#I have nothing else to lose at this point

[gayeddiejuice]

🚨🚨 boots on the ground reporting 🚨🚨

ok just got off the phone with my friend, she is the mvp called me as soon as she clocked out while she walked to the train.

ok. first things first i asked. we’re they nice? and she said YES she said they were probably the easiest table anyone had she felt bad for everyone else cause she kept seeing all the handlers running back and forth and she was just chilling pretty much. she said they dinner was pre ordered but they didn’t eat much of it cause they probably ate at the pre party event. she was also like “did you know oliver is vegan?” LOL anyways. as the main handler the job is to make sure the vips have everything they need, so for example she would take all their food orders and then send it to the kitchen and then there’s a team of waiters who bring the food, the handler never leaves the table you have to be there in case they need anything.

she said since their team preordered most of the food it made her job so much easier, she basically just stood by their table all night just in case they needed anything. she did order lots of drinks tho she said they drank A LOT 😂😂 but it was mostly for all the people that kept coming over to their table, apparently they were super popular people from other shows kept coming over to talk to them. also lots of the other guests which is mostly just the advertisers, that’s the whole point of the party abc/disney has all these celebs there to mingle with advertisers to get them to sell stuff on their network. and she said everyone wanted to come to the 911 table!!

after the dinner portion the actual party starts and that’s when things get hectic cause the vips always scatter and if you’re their handler you gotta know where they all are at all times. i do not miss this job btw it gave me major anxiety.

during the party they pretty much stuck together which made her job so much easier and she said they all remembered her name when she only told it to them once when she introduced herself. listen she doesn’t know anything about this cast she kept calling them the girl and the asian guy or the two hot guys. which. yall. she said they were all extremely beautiful she said she kept blushing cause ryan (she fell in love with him btw) kept calling her by her name and asking her questions and he kept organizing the plates and glasses on the table to make it easier for the wait staff to pick up.

other than that she said later in the night she kept losing track of them cause again they were so popular 😂😂 mostly aisha, she said she seemed to be friends with EVERYONE and she said, i repeat she knows nothing about rpf she didn’t know what her words would mean, she said ryan and oliver (the two hot guys) hung out together the whole night especially once kenny left, she said he left at like 8 right after dinner, and aisha kept going to talk to other people but ryan and oliver stuck together all night. I said oh im so sure. 🤭

that’s pretty much it, i asked if she could hear their convos and she could but she didn’t really pay attention cause she didn’t recognize any names. she did say that they were all cracking jokes all night and they laughed a lot which idk warms my heart 🥹🥹

btw ryan and oliver did leave together and i think they were going to either go somewhere else with other people or they were having like an after party at the hotel? cause they kept telling people yeah we’ll see you “after” she didn’t really catch where “after” was but when they said bye to aisha ryan said “see ya at the hotel” and oliver told her to not take too long 😂😂 so idk I guess they’re still partying.

[shady-tavern]

You were alone. You stared off into the distance, having slumped down on a rock at the side of the road. Your party of... of friends, you had thought, had told you that you were useless. Unnecessary.

Had you failed to support them as they needed and therefore they had decided you were a burden? Had you failed them? Hadn't you always healed them, stitching them back together, listening to their concerns and encouraging their endeavors?

Or had they never cared for you as much as you cared for them?

It didn't make sense and you did not know where to go, your next destination had always been decided by your friends, their sense for adventure urging them ever onward.

You just... tried not to cry.

At one point you got up again and headed back to the nearest town. Your friends - your former friends now, you supposed - had left in a north-east direction and you were not going to snivel after them when they had made very sure you knew you were no longer welcome.

You bought some provisions in that town and stayed the night in an inn and the next day you wandered on.

And somewhere between towns you got really fucking pissed. It was one thing if they didn't want you around anymore, but did they have to say it like this? Did they think you wouldn't respect it if they truly wanted you to move on?

You ranted and raved at trees and the empty road and then, just as the prettiest sunrise graced your eyes, you broke down into tears.

It hurt, to lose your friends, to be told you were useless. To have the worth of your abilities and presence boiled down into neat, stoppered little bottles of glass.

To find out that all your hard work, all your skills, all the nights you had spent pouring over medical texts and bothering clerics for lessons, harnessing what magic you had within you, was all for nothing.

You sat down at the side of the road when your tears turned into ugly sobbing. It wasn't like anyone was around at the moment anyway.

You just barely heard the rustling noise over your cries and then you dropped your forehead onto your pulled-up knees. "Leave me alone," you muttered against your knees.

More sounds came so you lifted your head to see a limping, injured, snow-white deer. Not a person, then. That was just as fine.

You wiped your tears and murmured soothing nothings, putting a bit of magic into your voice to calm the frantic deer. It slowed down and settled bit by bit until it allowed you to come closer.

The deer's left front leg was broken, but where you had expected to maybe fine bite marks or the leftovers of a snare, all you saw was a strangely iridescent, glimmering crack, as though the deer was not made of flesh and bone and fur after all, but something else.

"Huh," you murmured, sniffing as your nose was still running. That did not look like an ordinary injury. This looked like it had been caused by magic.

You still poured some healing into the leg until the bone mended and you bandaged the crack. "Dunno if you're cursed or what, but that's the best I can do," you muttered, giving the deer a wobbly little smile. "Well, if you can understand me and need help, there is a mage in that town down the road."

You pointed in the direction before getting up and grabbing your pack. You felt heavy with grief and pain and anger, but you also needed to keep going. If there was someone out here hurting or cursing deer, you didn't want to get caught by that kind of asshole.

It took you a little while to notice that the deer was following you, only a faint bit of a limp in its limbs.

"No herd?" you asked it and its ears flickered forward, those big eyes looking at you.

Those were not deer-eyes, you couldn't help but think. Not brown, not even dark. They were the strangest blue-green you had ever seen. Like chips of blue ice, a depth to them that made a little shiver crawl down your spine.

Shesh, hopefully you hadn't garnered the attention of anything unsavory. You still gave it a humorless little smile. "Makes two of us, buddy."

And just like that, you had a traveling companion. You had no idea how long the deer intended to stay, but as the hours passed it remained at your side.

It did, however, start to tire and even offering it some food and water didn't help much.

"Come here," you told the deer, holding out your arms. "We both know you're not normal, I can carry you for a bit."

It stepped closer, all long-legged grace and you picked it up - only to realize that you had severely underestimated just how much a deer weighed. You swore this one was particularly heavy.

You were huffing and puffing and sweating in no time, but you still determinedly carried on, until you found a good spot to camp for the night.

That night the deer had the worst nightmares and it only calmed when you held it, sacrificing your own sleep to keep soothing it with magic lacing your voice. You hummed your throat raw and when dawn crested, you fell asleep at last.

When you woke it was to the deer nowhere in sight. No amount of looking around and calling out brought your little buddy back and you couldn't spot any tracks anywhere either.

You couldn't stay, not when you spotted dark rainclouds approaching and so you left a pack of food, just in case it still needed some help, and walked on.

The road somehow felt all the more lonelier, though you had only had the deer as company for a day. From sunrise to sunrise. You hoped it was well, wherever it had gone.

You reached the big city a couple of days later, no deer companion in sight and for lack of anything better to do, you headed to the order of clerics that called the city home.

Everyone was welcome, so long as they were willing to be taught. No matter if they had a deity to follow or not, and the type of deity didn't matter either.

As the days passed, you let yourself get lost in the teachings, in medicine and magic, in putting bodies together and pulling them apart again. It did not soothe the pain of loss and abandonment within you, but it did soothe the part of you that felt... lesser, for what your friends had said and done.

Though, they weren't your friends, were they? After the way they had gotten rid of you, you could hardly call them that, even in your own head. So you stopped. You started calling them your ex-party when people asked with whom you had worked before.

And sometimes you thought of that deer, still, and its strange wound. So you focused your studies on curses and their various origins and ways to break them next.

The clerics had offered you a job by then and you were happy to put your studies to practice. You healed the sick and mended the wounded and broke the curses that were brought before you.

It was a fine enough life and you tried to heal your own emotional wounds with creeping success at best, when one day, a pale stranger entered the room where you healed visitors of the temple.

Skin like bone, long hair white like snow, lashes like frost and eyes like shards of blue ice. You knew immediately, even before noticing the white, fine pelt draped over their shoulder, that this had been the deer you had met all those months ago.

"Well met," they said, voice soft like gently falling snow and as they spoke, your surroundings felt strangely muffled too, as though you were suddenly standing in a wintry glade rather than a room of stone. Even the scent of herbs and salves and ointments was gone.

"Hello, deer companion," you said and they smiled, an expression of quiet, pleased joy making their face look younger and brighter.

This time, when they spoke, their smile revealed fangs too sharp to belong to a deer shapeshifter. "I must thank you for saving me from my curse."

At your surprised pause, they explained, "Three kindnesses must be given to me at the cost of another, from one sunrise to another and three you bestowed upon me. Healing even though you hurt, carrying my weary body even though you were tired and soothing me in my sleep even as you had to stay awake."

Huh. "Where did you go in the morning?" you couldn't help but ask. "I tried to find you."

At this the stranger bowed their head in quiet regret, snowy hair shimmering softly in the light of the room. "I tried to find the one who cursed me, but I was not successful. When I returned, I could not find you. I have been searching ever since."

"Well, you found me," you said, lightly spreading your hands. Hands that had changed over the past years, palm and fingers growing more calloused, your body stronger from lugging other bodies around and holding thrashing patients down.

The stranger smiled again, once more looking quietly pleased. "Indeed. I wish to extend my gratitude and brazenly request your aid at the same time."

"What do you need?" you asked, the question falling in a practiced tone from your lips. You had asked that so often you had lost count.

"A companion to help me hunt down the one who wounded me. The one who desires to wipe out my people and, once we are gone, turn its terrible gaze onto yours," the stranger answered and you stilled.

All at once it was back, the same feeling that had drawn you to your ex-party, that had dragged you out onto the road and into fights like a fish on a hook.

A hunger for adventure, for exploring the world. For seeing wonders and defeating evil and being around people who were like a family to you. Well, the latter you had lost, but the former?

"Alright," you answered without much thought. You could always return to the cleric order once you had helped the stranger, they always welcomed traveling doctors and healers and you would be no exception.

You'd finish your tasks for the day, take care of the patients still waiting and then you'd tell the mother superior that you would be leaving. "Meet me outside the temple this evening?"

"As you wish," the stranger said, regally bowing their head, their smile a little wider, revealing a hint of those throat-ripping teeth. "At dusk I shall seek you out."

"Oh, just one more thing," you said as they turned to leave. "What's your name?"

They smiled and this time it was something sharp and dangerous and wild. "I am a child of Nature and my name is not freely given."

Fair enough, especially if they were part of the people who put a piece of their soul into their name.

They left and you called for the next patient to enter, healing a weeping girl's broken arm, an old man's rash-covered back and a dog's bleeding bite mark. Animals were as welcome as people here, which was one of the reasons you had even stayed this long.

It pleased you that every living thing could find aid and relief here, as they should. Healing wasn't just for those with opposable thumbs, after all.

After the last patient you cleaned up the healing room, putting everything back into shelves and writing down how much you had used and which salves and ointments and herbs needed stocking up. Once you were done, you sought out the mother superior.

She wasn't even surprised when you told her that you were leaving, just smiled and said, "You will always have a home here, never forget that."

The idea of adventure made you brazen, so you pulled her into a hug. She laughed and hugged you back and whispered, "A soul like yours is a rare and precious thing, do not let the wounds of the past bar you from a future worth living for."

With a squeeze she let you go and you hurried to your room the temple had given you, packing your things. On the way out you were surprised when an apprentice called your name and handed you a bag full of herbs and ointments and spell components.

Everything you needed for healing and magic and breaking curses. You clutched it to your chest and thought, this was a god you could serve. This wordless kindness given to you with no expectation in return.

This was what you would worship, when you hadn't wanted to worship anything before. Gentle hands, a quiet bit of help, a warm smile and an encouraging push out the door, to go chase your dreams.

The stranger was waiting outside, like they had promised. This time, you took in their clothing for a moment. They were dressed in pale blues and silvers and the faintest bit of lilac embroidery. They were, truth be told, really damn pretty.

You set out together, heading into the sunset as the day dwindled away and your new traveling companion told you everything about the evil the two of you were hunting right now.

A godslayer. You had thought those were just fiction, a myth to scare children and make friends laugh during an evening where scary tales were told.

"They are rare," your companion admitted. "And this one is young and foolish and greedy. Godslayers have existed only twice in this world, one has slain the seven-headed Hydra of Decay and Destruction and another murdered the gatekeeper of eternity."

Which was how immortality had become possible for mortals, though to achieve such a goal, they usually had to give away something far too precious.

"And this one? Who did this one kill?" you asked and your companion bared their teeth.

"They did not succeed yet, but they are working on it. They hold my mother between their teeth, intend to break her neck. They would have succeeded a long time ago had they gone for one of the smaller gods first."

You could not imagine Mother Nature dying, but then again, you had also thought that godslayers were just a story.

"Onward, then," you said and your companion's teeth-baring snarl softened into a warmer, thankful smile.

The two of you traveled on and on, as the days tumbled into weeks and your companion - you did not dare call them a friend yet - pointed out the signs of Mother Nature's struggle. The faint graying along the tips of leaves, the unrest among the birds, the way wolves howled and howled at night, trying to find someone who would not respond.

Soon, they said, there would be more signs. Food growing less, rain falling either too much or too little and the winds would taste of death.

The deity would try to not take Mother Nature, their lover, any sooner than they were forced to, but at one point, they would no longer have a choice.

"But why?" you asked the night you were getting close to the godslayer's lair. "Why kill a god so important to the world?"

Your companion sat in silence for a moment. They had grown a little thinner over the past weeks, despite eating enough. It was their mother, they had said, they were trying to sustain her, as did her other children.

"To have the world itself," your companion answered. "A godslayer can take a god's power if they so desire. The past two didn't, one just wanted to defeat evil and the other wanted to keep their children from dying. Bringing immortality to mortals was their only goal."

They stared into the fire, their icy eyes gaining a strange, glimmering gleam as the flames flickered. "This godslayer failed to become an emperor and failed to become a lich and now he has set his sights even higher."

"Then let's make him fail again," you answered. "Like you had to receive three kindnesses, let him receive three failures to banish him from this world."

Your companion looked at you and that gleam in their eyes vanished to be replaced with something else. Something brighter, like shimmering starlight. Like hope.

They reached out to take your hand and though there were no words exchanged, you felt it. Their gratitude, their relief for your company, their... their trust in you.

As you felt a wound left by your former friends heal, you added this feeling to the things you would worship. A feeling of getting accepted, truly accepted and a sensation of being believed in, without hesitation.

It made you feel like you could move mountains.

*.*.*

The godslayer's lair was within an abandoned mine. Rather clever, no one would come here anymore and the town that had once lived off the ore mined here had turned into a ghost town long ago.

You saw signs of battle as you walked through the town and towards the entrance of the mine. Scorched ground, churned-up earth, half collapsed buildings and leftover residue from spells.

Arrows littered the surroundings, broken blades glinted in the low light of the dawn and shields were bent and split in half.

You paused when you spotted a very familiar shield, a crack running through it and the rearing dragon that had gotten painted on it in gold. The shield of a paladin.

You had seen that shield for months on end, watching one of your former friends polish and shine it while praying. It had a layer of grime on it that told you it had been laying here for a while already and your stomach plummeted a little.

What had those fools done?

There were some wards set up outside the mine, but with some patience and carefully applied magic - and in one case a fistful of dirt - you got past them without issue.

A few minutes into the mine, you turned around a bend and all at once, the entire space looked different. Until then, the illusion of an abandoned mine had persisted, even if the support beams were solid and everything was still safe.

From here on? The uneven walls had turned into carefully cut stone, mage lanterns hung from the ceiling and the neat hallway opened up into a massive cavern and smack-dab in the middle sat an underground fortress.

This must've taken ages to make. Or, perhaps the godslayer had already stolen some of Mother Nature's power and had molded the landscape to his desires.

Your companion scouted ahead, while you tucked away into a secret hidden spot to stretch out your sensed with magic. Since you followed no god, you should slip past a godslayer's notice, who had torn through a number of clerics and paladins, considering the leftovers outside.

You sensed some guards, shambling undead creatures and the star-burst bright glimmers of magical traps and wards.

They were like curses, you realized. A carefully crafted net of magic and you just needed to find the right spot to pluck at to unravel it all.

Silently, one by one, those star-burst bright glimmers in your mind faded away without notice.

By the time your companion came back with a detailed patrol-route of the guards and the exact number of undead soldiers, you were done. So long as you could slip past the guards unnoticed, you were golden.

Your companion cloaked the two of you in a sort of shadow-y sheen and it felt like you melded just a bit into your surroundings, the outlines of your body blurred to nothing.

You got inside without trouble, no magical traps springing shut and no wards getting triggered.

Inside, the fortress laid silent and still and somewhere within its bowels, Mother Nature had gotten lured into a trap. Somewhere around here, the godslayer lurked.

You started in the basement, since it was closest and you had to avoid another group of patrolling guards.

The basement did not lead, as you had hoped, to some sort of ritual chamber, but instead to a large prison complex. And it was filled to the brim with people. Knights and archers, clerics and paladins, rogues and druids.

And your group of former friends.

You gaped at them as much as they gaped at you, looking thin and rough and half healed at best. Strangest though, was the expression of utter heartbreak on their faces.

"Why are you here?" the paladin whispered and then, horrified, "Did you follow us?"

All at once, that pain and anger that you had worked so hard to soothe and heal, surged to the surface. "As if I would," you downright growled at them. "I got the message loud and clear, don't you worry. You don't have to worry about me hanging around."

"No, no, you weren't supposed to be here," the knight hissed, armor long gone and arm bandaged in a way that told you it had gotten broken pretty badly. "We wanted to keep you safe!"

You stilled. "Safe?" you asked, staring them down, this group of starved, wounded people you had once given everything to.

The explanation downright poured out of the, interspaced with hissed pleas for you to just go. That they had said these terrible, hurtful things to protect you.

And all at once, that bitterness and pain in your heart went cold. "No," you said and your voice was calm, steady, even though there was a storm within you. "You did not protect me, you thought me incompetent."

They tried to deny it, falling over themselves with words and you raised a hand. They fell silent and you shook your head. "You did," you insisted. "You thought I could not handle this and you thought I would not understand if you explained it to me."

Your lips twisted into a bitter smile. "You never trusted me, did you? So you just told yourself a pretty tale, that you would protect me, as if I ever needed that and then you left, to go and play hero." You took in their ragged appearance once more and whispered, "And look where the potions you traded me for got you."

They called after you as you left, rejoining with your companion waiting by the door.

"We should free them later," you whispered, glancing over the prisoners. "They are in no condition to fight." Even if you poured out all your magic to heal them, you could not heal starvation. They were all too weak to even lift a sword for more than a minute.

"A wise if hard choice," your companion murmured back and the two of you left, the prison laying silent as if the people within already expected the two of you to get dragged back in chains.

That it was useless to try and plead for anything, even being freed. That they knew they would never even make it out of the fortress in their current condition. As if others had tried without success until they had all, collectively, given up.

Only if the godslayer was defeated did they stand a chance.

Creeping through the fortress, your companion and you discovered many things - a treasure with a stupid amount of gold and jewels, a guard with diarrhea who thankfully didn't notice you in return, a room full of portraits.

It wasn't until you reached the very top, having dodged many a patrolling guard, that you finally sensed something. You would have noticed it from further away, since it was cloaked into a ridiculous amount of concealing spells, but there was something hidden somewhere around here.

You dug your way through the spells until you found it: a hidden door. And behind it, at long last, the massive ritual chamber where Mother Nature was held captive - and the godslayer.

You barely had a moment's time to notice Mother Nature in all her wrathful glory, her shape shifting between howling storms and roaring bears and cracking lightning surrounding her physical, godly body, as if she was unable to stick to one shape of her power, before the godslayer stepped forward.

An unassuming man at first glance, but his eyes were cold, his smile a practiced, lifeless thing and the only thing that existed in his heart was hunger.

This was a person devoid of everything you had decided to worship and who would take and take and take from the world until it laid dead at his feet. Until he ultimately had to devour himself, for lack of anything else left to take.

Your companion lunged forward with a snarl and you got a glimpse at what a child of nature was capable of. Your companion was ice and snow, the unforgiving chill of winter, the death of frozen lakes and the blood-thirsty hunger of wolves fighting for survival.

But there was more, more than there had been at the beginning of the journey. There were flickers of fire and heat, of warmth that had gotten absorbed and kindness that had bolstered their heart into something powerful.

The godslayer clearly hadn't expected for your companion to have come back so much stronger and as you cast spells, warding and healing, you crept along the edges of the fight until you reached the base of Mother Nature's cage.

She was trying to reach her child, a mother's love and fear pouring forth, wanting her child to flee, to be safe, wanting to be free to rip apart what threatened one of her own.

You ever so briefly met the gaze of your companion and there was a split second of shared, silent communication and they gave you a nod, before throwing themselves onto the godslayer with renewed vigor.

You dropped all the spells and turned around, slamming your hands onto the glyphs on the floor and you closed your eyes.

It had been interesting, at first, just how similar curses were to other types of magic. There were a lot of spells that wished to hold something back, after all, and let something else be in control.

You spread your senses along the magical cage until it laid before you, a truly revolutionary piece of work. In the hands of someone less hungry, less greedy, it would have caused terrible destruction already. It would have already killed a lesser god.

The thing about curses was, there always had to be a backdoor, so to speak. It was part of the rule, part of the make-up. One could not build a house to lock someone into without also adding a door, after all. Even if said door got walled off afterwards, there had to be one first.

You found the part of the cage, the clause that had to be met in order to imprison a god and you laid your hand over it and told it that the god had escaped.

It was a lie, the easiest way to break a curse that was too complicated to break in other, simpler ways. You just lied to it, told it that it had fulfilled its purpose.

The cage shattered and the sheer force of unleashed power threw you to the ground, blinding and deafening you to anything and everything, until hands grabbed you to pull you up.

Your companion's voice muffled the sheer howling and snarling of crushing power around you enough for you to regain your baring.

Sitting up, blinking, you saw that the once cold stone room was covered in roots and blooming flowers.

There was only a smear of blood left where you had last seen the godslayer standing and then you sensed it in the air. The rejoicing of other gods, who had called forth their clerics and paladins and devoted followers to try and save the one without this world would cease to exist.

To save their friend, their lover, the foundation they had built their own pantheons upon.

"Trice failed and no more," your companion whispered and then laughed for the first time since you had met them and they threw their arms around you, clinging to you tightly.

You said nothing when you felt tears wet your shoulder, you just hugged them back and poured some magic into them, gently mending wounds that had bled a strange, silver-red.

It helped calm your shaking hands and the hug helped you settle into your skin, your racing heart getting soothed back down to a regular beat. You sagged against your companion - fine, your friend - after a moment, dropping your forehead against their shoulder.

"We made it," you whispered and they laughed, muffled and gave you a little squeeze. For all that they were made of wintry things, they were warm, a heart beating against yours and their chest expanding with breaths.

After a long minute, you detangled from each other and left. There were plants everywhere, the very stone of the fortress humming with life and magic and the prison was completely empty.

Mother Nature was waiting outside the fortress, tall and powerful, a deity of everything wild and living, of everything surviving and growing. She was surrounded by the prisoners, all looking healed and stronger, though still far too thin.

"Thank you, my child," she whispered as she leaned forward to press a kiss to your friend's forehead and then she surprised you when she pressed her lips to your forehead as well.

A tingle of power, a blessing that would last for the rest of your life, made warmth bloom through you and she whispered, "Thank you, cleric of a god yet unnamed, grown by your hands and nurtured by your kindness. They will make this world better."

You jerked back in surprise, staring up at her and she smiled, like a million sunsets and sunrises, like every beautiful thing the world ever had to offer, breathtaking and awe inspiring. It made you feel more alive than ever to see a smile like that.

"That's how lesser gods are born, my dear," she said, gently reaching out to cup your cheek with a big hand. She smelled like herbs and flowers and forests, like sandy dunes and snowy tundras, like rivers and winds and stone and metal. "People like you make them. They will do good in this world and they are eager to meet you once they have grown enough power to gain a voice."

Well. You had no idea what to say to that, but thankfully Mother Nature needed no answer. She just closed her eyes and vanished, bursting into a shower of flower petals and laughing winds and roots vanishing into the ground.

Your former friends stared at you like they had never seen you before, like they had never thought you would ever be capable of any of the things you had done.

A warm hand gently took yours and you blinked, looking back at your companion - your friend. A truer friend than any you had had before.

"Want to meet my family?" they asked and then grinned, wicked and sharp, fangs on display. "And if you are willing, there are other evil things I would love to slay."

It surged forward within you once more, that hunger for adventure, the desire to test yourself against the world, to do good and make your time alive worth something.

"Yeah," you said and their grin turned into a glad smile.

And as they led you out of the mine-turned-fortress, away from people who had never truly known you, they leaned in and whispered their name into your ear.

Your a healer and was kicked out of the hero’s party because “Healers aren’t needed, just use potions”. You become powerful using your hate and distain for the hero’s party as a driving force. Only to learn, they kicked you out to protect you

[bunnipuffs]

୨୧ cw. dark! abby, manipulative behaviour, violent imagery, oral sex

helplessly devoted to you !

when abby and her group had found you, you were surrounded by a dozen bodies. their faces unrecognizable at a glance, smashed in and beaten bloody by some sort of heavy weapon—the one you were seen holding, tight in your grip, your knuckles turning white from the force. your features were completely covered with a dark crimson, dripping down your neck and slowly inking your clothes. they had guns pointed to your head, held high, their fingers laying on the trigger with the intention to kill. you just stared. if they had killed you, nothing would change. there was nothing here for you anymore.

but they didn't. they asked you a bunch of questions instead. who you were with, what happened, why you did what you did, all the questions you'd expect to be asked if you came across a human being in this fungal infected world. you haven't seen anyone in weeks, and the ones you first encountered after that time were laying beneath you, brains scattered along the concrete. this was the first normal conversation you've had in a while.

they take you back to their settlement after securing the area, taking your weapons and backpack. you walked in front of them, slow, observing your surroundings as you dragged your feet over the dirt path. the only person who stood next to you was a woman. tall, big arms, hair braided, and holding a shotgun. you blinked at the metal glistening in the warm sun, wondering if she would use it on you at some point. maybe she took it the wrong way, your staring, because she looks down at you and scoffs.

"don't get any funny ideas, i won't hesitate." you meet her stare, a smile spreading across your lips. not friendly or menacing, but you smile at her. "i wouldn't. i have nothing to lose." she doesn't say anything after that, keeping her gaze ahead. you don't say anything either.

it's been months since then, you've grown to feel like you belong in the WLF, abby's group. it took you a long time to get here though—you avoided eating with others in the cafeteria, stayed in your room whenever you could, flicking your pocket knife in boredom. you were wary. how did they have this much people here? and why did it feel so normal? it didn't feel right to you, and no matter how many times people showed you kindness, you retreated back to your tiny twin bed, curled up in a fetal position. but it wasn't like that now. you were a valued member, always accompanying abby with patrols, clearing out buildings together, and even shared a room with her now at abby's request.

abby had taken a liking to you the moment she saw you that day. your face covered in blood, a familiar expression on your face. like you had no remorse for what you had done, the dead bodies in front of you an ordinary occasion. she knew you had potential, and after seeing what you were capable of, she needed you. not just as more manpower for the WLF, but for her, to take care of and nurture. you were perfect in her eyes. the blood sliding down your fingers, pooling underneath your feet. you were beautiful.

you weren't like the others—so quiet and reserved, only showing yourself for abby. you were alone together most of the time, reading the hundreds of books abby had collected, talking about everything and nothing at once. you were closer to her than you were with anyone else, and you liked it that way. you trusted her. she knew that you had always been alone since you got here, and she vowed to stand by you for the rest of her life. you would do the same.

"you know what makes me laugh sometimes?" you whisper, under the moonlight and your blankets. abby mumbles a sleepy, "what?" above you, her bunk making it a little difficult to hear. "you said you wouldn't hesitate to shoot me, remember that?" your laugh is contagious, sweet, it makes abby smile. "yeah, i do. you were looking at me.. weird." that makes you giggle even more, quietly, looking up at the wooden planks holding abby's bed. it felt more intimate this way, knowing she couldn't see you stare. "i wasn't! i was just thinking... if you'd ever use it on me, i mean, i looked a little crazy that day." you hear a hum, a shuffle of sheets and abby's voice. "i would kill for you." your heart skips a beat, in fear or happiness, you don't know, but your question comes out small, gentle. "you mean that?" it's quiet now, you haven't stopped staring up at abby's bunk. you can feel your heart slamming against your chest. "i don't think you know how much i'd do for you."

the next day rolls around as quickly as the night left, abby's words still lingering in your head. you're set to go on patrol with abby and someone else, a man named jordan—much to abby's dismay, owen had forced her to bring another person for the area you'd be running through. it was overrun by runners and a few clickers, dangerous, but you knew with another you'd be able to handle it. you say goodbye to your friends before setting off.

it happens so fast, everything. one minute you had it in control, taking out a few runners and keeping up your quiet steps as everyone progressed. but there were more of them than owen mentioned, more clickers and a fucking bloater—you were too loud, boots crunching piles of glass. you were behind abby all of a sudden, gun clenched in your hands and aiming at the runners dashing towards you. gunshots rang through the air while jordan picked off clickers that got too close, shooting at the bloater inching closer and closer, you could see the fear on his face too. your breaths were coming in too fast, panic filling your chest, looking for an out as quickly as possible. you spot a door not too far from where you stood, the door agape and welcoming. "over here! now!" you yelled as loud as possible, tugging abby towards you and ushering jordan to follow. you're the first to get in, abby behind you, jordan pushing the door closed with everything in him—you come up next to him, shoulder to the wood, pressing against it with your body strength. it's impossible, there's too many and they're forcing it open faster than you're both closing it. abby is just staring, hand on her pistol. "what the fuck, abby? come on! help us-"

you blink, and abby's tugging at your shirt and throwing you to the ground, her hand finding jordan's back and shoving him into the pack of runners, blood curdling screams filling the air, the sound of crunching and blood splattering across the walls. you're screaming too, or you're not, you can't tell anymore—but abby slams the door shut, pushing a metal drawer in front of the door. you can hear the violent pounding of hands against the wood, heavy thumps ringing in your ears. tears are pooling in your eyes. abby turns around, small splashes of blood on her cheeks. you crawl away from her, fear crawling up your body. "why would you do that? we could've.. he could've..."

abby is walking towards you in big steps, kneeling down right next to you. she holds your face in her big hands, warm and unfamiliar. you know the face in front of you, but it doesn't feel like her. your thighs are trembling. "no, he couldn't have, you would've died if i didn't do it—i promise, i've got you, okay? you have me-" you're shaking your head, blinking away tears. "i did what was best for you, okay? you would've died." you shakily inhale, chest rising and falling with your harsh breaths. she's rubbing at your back, pulling you close to her chest and wrapping her arms around you. "i've got you, all you need is me, i promise, i'll keep you safe." your head is buried in abby's neck, your mind spinning with what she had told you last night—"i don't think you know how much i'd do for you."

you thought more about what abby had done when you both got back. spending late nights under your covers wide awake, the person you slept in the same room with had killed someone in front of you, for you—maybe not from shooting them or stabbing them, but she sent him to the most painful death he could’ve had. the disgusting stretch of flesh ripping from his neck, his face, remembering the pool of blood seeping in under the door. it was horrible, scary, and you can’t ever forget it. the screams echoing outside of your safe haven, one you felt you didn’t deserve, while abby wiped you off and made sure you were okay. if you were going to die, then you should have. the world isn’t forgiving. people can’t escape death, it would just come after that. more unrelenting and less merciful than the first. it would come for you, too.

but a part of you felt good, and you’d never admit it, to yourself or anyone else—the fact that abby had cared for you this much, sacrificing someone for your sake, made that part of you that felt so alone, so loved. you were used to fending for yourself. killing others to keep yourself alive, walking aimlessly across empty roads and used to the painful blisters on your feet, anxious that someone would jump out and murder you, so you always kept yourself moving. it was sick, abby was sick, and maybe you were corrupted too. because for the first time ever, you didn’t have to worry. abby proved it, she would keep you safe.

days fly by after that, a burial service for jordan back at home, abby stands next to you the whole time. she watches you closely, makes sure you hadn't told anyone about what happened. she keeps telling you that she did it for you, and that there was no way the both of you could've survived if she didn't do it. "i need you to be safe, okay?" you nod, quiet, not refusing or fighting back. sometimes at night you can feel her sit next to you while you slept, brushing loose hair out of your face. you felt strange every time her fingers touched your skin, burning, a reminder of what those hands had done to another person. you think maybe you’re worse, because you felt cared for. a feeling you haven't had since the world flipped upside down. and so you take it. "i understand abby, thank you." she smiles at you, so lovingly, her hand caressing your face. “i knew you would.”

owen decides to host a little get together for everyone a few weeks later, especially after what had happened, a way to blow off steam and relax. you're sitting next to abby and a few others, drinks in hand and smiles on everyone's faces. you're gulping down your drink when mel suddenly speaks, "you and abby are quite close, huh?" a string of "oooh's" following. abby just huffs, “yeah, we are.” mel nods, “you guys should kiss or something.” your eyes are widening at her words, head whipping toward abby—you don’t know if it’s the alcohol, but her cheeks are flushed, eyes glued to the drink in her hand. everyone else is chanting an immature, "kiss! kiss! kiss!" you can feel your face heating up the more they say it. maybe you should just get it over with, you think, if everyone’s so eager for it. you’re placing your cup down before leaning in, hands around abby’s face. you’re kissing her, a small peck, but abby goes in for more, kissing you deeply—she’s licking at your bottom lip before owen clears his throat, an awkward stare. “guys, maybe you should take it somewhere else.”

you're smiling sheepishly at the others, thankfully everyone else was drunker, off in conversation with someone else to dwell on what happened. you glance back at abby and she's looking at you like you hung the stars, a dopey smile on her face. "should we go?" you're nodding at her, letting her take your hand and off to your room.

abby is pushing you into your shared room, pushing you up against the door. she's kissing you hungrily, tongue swiping against your lips—you're moaning in her mouth at the wet muscle gliding along your own, hands gripping at abby's biceps. her hands move to your chest, smoothing over your tits. "tell me you need me, say it." she's out of breath, her mouth moving down to your neck, biting and licking. "i need you, abby." she groans at your words, your sweet voice so pretty in her ears. she pulls your shirt over your head, pushing up your bra and latching onto your nipple, licking circles around the bud. “abby! ah,” you feel so warm, so alive from the attention abby is giving your body, worshipping you like a god. she licks down all the way to your stomach, kneeling down in front of you, tugging off your pants. she stares at you for a minute, looking up at your face. your eyes are closed, a little embarrassed by how bare you are compared to her being fully clothed.

“you don’t have to be embarrassed, you’re perfect, look at you.”

abby’s rubbing your thighs gently, pressing kisses all over them. she mutters a “so beautiful,” against your skin, moving to your cunt. abby pulls your panties to the side, tongue finding your slick folds. she’s licking and pressing kisses all over you, her warm wet mouth sending shivers down your spine—it feels so good, her hands, her lips against your heat, you could bathe in this feeling forever. “i’m the only one who’s ever going to make you feel like this, you hear me?” the vibration of her voice makes you twitch, nodding eagerly. “yes, abby, just you—ah, please!” she’s smiling, tongue abusing your clit. she flicks it up and down, fingers coming to rub at your gushing hole. you can’t stop moaning, it’s too much, and abby doesn’t show any signs of stopping soon. she’s licking messily, making sure to coat you in her, claiming you as hers. your vision goes blurry when you come, so sudden, a violent shiver at your release. you’re screaming her name when she comes back up, kissing you again and again, tasting yourself on her tongue.

“i’m not done with you yet, i promise.”

[outtathisworld-imagines]

Fine line

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Pairing: Bob Reynolds x F!Reader

Warning: As much angst as there is fluff, mentions of needles/ medical environment, depression. Not proofread

A.N: Still very much holding sweet Bob in my heart 🥹🫶🏻 I feel like ‘Fine Line’ -which I recommend listening to while reading- was such a fitting song for this concept of Bob and the reader.

Lyrics are in bold italic!

Please let me know what else you guys would like! I do have a few other fics on the back-burner (for now!) that I'll start to post soon and just let me know if you'd liked to be tagged in further works too ✨

——☀️——☀️——☀️——☀️——☀️——

Put a price on emotion

I'm looking for something to buy

Bob mindlessly wandered the streets, smiling to himself seeing the brightly coloured souvenirs, the bustling streets and the noise that came with it. It’s the first time he can remember smiling in weeks.

Leaving home, trying to find himself and survive through his own bitter struggles, was a challenge to say the least.

That challenge was suddenly accepted by a smartly dressed man who handed him a business card telling him it would change his life. Bob had nothing left to lose, so believed him.

He sat in a cold, harsh, clinical room with others. He looked up, directly across to bouncing knees and a worried expression. He moved and sat beside the person riddled with as many nerves as he was.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“I don’t really know.” You replied. “I don’t usually get myself into things like this. I don’t really even know what I’ve signed up for!” You let a nervous laugh escape your lips.

“That’s alright, I’m in the same boat as you.” He admitted. “I’m Bob.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N.”

You shook hands and then the group was called into a room full of perfectly symmetrical beds and a vial of neon yellow liquid. You stayed next to Bob, even asking if you could hold his hand because you couldn’t bear the sight of the needle being brought to your arm. He sent you a soft smile, reaching across for your free hand and letting you tightly squeeze it as hard as you needed too.

Then for the two of you, everything went dark.

You've got my devotion

But man, I can hate you sometimes

Bob woke up in a bright room, his head throbbing and his limbs aching. He didn’t know how long he was out for this time and hated himself for it. Every time he was injected he would blackout, unaware of what was happening to him and his world.

He hated that, almost the same as he hated himself most days.

He did have one constant. Someone who made the days bearable. Someone who made the hate towards himself disappear whenever he saw the smile on your face.

A smile solely for him.

He helped you through the torment of being injected with the neon yellow liquid.

You helped him laugh again.

The two of you formed a close bond within the confines of the lab masked as a hospital ward, especially as the number of people dwindled down. You assumed the worst. You were told they withdrew. But you still had Bob.

“It was always my goal in life to have as much confidence as the ‘Florida man’ you see on the articles.” You told him one night, late after dinner when it was just the two of you in the soulless shared space they had made for you all to ‘relax’. You brought his long forgotten State into the conversation.

He laughed so much he cried, you could singlehandedly bring soul to that soulless room. He let out a relaxed sigh and let his hand fall to the void between your leg and his own, he looked down and saw his pinky involuntary stroke your thigh. You felt it before you saw it, subtly moving your own and intertwining your pinky with his.

In that very moment, Bob felt every painful thing he held inside of him disappear.

I don't want to fight you

And I don't wanna sleep in the dirt

As the weeks went on, the less people there were. There became a point where you and Bob just reached out for one another instead of asking or offering when they rolled around with the neon yellow serum. Despite the fact you got it daily, you still weren’t used to the poking and prodding of the needle. “Do you actually know what this is really for.” You asked one of the nurses who took your arm.

They remained silent and you turned your head to Bob “They can’t tell us, Bob.” You said with a mischievous smile. “They must be making us into superhero’s or somethi- AH!” With a wince you gripped onto his hand tighter feeling the sharp pinch in your arm before the world went dark.

“You okay?” A voice in the darkness. It was Bob. You were lying on his lap as you came to. You tried to move but he held you down, insisting you rested. You complied and looked over to the empty room, the soulless space that now only held two hearts.

“Where is everyone?” You asked.

“Gone,” replied Bob. “Just me and you.” He took your hand, squeezing it hard like you had done on the first day. “Please don’t go.” He begged in a pleading tone.

You squeezed his hand back “I’ll always be here for you.”

We'll get the drinks in

So I'll get to thinking of her

Your body became weaker by the day, Bob could tell. However, he felt much the same. It was tedious and exhausting being a human Guinea pig and most days you were the only thing that kept his strength up.

A call in another room, unbeknownst to the both of you, would be a catalyst for something the world was never going to be ready for.

“Two remain.” A stoic, monotonous voice droned to the person at the end of the other line. “Both doing well. Both showing good signs of responding to the serum. Both very close to one another.”

A pause.

“I wonder what would happen if we separated them?”

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

“Congratulations.” One of the nurses approached you both one late afternoon as you and Bob were chatting. “You have both successfully completed your testing.”

You and Bob shared a brief, puzzled glance. “I don’t know if I feel any different?” You said your thought aloud.

“Me too,” Bob chimed in. “How can you tell?”

The nurse avoided the question “There is a meal being prepared for you both, it will give you all the vitamins and nutrients you’ll need to sustain you. The day after tomorrow is when you’ll be able to leave, after some further testing of course.”

You both looked at each other with a smile and shared a hug, Bob would have done a lot more of the nurse wasn’t standing in front of you.

“You did it!” You squeaked, hugging him again “I knew you would. I’m so proud of you, Bob.” Your lips were by his ear which meant you didn’t see the tear of joy slip down his cheek at your words.

That someone in the world was proud of him.

And that you kept your own- you were still there for him.

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

“If I didn’t knew any better, this would be a date. But with hospital scrubs…” Bob joked from across the candlelit table as you were served dinner, tugging on the attire.

You raised an eyebrow “Are you suggesting we wear less clothes…?” You playfully retorted, causing him to choke on his water.

Bob nervously laughed “Sadly I think there’s too many cameras for that.” You both shared a giggle.

“Maybe if there was a lot less eyes on us, huh,” you spoke under your breath but he could hear you clearly. Tension suddenly flooded the room, as if the truth was sitting at the invisible chair at the table.

“Maybe, once we get out of here,” Bob nervously toyed with his napkin “Just maybe we could…”

“Take on the world?” You said with a smile, you could tell he was nervously searching for the right words. You reached across and held his hand, just as he had held yours throughout the god knows how long you had both been there. “Just maybe I think we could. And maybe with less hospital scrubs.”

After dinner you both walked back to your rooms, your routine tomorrow would be a different one. Neither of you knowing if it would be good or bad, but knowing you’d still have each other which was enough to face whatever they would throw at you.

“Well…” Bob stopped at your room door. “Goodnight Y/N.” He stayed there for a moment, his lingering made you smile. Then he leaned forward and quickly pecked you on the cheek.

He wondered if he had crossed the fine line that he mentally drew. That you weren’t ready to cross it into something more. Something more with him. Nerves bubbled in his stomach until you spoke up.

“You missed.” Quietly and with conviction. Bob raised a brow in silent question. “I said…” you leaned forward, capturing his lips with your own. “You missed.”

Pulling back, you saw his grin spreading across his whole face.

“Goodnight, Bob. See you in the morning.” You disappeared into your room.

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

Bob sat on the bed as someone took his blood pressure and someone took notes. “Uh, is Y/N going to be here anytime soon?” He said looking to the tray of medical instruments, one of them being a needle and a vial to draw blood. “Only because she really hates needles and needs me to hold her hand.”

The two in the room shared a glance. The one with the board placing it down and looking at him empathetically, not quite sympathetically.

“I’m sorry, Mr Reynolds.” They began and Bobs stomach dropped, lorn seeping into his veins. “Miss Y/L/N unfortunately don’t make it through this process. She became very unwell and-“

“No…” Bob choked out, barely above a whisper.

“She didn’t-“

“No!” Bob began to break down, his now bright heart- thanks to you shining on it- suddenly became dark.

“We tried-“

“NO!”

With a scream his world collapsed into nothing but darkness. The light of his life was gone and his whole world plunged into nothing but a void.

Test of my patience

There's things that we'll never know

Bob didn’t know how much time had passed.

How much time he lost.

He didn’t know what on Earth was happening in the world, or when it came to him.

He didn’t want to know.

As far as he was concerned, the only thing that was worth living for in this world was gone.

He let them test away, always looking over for a hand to hold.

One that wasn’t there anymore.

One day he was given a clear serum. His eyes closed over and he saw nothing but darkness. That was until he fell from a box into a room full of fighting people. They stood looking at him in hospital scrubs, his foggy memory didn’t help anyone either.

That was until the sun shone on him once again.

“B-Bob…?”

That voice.

He wondered if he had died and that’s why he was hearing it. “Is that really you?”

There you were. Standing in hospital scrubs with glossy eyes.

“Y/N? B-but how?!” He ran over to you, scooping you up in his arms.

“I don’t think we have time for a reunion!” A man with a shield chided the pair of you as he and two others frantically searched for an exit. You saw a body on the floor and knew better than to question it.

“They told me you didn’t make it.” You gripped onto him tightly, still not believing that he was in front of you. Bob pulled back, hazily remembering they had told him the same.

“Let’s just get out of here. We can chit chat later!” A girl with blonde hair ushered you both hurriedly before the room was set alight. All of you narrowly escaping.

Bobs hand remained holding yours.

When you all made it out and to the van, they pushed you and Bob in the back. He gripped your wrists with tears welling in his eyes at the sight of you again. But with the trouble you had all suddenly had found themselves in, he knew he had to keep you safe one more time.

And that meant letting your hand go.

You sunshine, you temptress

My hand's at risk, I fold

Your lungs burned from how loud you screamed, begging him not to go. Not wanting to lose him for a second time, not when you had just gotten him back.

He selflessly risked it all for you and the group of three mysterious people he had just met.

The one you came to know as Ava, held you in her arms as you all drove away.

Your eyes spilling so many tears, you didn’t see Bobs potential. What had happened to him from that neon yellow serum.

You weren’t around to hear Valentina ask what you both could do. What her band of nurses and doctors unlocked within you both.

“Night and day.” She was told. “He is the night and she is the day.”

Crisp trepidation

I'll try to shake this soon

When you reached the Watchtower, seeing Valentina, she sent you a smile that made you ill. Like she knew more about you than you did yourself.

You felt since briefly reuniting and then losing Bob again, being bound by another person called Bucky, which you later realised was the Winter Soldier, and now with a group of newfound allies surrounding the woman responsible for your unknown length of torment- was something almost as emotionally nerving as you being tested on. “You my dear, are just so special.” She said pointing to you. “Just as special as Robert…” she motioned to the stairs and your jaw dropped and your eyes widened at the very different (and suddenly blonde) Bob.

A far cry of who you knew.

“I made you both special.” She proudly admitted. “Meet Sentry. He’s going to ensure the security of this world. All powerful. Just like you.”

You felt the eyes of the team surrounding you suddenly lock on to your figure. “What are you talking about?” You asked.

She chuckled “You don’t remember? You burned brighter than the sun at one point.” You blinked, blithely unaware of her claims.

“Enough of this,” Bucky muttered and in a blink of an eye, Bob protected Valentina. You felt your body float before crashing against the wall, you couldn’t find the strength to pick yourself up again and fell to the floor, dipping in and out of consciousness. Rubble falling in front of you and trapping you there.

It was only when they were in the elevator after being tossed, punched and beaten, did Yelena yelp out.

“Where’s Y/N?!”

Spreading you open

Is the only way of knowing you

“Bob, stop,” you summoned enough strength to quietly beg from your trapped corner as he had Valentina against the wall.

That was until a woman walked in and pressed a button, making him fall to the floor with a sudden thud.

“No,” you sobbed. “Please not again.” The sunlight quickly dried your tears into your cheeks. Your fingertips tingling with an unknown feeling before you blinked and saw a shadow of what was once your hand-holder lying lifeless on the floor.

Your eyes opened and closed frantically, you saw sparks flash with each blink.

That was before you saw Bob again. In what looked like a well-lived in bedroom. “Is this real?” You asked, now able to walk and looking down at your suddenly unscathed body.

“Yes. No? I don’t really know.” He admitted. “But I’d like it of you held my hand.” You sat down next to him and did just that.

“Did you die…?” You asked with a trembling voice and a tear slipping from your eye.

Bob pursed his lips “After I was told you were gone back in the lab, I became a shadow of myself. I became a void.” He told you. “It’s always been there. I got even more alone after you were ripped from me and it took advantage of that.”

“Valentina was right,” you quietly spoke and your head hung in shame. “I remember. When I was told about you, I burst. Like a supernova. I let out so much light it burned everyone and everything that surrounded me.”

Bob let out a dry, humourless grunt under his breath, one that made your features quip.

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

“We are much the opposite.” He said.

“The star the night sky, I guess you could say.” You solidified his choice of words.

His hand squeezed around yours.

That’s when it clicked for you.

“You have to let go of my hand.” You told him. As much as you didn’t want to. But you knew what you needed to do.

“I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to let you go”. He pleaded with you, holding onto you tighter.

You sent him a smile in order to reassure his worry. For a moment it eased him.

“Okay.” You said and leaned forward, taking you both by surprise when you kissed him. Bob melted against your lips with a smile.

He didn’t feel your hand slip from his.

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

You opened your eyes, clutching your chest and gasping at the burning feeling brewing inside your body.

Glancing up from your corner, now enveloped in darkness, you saw a figure with glowing eyes hovering above the city.

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

You felt a newfound strength, your body suddenly glowing and floating above the floor.

It was time to show the world, and the void that had his clutches on Bob, just how bright you could shine.

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

You floated through the air and firmly remained in your spot seeing the darkness that consumed him.

“You got out.” It sounded confused.

“I just had to hold your hand.” You confessed.

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

It tried to push you away, mustering as much power as it could to dim your brightness.

But it couldn’t

You reached your hand out and burned brighter than the sun and the stars in the sky.

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

“You won’t take him from me again.” You yelled, burning brighter and gripped onto its hand tightly before wrapping it up in your arms. “We are going to take on the world.” You said.

“What makes you so sure?” The darkness tried to fight you.

But you outshone it.

“Because I said I’ll always be there for him.”

We'll be alright

Your eyes opened, the blue sky almost blinding you.

You felt a weight in your hand and turned your head.

Bob was lying there. Your Bob. Looking at you with his hand in yours.

“Thanks for holding my hand.”

You let out a broken laugh at his words and rolled over, pressing a kiss to his mouth as the world filled with light and the shadows were casted away.

We'll be alright

Since that day, the two of you were inseparable.

The team helped you both control your powers and embraced you both with open arms.

And most importantly, you always had a hand to hold and Bob always had someone there for him.

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

It was when he was holding your hand that he finally asked you to be his girlfriend.

The moment you said yes, you could hear the team cheer for you both.

We'll be alright (alright, alright, alright)

He held your hand through your sleepless nights.

He held your hand each time you shone like he had his own personal sun.

He held your hand when he made love to you.

He held your hand when you were scared.

He held your hand when you laughed.

He held your hand when you cried.

We'll be alright

Bob loved having your head resting on his lap, almost as much as he loved holding your hand. He gently caressed your cheek, trying to calm his nerves. It was his idea to have a picnic one summer afternoon. You enjoyed the warmth of the sun on your skin, and the smell of the wildflowers that surrounded you both, and the sound of the birds in the sky.

“Are you okay?” You asked, worry laced in your voice, noticing he wasn’t being himself.

“We’ve been together for a while now, huh?” He softly smiled and you needed in agreement, sitting up and crossing your legs.

“We have, we’ve certainly taken on the world- just like we said we would.”

“And then some.” Bob added, twiddling his fingers.

“Hand in hand,” you took his fidgeting fingers in your own.

That was before he pulled back, reaching into his pocket for something he had kept well hidden for months and propping himself up on one knee.

We'll be alright

“Will you take my hand again, but this time in marriage?”

[nohoperadio]

In the early days, or really the first couple years, of my current job, I was kind of in awe of the fact that I was actively pleased to be there--zero clock-watching instincts, the days passed quickly, the work engaged my attention and felt worth doing even when it was stressful, I didn't even really look forward to my days off. I didn't have any sense that I was being forced to burn hours from my "real life" as a necessary evil to make a living. Work was a part of my real life and I was happy with that, I was even happy with it being a large part of my real life, I was happy with it being the largest part. (For those of you who aren't caught up on my lore, I'm describing a high street retail job that pays very slightly more than minimum wage.) I was in awe because nothing in my personal experience up to that point had made this kind of emotional relationship to a day job feel plausible or even really thinkable. It gave me a feeling that I imagine to be the feeling of cheating death. Everyone else is forced to give up those dozens of hours a week, it's a hole in their life; when I give those same hours they are simply given right back to me. I'd found some strange loophole where I can pay the full price while somehow losing nothing.

It doesn't feel like that anymore. It's still the best job I've had (not an impressive statement in context but a true one), it's still relatively enjoyable and pleasant and I'm still grateful to have it, but it now has much more the character of an obstacle that stands in the way of what I actually want to do with my time, the loophole has been closed, working is something separate from living again, everything is back to how it should be. I could list things that have changed for the worse in my workplace over the years that go a long way to explaining why my feelings changed, though I won't do that because it would be boring.

There's another thing though, which I should probably think of as the most obvious contributing factor although I never really do, and I started writing this post to try to lodge it in my mind a little better. Which is that for the first year and a half of this job I was coming home to a relationship that was really really bad. We spent our entire home lives trying to ignore the fact that we didn't like each other and couldn't ever possibly fail to make each other miserable and every couple weeks breaking out into quite pathetic melodramatic arguments wherein we'd pretend that there might be anything worth doing about this situation besides the obvious. Then that relationship ended and now here we are. It's not actually remotely surprising that the half of my life that involved doing structured achievable tasks in the company of people who were mostly pleasant and kind felt solid and fulfilling when the other half was suffused with anxiety and conflict and bitterness and frankly a profound and bleak and horrifying boredom. No particular explanation is needed for why I didn't spend my work days counting down the hours until I get to go home, and no particular explanation is needed for why I kind of do do that now. I genuinely thought at the time that I'd lucked into some magical thing where the work itself was innately life-giving, when any idiot could have looked at the situation and told me...

Anyway, the practical takeaway from all this is: if you wish you had a more fulfilling job but don't know how to get one, consider simply making the rest of your life horrible.

[woongelaatin]

BABY K.W

Pairing: Woonhak x reader

Synopsis: when some magical phenomenon happens and Woonhak turns into... A baby?

Genre: Fluff (mostly at the end), friends to lovers, this whole thing is so stupid istg, it's chaotic and stupid please

Word count: 2.4k

Note: Baby Woonhak is so cute I wanna bite him🥀 (also I didn't know what kind of food the magical thing is so I just referred to it as 'food' or 'thing' lmao)

SHORT KINGG 💪: Y/n, you have experience with taking care of babies right?

You: yeah why?

SHORT KINGG 💪: We have a baby here, can you help us?

You: Yeah that's no problem, where are you?

SHORT KINGG 💪: In Jaehyuns, PLEASE COME FAST!!

You: okay damn calm your tits or whatever..

You arrive a few minutes later, not even bothering to knock, knowing you're welcome here. Going in the living room, you see everyone except Woonhak, but there is a baby, who looks so much like him. "What's going on? Where's Woonhak?"

Everyone froze, and only Sungho was able to say anything. "Well, He is here..." and he proceeds to point at the baby on Jaehyuns arms. You blinked, then start laughing. "Okay yeah you're funny! You got me, Woonhak get out!" Everyone was silent, looking at anything but you, which made you stop, knowing they were serious. "...That's actually Woonhak?" they all nod in unison.

"You're actually being serious! I mean, what even happened!?"

"JAEHYUN GET AWAY YOU'RE BLOCKING MY WAY!"

"I'M NOT? YOU MADE ME MISS THE SHOT."

Woonhak and Jaehyun continue bickering about the game, when Leehan comes in with something glowing in his hand. "Guys check this out, I found it while buying fish food, it's really weird." the other two on the couch look at Leehan with confused faces, then look at the glowing thing in his hand. Jaehyun then proceeds to read the label. "'Don't eat or you'll become a baby', Leehan, how did you even buy this?" Leehan shrugs. "I don't know, but when I took it to checkout, the cashier just looked at me weirdly and scanned it, then got surprised when it did scan. It's just really weird and funny so I bought it."

They decided not to think about it too much and got back to playing with Leehan sitting next to Woonhak now. They decided to invite Sungho, Taesan and Riwoo, and now the really loud apartment became more louder.

Everyone is in the living room, still playing games. For a while it was fun, but as time passes, it is getting boring. "Should we have some kind of punishment if one of us loses?" Taesan suddenly announces, which made everyone else agree to the idea. "But what's the punishment?" Riwoo asks. "You know, Leehan actually bought this weird thing, that should work." Woonhak suggested, and everyone agreed (wow some stupid idiots ig).

They play two rounds, the first round being Sungho, Jaehyun, and Leehan. While the second round was Taesan, Riwoo, and Woonhak. Both Jaehyun and Woonhak lost so they played another round.

Woonhak was so, so close. He almost won, if he didn't run out of ammo, so obviously Jaehyun won. "I'M NOT DYING!" Jaehyun shouts, while the other groans. "Do I have to eat it?" Taesan pats his shoulder. "You were the one who suggested it, too bad."

They all go to the kitchen, where the weird food is. Leehan takes it out and hands it to Woonhak. "Go on, eat." Woonhak opens the bag and took a piece, and it was...Purple. "Oh this isn't safe at all.." Sungho mutters but it didn't stop Woonhak. He took a bite of it and it was surprisingly good. "Oh, it's actually good, the flavour is almost like those vegetable chips."

It's getting late, so decide to stop playing. The others already went home while Jaehyun, Leehan, and Woonhak (obviously) stayed and clean up. Before going to bed though, Woonhak asked the older guys to stay with him for a bit to see if something happens. "Woonhak, you're fine and nothings happening to you. We should just go to sleep." Leehan groans.

"Okay fine! I'm going to sleep.." Woonhak stands up and goes to the front of his door. "Goodnight guys." and he went inside. The other two went to their own rooms and finally the day was done.

Jaehyun wakes up to a cry...wait what? He goes out of his room and look around, trying to find where the noise is. The noise leads him to Woonhak's room. "What the...Woonhak?" he knocks on the door, waiting for Woonhak to open the door. He was getting impatient and opens the door to go inside, what he expected was Woonhak still sleeping...but there's a baby..? "Uhm... Woonhak!" Jaehyun shouts, thinking that Woonhak might be in the living room. "Woonhak come here!" suddenly the baby starts crying, and Jaehyun immediately carries the baby. "Shh..." he coddles the baby, trying to get him? Her? To calm down. Leehan walks across Woonhak's room and saw Jaehyun with a baby. "Hyung? Why do you have a baby with you?"

"I don't know! I went here and the baby was already here! Have you seen Woonhak?" Leehan shrugs. "I haven't, should I look for him?" Jaehyun nods and Leehan went to find him. He came back not long after, since the apartment wasn't that big. "Hyung, he might be out." Jaehyun lays the baby down after finally making him calm down. He took a look at the baby, who oddly looks like Woonhak. "Yo Leehan, don't you think this baby looks like Woonhak?" Leehan goes up close to the baby, taking a look. "Oh yeah, he does." Jaehyun slaps his shoulder. "Hey, don't assume the gender."

"He looks like a boy though, should we check?" Jaehyun nods, and soon find out that yes, it was a boy. "Okay yeah you're right, but isn't it weird...Woonhak isn't around, and there's a baby that looks like him, OH MY GOD LEEHAN THAT THING HE ATE LAST NIGHT!" They both ran to the kitchen, finding the small bag, and saw the packaging. "Oh right...I thought it was just for jokes, did it actually turn Woonhak into a baby?" "I guess so..." they read everything in the packaging, to see if they can do anything to turn him back. "'You turn back into your original self in a day', okay that's good... But, he's still a baby, We should call the others to help us take care of him."

They called the others, saying it was an emergency. Not even 5 minutes later, they hear the door opening.

"What happened!?"

"Is Woonhak okay?"

"Does he need me to feed him?"

"Okay Taesan that's funny."

"Guys calm down, uh so, we think that Woonhak turned into a baby."....silence. Until Sungho started laughing, Riwoo looks away, definitely giggling, and Taesan just looks that the other two weirdly. "No We're being serious! Look!" Jaehyun points at the baby on Leehans arms, who looks so much like Woonhak. "Wait what? I mean, that's physically impossible, did he eat something?" Sungho raises his eyebrow. "Actually yeah, remember last night?" then, everyone was quiet again. "Oh...so it's serious..."

They all sat on the couch looking at baby Woonhak, who's sleeping. "I thought he'd be an ugly baby." Taesan mumbles, and Sungho slaps his shoulder. "What do we do now?" Jaehyun asks, then Riwoo remembered something. "I should message Y/n, I think she can help us."

"...That's so stupid."

"I know, but please help us."

"Why would I say no?"

And there started chaos. Taking care of Woonhak isn't really easy. He moves a lot, eats a lot, and poops a lot. It got to a point where everyone is amused but also disgusted by it. The baby also has a favourite amongst them and it was clear that it was you. The best part about taking care of him was that he's a really really cute baby. He coos and laughs easily, and he's easy to feed, at least for you.

"Guys, I don't think he likes this..." Sungho points out. It was his turn to feed Woonhak, but he wasn't budging. While Sungho tries feeding him again, he yanks the spoon and it spills everywhere, including Sungho's shirt. "Sungho you suck at this." Y/n ushers him to stand up. "I'll do it, you should wash up." the moment you sat down, Woonhak giggles.

"Oh? Do you like me the best? Of course you do, I'm your best friend, now open wide, here comes the airplane!" you take a spoonful of food and slowly put it on his mouth, and he opens his mouth. "See, I told you guys, he likes me better!" you look at everyone behind who are observing you and Woonhak. "You used to babysit in high school, of course you know how to interact with kids more." Jaehyun points out. "But still!"

Everyone took a picture of Woonhak, some wanting to keep it as memories and some wanting it for future blackmail purposes. Taking care of Woonhak basically showed who was capable of taking care of a baby, it was mostly you but Jaehyun and Surprisingly Taesan were good with the baby.

Woonhak was sitting on the floor, being surrounded by everyone. Suddenly, he starts crawling. "Yo look at him! He's so cute like that, take a picture Leehan quick!" you shake Leehan, rushing him to take out his phone. "I won't be able to get my phone if you keep shaking me y/n!"

Everyone's camera roll (mostly Jaehyuns) is now filled with pictures of Woonhak. Sitting, standing while using the couch to hold himself, there's even one of him on the bathroom while they gave him a bath.

It's getting late, so the others went home after having dinner, now it was only You, Leehan, Jaehyun, and the baby. "Y/n, you don't have to stay here you know? I think we can handle him." You shake your head. "Jaehyun, it's fine, I just want to make sure, I'm a bit worried, I'll tuck him to sleep then leave."

"Why don't you just stay for the night? It might take you long to get him to sleep." Leehan walks out of the kitchen and goes to the living room where you and Jaehyun are sitting. "Is that okay? What if Woonhak doesn't like that?" the other two look at each other, and back at you. "It's Woonhak, he wouldn't mind at all, heck he definitely would like it if you stayed." You gave them a confused look. "...okay, I'll stay."

You talk to Leehan and Jaehyun for a while, mostly laughing about the situation. Soon, they both go to their own rooms and you went to Woonhak's, setting him down and making sure he's comfortable. He coos and giggles while you try to get him to sleep. It took time, but he finally drifts off to sleep. "Goodnight Woonhak, I love you." you whisper, looking at the baby peacefully sleeping, knowing that this is the same person you've been in love with since high school.

"You know, even if you're not a baby, you're still cute. What do i do with you.." your throat feels sore, so you stand up and leave the room, going to the kitchen to take a glass of water. You saw Jaehyun infront of the open fridge, getting a glass of water." "You're still awake?" you question him. "You're also awake." he points at you while drinking the water. You get your own glass and pour water in it. As you're about to take a sip, Jaehyun suddenly starts talking. "I'm not supposed to say this but, Woonhak really likes you." you choke on your water, which worries Jaehyun. "Are you okay?" you look up at him with a shocked expression. "you just had to say that as was about to take a sip, didn't you?" Jaehyun gives you an awkward smile. And in turn you glare at him.

"Sorry, but I'm being serious. He's been pining on you for years! He's inlove with you. He just never had the courage to ask you out. And I'm getting sick of it, everyone is getting sick of it. So you know, I'm giving him a little push, also I'm certain you also like him, your eyes sparkle when you talk to him like he's the most interesting person." you stay silent, all this time you thought you weren't being obvious, but clearly not.

"Okay yeah I do like him too, maybe that's why I worry about him more than I should." Jaehyun pats your shoulder. "You should tell him, well after he goes back from being a baby."

"Okay."

After you clean your glass, you went back to Woonhak's room. You lay next to Woonhak, who was still a baby. It feels weird, but he's a baby, he's not the Woonhak you like. You find a comfortable position and slowly drift of to sleep.

You wake up with arms wrapped around you. Slowly, you open your eyes, and you're met with a sleeping Woonhak, who pulls you closer. He's finally back. You stay in his arms, admiring him. He wakes up soon after, and realises that you're next to him. He freaks out and moves away, which makes you laugh.

"Y/n! Why are you here!? What happened?" You shrug. "I don't know, maybe you turned into a baby because of that thing you ate and we had to take care of you, you should thank me, I stayed here to get you to sleep." Woonhak sighs, and lays down again. "Wait.. I turned into a baby?" he sits up again, with a confused look on his face. "Yeah..."

"What the fuck."

"I know."

He lays down again, and this time you join him. You lay for a few minutes in silence, but your mind keeps thinking about what Jaehyun told you. "Woonhak... Are you keeping something you're not telling me?" he looks at your direction, his eyes wide. "Uhm.. No. What are you talking about.."

"I know you like me." he sat up and looks at you, looking panicked. "Yeah, I do, Since high school. Look, you don't have to like me back, it's fine I won't cry about it or anythi-" You cut him off with your own confession. "Woonhak stop rambling, I like you too you idiot." he stops talking and for a moment he stayed still but slowly a smile crept up to his face. "wait really?" you only nod and open your arms. He moves closer and hugs you.

"I've been waiting for this, I love you, Y/n."

"I love you too.."

You walk out with him from his room, hands intertwined, and you notice everyone in the kitchen. "What's going on?"

"WHY IS THERE A BANNER THAT SAYS 'CONGRATULATIONS'!?"

"We're celebrating because you finally decided not to be a pussy and confess." Riwoo jokes, which make everyone laugh. "Woonhak you should eat those again I like you better as a baby." Jaehyun pouts while Sungho slaps his shoulder. "We should eat now, we made breakfast." Everyone takes their own seat, and Woonhak sits next to you. You eat, talk, and laugh with everyone, while Woonhak holds your hand, squeezing it. You look at him with a smile and he looks away blushing.

[lastofthewardens]

i know hearing the same interview responses over and over is getting annoying, so i don't blame anyone for being upset about hearing it another time because it's discouraging.

but i just wanted to give an alternate take on that answer about foggy that i think is a little unique because of my position.

for context, i personally don't think foggy is coming back. my nuanced feeling is that i'm like 90/10 on the issue because i said i'd stop letting myself get baited if vanessa explicitly wanted foggy dead, and i drew my line in the sand there.

so my interpretation of a lot of different things coming from this team is usually pretty uncharitable and i honestly feel like many things being said are rooted in baiting angry fans into watching s2 hoping he'll be back.

but if you're a foggy is alive truther or just someone who isn't being as cynical about this as me, i don't think this answer today is really anything to worry about.

charlie's been saying this exact same quote about foggy's death for months. i've noticed a pattern almost every time where he seems to talk genuinely about foggy and then segues into what is clearly a coached answer that he's "allowed" to say. because when he talks about his own personal feelings, it changes and varies, and he's made it clear multiple times through words and emotion that he doesn't agree with the decision, sometimes much more openly than i ever would've expected an actor to do.

then after, when he segues into what i believe to be coached PR answers, these quotes about 'starting off with a bang' and 'no one feeling safe' are all worded and phrased exactly the same. i think these are things he's told to say. i remember there was even one interview where someone else cut in because he kept talking about how much they were losing out on by not having foggy, and they interrupted him to be like 'but also we get lots of new stuff!' lmao.

i think if we're going to take anything away from this, it should be the fact that charlie notably said some fans are rightfully angry, and this was before he segued into those PR answers.

if you're like me, that's pretty validating in my opinion. he's made it as clear as he can without getting in trouble that he doesn't agree with the decision, and he's now telling the fans they're valid for being upset. i don't really think he could say more than that even if he wanted to, and he's said more validating things than anyone else involved besides elden. it also means that they're seeing the fans' anger, which surprised me considering how much people try to shout down disappointed fans. they're seeing it, we know for sure now, and this is why it's so important you guys keep talking and keep asking for foggy.

and if you're a foggy is alive truther, this is actually even a good thing. because it's clear to me that nobody is allowed to talk about foggy for whatever reason. even elden hasn't really been able to talk about it much beyond that he felt bad for fans and that he's grateful for the love and that he loves foggy. my take is that the people who make these decisions about what they can and can't talk about are baiting to make angry fans watch s2, and maybe also hoping the less they talk about it the backlash will go away, but in a world where the 10% of the 90/10 comes to pass, it could just as easily be that they can't 'spoil it' like they claimed in that one interview.

but yeah, i mean. this is a nothing answer really. it didn't make me feel better or worse. it just sort of made me feel a little annoyed that they won't talk about it further.

but most importantly, everyone telling you you're not valid for being upset or angry is wrong, and you can point them to charlie's answer next time they try to shout you down.

[enygma-and-crow-show]

Hello everyone! I'm sure this has probably been mentioned or talked about before, but I have something I want to say about the irony of Rouges! The Podcast's Edward Nygma and a comment he made on a very specific ask and how it is hilarious to me that his very response to it is him somehow predicting the downfall of his and Jon's friendship. (I know it's probably a coincidence but who cares. Also i have yet to listen to the latest ep of Rouges, pls dont spoil it for me!)

Now which episode might I be talking about? To be specific, Rouges! The Podcast, Season Two, Episode 7: Weakness as a Trait. This is how the episode starts (thanks Codot for uploading a transcript to RSS):

"Jordenmendes says: I need your opinion on this one. What’s a trait someone could have that could make them weak? Now don’t just say stupidity, ignorance, or something of that sort. Really think about it. What’s a trait that could only day become a weakness for someone?"

Of course Edward gets annoyed at the user for assuming his answer and proceedings to tell to never tell him what to do. Then he says this:

"– one trait immediately leapt to mind. Two actually, but the second was pride, and I decided to leave deadly sins for another day. No, my dear listeners – this trait is far more tragic. Loyalty. There is nothing so crippling and pathetic as loyalty. What brings the painfully predictable Boy Blunder to his precious Dark Knight, despite the incredible risks?" He of course goes on about Harley and Joker, Echo and Query, etc. This brings me to my point.

Edward himself says that loyalty is a weakness, and yet, here in season seven, we find that his loyalty is the very thing that has him desperately trying to keep Jon around. I mean, the man whent to pull Jonathan out of that barn down in Georgia! I know Oswald order him to, but this is Edward. He couldn't just sent someone else to do it, but his loyalty and his trust in Jonathan as a friend made him go. He let his guilt build up all the way down to Georgia and back up because he didn't want to lose Jonathan! I mean, hell! Edward took care of Jonathan's bird during the whole Valentino arc! If that isn't loyalty to a friend, I don't know what is.

If only Edward could look at his past self and hear himself say "The fact is, loyalty will inevitably lead to your downfall." Imagine him hearing his own self say that with a sense of arrogance he doesn't dare to use on a subject such as this anymore because he knows it's true for himself now. He said it to us viewers and now he has fallen to the very weakness he mocked so long ago! There is a sweet sense of irony in it.

Crazy how this two minute episode launched an entire 7 paragraph essay rant about loyalty and the irony of it...

[I'd also like to put a special mention to one of my favorites from this show; Waylon. Edward literally won a trivia night at a bar in Metropolis so that he could get Waylon a shirt!]

[torturedbrat]

— 2nd Chapter: Not over you.

"I can't escape, I can't erase you."

★ Fem!reader x Bill Kaulitz 2016.

★ Tags: Angst, fluff.

| Summary: Bill gets back to his roots; he leaves the city in which he had fallen in love for the first time, trying to forget his now ex-girlfriend—But soon he understands he's not over her yet.

• Bill narrates;

I've left California—moved away from what I've loved most in my life... the excuse? that I did it just for her, to not dig in the wound any further. In reality? I did it to get away of it all, exactly as selfish as it sounds.

I try and search for a meaning, for something that would keep me alive through this insanity, but when I close my eyes she's all I see.

I wish I could lose my other me; this has really messed me up this time.

While I was saying my last goodbye to her, picking up my last few things from her place; I repeated in my head over and over that I wouldn't regret this, none of it. But now it's been months of this back and forth of feelings that I can't even put a label on myself.

'I need to put an end to this.'

I've never felt this way before.. lost, you could say. I can't even recognize me—yeah, when I was with her it wasn't easy, but at least I knew what I wanted, her love.. her warmth. Being able to have someone to go to when I felt like I wanted to hide away from the world.

I need something to ground me, someone, whatever it is. While I was in my high, promising myself that everything would be fine—I've hung in the club on weekends, gotten home with different girls every night, hooked up with them.. but right after, they'd leave and there was nothing else behind that.

It felt empty, far from what I've been looking for: to feel the same way I've felt with her before everything got this fucked up. Because no matter what, I still search for that feeling in someone who isn't her.

Even though, as much as I try I can't get involved emotionally with anyone else. 'Cause everytime, the graphic memory of that beautiful smile appears at the back of my mind as well as all our time spent together.

And god knows I've felt guilty, like it was something I wasnt supposed to be doing, like I was betraying her.. she was still sacred to me somehow.

But I can't get home to her, and I definitely can't face my broken heart.

I stand in front of the bathroom sink, the dim lights and the foggy mirror making it hard for me to look at myself—my hand wipes it down, the clinking sound of my golden rings against the glass.. and I take a deep breath.

'I need a change' I talk to my reflection. That was it, I had to try to get rid of everything that was linked to her, and that also meant myself at some point.

I run a hand through my silver locks, while with the other, I quickly reach for the electric shaver that I've been eyeing all week.. so I plug it on, taking a deep breath before I make it land on my head after hearing the buzzing noise coming out of it when I pressed the little button—I don't even hesitate, I know what I've got to do.

From one moment to another, I see big lumps of hair starting to fall into the sink in front of me.

My eyes wet, I don't know if it's from the despair I feel or how angry I am at myself.. but I never stop, not till I have no sight of who I was before.

Right after, I have the need to light a cigarette; I make my way back into the room, with my shaky hands I grab the pack laying on the vanity—and I let out the smoke after one long drag, and for the first time I think I'm satisfied with what I see..

And no vision of her.

Inspired by the 'Not over you' MV. For a better experience, listen to the song while you're reading.

[ I made this, everything written here are original ideas by me. ]

[marchsfreakshow]

An Uneasy Dagger [Sergei Kravinoff]

Part 1 of ??

Angst

You work with the rhino. You've surrounded Kraven. Good work, too bad he was distracted by that pretty face.

:3 I suddenly came up with this after watching the movie again. oopsie. I hope it sounds good idk how many parts it will be, I'm not that great at multi chaptered stories.

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

What was wrong with him? 

The Rhino and his crew were the enemies. What was Kraven thinking?? Were you just there as a pretty distraction? God, he hated this. 

“You seem distracted. Hm, good.” Aleksei muttered, noticing Kraven's eyes flickering wildly to you and back around to everyone else. Your eyes met Kraven's, and you stared at him. An unamused look bored into him as you spun a dagger between your fingers, awaiting something to do. 

Nimble, definitely not humble. You were good at what you were paid to do, and some yellow shine in the enemy's irises wasn't about to stop you. Tension was at an all-time high as nature occasionally broke the silence. A bird occasionally chittering, singing its song. Taunting Kraven. It felt like every twit and chirp was piercing his ears. Could see fingers itching to scratch, and feel hearts beating out of their chests. A few were nervous, perhaps? 

You turned around all of a sudden and started walking back to one of the trucks that kept random supplies and weapons. Aleksei noticed Kraven immediately looking over to you and smirked. He liked you. “You, you do not worry about them. They are not important.” Well, you must’ve been a little important considering the impending fight. You were busying yourself with rope, making sure it was as useable and strong as you needed it to be. They were all glad Kraven was slightly off his game. Who knew a pretty assassin like you could be a new weakness?

In a blink of an eye, multiple people were racing towards Kraven, taking multiple shots at him. Blades and guns, naively thrown every which way that was somewhat aimed towards the man. Almost everything got blocked or shut down within minutes. It was expected, Kraven's senses and reflexes were like none other. He didn't doubt himself, and he dared not think it. If he taunted his thoughts with worries of not being strong, he would lose himself. But of course, in a matter of seconds he had acquired a wandering eye. Your back faced the fight, Aleksei's hand wandering it. Like he owned you.

That's what Kraven thought anyway. The Russian forest had witnessed this fight far too much to do anything. It didn't bother helping him this time. Leaving him to face the music by himself. Bodies dropped. One after the other. It was paced and untimely.

Aleksei muttered something into your ear as you glanced over your shoulder at the panting enemy. Caked in sweat and blood drips. It was almost attractive. But you didn't have time for that. Kraven stalked your steps into the singular truck left. Strange you got into the driver's seat, it seemed more Aleksei's job to drive such a sweet looking thing around? Then again, he seemed like a precious pretty princess anyway. "Maybe next time we shall get somewhere, hm? I hope you had fun, Kraven." He questioned out to the hunter before patting the door, making you drive away in a blur.

Sergei was left confused. What was the point of luring him out here in the Russian forest if the fight was uninteresting and brought him nothing in return? Even more strange that you brought nothing to the spar. You really were there just as a distraction. And fuck if it didn't get to him the way you needed it to. Suddenly, you had dug and wormed your way into a little space in his brain, that he decided to keep hidden away until absolutely necessary.

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

The way your fingers worked the dagger, the way you stood tall, confidence that seemed to amuse others. It pissed him off to no end. He needed to hunt a bit more.

He needed to find you.

Taglist: @strawb3rrystar / @american-horror-whore / @r4fe-cam3ron / @davrosfan23 / @amndstuckinwonderland

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[galaxy-fleur]

✦ Strange Happenings ✦

Pairing: RE4 Albert Wesker/oc Jordan Manalang (belongs to @feng-shui71!).

Summary: Once the heat of battle has faded, cold reality and old feelings unresolved take its place. Stuck between her own unraveling emotions and a crushing sense of obligation, Jordan is struggling to do the right thing once and for all. (Intended as a direct continuation to this comic right here!)

Notes: It's finally done! A gift to @feng-shui71 that was supposed to go along with my DTIS entry, but I'm sharing it as a separate thing entirely. I really hope I did this messy pair justice. Written mostly from Jordan's pov, but some small glimpses into Wesker's head are still present. Additional notes at the end of the piece!

Word count: ~ 6.5k words (insane, I know).

Credits: dividers by @/saradika-graphics, additional art in the header belongs to @feng-shui71 .

Jordan's breaths came out as uneven, short puffs of air as she stared down at the now defeated creature that must have been a normal human once upon a time. Her heart was racing wildly in her chest, each dull thump echoing in her temples with its intensity, her hands quivering around her reliable handgun in a manner that was utterly atypical for her usual composure on the field.

Fear wasn't the cause of her shaken state, however. No, the dead, huge monstrosity of a man had absolutely nothing to do with her unraveling state of mind. In fact, it was completely insignificant. Although it was dangerous. Used to be, at least.

She was fully aware that it was the man standing beside her that was the true cause of her non-fading agitation.

There wasn't anything she could say once the fight was over. What was she supposed to do now, exactly? Seeing Wesker alive and well - and apparently fully willing to pretend like nothing had ever even happened - was too much for her already frazzled mind to handle.

Like everything was normal and just how it was before.

This was planned to be a mission with very few surprising obstacles to deal with. Come in, track and rescue the president's daughter alongside Leon Kennedy, and get to the extraction point. No extra distractions or feelings involved.

But instead, they discovered an utterly deranged mess of insane cultists, mind-controlling parasites, and unwelcome ghosts from the past who had their own unknown objectives to accomplish in this strange place.

To be honest, she wasn't sure how she felt about fighting alongside him again, even if it was technically accidental. She could have sworn he moved just a tad bit quicker than would be natural to the human eye. However, she dismissed her observations on some supposed training he had received during these past six years. After all, she was a much better opponent now as well, despite her age.

Even if the thought of him honing his skills for what she could only assume was an immoral purpose made her feel queasy.

She wanted to feel angry. No, she did feel angry. She just wished her hands wouldn't tremble so furiously. She wished she could look as if she didn't care. Like he did. Even if it hurt to see.

"...I didn't need your help," she finally breaks the charged silence with a quiet angry mutter, lowering her handgun at last as she turns away to pick up some valuables she landed her eyes on prior. Somehow, this silence between them felt so much more oppressive than the loud bangs and grunts of battle before it.

...What the hell was she doing, anyway? She should probably be trying to apprehend him. Catch him by surprise and do her absolute damnest to get the upper hand, even if it would be a losing battle. That would be the right thing to do. She didn't think he was here for a good reason. A thought that felt extremely bitter in her mouth.

Nonetheless, her urge to get away from him triumphs over her moral compass for whatever reason.

Wesker pressed the palm of his hand to his chest, feigning offense, although he appeared more amused than anything else. It was honestly a bit humiliating. As if he didn't value her feelings at all. Either way, she didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing the tense look painted across face, instead crouching down to pick up some scattered note laying on the floor. However, she was not afforded the luxury of actually reading it.

"Is that all you have to say to me after all this time, dear?" His smooth voice hit her ears with a seductive tilt, yet it also carried a distinct sharpness to it, too. As if he had any right to be upset with her for anything. Then again, he always had a habit of getting on people's nerves. Especifically on hers. "You certainly looked like you needed the help."

She straightened herself and tightened her hold on her handgun as she heard him take a few measured steps closer to her. When she whirled to face him, she found him looking back at her, a bit too close for comfort, and apparently studying her like you would an ant in a glass jar. There was no doubt that her shoulders were too stiff to seem composed. And she wasn't composed. She never truly was, was she? It was borderline cruel.

Almost as a visual mockery of it all, his completely laid-back posture challenged her to do something she probably wouldn't do, even if she should.

A part of her wished she could have a look into that brain of his right now. She would have liked to say she would use such an opportunity to fish out some vital intel... but, instead, she really just wanted to know if he cared at all.

"I wouldn't be distracted in the first place, if it wasn't for you showing up."

In addition to being irrelevant, her defense was not very strong, either. But it was a familiar one. In some ways, this tugged at her heart, too.

...They would always bicker like this back in the day.

Was she trembling because of him or the adrenaline of the fight? When Wesker was only a few feet away from her, he ceased his approach. His gaze moved up and down for a moment before he spoke.

"...You look like you've seen better days," he said bluntly, raising a hand and touching her cheek before she could tear herself away. The touch of his rough palm was firm enough to indicate that he was still angry, but gentle enough to show there was something else there.

Anyway, that's what her stupid heart whispered to her, frustratingly so.

Jordan wasn't sure whether she wanted to punch him square in the jaw right then and there, kiss him to shut him up for good, or do anything in between. His touch still did something to her in spite of everything, whether it was her genuine mourning for him for all these years, some lingering feelings of affection, or something else entirely. And she knew that he knew so, too.

It was not fair.

But she wouldn't allow him get close to her. This time, it was not going to work for him. So, without looking him in the eyes, she grabbed at his wrist and ripped it from her face. Some part of her was grateful that he was still wearing those shades of his for whatever reason. She was unsure about her capacity to look him in the eyes right now.

But all her angry action really did was simply make Wesker smile at her knowingly. The real truth was that he almost craved this. To be the center of her attention once again, even if it was her being furious with him. Still, he swiftly adjusted his expression to one of coolness and nonchalance, his gaze fixed on her despite her refusal to reciprocate the gesture. He was always better than her at keeping his emotions in check. That's what he wanted to think, anyway. Oh, he fully understood that she was angry with him, enraged even, and he enjoyed it.

"No thanks to you," she retorted dryly, her voice tight and guarded. She was now finally looking up at him, her dark eyes intense and filled with a mixture of anger, frustration, and something else that she desperately tried to repress. "You did not answer my question. What the hell are you even doing here?"

He didn't respond to her inquiry right away, instead allowing a brief quiet to settle between them.

"...That's a bit of a complicated question to answer, Jords," he chuckled at last, the words almost mocking with the use of that nickname. He was obviously not planning on giving out any useful information to her at all. It seemed as though he had only come to toy with her or something.

Her grip on his wrist tightened slightly, her jaw clenching. Of course he wouldn't tell her. Most likely, the answer wasn't even remotely positive. Old frustrations and hurt were now steadily bubbling up in her chest like a boiling cauldron, threatening to overflow and scald them both at any moment.

How long did he spend lying to her face in this way? Was it from the start? Did he show her anything sincere in the years of that life they've built together?

"Save the bullshit. I know you're up to something," she said gruffly. She had a fairly good understanding of him. Too good. At least that's what she hoped to believe. Now, however, she did not know what to believe. So, her focus was on the practicalities. That was easier. "Who do you work for?"

With her free hand raised to put the handgun's barrel right to his forehead, she suddenly yanked him closer in the hopes of catching him off-guard. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. This time, she will not hesitate or fold. She will not.

Because what will it mean for her if she does...?

Wesker's eyebrows raised just slightly in response to her hasty actions, the only sign of his potential surprise, but he still appeared infuriatingly unconcerned about the potential danger she entailed. He even appeared to be almost impressed. And maybe a little aroused, but he was certainly covering that one up well.

It was almost as if she was pointing a plastic toy-gun at him, rather than a real, fully loaded firearm that could take his life with a single movement of her finger.

She was obviously unaware that he could easily break free from her hold in less than a second if he so desired, but he knowingly didn't. It was almost like he was tempting her to do something, anything. Instead of raising his hands in surrender or even just finally taking her seriously, he simply smirked, revealing his canines, and looked down at her with a tiny tilt of his brow.

...Were his teeth always so sharp-looking-?

"Still as feisty as ever I see," he remarked, his voice low and even. Much to her startlement, he boldly took a step closer to her, his body almost crowding her in now. "Always wanting to get your way. But I'll humor you, just this once."

Her heart thudded loudly in her chest as her jaw tightened further. He shifted his attention up to the handgun pressed to his head.

She knew Albert was self-assured, but surely even he was conscious of his own mortality, right?

"What are you-" she started, unable to hide the bewilderment in her tone, but he cut her off before she could even utter her question.

"-You know you won't pull the trigger," he said, now fully serious. Before she could add anything else, he visibly pressed his head further into the barrel of her handgun, almost daring her to do it. "You never could."

It was a little frustrating how certain he was in his remark. Then again, his confidence has always been a huge source of annoyance to her. But things felt... different now. He was more assured, more factual. It was almost as if he was stating the most apparent and ultimate truth to her. Like saying that the sky is blue.

But, as far as she was concerned, this was not a simple black-and-white issue.

"You don't know that," she growled, but even she didn't sound so sure anymore. She swallowed heavily, straightening up. She didn't like the way their physical closeness was affecting her. Not one bit. She had no desire to be impacted by him in this way.

Not anymore.

She tightened her hold on his wrist once more and forced him back into the closest stone wall, pushing him up against it with her body. Wesker merely let out another soft, amused chuckle as his back hit the wall, the sound of it sending an unwanted shiver down her spine. Even though the handgun was still pushed right against his forehead, her eyes betrayed her distress plain for him to behold.

The longer he displayed his indifference, the more she cracked.

"-I hate you."

Her voice was low and gruff, those three words coming out as a sharp hiss. While she did wish she could be as detached as he was, there was something liberating in finally getting to express all these festering emotions she pushed down for all these years. Even if it put her in a bad situation.

Nevertheless, she could still see his enjoyment, the manner in which his eyes unabashedly traversed her figure up and down, conveying more than any verbal response could articulate. He didn't speak, simply allowing her to hold him against the wall with no attempts to push back against her. Yet. Somehow, he still seemed amused despite his situation, as though he enjoyed being pinned by her in this way.

"...Do you?" He asked. His tone was both challenging and almost... teasing. "Because there was a time when you loved me."

Her chest ached from his words in a way that no physical injury could ever match.

She did love him, once.

Profoundly.

With every atom of her goddamn being.

And he destroyed it all in a single night.

She grit her teeth so hard that she thought she could feel them chipping. This close, she could smell his subtle cologne - something woodsy and tangy in a way that would make her head spin if she was to get too close - a familiar scent she'd once found intoxicating. Comforting.

But at this point, it was only making her feel nauseous.

"Don't you fucking dare-" she started, but got cut off by her own shaky breath. One that sounded more like a gasp. Her hands began to tremble again. She was so torn between anger, grief, and old feelings alike. It was time for her to pull the trigger. He was not the man she thought he was, possibly never was. He must be here for something equally twisted as it was back in that cursed mansion. Or worse. If not for her own sake, she must do it for those innocent lives that will undoubtedly be impacted by his actions here. But instead, what came out of her was:"You lied!"

She didn't like how loud and hoarse it came out. Though she found it increasingly hard to care.

"...Sometimes we must tell a lie for the greater good. You know, I thought you were smart enough to understand such things by now... But you still cling to the first explanation there is, I see. Pity, I'd say."

Oh that set her off.

"You lied, and you betrayed me. You betrayed all of us, you backstabbing, lying- Do you have any idea what I felt-" she broke herself off again, her breathing heavy, yet her lungs feeling painfully empty no matter how much air she took in. Now there was too much to say, too many emotions filling up her mind, each one demanding to be thrown back in his face. She was unraveling at the seams.

Wesker's smile finally diminished somewhat in response. Just a smidge, just the tiniest of changes, but noticeable regardless. For a moment, he almost looked... a bit guilty. But that expression disappeared in a flash, replaced by one of indifference. He's always been good at hiding his feelings.

But he also recognized that she was technically correct. It was true that he lied. He did betray her. He did leave her behind.

However, he had no regrets about it.

"I did what I had to do," he said, his voice cool and steady. Still, there was a small hint of remorse carefully threaded through his words, albeit it was twisted. "It was necessary. You wouldn't understand."

Oh, he was well aware of her anger and hurt. But he was also well aware that she didn't understand. She simply could not understand his rationale even if he tried. It was very probable that she'd never understand, even if he'd like to believe otherwise.

Still, from Jordan's point of view, his response didn't give him any more grace, if any.

"How convenient for you," she spat out, words feeling like venom on her tongue, painful and bitter. "But you're right. I won't understand. I will never understand how you 'had' to stab us in the back and leave our partners to be torn apart and die like your 'little piggies'. I will never understand you tearing our family apart with your own bloodied hands."

"...You never could," he repeated, his gaze roaming over her face, taking in every little aspect of her rage. "You were always too naive for the truth. Too soft. That's why I kept you in the dark."

His words made her jaw clench. It didn't even sound like an insult this time around, but it still felt like one, anyways. She was not fond of being referred to as soft or naive. Her entire goddamn life was spent training to be anything but those things.

Yet here he was, using those exact words to mock her.

"Naive?" She snapped in disbelief, "I trusted you. Because I loved you. That's what you're supposed to do with people you love, with family! And you played me like a fool."

She pressed the handgun harder to his forehead, but she still didn't squeeze at the trigger. In fact, her finger wasn't even on the trigger now. Though, neither of them addressed this detail.

Wesker held her gaze, his expression unreadable. He didn't flinch, but his jaw clenched, his muscles tensing ever so slightly under her heated stare. "Yes... You did. And your trust meant a lot to me. Whether you believe that or not."

That didn't help at all.

"I loved you," she breathed out. Something she wanted to say with a snarl, but instead it sounded more like a broken plea. She wanted him to show her anything, any sign that he still cared, that he always cared. "And you lied to me. God knows for how long. Maybe from the very beginning. Hell, maybe none of it was real."

She shook her head, the words leaving the tip of her tongue before she could stop them. This had nothing to do with this. She should focus on getting information from him and apprehending him. Her fallen teammates wouldn't have wanted her to do this. And yet-

"You were the one fucking person I let in like that," she said, her voice dropping to a hoarse whisper, "And you stabbed me right in the back. Or, well, should I say 'shot me right in the face'? And don't even give me that 'I knew you'd survive it' bullshit."

Those final words were more bitter than anything else prior, reminding them both of the blood-stained memories that had tortured her ever since.

And when that was brought up, Wesker's face visibly darkened on the spot. Something that made her feel just a tiny bit of twisted victory in her chest, knowing she finally got to him, hit him where it hurts, maybe. He appeared angry with her, yes, yet there was something else going on, too. Regret? Perhaps. Guilt? Who the hell knows.

Her words did make his heart churn in his chest, even if he appeared to be almost completely unaffected on the surface. He knew he hurt her and he knew he betrayed her in the way that he probably wouldn't have forgiven, either. Even now, despite his own feelings on the matter, he could tell that she was sincerely and deeply hurt.

That was never truly his objective, ironic as it was.

"...You know it wasn't personal," he started, his voice low and measured. "It wasn't about you. It was bigger than us. Bigger than anything we could've had together."

He was still attempting to excuse it. Despite everything, he remained stubborn as ever in his beliefs. Indeed, that has consistently been his nature. He was battling to persuade himself that he made the correct decision. And that irritated her even more.

"You have to understand that-"

"-That makes it worse, you fucking idiot!"

Jordan cried out, interrupting him right in the middle of the sentence, throwing all attempts to appear unaffected out the window. For all these years, there had been far too much that had been simmering and decaying within her. She has exhausted herself so far beyond her limit by keeping it all inside under an iron lock. And his words weren't helping. Not at all.

Her face showed a combination of frustration, pain, and confusion. She was having a hard time understanding, comprehending what he was even saying, and why he thought it would somehow make her feel better about it all.

"I loved you," she repeated, her voice cracking with emotion, "And you threw it all away for... whatever secret bullshit you were chasing! 'Bigger than us' my ass! You know, I hope your children never learn how little they apparently mean to you."

Although hidden under the thick shades of his shades, the vertical pupils in Wesker's eyes narrowed at that, making him finally show a mixture of steadily simmering rage and his own frustration flashing across his sharp features. Oh, that one struck a nerve, she could tell. Well, good. The bastard deserved to feel shitty for once in his life.

Of course, Wesker knew she loved him, hell, he probably still loved her now, although that was a sentiment that remained unspoken. But the complexity of it all was beyond her comprehension. And he doubted she'd understand. Not yet. She was far too emotional, far too fiery, far too raw to truly understand right now.

He will help her to understand in time. But it was still... frustrating right now.

"It wasn't just some 'bullshit I was chasing'," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "It was something bigger, something important."

"Oh yeah? Try me," Jordan snorted, the sound more angry than humorous. "Try and tell me what is more important than your own fucking family, Albert. I'd love to hear it."

The more she pushed, the more his own rage began to surface and the more defensive he became.

"You don't get it. You never could-" He was disappointed and angry. At her, for not understanding. At himself, for caring. As he pressed himself off the wall, she stumbled a few steps backwards, still pointing the handgun at him but predictably not doing a thing to properly threaten him. Somehow, it only frustrated him further. The answer was staring her right in the face, and she refused to acknowledge it due to her own stubbornness. "You see life too simply."

Jordan's eyes widened, her prior anger replaced by a sense of danger that radiated from him in waves. "Stand down-"

He completely disregarded her warning and simply kept moving forward, now being the one to crowd her in.

...Damn it, she forgot how big he was.

"You see everything in black and white. Good and bad. But the world doesn't work like that. It's about power. It's about winning. I did what I had to do to win. I had to make sacrifices. And you just happened to be one of them."

Her grip on the handgun began to slip, and her hand shook slightly.

"A sacrifice...?" She sputtered in pure disbelief, her voice a mix of shock and anger. Somehow, despite everything, that still came as a complete surprise to her. And not a good one. "Is that what I was to you? What, just another... pawn on your game or something? A sacrifice?"

She was still unable to comprehend what she was hearing in spite of everything that had transpired.

All those feelings they'd shared, all the countless precious moments they so carefully created together, big and small...

The pain in her voice was more clear than ever before. It was proving difficult for her to understand his words and reconcile the person she once loved with the man standing in front of her now.

He scoffed, seemingly only frustrated with her hurt response: "That's not what I said, Jordan. Stop putting words in my mouth and listen for once in your damn life."

With the handgun still aimed at his head, she lifted it a little.

"You left me," she repeated, "You left me there to die. And now you want me to listen to you? To understand why you 'had' to betray me? What, did you have to shoot me in the face, too?"

"That's not-"

Her rage and hurt were spilling over as she shook, refusing to let him finish. "Was it all just a lie then? Everything we had together. Was any of it real? Anything at all?"

Wesker's face went dark again. He was still standing there, close, and she could see the visible tension coiling in his muscles under his dress-shirt as he tried to hold himself back from whatever it was he wanted to do.

Perhaps from killing her.

She didn't know anymore.

But the truth was that, if words couldn't penetrate her thick skull, Wesker yearned to reach out and touch her, to grasp at her and make her understand via touch alone. He realized that it was not the appropriate moment for that, though. Not when she looked up at him with such rage and betrayal in her eyes.

She'd probably just punch him, anyways.

"It wasn't a lie," he said instead, the words forced out through gritted teeth. He was struggling, she thinks. "None of it was a lie. I did care. I still care. Why do you think I'm here exactly?"

He took another step forward, reaching out to touch her cheek again. His touch caused Jordan to recoil, as though it had burned her. However, she refused to distance herself or avert her gaze from him. Whether out of pride or something else.

"Don't," she whispered, her eyes pained, all previous fire long fizzled out and crumbling into ash now. "Don't fucking touch me. You don't get to touch me now."

She could sense herself shaking, though, even as she mouthed the words. Her feelings for him persisted, even now, despite all she was aware of. All she was not aware of. Even after all this time, even after everything he has done to her. She was utterly torn between anger and grief because of how she felt for this cursed man. She was angry at him, she hated him, yet she also wanted him. Equally intense was her want to reach out and touch him.

Despite the painful revelations she's faced in their last encounter, she mourned him in the years she believed he was dead. In a way a broken lover would. She mourned him in shame, in secret, unable to even share her grief with a single soul. Murderers and villains aren't mourned, after all. What would Chris think of her if she revealed just how much her heart has bled for Albert all these years? How would Jill feel? How would Barry feel?

She could only imagine the disgust that all the deceased S.T.A.R.S. felt for her from beyond their graves.

Her anguish was a concealed secret, repressed and relegated to the deepest corners of her soul. But, God, did it fester. Like a rotting wound, it gradually spread its repulsive decay over her body and soul, until it threatened to consume her whole.

However, she was too proud, too stubborn, and far too angry to concede.

So, she shook her head, attempting to remove his touch, but she remained there, trapped in place. She could sense the warmth of his skin against hers and the subtle pressure of his fingers on her cheek. So familiar yet so foreign now.

"...Why are you doing this?" She asked, her voice cracking, "Why are you tormenting me like this?"

Wesker's heart clenched as he watched the stormy emotions play out on her face so clear for him to see. Whether she believed it or not, he truly had no desire to do this to her, this wasn't the way he had wanted things to go. She had a habit of ruining his meticulously crafted plans, it seemed. Still, he'd forgive her every time.

However, he was also a man who enjoyed having full control. He was a man who always got what he wanted in the end. And he wanted her.

He drew nearer till their bodies were nearly touching. He silently observed the way she was reacting to him, the way she was resisting her own emotions. It was admirable how determined she was to stay strong, no matter the odds stacked against her. He's gotta give her that. He always liked that in her. That stubborn spirit of hers. Even if it caused him trouble, time and time again.

He knew perfectly well that it was wrong, of course. From her standpoint, that is.

It was cruel.

But he was unable to stop himself. He didn't want to.

So, he grasped her chin, tilting it up to ensure she met his gaze directly. She looked beautiful, even now, he thought to himself.

"Why am I doing this?" He echoed back to her, his voice softer now, almost apologetic. Almost. "Because I can't stop myself around you. Because I can't resist you. Because I need you. I always did. Against my better judgement."

His thumb swept over her lower lip as his fingers started to trace her jawline, refamiliarizing himself with the contours of her face he hadn't touched in so long. She couldn't help but shiver at the subtle touch.

Her resolve began to crumble. The way he was touching her and speaking to her was just... too much. She wished he would keep being that self-absorbed jerk to her. That would be easier to deal with than this. It was a bit ironic, how nothing he did would make her feel satisfied.

Still, her body dutifully responded to his touch. Her heart started to race, her breathing becoming shallow.

Everything about him right now felt too familiar: his words, touch, presence.

Too soothing.

Too right.

And so wrong.

"Albert..." she whispered. Her weak heart betrayed her, and she hated herself for it. Hated that she still reacted so well to his touch after all these years. "You can't... say things like that..."

Her words have completely lost all semblance of a protest to them. They were just a weak plea now. It was absolutely pitiful. She was pitiful.

"You can't just... you can't just come back into my life and... and act like we're fine. Like nothing ever happened between us."

But her willpower was weakening. He was pressing so close to her now that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body. Alive. Real. And she felt the growing want to lean in, to melt into his body as she always has, to feel his arms enveloping her, and to temporarily forget about everything else, even if for a single, blissful moment.

Now, though, she couldn't do that, could she? He stole that comfort from her. And she hated him for it.

Wesker was also able to see it. The way she was steadily weakening against him, the way her body responded to his touch. Not that she was even trying that hard to hide it now.

Finally, she was under his control. She always is, after a little bit of effort on his part, after all.

He leaned forward, the warmth of his breath ghosting over her skin.

"I can say whatever I want," he murmured, his other hand reaching out to rest on her hip, pulling her ever so slightly closer. "And I am aware that we're not fine. But I still want you."

He knew that, with this, he was torturing her mercilessly. But he was powerless to stop it. He has missed her, dear God, he has missed her more than he was willing to acknowledge, and this human weakness of his was seeping into his touch. He didn't want to let go of her after getting to feel her again.

Hid hand gripping her hip in such a way made her gasp lightly. She was steadily losing herself in his touch, his scent, him. She ought not to. But she was.

She did make an effort to put up a fight against it, to the best of her ability. She made an effort to stay angry and resentful, but his touch was breaking down her walls. It has always been this way. He was the only one who had ever seen this side of her. Beneath all of the bravado and carefully crafted independence, there lied a weaker, lonely woman who just wanted to be embraced as she was and soothed from all of her worries.

Because of that, she used to adore him wholeheartedly. Now it just felt humiliating.

"-Stop it," she gasped, her voice strained. "You can't just... you can't just come back and expect me to just... forgive you. Not after everything. I can't."

However, her free hand has grasped the collar of his shirt, her fingers squeezing the fabric with underlying urgency. It was a subtle indication that she was slipping. It thrilled him as much as tugged at his heart. Her other hand that was still holding onto the handgun was also slackening as it lowered slightly from his forehead. Although her mind was urging her to push him away, she wasn't doing so. She should do the right thing and take action. Chris would have made that decision. Jill would have made that decision. Barry would have made that decision. Even Rebecca would. For all the teammates who were killed so cruelly and unfairly. But despite everything that has happened, she still wanted his touch. Despite all the suffering and betrayal.

When she said her final, real words, her voice was nothing but a raspy whisper: "...I hate you. I hate what you did to me."

Finally, he had her exactly where he wanted her.

His own voice was somehow kind yet firm, and as he leaned in closer, his lips lightly brushed her cheek.

"Hate me or not, you still want me. I can tell. You can't resist me any more than I can resist you. We're two sides of the same coin, my dear." His hand tightened around her hip, indicating a possessive grip. "All those years apart, and look at us now... You could call it fate. A rather intriguing concept. What do you say?"

His lips were now steadily traveling down her jaw in quick, sickeningly soft kisses before she could say anything. Jordan was shaken, utterly speechless at the onslaught of sensations that were so subtle, they could almost be written off as figments of her imagination. A taste of something he knew she wanted.

He was quite cruel.

"You act like you can't stand the mere sight of me, and yet you're shaking in my arms. The way you're holding onto me... I think you know why."

Before he could go any farther however, he pulled away after giving her a single, almost tantalizing kiss on the corner of her lips.

She despised the way she reacted to him. She felt completely helpless now as her handgun lowered from his forehead against her will, no longer even pointed in his direction. She was utterly helpless to stop it. Or maybe she just didn't want to, and that was the ugliest truth of it all.

He was correct. Her hatred for him was overwhelming. But with just one push, hatred is readily able to slip into love, much as a pendulum swings back and forth. And right now, her hatred was being overtaken by an even more powerful emotion.Yearning.

With her eyes closed tightly and lips pressed together, she tried very hard to stop the sound that was steadily coming up her throat. A sound of need and longing.

She was fighting a vicious internal battle, using all her willpower to stiffle her desire. However, it was a futile struggle. In addition, she has already failed to act in the appropriate manner the very second she couldn't bring herself to pull the trigger. Maybe she was just not as good of a person as she thought she was.

Maybe none of it even mattered.

She has never been able to stop him from getting what he wants. He had her under his control, and he was very cognizant of it. It's like trying to escape out of a cobweb, only to get tangled up more the harder you try. It was hopeless. She was hopeless.

"...What do you want from me?" She asked, her voice hoarse, the words pushed out past her clenched teeth. It was an implied admittance of defeat, one that certainly did not go unnoticed by him.

He was definitely more that aware of having almost won this wordless battle between them. He was confident that he had her right where he needed her now.

He drew her closer as his hand tightened around her hip. His body was now pressed up against hers, his touch both possessive and demanding, no longer trying to conceal his intentions.

"I want you," he said bluntly, his voice low and rough. "I want all of you. Your anger, your hatred, your pain. Your love. Your need. I want you to give me all of it."

And before she could respond, he closed the space left between them and kissed her, snatching what little breath she had.

He didn't really give her much time to ease into it. His kiss was forceful, controlling, possessive. He was taking what he wanted, what he's been craving for all these years. It was nearly too much. Like she was drowning in him, with his presence actively cutting off all her senses with its stiffling intensity.

She heard the muted sound of her handgun striking the ground, the metal bouncing off the hard rock and reverberating through the walls, as if from underwater. Like a loud declaration of her failure. He did not make her do that. Or did he? She wanted to say he did. Hell, there was still a big, raging part of her wanting to push at his chest as hard as she could and scream her lungs out at him. But now, did she even have the right to do that? Wouldn't that make her a hypocrite? Wasn't the line already crossed?

His words were scathing, penetrating deep into the darkest corners of her soul and eroding all of what was left of her determination. Maybe he was right. Maybe they really were just two sides of the same coin. She didn't know anymore. And it was getting harder and harder to see herself as anything but a failure.

His hand went from her hip and slid up her side, firm and demanding. As he pulled her further against him, he deepened the kiss with practiced ease, making her let out a small, choked noise that instantly got swallowed by him with a sharp breath. His touch was hungry, punishing. In a way that made her knees buckle. She hadn't been touched like this in years, and the familiarity of his scent, his warmth, his everything was just too much for her to bear.

Ah... fuck it.

She pushed all of her reservations away with a single sarcastic thought flashing through her mind, roughly dragging him in by his shirt collar and returning his kiss with a desperate one of her own. Not in any way similar to her heated kisses of the past long lost. She was angry with him, with herself, and with the world at large, and she wanted him to know it, as evidenced by her teeth harshly sinking into his bottom lip with such severity that he sucked in an involuntary gasp against her.

However, he didn't appear to mind it too much. If his small, rumbling groan that followed suit was anything to go by. It certainly sent a sharp shiver up her spine.

The way he held her felt familiar. But it was also different. It had a new edge to it, an intensity that wasn't there before. He was different. Perhaps it's who he has always been. She didn't know.

A tiny, foolish part of her wanted to think that, like in dumb fairy tales with their happily-ever-after's, she could somehow make everything alright again with a single magic kiss. Fix it all with power of love alone. Of course, that was not going to happen. And the sudden piercing sound of her receiver going off felt like a lightning strike on a sunny day, shattering the already frail illusion into a million broken pieces before it could even take its proper shape.

Breathing shakily after the entire experience, she broke away from him with a single gasp. She tried not to think too much about the thin string of saliva that was connecting their lips before breaking off. A good visual reminder of the stupidest choice she could have made. For a moment, she was just frozen, completely unable to bring herself to act.

What the hell should she even do at this point?

It was probably Leon... Or maybe Luis.

Before she could do anything, though, she noticed Wesker smirking to himself, the usual smugness returning to his sharp features. Without any further cocky comments from his side, he merely reached over and swiped his thumb over her bottom lip, cleaning off the remainders of their messy kiss from mere moments prior. It was difficult to avoid shivering at the touch.

"What are you-"

"-You should take it, my love. It could be important. I have some... unfinished business to take care of myself. But, believe me..." She blinked as she felt him sweep a lock of hair behind her ear before stepping back. A gesture that felt both sickeningly affectionate and somehow mocking. "I'll be keeping an eye on you. And I will be back for you. When the time comes."

He disappeared in an instant, leaving her with a raging receiver and a flurry of panicked thoughts flying through her mind at the speed of light. She didn't answer. Instead, she simply slid down the nearest wall till she reached the cold stone floor, her body curling up on itself and her head hidden between her knees.

What the hell does she do now...?

Additional notes:

• I wanted to explore Jordan's state of mind and how it could tie into her future mental decline in RE5. While she is deeply independent and strong-willed, it seems that Wesker is definitely one of those few people she's fully vulnerable with (based on what interactions they had in re1 comics!). And, well, of course she is! He is her husband! He is her family! Delving into her inner struggle between her usual independence vs the familiar pull of someone she never got to get over was very fun.

• I based Wesker's mannerisms mostly off of Jordsker comics/stuff! Not gonna lie, I tend to lean more into a cold, measured type of Wesker, so sprinkling in some sassiness and charm that he seems to share in his interactions with Jordan was a very interesting change (and good practice!)

• My interpretation of Jordan's entire mental decline (both presented here and one that would follow later in re5) is heavily tied to feelings of guilt and inner shame more than anything else. I definitely wanted to incorporate that here. She feels shame for mourning him as much as she did, when she should have mourned all the innocent that were affected by his involvement instead. She feels guilt for her feelings towards him - thus never properly opening up about them and working through them in a healthy manner. She feels shame for her inability to do the right thing and bring him to justice when she had the chance. And her giving in to him here, while unknowingly to her, stemming from these feelings of inner shame and guilt, is just yet another piece falling into place.

• Wesker is never really dishonest with her in the latter part. Even his earlier words were more just teasing fun on his part. You could call it flirting (horrible attempt at it, really). I actually find that really fun with him here. He's not really being manipulative or cruel with her on purpose, he means everything he says. It is just twisted. Does that make the whole thing better or worse for poor Jordan? Who knows.

[whatifieatedpaperlol15]

Guys guys wait

This is a super messy theory and my grammar is shit but listen

Wwatt self-ish album (also the last tapeworms album not including the live one) song Dr sunshine is dead essentially predicted the events that ensued after the tapeworms era

“For your self portraits, sign another name, well who could I be then if I’ll never be the same” = when his persona took a shift and changed his pseudonym:

Right yeah, that was the entire thing about the song “Dr sunshine is dead, no more of that- here’s will wood” but the lyrics after

“I will be that sunshine” = the normal album era

“I will be that moon at night” = Incase i make it era

“Who else could I be/when I could hardly see” = Slouching towards Bethlehem/Mr wood is dead tour eras

Another noteable thing is the tones, with tna it’s cold and more blues, purples, greens while proclaiming to be “the sunshine” which would contribute incredibly to the two faced American suburbia dare-I-say modern day Christian mindset that is being portrayed with tna. Having the mask of of a perfect life and morels, but behind closed doors being in a living hell. Saying to be the truth and life while essentially hollow and heartless- henceforth cold. Thus giving the vibe of hard and guarded, the real moon at night.

With incase i make it, it’s said to be the “moon at night” while the album has more warm tones like yellows, oranges, and browns. The lyric also would be playing off to the line “what’s the moon made of” in tomcat disposables, which is a rather sad and solemn song that is accepting to death, giving it a soul filling feel. That brings me to the point whereas the portrayal of icimi is more of self exploration, reflection, depression, death, and acceptance, all wrapped up with a warm feeling inside, giving understanding and perspective of life and it’s consequences as well as it’s joys. It really shows the bittersweet nature of life as well as proves there is no permanent state of self, but rather that growth is inevitable, it just matters at what direction you’re growing and how to change that, warm and approachable. This giving the vibe of being vulnerable and tender, the real sunshine.

“I will be the sunshine” trying to prove you’re a great person, you have no faults, you’re always right and always win, nothing matters, we all die and be forgotten in the end.

“I will be the moon at night” accepting that you’re not the best but you keep trying, you have faults and their yours- it’s up to you to make up for them, accept when you’re wrong- sometimes you lose. when someone or something you know dies, remember them and cherish their memory, make something of yourself and/or their memory for life in the world to come.

anyways thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[mommymothma]

Andor S2

Physically I am alone, baking into my sofa while suffering against the heat of summer. At one point I might have accepted my fate and waited for the weather to turn me into a crispy carcass to be eaten by whatever rodents or insect find me first.

But right now I do not care about the heat. I do not care that I am boiling alive in my own home. Right now all I care about is the absolute peak cinema I just watched.

The series finale of Andor did not disappoint, and I can hardly express in words the emotion I am feeling. Joy, for having experienced it. Grief, for knowing how it ends. Anger, for not being entitled to more.

There is a huge stereotype about Star Wars fans, "They hate Star Wars more than anyone". Normally I'd laugh and offer a cheap expression of "real" or "based". But right now... I don't hate Star Wars.

I don't think I have ever really hated it, only hated the commercialization of it. The sequels and many of the shows were cheap attempts at getting our attention, making money by exploiting us and the franchise we love. They pour in dollar after dollar, expecting that we heed to every one of their demands and take the garbage they've thrown at us with a smile on our face.

I hated that for so long Star Wars was treated as a machine, born to make money and nothing else. But looking at Andor I can see that there are creators out there, and fans, that see it as I do. I don't want them to slap my favorite character on a title card and make a show that has nothing to do with them. I want a story. A real story. About the people, the planets, survival.

Andor is not "A Star Wars Story", its a story about Andor, about a rebellion. It's the story of people who just want to watch the sunrise again, without having to worry about the light being blocked by an imperial banner. It's a story about people, who just happen to exist in the setting of Star Wars. And that is what makes it so great.

But enough with the vague descriptions, it's time I dissected as much as I can possible remember and process in this moment. Spoilers ahead for Andor S2

Kleya.

FUCKING. KLEYA.

Yall remember last week when I said "Idk why I just like her"

BITCH WHEN I TELL YOU I WAS FOAMING AT MY GODDAMNED MOUTH IN EPISODE 10. I did not expect to get an expansion on Luthen's lore, let alone hers. I was fully expecting to fill in the blanks of her life with fan fiction. When I heard we were losing 3 seasons of the show I resolved myself to the fact that her role would be reduced and that was that. I would still love and cherish her from the sidelines. I have friends watching that didn't even know her name, and probably wouldn't remember who she is if it weren't for this final act. Star Wars heroines have never failed me, and it seems they never will because the girls stay winning.

I knew Luthen was gonna die, I predicted that last week, and I was on the fence about whether she would be collateral. I was on the edge of my fucking seat for THREE hours because they kept baiting me into thinking it was the end of the road for her. Cassian, Mothma, Bail, etc all had very strong plot armor, so I never really had to worry about them. But Kleya... my god I was so SCARED. First at the hospital, I was certain she was going to get busted after she killed Luthen. I thought no way she gets out of this but SHE DID. And she did it so well they thought she was THREE people. Girls stay winning. Stay winning. Then, when Cassian comes to save her and she refuses to leave for so long I was pre-emptively crying. Like I was so sure this was it. Cassian needed one more loss just to really fuck with him. I was ready to cuss out the first person I saw tomorrow.

BUT SHE LIVES

and then I'm like, alright, certainly, she is fine now.

NO. Episode 12 I was so so so terrified she was gonna kill herself. I was so paranoid, she was struggling. I was BEGGING my tablet screen at this point to not let it happen. I simply could not have handled it and THANK THE FORCE. I am 100% convinced that if Vel had not found her right then, that the show would have ended with a very different tone. Thats 2 weeks in a row Cassian successfully smuggles a bad bitch off of Coruscant. STAY WINNING.

There is so much I could say about Kleya, but I'm actually gonna keep it for a bit. Let it cook. Let it marinate. Let it inspire. Just know it won't be the last you hear from me regarding her. She will be getting a picture on my wall mark my words.

Dedra on the other hand got what she had coming to her. I understand that her reinvestment into the Axis problem likely stemmed from the loss of Syril. I almost feel like she talked herself into thinking that it would "avenge" him. But, at some point during the gap, I think she lost her way and her motivations became very much personal. She was after glory. The parallels between her being in the room with Krennic to the interaction she had with Syril in season 1 that very much mirrored this.. Incredible screenwriting right there. The imperials routinely learn, again and again, that there is no reward for serving the empire. They is always someone above you. Someone who will not hesitate to waste you as you have wasted your inferiors. Every single imperial is a drone, and to the empower, drones are expendable.

Syril, Dedra, Heert. All of them assumed that because they were dedicated they were entitled to success. It was a fitting end for each of them, that they would die by the hands of the system to which they were so dedicated too. Signing up to the empire is signing your life away to them. They have no right to be scared when the time comes to reap that clause of their contract.

Unlike Kino, though, Dedra will at least know what it is her imprisonment is working towards. Whether that makes it better or worse for her remains to be seen. Regardless, I don't think it will do much to curb her ego.

RIP Dedra, I suppose the best case scenario for you is being able to look yourself in the mirror at the end of every day and tell your reflection that it was worth it.

Last big thing on my plate is the ending, the news about the death star, the reactions. I was a little surprised to see Bail so against the plan if I'm being honest. I loved him last week but this week he was pissing me off. When one of your most trustworthy, capable men comes to you and says "hey, our enemies have this weapon we cannot beat" YOU BELIEVE HIM. Also, Mon should have stuck up for Cassian a lot more in that scene. I know her and Luthen didn't end on the best of terms, but at the end of the day Luthen did come through for her. LUTHEN organized her escape from Coruscant, not Bail. When her cover was nearly blown and her jig was up... LUTHEN saved her. Now I know he has got his problems, but she should know better than anyone else at that table what Luthen would have given up for the rebellion. And if not Luthen, then she should have trusted Kleya. All that being said, she does come around, and to her senses so I forgive her. Also, appreciated the dynamic that she, while out in the woods on some random planet, was smiling in her final finale scene while Perrin, who was surrounded by wealth, grandeur and the "obedient" wife he had always wanted was not. Once a loser, always a loser.

That brings me to my conclusion for now and if you stayed this long thanks for hearing my rant. I don't have pictures this week because I used my tablets dying breath to finish the episodes so just a wall of text. Memes will follow I assure you.

I did not expect the Hunger-games ass looking ending (said with affection). Bix standing in that field, holding the child of what I'm assuming to be Cassian Andor, definitely tugged at the heartstrings. I'm mad at her, for one, because Cassian deserves to know he has a child out there. Parent/Child relationships run to the very foundation of Star Wars, and is not exclusive to this series. In Andor it's explored through Syril and his mom, as well as Andor and Maarva. But we see it again in Rebels with Ezra and Hera, Sabine and Hera, or them with Kanan. Anakin and his mother, Anakin and Luke. Obi-wan and Luke. Din Jarin and Grogu.

So after some thought, this revelation doesn't feel foul at all. Because if Bix had told Cassian, he never would have stayed on Yavin. He never would have rescued Kleya, and certainly never found himself watching that beautiful sunset on Scarif. And if he hadn't done those things... well there would be no future for Bix or his child. And as we have seen many times in this franchise, being raised by a single parent on a remote planet is hardly the worst thing that can happen to a child. In fact, it almost guarantees you some sort of plot armor. I have no doubt Bix will be devastated to hear that Cassian doesn't make it, and she may never forgive herself, but their kid will have a reason to wake up everyday. A reason to watch the sun set over a field of wheat and think about what it means to see a sky so blue. So full of hope.

I have made my peace with the fact that not everyone will get a happy ending, but at the very least, they all get to experience hope.

[silllymnnan]

Hihi, so, ima do this in two parts; a meta/real world perspective on why he should stay robin, and an in universe perspective cause I think they're both very useful if your gonna write that presentation

Tim Drake was made to be Robin, he's a character madee to be witty and relatable, made to replace an unpopular Jason Todd, therefore becoming a very maleable character who changes and adapts to a writers needs.

In Batmans story, Tim's role as this changing and adaping character hasn't changed sincee the 90s, despite being out of the spotlight, Tim is still jumping pom stay to story making guest appearances like in Nightwing, Superboy, Huntress, Azreal and appearances of course Batmans story, when the writers a mediator between Bruce & Dick, they had Tim, same as now when they need a character to fill Damian's shoes when he leaves for Lazarus, they have still have Tim.

That's part of why he probably won't stop being Robin too (unless they kill him, hush2 get away from me ☹️) he fits the mantle of a cheery child sidekick wanting to do good for the sake of good and course the social butterfly allowing nity gritty badly written batman to have the chance to interact with characters outside his mythos.

Comics are a form of media that develop characters over a period of decades give or take, characters regress hard or push forward even harder, Tim Drake returning to Robin was in 2023, and as of right now he doesn't have a reason to stop being Robin or revert back to Red Robin.

In universe, right now, there is nothing else for Tim to become while feeling in character, at least not right now.

Tims a smart, stubborn and kind hearted character and he shows this over and over and over again.

He becomes Robin out of his own stubbornness that Robin as a mantle needs to go on, that this means something and taking it away would be detrimental to Batman and the city.

It doesn't matter to him how Dick rejects him, how Bruce follows suit, he believes in what he's saying and doesn't falter.

From the start it wasn't because he wanted it, it was because he thought it was important and necessary and if he believed it he was going to prove it.

Side by side with Cassandra Cain, Tim holds Batman and what he symbolises to a higher standard than even Bruce himself, and he doesn't falter with that.the second Tim thinks he's going to blur lines, he drops the mantle he refuses to let anyone associate his literal crash out with Robinss

And he only returns to the mantle once he's needed, when Damian leaves gotham. Again when the symbol that is Robin needs filling.

Tims trauma mostly comes from this way of life, from contracting a literal plague because he stood guard in front of babylonia with dick and Helena too losing his dad and witnessing his laid out carcass. Not to mention the way he loses his mother and school friends he's lost to this.

And still he stays

Before his father passed he wrote him a letter detailing why he'd never stop and how it's now an integral part of him

The city is as much Bruce's as it is tims, he's earned it.

And I guess that's my point really, Tim earned it, he deserves to be Robin because he could've easily have minded his own business and let Batman become a savage, but Tim, the ever loving empath couldn't just sit and let it happen when he knows he can do something and he wasn't just gonna give up when told no.

I think he perfectly defines what it is to be Robin with just his story alone; to defy odds.

He made Robin what it's known as today, and his similarities to Bruce are also a reason I think he works so well as Robin, he started as this naive kid and turned into someone Batman himself says could be on his level some day Detective wise, and there's this really cute panel somewhere in Aftershock (not sure which issue) where if I'm not mistaken they're making their way to a train trapped underground, and it's in this scene that Bruce tells Tim that one day he could see him filling his shoes given time, and I just love their dynamic

And even in recent comics, during the zur en arh arc, in which he's characterised very well might I add, Tim stays as one of Bruce's closest relationships and even Bruce's anchor to not give in

He's always there for Bruce at his worse and when written right Bruce is there for him.

Anyways live laugh love Tim Drake, he lit deserves to be Robin (and not die... im side eying hush2 😭) and read the lead up to no mans land it's so good 😋

why does tim drake deserve to be robin

okay, guys I need help!!! I have to do an argumentative presentation on anything of my choice for an class and I want to do the topic “why I think tim drake deserves to be robin/should be allowed to stay robin”, but i want your opinions! I haven’t read enough comics yet, so if you wanna include proof of what you think you can :) I wanna hear different perspectives on this too so if you disagree lmk!!

[zonatcannibalism]

Idk about you but one of my favorite things about Lottienat is them absolutely keeping life and work separate until they cant anymore. They might be absolutely opposing each others philosophies and everything the other stands for at day but the moment theyre alone they act like nothing is wrong. Lottie can hurt nat so much with the decisions she makes as the prophet and nat can hurt her just as much with the decision she makes as antler queen/ hunter but the moment theyre given privacy none of it matters. No, it dosent mean that the decisions they make arent actually hurting the other. No, they dont discuss it. Theres a huge gap between how they fulfill their roles in the team and how they treat each other when theyre apart from the team, and its absolutely toxic and hurting them and killing them both a little from the inside. And no, they dont discuss it unless they absolutely have too, and no, the way they act in each scenario is not pretend. And they will only stop to bring their feelings towards each other into the way they fulfil their roles in the team if the other is in actual danger.

This is why nat being the antelr queen didnt work out- it put them on the same side, and theyre doomed to always be enemies by day and lovers by night.

(help i actually hit 30 tags😭😭😭)

[faunandfloraas]

Pretty much 7 out of 8 of these guys are some kind of muscley- stopping cursing my boy seungmin with the What if he got muscle shit