, how I was able to aim and shoot a killing shot despite my complete and utter lack of understanding when it comes to firearms. That encounter feels so fragmented, my brain having already done its best to black out as much as possible. All I remember is that Sylus was hurt, I thought he was dying, and I wanted to protect him.

My eyes sting, but I refuse to let tears fall. "I'm devastated that I took someone's life, but I'd never regret trying to protect you."

Sylus makes a breathy sound as if I surprised him.

My phone pings just then. I almost ignore it, until I register that it's not my personal cellphone, but the one Sylus gave me for work.

I quickly fish it from my pocket and open the email. What I read makes my breath catch in my throat, makes my eyes widen as I look up at my boss. My friend. "When did you buy my apartment building?"

Smirking, Sylus dusts something off his shoulder. "While I was waiting for you to get dressed. You really could have picked a place with better security, sweetie."

Now I'm the one who releases a breath. "Why?"

The sun is halfway into the sky by now, the light casting the shadows away from Sylus' face. There's no hiding right now, for either of us.

"Why?" He parrots, taking half a step closer to me. "Because you've become someone valuable to me, Evie."

I blink, heart constricting in the confines of my chest. I don't know why, but the racing of my heart doesn't feel like it did when we were on the bike. This time, it feels like true panic. "As an employee, right?"

Sylus blinks as if he's just broken free of a trance. He shakes his head and steps back, creating a little more breathing room between us. "Yes. As an... employee."

I nod, trying desperately to ignore the burning in my cheeks.

I'm a liar on top of a murderer, because apparently, there is a shadow looming over my heart that I can hide behind.

Masterlist

Epilogue - Act One ->

Tag List:

@xxfaithlynxx @angelafinstone @mysticcollectionvoid @greatmistakes @chuppiechanchan @softlycandescent

[godsandvillains-if]

Wholesome ask

Okay since emotional repression is talked about a lot here what about the opposite, like a mc who is extremely perceptive about emotions and thoughts even when hidden resulting in a mc that is emotional support personified.

How would Ros feel about a golden retriever mc that's absolutely the best of the best boys!

The mc may have their own trauma to deal with but that won't stop them from making the RO a delicious breakfast in bed when their down!

I think that all of the ROs would be in awe really. At how someone could face so much trauma and not become bitter or withdraw from the world. I'm looking at you, Paladin.

I think that Ace, Zodiac, Wildcat, and Stardom would vow to never hurt MC in any way until the day they died.

Paladin, Archon, and Mars would vow to kill anyone who even tries to hurt the MC in any way.

That sums up the team, yeah haha

Thanks for the ask!! 💕

[magical-girl-coral]

Adaine as a transfigured as a displacer beast is very funny to me just Adaine fully curled around Aelwyn or someone and purring but also just the size of a panther. (she has bitten many people)

this is my favorite one yet. anon i want to shake your hand

Sandra Lynn glared at the kids sitting on the living room's floor. "So, what did we learn today?"

"Playing with a displacer beast is dangerous and stupid, even if it's your transformed friend," Ragh said while covered in bandages.

"And?"

"Challenging them to dance duels is just as dangerous and stupid, especially if you're live streaming it on Instagram," Fabian mumbles, most of his entire upper body in various casts.

"And?"

"Trying to treat is as a pet like giving her scratches and treats can come from a good place in our hearts, but that's still a wild animal and the results will end badly for the both of us," Finished Kristen, lying face down on the couch while Tracker heals the deep wounds on her back.

Sandra Lynn sighed tiredly, deciding this was good for now and went outside to check on their current Adaine who is running circles with Baxter in the backyard. She has never been happier that finding a house with a big patio was her number one priority when she moved with Jawbone.

According to her other children, it happened while they were fighting an evil aspect of an undead god who thought that turning Adaine into her inner beast would be a good idea to get rid of the team wizard. But unlike the usual animal he'd expect from an elven wizard like a cat or maybe an owl, instead a giant file stalker came out of the smoke and tore right into the aspect's throat before cleaning herself and going to cuddle up to Fig.

Fig was sure this meant she was truly Adaine's number one friend. A few bites later when Fig pushed too many buttons and she had to admit it was because she was physically hotter than everyone else.

Cut to hours later and now Adaine is cuddling with Aelwyn's cats, snuggling them all in a big pile while they cleaned her and hissed at anyone getting close. Baxter was taking a nap under a tree to recover from playing.

Sandra Lynn stood beside Jawbone with a concerned frown. "Are you sure it's safe to have her snuggle up with so many cats? She could hurt them."

Jawbone took a sip from his tea mug. "It's fine. I just texted a guy about the situation and he says that according to the prints on her fur, Adaine is still a juvenile displacer beast so the adult cats have more or less adopted her as their kitten and are just raising her as their own. It should be fine and we have Hold Beast if things go south."

Sandra Lynn hummed to herself. "By the way, where's Aelwyn?"

Jawbone pointed to the right of the cuddle pile and there was Aelwyn laid on the ground, her left hand clutching her chest while the right held up a crystal. "She fell over dead the second she saw them all together and pushed all of her strength into taking pictures. She should be back to herself in a minute."

"And once she does, she'll try to join the party, won't she?"

"Yep."

"And she'll kill us if we try to stop her, right?"

"Oh, yeah."

Sandra Lynn breathed in and breathed out. "I'm gonna get the ambulance on speed dial."

[crabussy]

IS ANYONE ELSE FEELING KIND TODAY!!! IS ANYONE ELSE FEELING GENEROUS TOWARDS OTHER PEOPLE!!! IS ANYBODY ELSE BEING KIND AND TRYING TO UNDERSTAND EVEN WHEN ITS HARD!!! IS ANYONE ELSE ASSUMING THE BEST OF OTHERS INTENTIONS AND RESPONDING IN KIND!!!! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME

[illmoraineakoi]

Everyone out here giving Hollow cute moth partners, or pretty mantises or bees or whatnot.

Fuck that, where's the AU where Hollow falls in love with a massive feral Wyrm?