#I wish for the death of million who are full of nothing but hate and ignorance

[bl00dngh0uls]

As much as I wish there was a way to get through to people who voted for a Nazi, the disgusting truth is, they likely hold the very same beliefs, and hatred. That, or they believe that cowering in front of the rich will spare them in the end. It won’t. They don’t give a shit about you.

I don’t wish betterment for anyone who directly, and knowingly, voted for this. I only wish you misfortune. I hope terrible things happen to you in your lifetime. If one day you realize what a horrible mistake you made, I want it to eat you alive. I hope you die with your guilt.

I’m not the better person. You deserve anything, and everything awful that comes your way.

[alcestas-sloboda]

The last time I was genuinely happy was in the summer of 2021.

My grandad called me and told me to come outside so he could buy me some ice cream. We stood there discussing what I was planning to do in Odesa, and he joked about our grandmother being a hard woman to live with, but we loved her nonetheless. Five days later, I would lose him. Six months later, the full-scale invasion would start. Nothing would ever be the same again.

That could've been you in Bucha, you know that? they didn’t choose who to kill, they killed everyone on their path? Your luck, then, that you were born in the western part of the country. The only thing you lost are your childhood memories of Crimea, Melitopol, and Zatoka, not your home. But the war continues: your flat could still become the final destination of a hypersonic missile. Don't forget it. Hopefully, you won't hear the siren that night and will die in your sleep. Hopefully, they will find the remains. Hopefully, it will be the entire family, so you won't suffer without each other. Because at the end of the day, your death would mean nothing but pain for your loved ones. The world will keep on spinning; missile parts will be sent to Russia. People will still pity the Russians, but they won't pity you or your family.

Suddenly, you realize that you no longer believe in what you believed before. Do you believe in something good? Well, your small, naive inner child is still alive then. Barely. What? You thought those institutions were meant to maintain peace? That's funny. Probably, that peace is more needed in expensive restaurants hundreds of kilometers away from the frontline.

I genuinely don't know why I'm writing this post again. Is it to be seen by the same 10 people? I know they feel the same. We just sit here together, slowly going mad, hoping someone will finally react. Maybe someone who reblogs your fandom post will find some sympathy. But sympathy is not what I need; I want to be heard.

Fuck you watched "Don't Look Up" with an ironic smile on your lips. And now, you are the main character.

All of you here preach about giving voice to the oppressed, but are you really doing it? The moment you become uncomfortable, it suddenly becomes not your business - "keep ___ out of politics." God, I would've loved that. I would've loved to not know anything. Not to know the names of military equipment. Not to understand that your life can literally depend on the presidential election in a completely different country.

I'm so tired of fighting for my right to be heard. I'm so tired of having to prove my right to live, to speak my own language. "Your country doesn't exist," "Your language is artificial; speak human (Russian)." Don't be too emotional. Don't hate Russians. Don't wish them anything bad. Don't open your mouth. Don't call out organizations. Just shut the fuck up or die.

No one will care if the biggest country in Europe disappears. No one will care if millions die. If your culture will finally be dealt with, if Russia will finally succeed in doing so. A thousand years of history can burn down in just one night. No one will bat an eye.

The world will keep on spinning.

[yelenasdiary]

hey, heard you were looking for angst requests? could you do one thats natasha x reader during end game, where natasha still sacrifices herself for the soul stone, but steve is able to bring her back when he returns the stones, and she comes back all excited to see everyone came back and to see reader, just to find out that reader also gave her life by doing the final snap to defeat thanos.

Understanding

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x GN! Reader

Summary: Natasha returns to some news she wasn’t ready for.  

Angst | Light Language Warning | Character Death | Grief | 0.7K | 

AC: I like this idea, it’s different! I hope you enjoy this, sorry it’s kind of short x 

"Why are you all looking at me like that?" Natasha frowned as her eyes scanned the room, but she knew when her eyes reached Clint that something was wrong. Steve cleared his throat as he stepped forward only to be stopped gently by Clint's hand on his shoulder. "I've got this" he whispered before looking at his best friend once more. 

Nobody had a chance to process the events that had taken place, Thanos was dead, a victory for the world but at the price of one of the Avenger's own. The longer the silence filled the room, the more Natasha's mind filled with what she knew was about to come out of Clint's mouth. 

"Nat"

"Don't!" Natasha snapped, trying to fight off the building tears in her eyes. She looked to Steve, "go back! Bring them back!" she demanded but it was too late, they knew for sure it couldn't be done. 

"Nat, it's not that simple" Clint spoke, his words only angering Natasha. 

"What the hell happened?!" Nat asked, biting the inside of her cheek as her mind raced a million miles per second trying to make sense of the situation. Everybody looked at one another, again, the room filled with silence. "Can somebody please just answer the damn question?!" Nat's grief began to show in anger. 

"They did it, Nat. They defeated Thanos with the gauntlet" Clint replied. Natasha's tears broke, she hated to hear it, but she needed too. "W=why did none of you stop them?!" she asked. If anybody had to die, she only wished with was somebody on Thanos's army, not you. 

"They thought you were dead, they weren't thinking straight when you didn't return" Steve inserted himself. 

"I'm here now" 

"We didn't know that we were even able to bring you back….Nat, I tried, I went back for them" Steve paused as Tony gave him a pat on the shoulder as he walked up to Natasha. 

"They did it for you" he looked at her, "every part of their being in that moment was in revenge for you. They're one of the best, we and world will never forget that and what they did. If we could bring them back, best believe me I would do it" 

Natasha couldn't take it, the idea of you being gone and her not being able to see you, hold you, hear your silly jokes that she thought were ridiculous half the time, but they made her laugh anyways. She brushed past Tony, Steve and Clint, leaving the room with her heart behind and her mind full of anger with nobody to take revenge on. 

----

As time moved forward, Natasha could help but feel stuck, stuck in a time that no longer existed. Nothing but dreams and wishes helped Natasha get through the long hours of the day and even longer hours of the night. Just hoping you'd walk through the door or steal one of her sweaters simply because you said they were comfier than your own. 

Natasha had lived a life a lot different to most and somehow, she was always able to make sense of it and how it worked. She's dealt with death her entire life, but your death hurt her just as much as not knowing who her biological mother was. 

The others did their best to help her through this, but they all knew it was better for Natasha to do it herself, they just reminded her they she wasn't alone, and they were always here for her. 

A memorial of you was created by the city of New York, many people would come and lay flowers, cards, stuffed toys and even some of your favorite snacks as a thank you for everything you had done to save the world. It brought a sense of comfort to Natasha knowing that people around the globe were thankful for your sacrifice but still, she just wanted you. 

Yelena dropped everything after the snap and decided to stay at the compound with Natasha, an extra set of eyes to ensure the red headed assassin wasn't going to do anything stupid or fall even deeper into her grief. The two spoke a lot about you, just like everybody else did but Natasha didn't feel like she was bothering Yelena with her memories of you, sometimes she felt the team might get bored of the same stories or it might be too much for them to think about but with Yelena, she never felt any of that. 

Over time, Natasha came to terms with your sacrifice and now lived her life making sure you were never forgotten or ever forgetting the live she had with you and always dreaming of a life that could've been.

Taglist: @red1culous | @sayah13 | @charl-lally | @when-wolves-howl | @bentleywolf29 | @fxckmiup | @natasha-belova | @blackwidow-3 | @lissaaaa145 | @high--power | @parkerdaramitzzzz | @mmmmokdok | @wackymcstupid | @kiwiana145 | @observeowl | @nattyolw | @ripofflizzie | @goofy-goonie | @makegoodchoices | @apollo2907 | @wandaroman0ff | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @lovelyy-moonlight | @santana1437 | @ahintofchaos | @fluffyblanketgecko | @puta1 | @inluvwithfictionalwomen | @tintedrose12 | @jaymieflorissssssss | @tita001 | @youralphawolf72 | @donnietarantino | @randomnessbecausewhynot | @natashamaximoff69 | @hehehehannahthings | @pandaemonium111 | @imnotslouching | @secrettoallofyou | @romantic-slaps-on-the-asss | @marvel-fan-2021 | @mmmmokdok | @riveramorylunar | @ripofflizzie | @marvel-madnessx | @scarsw1fe | @toldthatdevil | @itsmv3 | @natashaswife4125 | @katiemay-025 | @aphrcdtes | @romanoffs-widow | @natsxwife | @maria-403 | @boredandneedfanfics | @wandamaximoffspuppup | @xox-little-troublemaker-xox | @shibugs | 

[i984]

Sweet, Foolish

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader

|Warnings|: Ooc! Wednesday Addams, jealous(?) Wednesday Addams, girlie really be in love and just can't tell, you had a great Valentines because people gave you stuff, confession at the ending(?), author still don't know what they're doing.

|Summary|: They say too much of something is never good. Well, too much of something sweet proves different.

|A/n|: Happy Valentines Day, all!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You.

You were driving her crazy.

All smiles and laughs even though you were bedridden. Wednesday feels like slapping the stupid grin off your face. How can someone be so utterly foolish to trap themselves in this situation?

Wednesday has watched the pile of various sweets in your bag grow. Class after class, student after student professed their feelings for you, and with each candy, flower bouquet, and chocolate of many kinds, you kindly returned with bright smiles and grateful remarks. 

It's as if you truly appreciate all the cheesy scenes unfolding around you everywhere you go—something Wednesday would never dream of understanding in a million years. Now though, as you lay on one of the infirmary beds after eating too many sweets, the Addams girl somehow found herself sitting beside your laying body, brows furrowed in annoyance or concern, nobody knows.

It's all those incessant fools' fault.

"What's on your mind, pretty girl?"

"Do not call me that ever again," Wednesday pointedly glares at you when she hears your snicker, "or do you have a death wish?"

You hummed in mock consideration before answering, "Death may already be standing beside my bed with you, Wednesday," You rolled on your back, staring up at the ceiling. "Besides, you are pretty."

You said that to Enid this morning. And to Yoko's black scarf at lunch. And to the block of chocolate stupid Xavier gifted you. The bouquet of flowers and the bottle of honey Eugene shoved at you too. 

"You say that to everyone," Wednesday straightens in her seat, "not that I'm complaining." Her jaw clenches for the umpteenth that day when the smug look on your face grows. "What?"

"Nothing," you mumble, eyes scanning over the ravenette's features, "except for the fact that it's pretty clear you're jealous."

"You have an unconventionally large mouth for someone who claims to have severe stomachache."

"And you have an atypically deep blush for someone who claims to be above— Uh, what did you call it?" You make a show of tapping your fingers to your chin, brows raising almost teasingly. 

Maybe the sweets poisoning will catch up to you. Maybe, you'll die soon. Misery will surely be out my way.

"Oh yeah! 'A pish posh day full of ungodly sickening romance' was it?" you smirk as you raise your chin slightly. "Yet here we are."

There's an undefined silence that fills the air. Wednesday finds herself at a loss for any comebacks. She hates it because the phenomenon only happens when you're around. She also hates it because, with each passing second, your smugness practically suffocates the room. 

Tick. Tock.

The clock sounds obnoxiously louder than usual.

"You know, if I don't know any better, I would say jealousy is a nice color on you."

With your words, Wednesday finds her breathing hitched slightly.

"Good for you, I'm not."

"Not what?" You loll your head to the side.

"Jealous."

"Sure, Wens."

There was another prolonged silence until your mouth opened, "Enid told me something interesting earlier," you said almost conspiringly. "Apparently, someone has been asking her about what can be considered normal to give on Valentines day."

Do not trust anything the werewolf says. Surely nobody would be asking such a 'normal' question. Thing may be the one to do that. Definitely not anyone else, especially not me.

"Don't you wanna know who might've asked it? Or what the normal thing to give is?"

"Absolutely not."

"Incurious, I see," Your voice is tainted in mischief as you roll on your side, facing her. "Dark chocolate tastes quite nice— just saying."

Well. Enid has proven herself untrustworthy. Maybe her roommate deserves the pillow smothering. Wednesday pulls her shoulders back in an attempt to compose herself.

"Agreeable," the ravenette acknowledges carefully. "Though your decision to devour all the teeth-rotting delicacies all at once is not."

"Yeah, yeah," you wave a dismissive hand before propping yourself to sit up straight, resting your back on the headboard. Wednesday watched as you settled into your position before hearing a choked hiss from you.

Wednesday stopped breathing.

You grimaced at the sudden twist in your guts, arms coming to clutch your abdomen, attempting to soothe the discomfort.

If you had refused all those poor excuses of courting methods, maybe you wouldn't need to experience all this. I shall tell off those intrepid dunces next year for you. 

"You're in pain," Wednesday stated. Her face glowers when she trails the creases forming on your forehead.

You chuckle dryly. "Yes, a wonderful observation, Professor Addams. Your intuition amazes me as always," you simper. "I would also like to add that the sweetness is worth the pain. You wouldn't know this, of course. Your taste buds are most likely incapable of tasting sweet."

You're technically incorrect. Wednesday is sure her tastebuds work fine, though her body will reject the highly processed food upon the first swallow.

She'll give you a half point.

Wednesday carefully inspects your expressions. Your eyebrows seem to relax as you take notice of the vase of tulips on your bedside table. Your fingers delicately trace the outlines of the petal, a soft smile tugging at your lips subconsciously. 

I can bring you fresh tulips every morning. If you grow tired of them, I can grow you a different kind. Black dahlias are my favorite. What's yours?

"You look quite foolish, grinning like that," is what she says instead. Wednesday mentally slaps herself in agony, chest-puffing as she takes a deep breath to calm herself.

"Maybe, I am a fool."

Are you upset?

"For you."

"That statement is not the compliment you think it is," Wednesday rips her gaze from your face, eyes rolling in faux annoyance. 

"Oh, come on Wens," you let your head fall back and hit the wall, "don't you get it?"

"Get what?"

You groan openly into the room. "I specifically asked for you to accompany me to the infirmary. Why do you think I did that?"

"To pester me into an early grave?"

"No! I was trying to spend time with you," your hand comes up to massage your head. "I like you, okay?"

Wednesday blinks at your confession. 

Her eyes trail from your slightly scrunched-up nose to the smudged chocolate near the corner of your lips. You don't seem to notice it all this time, and Wednesday feels her fingers twitch at the urge to wipe the stain off you. Pugsley as a toddler had better table manners than you.

You're tolerable, at most.

"You're a fool," Wednesday lets the words out.

But you can see the ghost of a smirk on her face, her shoulders that relaxed, and the slight raise of her chin. 

Grinning ear to ear, you let out your final blow. 

"Your fool."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

|A/n2|: If you see me rush through that ending, no you did not :D It's not Valentines anymore for me, but it might still be for you guys so ye! Forgive me for the weird pacing :")

Tag list is in this post, please interact accordingly if you wish to be added!

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐒𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐊

Pairing: FEDRA!Javier Peña x firefly!reader

Genre: slice of life, smut, romance, angst, enemies to reluctant friends to lovers, TLOU AU, minors dni

Summary: Javier, a former member of the Federal Disaster Response Agency in Kansas City, is haunted by the guilt and violence he indirectly caused by not taking action when he should have. After fleeing Kansas City in the aftermath of Kathleen's violent overthrow of FEDRA, you and Javier seek refuge in an abandoned train in the middle of a forest.

As you and Javier turn the train into a living space and learn to navigate the dangers of a post-apocalyptic world, you gradually overcome your differences and form an unlikely bond. But when your pasts catch up with you, you must confront the demons that haunt you and make a choice that could mean the difference between life and death. Will you choose to protect each other and find a way to build a new life together, or will the ghosts of your pasts tear you apart?

word count: 8.4k

chapter summary: you and javier go for a swim.

warnings: canon typical violence, no y/n, mentions of blood, nightmares, brief mentions of reader suffering from anxiety attacks pre outbreak, PTSD, more references to the main hbo tlou plot specifically episode 5, overall wholesome and full of fluff, mention of body hair, piv, vaginal fingering, dirty talking, biting, mild edging, one small mention of him threading his fingers through your hair but nothing else specified

a/n: it's all about communication, baby. It's a long one so get your warm drink of choice and settle in!

Semaphore - A signaling system used on railroads to communicate between trains and stations, typically using a system of flags or lights.

The cell was always so fucking cold. 

Javier hated being here, staring at the gray walls and reading that damn FEDRA sign over and over again all day long. He couldn’t help himself; it was right there within his eyesight. He wished it wasn't, that he could just rip it off and throw it in the corner.

YOUR RIGHTS WHILE IN DETENTION

YOU ARE ENTITLED TO:

LAWYER

MEDICAL ATTENTION 

FAMILY VISIT

FOOD

CLOTHING

Just a huge load of fucking bullshit. If you’re in here, you’re in here for one reason only: to give up names. Either that, or you never see the sight of daylight again. He took a sharp breath. With that, the man sitting across from him on the bench stiffened. A drop of water continuously dripped from the ceiling. Every time the sound echoed, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Javier preferred to be alone during interrogations.

A young man stood next to him. Unlike Javier, who was leaning against the cage, he stood fully upright and alert, rifle in hand. He glared daggers at the man sitting helplessly; his cheek was cut, and his right eye bruised. Javier wanted to place a hand on Adam’s shoulder and tell him to calm down, to let him know that this broken man was no threat to them. But he couldn't do that, not when he had to keep his mask on.

“What’s your name?” Javier asked the man, he scoffed in return. 

“You already know my name.” 

Javier sighed once again, and Adam narrowed his eyes. The newcomers were always like this: eager to put others in their place, eager for violence. FEDRA didn't teach them anything else, just how to take orders and to see the world in black and white. But that was another bullshit lie. Javier had told Carillo a million times that he didn't want anyone paired with him. Murphy was enough. However, like many things, his request was ignored.

There was just something starkly painful about seeing a nineteen- or eighteen year old so eager to kill.

I want to hear it from you," Javier spoke calmly as he pushed himself away from the fence and took a step closer. The man cowered back. "If you tell me what I want to hear, we won't hurt you.”

There was a moment of silence, followed by a meek whisper of a name: Martin. Javier swallowed, realizing that this man would probably give away all the information they asked for, if he had the information to give.

“Alright, Martin," Javier said, taking slow steps and kneeling in front of him. Adam was right behind him, standing and being as menacing as ever. "I need you to tell me who is a part of this..." Javier made air quotes with his fingers, causing Martin to flinch. "...'Resistance'."

“I don’t know anythin’ about that.” 

"Are you sure?" Javier asked with a raised eyebrow. "Not even a whisper?"

Javier heard Adam puffing up his chest and almost rolled his eyes. But he didn't look away; he kept his gaze fixed on Martin. He liked using silence as a tactic. He just stared, watching the other man sweat. It was clear to him that Martin was protecting someone. Javier could tell by the way Martin's tongue poked inwardly from one cheek to another; he was having trouble meeting Javier's gaze.

“You won’t be getting out of here,” he said, keeping his voice even. “If you don’t tell me who’s leading it.” 

"I can't," he murmured, looking down at Javier's knees. "I won't."

Shit. This wasn't good.

Adam shifted from one leg to another, fidgeting with his rifle. A chill settled at the base of Javier's spine.

"Fucking answer the question," Adam spat, pointing the rifle. "Or we'll blow your head off. Ungrateful shit."

The worst part of all this was that Javier couldn't stop Adam if he were to do something. Stopping him meant blowing his cover and revealing that he cared about these so-called "traitors." Javier hissed between clenched teeth and nearly gave Martin a pleading look.

Javier averted his gaze at the last second. And with a heave, he stood up, towering over the man. 

“Are you sure you’re not going to give us the name?” he asked one last time. “Any name.” 

Martin shook his head.

Javier wakes with a jolt. He hears something akin to a whimper. A cry. He slowly rises from his bed, his eyes moving toward the curtain that stretches in the middle of the car, making two sections. Their setup isn’t perfect yet, but the curtain accompanied by the beds gave a sense of home and belonging. He attempts to rub the sleep away from his eyes, his mind was still in a deep sleep, a fog slowing his thoughts and reason. 

Another whimper follows, and Javier's thighs quiver as he stands up. He reaches for the curtain, slowly pulling it aside.

There you are, crying in your sleep. Half of your face is tucked into the dirty pillow as your body contorts in the most unnatural ways. Javier's eyes follow the curves of your body: one knee nearly touching your chest while your other leg is straight like a stick, tense. Sweat makes your shirt cling to your skin. Moonlight trickles in from the freshly cleaned windows, giving you an almost ethereal glow.

Javier steps closer. This isn't the first time you've had a nightmare. And he's certain that you've also been awoken from sleep by his own night terrors. You probably wouldn’t believe him, but he hates seeing you like this. He can’t help but blame himself. He wonders how many more people were suffering due to the system he’s been a part of for so long. 

He takes a gentle seat on the bed, bringing your head to his lap, he makes himself comfortable. Again, this isn’t the first time he’d done this. 

Your whimpers and crying slowly subside, drifting into soft sniffles. Your tear streaks dry as you nuzzle your cheek into his thigh. He’s happy to see that this still works. You loosely wrap your arms around him, tugging him closer. Javier obliges shifting nearer. 

In a moment of impulse, he finds himself reaching out for the blanket that you had kicked away in your frenzied attempt to escape your nightmares. The seasonal shift worries him. They’re not ready for the cruel temperature drop yet. 

Javier pulls the blanket and you seem to melt at the warmth, your body becoming pliant over his lap. He adores seeing you like this. Your face softens, the tension that had hardened it dissolving.

Javier wants to hold you like this when you’re awake too. He thinks that you’d enjoy it, he never received any complaints about it before. His thumb moves down your cheek, he feels the scars he can’t see, and soon the pad of his thumb moves to your neck, your pulse thrumming under his touch. 

A deep inhale expands his lungs, he leans back. His head hits the glass with a thud. Javier licks his lips, his fingers start to twitch. He wants to smoke. 

By some miracle, he hadn’t touched a single cigarette all day, but that was only because he was going to be running out soon. What the hell was he supposed to do then? Chew on a straw? Like a cowboy?

He smiles at his own joke, his palm resting on your shoulder. He’s glad he’s not afraid of this. The apocalypse has made him a brave man. You’re probably more afraid of this attraction than he is. He can see it in your eyes; you hold his gaze for a beat too long, your hands lingering on his skin as if searching for something. He can’t help the boost of ego he gets from how you behave. He smiles every time he catches you but you miss it, turning your head away in a fit of panic.

A soft snore parts your lips and you bury your face deeper into his legs. Javier swallows, a thick knot in his throat as he feels his dick twitching under his zipper. 

He lets out another deep sigh. It’s going to be a long night. 

You find Javier outside, leaning against the train with a cigarette hanging between his lips. Holding your head, and still feeling a bit groggy, you join him. But instead of staying upright, you drop to the dirt, crossing your legs as you rest your back against the cool metal. 

“You saw a nightmare last night,” he says nonchalantly.

“Did I?” you ask, looking between the fence chain. “Sorry.” 

Your crinkle your nose when you inhale smoke instead of oxygen. Javier notices and tucks the hand holding the death stick between his waist and the train. It’s a chilly morning and you hug your coat tight around you. 

“I didn’t say that for you to apologize. I was trying to ask if you’re alright.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t really get that from what you said.” you answer, with a smile you rest the crown of your head against his knee. He stiffens, but other than that says nothing. “I don’t know. I don’t really remember what I saw if I’m being honest. Probably just a shit ton of death.” 

“That good old apocalypse classic.” Javier nods, bringing the cigarette to his lips. “Can’t live without it.” 

“So what’s the plan for today?” 

He shifts his weight from one foot to another, he slightly slides them forward, burying the soles further into the grass. Much similar to yours, the tips of his boots are worn out around the corners. It would be great to find some new ones. But wearing—taking someone else's boots isn’t easy. As if there isn’t enough death going around, you had to be reminded of it in every uncomfortable step. 

“I was thinking we go for a swim.” 

“A swim?” 

Javier laughs at the sound of your shock. His leg presses into your shoulder and you enjoy the heat, a small smile of your own blossoming. He crouches over, balancing himself by leaning against you. Your gaze is fixed ahead. If you look at him, you fear he might see right through you. He’s too observant not to hear your heartbeat. 

“Blue River isn’t that far off from where we are,” he explains. “Winter’s coming, it would be good to get clean thoroughly. And we should at least try to stock up on water too. I know rain and snow is an option but still, it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared.” 

“Guess not,” you murmur, looking up to the sky. 

“You have something against swimming? It’ll be fun. And, most importantly, distracting.” 

Your eyes widen, and your pulse skyrockets. He thought about this plan. He heard you crying in your sleep, woke up, went outside, and thought about something to do to cheer you up. You don’t remember the last time someone offered you their thoughtfulness. On your birthday, the third year you’d joined the fireflies, Amy had brought you a twinkie with a burning stick stabbed into it. And that was it. No one actually thought about your feelings. 

God, you missed it. 

It’s like a hug. A caress from the wind. The sun on your skin. It feels like breathing again. There’s no weight on your chest, because he’s helping you lift it. Someone fucking cares. A giggle bubbles up from your chest. Tears sting your eyes. Your head falls back against the train with a thud and you breathe out; fuck. You’re ridiculous. But Javier doesn’t seem to care. He’s just looking at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes, brows pinched in the middle. 

Heat coils in your stomach, searing, burning up your insides. 

“What do you suggest we swim in? Our underwear?” you tease without much thought. 

You don’t expect to see the mischief in his eyes, the hints of arousal splattered over dark irises like stars in the night sky. You swallow. He must’ve sensed it because he leans in, slowly, lips only an inch away from your parted ones. Javier takes a deep inhale, those same eyes you love, and hate, drop to your lips. 

You shudder. 

“Whatever the rebel is comfortable in,” he murmurs, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “If you don’t want your panties getting wet, might be better to take them off.” 

The drop of his voice. The heat of his breath. Emotions spin wildly in your head, forcing you to be the one to take the metaphorical step back. Which is just you turning your head back to the fence. It doesn’t do much. You can still feel his breath fanning your cheek. It’s hard to hide the hitch of your breath, your chest rises up with the inhale you take, and, fuck, you just know he’s looking at your breasts. His gaze like a branding iron. 

“I think I’ll keep my panties on, thank you very much,” you manage to choke out, the tremble of your voice too noticeable to ignore. “But, hey, if you want to flash the clickers out there be my guest, handsome.” 

“Handsome?” 

Shitshitshit. 

You practically jump as you get up, and head inside the train. You hear him laugh, something dark and possessive lingering underneath. 

“Let’s just go!” you call out. “I don’t want to be outside the fence when the sun goes down.” 

Sex has been something you hadn’t allowed yourself to think about for a long time. 

But now, as you’re standing under a giant oak tree, your shirt on the ground and pants unbuttoned, you’re reminded of how enticing the mere thought of sex can be. Javier’s already in the water, head bobbing up and down with the waves with his hair slicked back. Before he went in, you got a good look at him—before the outbreak, you might’ve been shyer about it. Maybe you would’ve turned your gaze away with heated cheeks. You still had the latter going on, but you most certainly didn’t shy away with your obvious ogling. 

You might be dead the next day. No need to turn your sight away from something beautiful. 

And Javier is just that. The epitome of beauty. 

Javier stripping in front of you will forever be engraved in your mind; he shrugged off his plaided shirt and kicked off his pants, only leaving him in a black undershirt and his boxers. He was surprisingly lean and muscular, he wasn’t a big man, but he wasn’t quite the opposite either. You were surprised to see him jumping into the water with his undershirt, you tucked the question for a later conversation. 

He swims closer to you, resting his elbows above the soil. His gaze blatantly exploring your newly exposed skin. 

“So you ever plan on getting in, perla? Or are you planning on stealing my clothes and leaving me here?” 

A snort bubbles from the back of your throat. “You poor thing. That happened to you?” 

“Maybe,” he grins and pushes himself back enough so the back of his head is submerged in running water. “Just get in.” 

Finally, with a burst of unfounded courage, you kick off your boots and pants. The chill of the forest embraces your skin. With a pleasant tingle buzzing in your muscles, you walk ankle-deep into the water. You try not to think about your old bra, or your underwear that is scattered with small holes. You especially don’t think about the small hairs dusted above your legs and other patches of skin. 

You swallow. The knot in your throat makes it difficult. 

You wade further into the river, the cool water embracing your skin, as you turn to him with a hint of uncertainty in your voice. 'Perla?' you ask, and he responds with a fluid motion, gliding effortlessly above the water, following you. 

“It means pearl.” he answers, not giving much explanation. 

You drop yourself into the water, your head submerged along with your body. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you feel the water rushing around you. The river sings to you in a beautiful hum. Javier is moving somewhere in the water, you can sense his presence. You want to open your eyes, but sadly that is one of the skills you can’t seem to force yourself to gain. You wonder if the water is muddy or crystal clear. You like to think it’s the latter. 

You rise to the surface and take in a deep breath of fresh air. You wipe your eyes with the heels of your palm, ringing the excess water from your brows and lashes. 

“I know what perla means,” you murmur, blinking at him. “I was trying to ask why you called me that.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t really get that from what you said.” he grins, his answer a reminder of this morning. “To answer your question, I don’t really have a satisfying one. I just like pearls and it just came out. I won’t call you that if you don’t want me to.” 

Moving your feet, you move upright to face him. Water drops trickle down his sunkissed skin, rolling down his cheeks and down to his neck. Momentarily your eyes drop to his lips, only for you to pull them back up again. Meeting his gaze, you move closer, the heat of his skin plausible despite the cool water running between you two. 

“No, I like it.” you answer, you swear your heart nearly stops. “I was just curious.” 

You’re not sure if it’s the water or him, but he’s closer. Your pebbled nipples graze against his chest. You suck in a sharp breath. 

“When I was a kid, I didn’t have the toughest stomach. I would get sick from almost everything,” he explains. It’s hard to focus on his words when he’s so close. “My abuela— let her soul rest in peace— had these crazy remedies. She would use crushed pearls and mix it with honey or ginger, to make a weird paste thing. Then she would make me eat it. It tasted like shit but supposedly it was supposed to make my nausea go away.” 

“Did it?” you ask. Your eyes are wide with innocent, child-like, curiosity. Javier is a natural storyteller. It’s hard not to get sucked into the cadence of his voice. 

He shakes his head, laughing. You feel his breath on your cheeks and you lean in. Only a trickle of water moves between you two now. 

“It did not, obviously. But I believe it did. I still do. And no matter how bad it tasted and how much I complained…I still took my chances.” 

“So you decided to name me after a remedy that doesn’t work?” 

“No. I named you after a remedy that I believe works. And I’ll take it, every time.” 

In the quiet moment between blinks, the world seems to pause. Your eyelids, like two curtains, draw gently closed and then part again. His words heavy in the clear air. It's a fleeting moment, barely noticeable, and that’s when it happens. 

You feel his lips, warm and wet pressing against your mouth. It’s such a simple motion. A tender closeness. Nothing more, nothing less. You don’t even taste his tongue and he’s already pulling back. With a moment of panic, you chase him, capturing his lips once more in a more heated kiss. 

That’s when you feel his hands on your waist, pulling you closer underwater, your bodies swimming in unison. He inhales you. And you him. You don’t remember the last time you kissed someone or the last time you thought about it. You groan as his tongue cheats between your lips, your own hands white-knuckled as you hold onto his shoulders. 

Javier’s hands grab at your ass, kneading the soft flesh and tracing the crease between them with the tips of his fingers. Suddenly, he’s towering over you, pushing himself further above the waterline as he claims your lips again and again, sucking the air from your lungs and garnering you breathless. 

It's not you or him, not really, but rather the river that pushes you apart. A wave rises up, and crashes down. Water rushes into your mouth and nose, filling your lungs with a bitter, icy taste. You're forced back, coughing and gasping for air, as the wave pulls you away from each other. 

You move to the riverside, grasping at the slippery rocks. You wait for your breathing to return to normal. Javier’s hands are on your back in an instant, soothing you before they slip in front to rest on your stomach. His chest is flush against your back. You take a shaky inhale and let out a deep breath. 

“Are you alright?” he asks and you can barely hear him from the blood rush in your ears. 

“I’m fine.” you gasp. “You—You kissed me. Why?” 

You’re happy he can’t see your face. The question sounds so juvenile, so unimportant. What did it matter why he kissed you? He did and that was that, and you liked it. 

“Instinct. Felt like you needed a kiss.” 

You choke out a burst of laughter. Your eyes sting from, what you hope, the water of the river. “Asshole. Don’t try to make it seem like it was for my benefit.” 

“I’m willing to say it was for both our benefits.” 

“So, it was a one time thing then?” 

“Not if you don’t want it to be.” 

You turn around and his arms cage you in. You’re smiling. And it’s not the smile you make when you’re awkward, or angry, or sad—it’s genuine. You’re heart feels light and if the beat of it wasn’t steady, you would’ve thought it disappeared. It feels foreign. 

Javier rolls his hips, the outline of his cock leaving little to the imagination. It sends electricity up your spine, blinding, and mind-numbing. He’s grinning at you in a way a confident man does when he knows what he’s doing. His face dips into the hallow of your neck. Small, ticklish kisses are left upon your burning skin. With a shudder, your hands tug at the hem of his undershirt. 

“Why do you still have this on?” you whine, smiling against his lips. “Can I take it off?” 

He tenses under your palms and you stop. His lips are above your pulse, which makes it hard to differentiate the line between right and wrong. Your fingertips buzz with the need to touch and take. His tongue sneaks from between his lips and licks a line up the column, nipping at your jaw. 

“Would it kill the mood if I said no?” 

You retract your hands and your fingers smooth over the fabric, tugging it down. Your lips part with a soft whimper, arousal gushing between your legs and fading into the water. It wouldn’t kill the mood, no, not when you’re so worked up. But it does make you think. Maybe this isn’t the perfect way to go about this, whatever perfect means in this day and age. There’s still so much you don’t know about him. Your feelings are a whirlwind, threatening to throw you up into the sky and leave you to crash down into the earth. 

Your meek sounds of pleasure subside. Javier senses your hesitation. He peels himself unwillingly from your neck and stares fixes you with a leveled gaze. 

“You want to get out?” 

Entranced, you nod. Your heart beats in your throat, uncomfortable and larger than life itself.  

“Yeah,” you answer, a beat above a whisper. “That’s probably for the best.” 

“Understood.” 

There’s a deep stillness in his eyes. With a dry mouth, all you can do is parrot his answer back to him. 

“Understood.” 

“What do you miss the most?” 

The grass beneath you is soft and cool against your skin, the wind blows warm. A blessing considering the growing cold. The earth is comfortable against your back, a welcomed reprieve from the warmth of the sun above. You feel the trickle of water, your skin damp and pliant from the droplets that still cling to you.

The sun's gentle warmth kisses your skin, the light filtered through rustling leaves. The branches dance and tease, occasionally catching your gaze and tugging you away from the clouds overhead. You can’t help but smile. A memory reminiscent of the days you would do absolutely nothing. 

Javier's body lies perpendicular to yours, his face only a breath away. You feel the warmth radiating from his skin, his gaze looking up to the sky, and you wonder what the clouds remind him of. The sun caresses his skin, drying the water droplets that cling to him, much like it does to you.

“What do I miss,” he hums, thoughtful, eyes fluttering shut. “Having a purpose, I guess.” 

“A purpose?” 

A breathy chuckle escapes his lips. “It’s a bit silly I know, but before FEDRA, I was working in the DEA. My life was always hectic, but at least back then I could argue I was doing good. I was helping people. I liked thinking that I had a noble purpose in life. No matter what happened.” 

You turn your head to look at him, taking in his profile against the backdrop of the sky. He slowly opens his eyes, fixes them to the sky. A deep exhale leaves his lungs. 

“But now that I think about it, what I did wasn’t really noble back then either. I wish I spent more time with my family. It wouldn’t have been exciting, and I’d probably be bored out of my mind helping dad in the ranch, but at least I would’ve been happier.” 

You push your hand towards him and shudder at the way his knuckles brush against yours. Your fingers intertwine, his rough callouses fitting perfectly between the spaces of yours.

“What I’m hearing is you were an adrenaline junkie.” 

Your smile widens into a grin when he snorts. 

“Perhaps I was.” he muses. “What about you? What do you miss?” 

“I’m afraid my answer is less philosophical than yours,” What did you miss? You haven’t really thought about it, until now. Family and friends feel like an obvious answer. But you always felt lonely, even before the outbreak. You suffered from weird attacks you never got diagnosed, and when you attempted to explain them by calling them “something like a panic attack” you were always shut down, being told that if it was a panic attack, it would be far more serious. 

So, naturally, you closed up. Simmered in the heavy weight on your chest, crying with your hand between your legs, hoping someone one day would show up and close up the gap that you felt. You were so lonely.  But that person never came along, and then the world ended. 

“Cooking.” you answer, gauging his reaction. He squeezes your hand, thumb moving in circles on your skin. “Well, baking to be precise. I loved baking. Coffee—god, music, I miss music.” 

“Music,” he agrees. “I miss that too. Maybe if we find a guitar or something…” 

“You know how to play?” you perk up, a grin ready to take form. 

His laughter comes at the same time as the wind. The blends seamlessly with the rustling of leaves and the gentle sway of branches. It vibrates in your bones, as though his laughter is a part of the very fabric of nature itself.

“No, but I can learn. Some noise is better than none.” 

“Yeah,” you answer, seamlessly. “It is.” 

Javier was being followed. He walked past the broken-down toy shop, his steps now faster. He could feel the gaze that watched his every step. It was the crack of the morning, which was the only time he and Micheal could meet. Everything was becoming a mess of badly executed plans with feeling motifs. Every nerve felt like a live wire. It was hard sneaking around. Especially when you lived in a time where even the walls had eyes. 

“Peña!”

Javier jumped and turned, gun pointing at whoever was behind him. He saw the sight of familiar green eyes, then let out a breath. 

“Adam?” putting his gun back, he cocked an eyebrow. “What the hell are you following me for?” 

“I wasn’t following you,” he answered, almost offended. “I was looking for you. Murph brought in a lead we might be able to use and Carillo wanted me to let you know.” 

Javier nodded, ignoring the younger man’s curiosity-filled gaze. When they started to move, much to his annoyance, Adam began to voice out his rather loud thoughts. 

“What are you doing here anyway? You weren’t posted here, you were meant to patrol the east side.” 

“Felt like a walk,” he grunted. “And I don’t answer to you, pendejo.” 

Javier and Adam walked in silence as they made their way toward the Fedra headquarters. The old building was barely holding up, with paint peeling off the walls and cracks running through the ceiling. The air inside was stale and smelled of musty old books, a reminder of the once-functioning library that the Fedra headquarters used to be.

They were greeted by Carillo and Murphy, who led them to the interrogation room. A string of curses raised all the way up to the tip of his tongue. On the other side of the glass, a man was sitting down, someone he recognize very vaguely. The man was young-ish, with curly black hair and a mustache supported by a messily shaved beard. His leg bobbed up and down nervously as he waited.

Carillo grinned as he gestured towards the glass. "This is Henry. Apparently, he's willing to give us information in exchange for medicine for his younger brother."

“Is that so,” Javier answered, his gaze never leaving Henry. “And what information might that be?”

The room was small and cramped, with peeling wallpaper and a flickering lightbulb. Javier noticed a small crack in the wall that seemed to grow wider with each passing moment. He couldn't help but feel a sense of unease in this dilapidated building, with its creaking floors and musty air.

“The leader of the resistance. He’s going to help us catch him.” 

The corner of Javier’s lips twitched as he forced a smile. He could barely contain the heave of his chest, the fast-paced breaths he so desperately wanted to let out. 

His mind raced. Everything was about to get a hell of a lot worse. 

Your eyes are wide open, your body stiff and alert. 

It’s been a while since you and Javier decided to go to bed. Moonlight filtered through the windows, long shadows of leaves moving across the ceiling of the train. You breathe slowly; one breath in, a long breath out. You hear him. He’s mumbling something in his sleep, moving, thrashing over his bed, the springs squeaking under his weight. 

On nights like this, you try to ignore it. But it’s different this time. Memories of earlier today flood your mind; him kissing you in the river, his length pressed against the softness of your stomach, his lust-blown pupils. Then there was the moment where you laid on the grass, talking for hours with your fingers interlaced until you had to leave. You don’t have it in you to abandon him. For him to fend off the nightmares alone. 

Just hearing the sounds he makes…so full of pain, raw and emotional— there’s no way you can go back to sleep. 

Heading to his side of the car, you silently watch him. Again, he’s wearing his black undershirt and a pair of boxers. He’s laying on his stomach, one leg outstretched and one curled to the side. One hand is on the pillow whilst the other is balled into a tight fist, touching his lips. A choked whimper comes from the back of his throat. 

“Javier,” you call out, taking a step forward. “Javier wake up.” 

He doesn’t. So you try again. This time you reach out, the heat of your palm pressing into the slope of his shoulder. Honestly, you should’ve known better than to touch someone who’s buried deep in a nightmare. Especially in this day and age. 

“Jav—” 

Your reaction is close to none when you find yourself thrown to the bed, a sharp blade at your neck, drawing the smallest amount of blood. You breathe steadily. His fingers have your wrist in an iron grip, and the look in his eyes— deranged, still wet from the mirages of his past. The physical outburst isn’t enough to phase you, but the look in his eyes surely is. 

“It’s me,” you whisper, careful not to touch him. His jaw is locked, nostrils flaring with heavy breaths. “You were seeing a nightmare. It’s okay. Nothing’s wrong. It’s just you and me—Perla, remember?” 

“Perla,” he repeats slowly, lips remaining parted as he stares down at you. “Mi Perla.” 

The silence stretches between you two. Both of your heartbeats echo loud between the metal walls. Blood continues to trickle down your neck, staining the worn out sheets. His eyes drop to the wound, the small cut, and as if scorched, he throws the knife. It crashes to the floor with a loud clatter. The sound makes you jerk, a moment of fear evident enough for him to see. 

“Sorry.” he blurts out. “Fuck—shit—I…I didn’t mean to. Force of habit.” he shakes his head, his entire body trembling. “Are you okay? I didn’t—Why did you—” 

You raise your hand and his mumbling fades away. Your fingers hover an inch away from his face, you can almost feel the heat, the sweat that gathered in his pores. You give him a pleading look. 

“Can I?” Can I touch you?

He chokes out, “Yes.” Please do.

You rest your hand against his cheek. Just as you expected, his skin is damp. Your thumb rests right under his eye and you caress the soft skin. You’re surprised that he leans into your touch, seeking more of the comfort you promise to provide. You close your eyes and sigh.  You allow your hand to slide to his neck, smoothing out the nooks and crannies in his shoulder.

Javier groans as he dips down, you feel his lips on your neck, tongue darting to clean the blood. A whimper escapes you when he tenderly kisses the wound, his mouth moving slowly, gradually. Like he’s kissing your mouth. Heat coils in your stomach. Arousal pools between your legs. You play with the short hairs that are mussed against the back of his neck. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask, breathless. 

He shakes his head, his voice stern. “No.” 

So you don’t. 

Javier crashes into you, breathing you in. It’s desperate, needy, and fearful. In fear of what—you’re not sure, but you have some guesses. 

You throw away your shirt and in a fit, you kick off your sweatpants. Even those brief moments of being a part are too much for you to handle, you drink him in like you would a fine wine. Your lips crashing into his again and again. 

You moan into his mouth and he swallows them all. Sucking your tongue between his teeth, he nips the soft muscle and squeezes your hips, grinding himself against your clothed sex. Your fingers trace the fabric of his shirt, tugging, but not attempting to remove it. He licks your bottom lip before breaking away from you, he sits back on his knees. 

“Sorry,” he says. “You must think I’m trying to be all mysterious. I swear I’m not.” 

“I wasn’t thinking that. You don’t have to remove it if you don’t want to,” your eyes drop to his crotch, a grin tugging at your lips as you witness the bulge. You drag your foot up his thigh. He shudders. “All we need is down here.” 

“Aren’t you charming,” his tongue thoughtfully moves over his bottom lip. You sigh as you remember how it felt against your own. “Just promise me you won’t ask any questions. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t even want to think about it.” 

You make a cross over your heart and raise your hand, he chuckles. 

“Alright then.” 

You’re ashamed to admit it, but you’re acting a bit like you’re in heat. He slowly peels the fabric off and your hands immediately find a spot on his waist. Your mouth waters at the exposed skin. You smooth your palms over his stomach, your lips pursing to leave kiss after kiss over his torso. 

You notice it as you start leaning over. Your eyes drawn to the massive white scar that runs from Javier’s heart all the way down to his Adonis belt. It stands out starkly against his tanned skin. Your breath catches in your throat. The veins in your temples throb loudly in your ears. With a dry mouth, you look up to him and he sees the questions in your eyes. 

“You promised.” 

Fuck, you did but you’re regretting it now.

You’re used to small scars, a bullet wound, or two. Everyone has them, including you. But you’ve never seen a scar this big. It’s death carved into his skin. Your mind races and he fixes you a steady gaze. This cut wasn’t from Kathleen and the resistance, so it must’ve happened before that. But what on earth would leave a scar so big? And how the hell did he survive it? 

Your cheeks feeling unbearably warm, you finally tear your gaze away. You feel his fingers thread through your hair, and they slowly move down to your shoulder, an ache for skin on skin contact. 

You dip down, press your lips above the end of his scar, you feel the dip of his adonis through your mouth. Javier inhales deeply and sharply. Ignoring the heaving of his chest, you dart your tongue out and lick a steady line, following the traces of the closed wound. His nails bite into your scalp, his hips stutter forward, the outline of his cock caught against the curve of your shoulder. 

Words die on your tongue. You want to say something, you’re just not sure what. If you apologized, expressed grief for his past, he would think of it as pity. If you asked about it, he’d say you’ve broken your promise. 

So you thank him instead. 

Javier enjoys that. He pushes his hands between the crease of your underarms and pulls you up, kissing you breathless. He squeezes the meat of your ass and pins you against him. You whine into his mouth. With a grin, he bites your bottom lip and tugs it between his teeth. 

“I want to taste you.” 

“Fuck, Javi,” your eyes roll back and you shudder. Your underwear sticks uncomfortably to your pussy, and it pains you that you’re shaking your head. “As much as I want that…I need your cock.” 

Javier cups your mound, fingers digging into your clothed folds. You gasp when the rough fabric brushes against your clit. You brace yourself by holding his shoulder and pressing your lips into his neck. 

“You’re so wet, shit, baby.” he groans as he grinds his hips, you whimper. “How are you this worked up already? When was the last time you’ve been with someone?” 

Your sudden hesitation to answer earns you an understanding gaze from him. Javier pulls back slightly, the movements of his fingers more gentle. 

“It’s been long,” you whisper and look away. 

“How long?”

“None after the outbreak and even before that...two years.”

He snorts and you fix him a not so serious glare. 

“Don’t pity me. It’s not all bad. I learned how to get rather creative when masturbating.”

“I’m sure you have,” he answers, staring at your darkly. “Can’t wait to see it.”

Javier drags his nose up your neck, you’re positive he can hear how excited you are. Like your heart is about to stop. 

“Say it again,” he grunts. “Tell me how bad you want my cock.” 

You sigh. “So bad.” 

“Mi Perla…I thought you learned how to get creative.” 

He sinks his teeth into your neck and you cry out, your entire body quivering as he holds you upright. He’s quick to lap at the teeth marks, lowering his head, he pushes you back so he can swirl his tongue over your peaked nipple. Arousal gushes between your legs. Your nails digging into his shoulders. 

“Please,” you whisper. “Please, fuck me Javier. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more in my life. I want you to fill me up with that big cock of yours, fucking me into submission—” 

The last addition stumbled out of your lips, stunning you into sudden silence. You awkwardly stare up at the ceiling, shadows of trees moving and mocking you. Heat spreads under your skin. You don’t realize how tense you are until Javier nips the swell of your breasts, bringing you back to him. His fingers pull at your chin and you find yourself looking into his big brown eyes. 

Your eyes drop to the curve of his lips, and you stop breathing. 

“Fuck you into submission hmm?” he taunts, his pupils blown wide. “Looks like the little firefly is tired of being a hardened criminal.” 

“Shuddup,” you pout, averting your gaze. “Don’t read much into it. I said it in the heat of the moment.” 

“Sure you did, sweetheart.” 

Javier hooks his fingers into your thighs and suddenly you’re falling back down, the old bed creaking with protest. Before you can say anything, his weight presses into you like a heavy blanket. You moan at the heat, the feel of his skin against yours. His lips latch onto a nipple and you spread your legs wide for him, the soft ache in your thighs making your cunt drip. 

“Let’s see if you’re ready to take my big cock,” he rasps, fingers moving to slide your sticky panties to the side. “You want my fingers, baby?” 

You nod and he clicks his tongue with disapproval. 

“If you want me to fuck you into submission, you gotta use your words.” 

You finally snap.

“God, yes. I want your fingers. How many times am I going to have to say it? I want you, Javier. I’m going to explode if you don’t fuck me soon.” 

He grins at your frustration. Two thick fingers slide up between your wet folds, circling your clit. You gasp, teary eyes fluttering shut. His lips touch one, then the other. Then you feel him on your cheeks, nose, neck. You tremble. 

“Don’t tempt me.” 

Two of his fingers sink into your heat without warning, your head falls back with a moan, your legs tight around his frame. Shit, it feels good. Of course he’s good at fingering, god forbid Javier Peña is bad at anything. Your breathing becomes fast paced, your heart beating a mile in your chest. Scissoring his fingers, Javier nips at your chin. Heat coils tight in your stomach. You whimper his name, not knowing what else to do. One part of you is afraid. If you’re feeling this unbridled with just his fingers, what the hell is going to happen to you when he gives you his cock? 

Your fear goes unnoticed by him. He curls his fingers, applies pressure right where you need him. His eyes follow your every expression. You can feel it. Licking your lips, you raise your hips to meet the thrust of his fingers, Javier hums his approval and fucks them deeper. His knuckles brush your aching clit and you scream out, your fingers grabbing his wrist. 

“Too much?” he asks, but his tone lacks any actual remorse. He sounds pleased. 

Asshole. 

“Javi,” your breath hitches and you push yourself off the bed, pressing your lips right where his scar starts. Above his heart. “I need you.” 

The growl Javier lets out reverberates through his chest, sending tremors through the air and into your bones. It’s a visceral sound, primal and raw. Your lips follow the outline of his jaw. He acts like a beast, nuzzling towards your lips and grinding his molars together. 

He pulls out his fingers, a whine ripping from your throat at the sudden emptiness. His mouth brushes the shell of your ear.

“Good thing about being in an abandoned train,” he says, warm breath fanning your damp skin. You shiver. “You can be as loud as you want to.” 

Javier’s hand comes up to your chest and he pushes you back down. Your breath catches in your throat as he looks down at his cock and spits. He wraps a hand around himself, meeting your gaze as he strokes his cock. You hold your breath as he comes closer, every nerve alive and burning.  The head of his cock sinks into your heat, and you both let out a long, breathless moan. 

“Fuuuuuuuck,” you groan, head falling back. “Fuck, that feels good. Holy shit–”   

“It does,” he hums, capturing your lips and speaking between moments of exchanged breaths. “And this is only the tip, querida.” 

With every inch being buried, you feel your body sinking further into the bed. You feel like lead. Pleasure skims your skin. With shallow thrusts, he works you open, stretching you wide. He nips at your collarbone, the sensitive skin tucked between his teeth, he pushes further until he’s flushed against you. 

You’re shaking, your hips frantically trembling and jerking. Javier waits for you to adjust to his size. He’s incredibly deep. So deep that saliva floods your mouth, a bit of spit trailing down the corner of your lips as you cry out. He flexes his cock, and more slick trickles down your thighs. Your hands frantically pull him closer, as if he wasn’t already flushed against your chest, but he obliges, allowing his weight to fully cave down on you. 

“I’m here,” he mutters. You don’t expect the sudden sting of tears filling your lash line. “We’re both alive. We’re both okay.” 

Your walls flutter around him, and he lets out a sharp breath. Meeting his gaze, you blink. 

A sudden guilt consumes you. You should be the one consoling him. He’s the one that was woken up from a nightmare. It should be you saying those things. Not the other way around. But Javier doesn’t seem to mind. He squeezes your hip and pushes himself upright. 

“Can I move?” 

“Please.” 

He slowly rolls his hips, watching his cock disappear into your quivering cunt with heavy lids, a white ring at the thick base. When your hands aimlessly attempt to grab at him, he takes a hold of your wrists, using your arms as a leash. 

“Messy girl,” he huffs, grinding deeper into you. Your eyes roll back. “You’re taking me so well, baby. You’re so fucking wet for me, I love it.” 

A fire builds in your core, slick sounds flooding the small space. Pulling out almost all the way, Javier slams back into you, emptying the air from your lungs. His pace becomes more frantic and desperate with every thrust. Your arms ache as he yanks your body to meet the flush of his hips. The wry hairs at the base of his cock sending jolts up your body, your clit aching from the rough drag of it. You cry out his name, over and over, repeating it like a chant. His cock throbs at the squeak of your voice. Javier buries himself completely inside, grinding himself impossibly deep, stroking the sensitive spot inside. 

You’re not going to last, and if the shallow stuttering of his hips is any indication, Javier isn’t going to last either. You dig your nails into your sweaty palms. His fingers still tight around your throbbing wrists. 

“Kiss me,” you beg with a choked moan. 

And he does. Breathlessly. Again and again. The lack of oxygen makes your head spin. His lips are so soft, so tender. He licks into your mouth, sucks on your tongue. He lets go of your wrists and cups your breasts, rolling the peaked flesh with his thumbs. Your orgasm crests over you like a tide, your chest stammers, your breath catching in your throat. Your muscles go stiff, and then relax again. His cock twitches as you gush around him, slick pouring between your legs and wetting the mattress underneath. 

With clenched teeth, your body arches into him and you bear your neck. He bites into the offered flesh, blossoms of pain making your walls clench around him. Javier moans, laps at your salty skin, groaning, his hips jerk—deeper and deeper—until he becomes still. 

Your entire body is lit aflame as he spills into you. Instinctively, your hands cover your face, soft whimpers seeping into the heat of your palms. His cock pulses, and your muscles tense as you milk him for every last drop, your cunt clenching and fluttering around him. 

Javier smooths his lips over your knuckles, kissing the back of your hands as you slowly come down from your high. Breathing heavily, you allow your arms to go limp and fall. His eyes flit between your lips and eyes, he dips down to claim your mouth in a less draining kiss. 

“That was great,” he breathes into your mouth. “How are you feeling, perla?” 

“Like a hundred bucks,” you answer, grinning. “I forgot how good sex can be.” 

Your smile falters when he pulls out. Now that the heat of your orgasm is fading, you’re not sure what to do. Your body feels nice and limp, and god, you do not want to move. 

His seed trickles down your folds and you let out a soft gasp, your pussy fluttering. Javier seems to enjoy that, he grins and spreads your legs. 

“Bonita.” he purrs, dipping his thumb into the mess. Your head falls. “I’ll get you cleaned up in the morning.” 

“I’ll take care of it,” you answer, making a show of getting up. Javier frowns and wraps his fingers around your ankle, it’s not a tight grip, he’s just holding you. Your gaze drops. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“You can sleep here,” he drags the pads of his fingers up your legs and you shudder. “With me.” 

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to bother you.” 

“Believe me,” he says, voice dipping. “This is no bother.” 

[delusionalmultifandomwriter]

Please do a fic where adult jason todd gets comforted under/hidden in Batman’s cape!! the softer the better

your wish is my command (i missed the topic a little but it is super soft so i hope you like it anyways)

requested?: yes (i am so excited about this, ahh!)

words: 1848

Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Joker, Orphan

Oneshot, angst, hurt/comfort

TW: throwing up, violence, implicite self-harm urges (this got a lot darker than i planned it to be)

credits: the dialogue parts of the italic are from Batman: A Death in the Family

Have fun, thank you so much for requesting!

Ressurection is not exactly healthy. Which is not too surprising but still. The Lazarus Pit healed Jason's body, the scars were still there but very pale and barely visible anymore.

But the inner scars stayed, even after Jason and Bruce figured themselves out and came to terms with eachother again. Jason suffered from PTSD, who wouldn't after getting beaten up with a crowbar? The nightterrors and the coldness that randomly appeared every now and then were the worst.

This week started off with a night terror. Nothing uncommon, it happened all the time to almost all off them. Jason was at his own place where he was alone. Maybe he woke up his neighbours but at least not his family. He didn't like them worrying about him.

"What hurts more? A? Or B? Forehand? Or backhand? The crazy laugh echoed through the hall. Robin helplessly tried to craw away, his hands restrained behind his back. His breath whistled as he spit out some blood and mumbled a curse. The Joker chuckled evil and leaned down. A little louder, lamb chop. I think you may have a collapsed lung. That always impedes the oratory. Robin leaned up and spit the Joker into his face. The clown smashed Robin's head into the floor, his senses got flooded with the distant metallic feeling of a concussion. Nausea instantly hit him.

Jason shrieked awake. Nausea instantly hit him. He jumped up and nearly got tangled into his blanket. He stumbled into his bathroom and fell to his knees in front of the toilet.

Jason hated throwing up. Especially after a night terror when his mind was already full of thoughts. He leaned against the shower glass still sitting next to the toilet and waiting for the nausea to pass. After a few minutes he slowly got up and scooped some water from the washbasin into his mouth. Jason winced, his throat was raw and still shut tight.

He shivered, the bathroom floor was cold. Jason stumbled back into his bedroom. He grabbed the blanket from the floor and slowly made his way into the living room. He sat down against the heater with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He fell asleep exhausted on his carpet floor.

He was drowning. Breath. He needed air. Needed his lungs fill with oxygen. Cloth. There was cloth over his face. His mouth was dry. The sweet smell of death. He ripped the cloth from his face and threw up green, stale water. Flight! Where was he? He turned around and ran off. People. He took them out. The moves where in his muscles. He pressed his thumbs into the eyes of one of them. A tunnel. A cave. Darkness. Away.

The Joker escaping Arkham was nothing new to Gotham. Nothing new to the Batfam and nothing new to Jason. It happened a million times before but it still put Jason on edge ever since that night in Sarajevo.

He thought he was better. He thought he could conquer the Joker and arrest him again. It was a simple mission. A simple task. Then he met him in a warehouse in the Bowery. The green hair was brushed back, the purple suit dirty with some blood stains on it. The clown turned around and laughed at Red Hood hysterically.

And, hey, please tell the big man I said… "hello".

Jason saw red. He lunged at him and slammed the Joker into the wall, punched him in the face, once, twice. He could break him. He was not Robin anymore. He was taller than the clown now. Stronger. He could give back all the pain. He would give back all the pain. He slammed his knee into the Joker's ribs, a sharp crack echoed through the warehouse.

"Wow, that looked like it really hurt." Jason growled deeply as he lifted the Joker up a little and pinned him against the wall. He pulled him away and smashed him against the wall, the Joker's head lulled foreward a little as he coughed.

"Whoa, now, hang on. That looked like it hurt a lot more." Jason shouted angrily as he threw the Joker on the floor. "Now let's try and find out what hurts more?"

"A?" He kicked the Joker into the stomach. "Or B?" He striked out again.

"Red Hood!" Batman. Jason's head snapped around. "Orphan, stay here until the GCPD arrives." Batman ordered, Orphan appeared from the shadows behind the older man.

Jason finally snapped out of his murderous frenzy. His eyes went wide as he saw what he did. The Joker layed in a puddle of blood, his nose was broken pretty obviously and he was coughing and whincing weakly. Jason backed down when the clown started to laugh madly. Red Hood turned around, pushed past Batman and flea from the area.

The thoughts were flooding over Jason as he ran over the roofs. He was out of breath but he kept running and running until he fell to his knees. He leaned against a brick wall and ripped his mask off of his head. His face was wet with hot tears, smeared over his cheeks and neck. He wrapped his arms around his knees and tried to calm his breath.

He needed to get air into his lungs but his whole body blocked against taking a deep breath. Jason panicked. What had he done?! He disappointed Batman, he promised to be better than the Joker. He wanted to be better. His family would abandom him, what else should they do? He was supposed to be a hero. He sobbed violently, black spots started to dance over his vision. He couldn't breath. Jason felt like he would die here, alone on some roof, alone in this world.

Jason felt someone shake his body. "Jason." A deep but very calm voice called out to him. Jason panted desperatly as his lungs filled with air. Not enough to live but enough to survive.

He was lifted up a little and after that leaned against a soft wall. Soft wall. There are no soft walls, at least none that Jason was aware off but he was too close to fainting to truly bother about the existence of soft walls. Jason started sobbing again.

"Jay, come on. Breath." The voice said desperate. A strong hand was harshly rubbing his back. Jason inhaled the air shaky, his body was trembling.

"There you go chum, okay." Bruce. It was Bruce. Noone ever called Jason chum before. Jason was suddenly embarassed and violently tried to dry his tears up, rubbing on his skin roughly with his gloved hands. Bruce gently took his hands in his and Jason's head slupped against Bruce's chest.

Then Jason started babbling. "I'm sorry, i didn't mean to... he... i, i couldn't." He sobbed again. "The memories, they come back... the Joker... i can't stop it." Jason needed to hurt, he needed to feel something. He tried to pull his hands from Bruce' grip but he held them tightly.

"Jason, look at me." Bruce growled deeply. Jason looked up and as their eyes met, he couldn't find any angryness, not even disappointment. He looked back into his lap and sobbed quietly but his breath, although shaky, evened out a little.

"There you go. You are fine, Jay." Bruce said. "You can breath, you are okay." Bruce always was repetitive with his comforting but it didn't really matter to Jason because he was there, he held Jason in his arms and he was not angry. Jason could stay with his family, he could come back.

"You called me chum." Jason mumbled weakly, his voice was still filled with silent crying. Bruce chuckled deeply. "I guess that is true." Jason felt the hand on his back, he shivered a little as the cold hit his body. "Cold?" Bruce asked. Jason nodded softly.

Bruce leaned up a little and deattached his cape from his shoulders. He wrapped the thick, black fabric around Jason and bundeled him up tightly. Jason exhaled shaky. The bone aching cold disappeared from his body and the shivering slowly but surely passed. His muscles were burning, feeling weak like he could not move anything. Jason blinked drowsily. His sobs died down and just like that, his eyes closed.

Gotham City was no place for a kid. Not even a well-trained and resilient kid like Jason Todd. It was raining tonight, the wind whistled through the city. Robin sat under Batman's cape like an owl baby, as they observed the Iceberg Lounge. They had been sitting there for hours but Robin wasn't cold. He was warm. Wet from the rain but warm. He would totally catch a cold but not tonight. Not right now. Right now he was warm, close to Batman and sucking up his body heat. Nothing bad has happened to him yet.

When Jason jolted awake, he was no longer on the roof. He inhaled sharply, as he felt a hand on his back. "Hey, you are safe. It was just a nightmare." Jason turned around to see Bruce, leaning against the head of the bed with his laptop on the nightstand. The older man gave him a worried look. Jason looked around confused. This wasn't his bedroom. It was Bruce'. The kingsize bed spoke for itself.

Jason looked down at himself, he was wearing a black t-shirt and red and black sweatpants not in his Red Hood suit. "I'm fine?" He mumbled. Bruce smiled at him, it was weird to see him so relaxed. "Yes, you are." Jason nodded slowly. Bruce leaned down to the floor and put something heavy on his lap.

"Here, Tim got you this. You looked like you liked the cape a lot." Jason lifted the heavy thing up, it was a weighted blanket. He wrapped it around his shoulders. "Did i fall asleep?" He asked confused. "Right after i wrapped the cape around you. Dr. Thompkins said you where hypothermic and severly sleep deprived. What the hell happened?" Bruce asked concerned

Jason shrugged and layed back down on his stomach with the heavy blanket around him. He was still tired, his body was grounded now and he wanted to sleep. Bruce sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Sleep, we can later talk about you not reaching out for help" He finally said. Jason rolled his eyes. "As if you are better." He grumbled.

Bruce nudged Jason playfully. He gently rubbed the younger boys back. Jason sighed as he moved a little closer. Bruce pulled the other blanket over him a little and Jason was finally warm. "You scared the living hell out of me." Bruce said while he layed down next to Jason. The younger boy moved a little closer and Bruce continued to gently rub his back.

"M sorry." Jason mumbled sleepily. "Didn't mean to." He looked at Bruce with half open eyes. He buried his head into one of the pillows and Bruce smiled as he watched how relaxed and content Jason looked. He leaned over to kiss Jason's hair.

"It's okay. Don't worry about it. Sleep tight, chum."

-----

Same shit on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55397161

:)

[spiritedstars]

HOFAS Thoughts and Review!

This is also my review on Goodreads. Naturally, this is full of spoilers so proceed with caution!

4 star read!

This was a wild ride from start to finish. I found that you jumped right into the action and it literally didn't stop. The crossover with ACOTAR was very info-dump but I didn't mind since a) I don't remember anything lol and b) we needed to make the connection. I really loved seeing Nesta and Azriel in this different element. Given the timeline between ACOSF and HOFAS being about 3 months, I loved that Azriel and Nesta now know how to fight together and Nesta is so in touch with her powers. I love seeing how their friendship has bloomed.

Bryce is a menace and will forever be one. She's one of Sarah's MCs I relate to the least and therefore needed to warm up to her more. I found that in this book, I could despite a lot of her arrogant moments that will rub people the wrong way. I love Quinlar's love but didn't appreciate that she minimized Hunt's reaction to basically reliving much of his trauma with the first war. I'm glad she apologized and got to the point of understanding him but it left a little meh of a taste. The ending scene where he goes after her had my heart in pieces!! Through love, all is indeed possible and I love they were always with each other through it all.

Bryce basically being the High Lady of Dusk and controlling the land was amazing! I loved seeing those scenes. Saitha being the one to kneel first, declaring her as queen? Loved that. The two fae kings dying an awful death? Fabulously done! Hunt mf Althar removing his own slave halo and then removing Isaiah's while calling out that governor lady on her shit??? ADORE! Jesiba's everything in this book? I salute you, queen! Sabine's death??? The Under-King's death??? Literally had me gasping so much.

Ruhn my love, you will always be the Crown Prince of the Fae and that soundbite will always be on repeat every time I see your name lol.

Ruhn x Lidia's romance fell very flat to me. I love Ruhn and hated everything he had to go through but Lidia's character felt out of left field for me. I expected better/different? We find out out of NOWHERE that she's a mom of twins and suddenly, that's her whole personality. She went from this badass agent to everything being about her kids. There is NOTHING WRONG with her being a mother but why couldn't she be a mother AND care about the cause because it's the right thing to do? This was a missed opportunity in my opinion. I also felt like this was very self-insert of Sarah being a mom to have to include another character having kids. The constant talk about all these traumatized idiots having babies is getting on my last fucken nerves tbh. They have a million years to live so can we, I don't know, let them LIVE for five seconds without the absolute need to "start a family"? Let them go to therapy damn it. Sarah constantly writes about how awful it is that fae are obsessed with breeding and whatnot, yet every single of one her characters talks about babies...pls sarah, I beg. Give me ONE otp that doesn't have children. I know she's a HEA author which is what I love about her and her romances but it doesn't always have to end with kids and I just wish we'd see that more. Ruhn and Lidia did not strike me as characters who would be parents at all but now, Ruhn is a stepdad to the Hind's secret twins? It's very weird to me but I hope maybe down the line, we get to see Lidia realize that she is a whole person outside of being a mom. Aside from all that, the rescue scene was amazing. I loved seeing her destroy that asshole she had to endure and I just want to say, Aelin would be cheering mad hard at her for it! It felt like Lidia's fire abilities, the stag relation, and her son's name were all a nod to TOG and I loved that.

As for all the other characters, I really enjoyed seeing Ithan come into his own even though my guy was making mad stupid decisions along the way. His moment with Connor will always have my heart! l also loved the little bits of Ithan and Perry so much! Tharion my love, you will always be famous for making the most desperately dumb decisions before passing that one brain cell you have to Ithan but you know what? Sathia is going to be great for him and I ship it with my whole chest. Ari was wasted in this book and her ungrateful attitude annoyed me. Sigrid's whole plotline was pointless. Declan and Flynn are the best buds and I love them so much. Baxian, you are a gem! Pax being the one responsible for the actual HOFAS while being a healer who is making those antidotes was a great twist and I love it for her. The little fire spirits were so cute and their little moment with the viper queen made me cackle. The Viper Queen can suck it but I am also so very curious about what will happen now considering how that scene ends with Tharion/Ari/Sathia/Colin. I have a feeling all these characters will be showing up again in the future and I'd be excited to read how that will go. I have a feeling it might be done ACOSF style - in that, it'll be standalone in the CC world.

Bonus Chapters:

Bryce, Azriel, Nesta - hilarious and also so cute how Nesta was fascinated by the music playing from Bryce's phone. Azriel doesn't have a mate or partner so let that be clear LOL. Also Nesta already thinking about babies makes me wanna die tbh.

RuhnLidia - It was cute that she proposed and Ruhn is such a little dork crying left and right hahaha.

Quinlar - Hilarious how the big strong thunder boy was scared of those little dolls HAHA.

Ember/Randall - This made me want the Archeron sisters to have a mother figure so badly! The moment with Nesta and Ember hugging was so sweet in the book. I know people are mad at Rhys for yelling at Nesta but y'all...the whole world was at stake and that was a scary decision to make on Nesta's part given how the Pyrthian is STILL traumatized by the Asterie. I don't love how much he yelled but I get it.

Despite having parts I didn't like, I did overall really have fun with this. I think Sarah always does a great job with the action scenes in the end and giving us that found family connection. I could do without having the whole girl boss/girl power white feminist nonsense constantly shoved in our faces but alas! As I said, I still really enjoyed it! It had a lot of moments that pulled on all my emotions as every SJM book does. I will always enjoy what she puts out because I take it all at face value and read it to have fun. Sarah always knows how to enjoy her writing and you can tell while reading and for me, that's more than enough. The lore/plot is secondary to the characters for me and that is always how she sucks me in. She writes compelling characters who have amazing adventures and friendships that you feel through the pages and I will always enjoy that. Can't wait for more books! Here's to hoping we hear something about ACOTAR soon especially now that Bryce gave both swords back to Nesta! Can't wait to see how it plays out!

[avareiahgt]

So, this is my first writing in order to explain a bit of my world. I'm so sorry for my English, i hope you can at least understand what I'm trying to say hehe.

I would love to post some pictures of my characters but I'm not the artist type, to my disgrace.

No more waiting, I know this chapter isn't the most interesting, but it's our introduction and I think it's important.

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of violence, human experimentation

Next part

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PROLOGUE

I guess you’re wondering what everything of this is about. Well, I’m going to tell you an ancient story:

History books say, a lot of centuries ago, one and only kind of humans inhabited this planet. They were all the same, they were born with the same abilities and possibilities, paying some mind to little differences: skin color, religion or sexuality were some of them…

But one day marked the future and all those things that kept them separated stopped matter anymore.

First offspring met daylight crushing the mother form the insides. Four months forward, that baby had the stature of an adult, normal human. Emergency interventions by the responsible scientists were actually useless, letting the breaking news slip into radio and TV, the project of a giant baby that made its mother explode due to the fetus’s abnormal size and development.

It would be a wonderful terror story if it weren’t because it wasn’t an isolated case. A lot of incidents like the previous one peaked some weeks after that. Who knows if the rich and privileged knew about this before the rest of us…

Strong investigations started in every country. What could it be? Toxins, viroides, mutations… Nothing seemed to make sense, they couldn’t find the reason. Sadly, some predacious people put their eye on it looking for a unique opportunity. New test tube babies. They weren’t genetically engineered but, once fertilized and showed an excessive growth, they were extracted from the belly and maintained on enormous tanks that emulated placenta.

First years were met with failures and the deafening fall in the world birth rate. Just a few babies were born with normal conditions, with human proportions. Anyways, the discouraging perspective for couples to keep trying to be parents made it collapse. No one wanted to give birth. Chances were low, only 12% of pregnancies found the four-leaf clover and went awfully normal. The horror of the remaining 88% meant an overdeveloped not-born crushed the mother form the inside without enough development to eat, breath of merely live without a machine. They were trying to maintain a giant one or two-month fetus. It would never work.

Babies kept growing in size while time passed but not a single one survived. One decade went by a number of deaths and lost inversions until… a baby girl was born. Healthy, pretty and gigantic. While the clinics and labs halls were full of cheers, streets were full of hate. What to do with a baby that no one could properly attend? Who would teach, feed and handle her? And, the least and worst, who was going to deal with her when she was adult enough? Who were supposed to go against her wishes?

Sooner than later, some of the brightest minds found a conclusion: if we couldn’t stop nor fix whatever mutation that afflicts them, we would improve it. We would learn and work for a new human generation. Opposition and admiration became enemies to death. Cities burned, complains were massacred and, of course, entire governments and countries fell. From time to time, the first fights were replaced for some with new values. Nevertheless, there was something that anybody could kill… human scientific curiosity.

More than a million new human failures were the first stone for the future path: to replicate the original mutation on adults became a reality. Shifting was slow, painful and irreversible, but compulsory. First of all, it was a progressive change, they were bigger each time holding their morality and intelligence, which only resulted in more experiments, cheerfully this time. Even so, it all was a unique question: why would you want -and keep- 90 feet human guinea pigs if you weren’t enough strong nor competent to even control them? Like every human being, those experiments also became ambitious. Finally, an important 72% of population reacted positive to the mutation, it seemed that the new designed virus acclimated itself slow but unstoppable. From that initial 72% only the half made it through. Which was the position the old generation was holding in now? A minority, so small at number and size both.

There were multiple tries for coexistence thanks to equality factions, none of them worked. There wasn’t a single person in the whole world that didn’t know the REM implications. It started as an integrative association for the new -old- minority for them to live in big cities, just so oversized for them. Unfortunately, soon the cover went down: it was a military special branch focused in infiltrations and information seekers. They had never stopped those experiments. The main director, Avery Dorens, showed his face without doubt when his name appeared on every media. Visionary, he called himself, who had been fighting in order to find a cure for the Older’s involution problem. His followers were ex-military agents, spies and even ex-convicted. All of them strong people with weak or broken ideals. Nothing could stop him and, some years later, even with his expedient still opened, Dorens’s project received tons of support and financing.

That’s how war started. A war my side lost. Giants versus humans. Step by step, giants replaced us. Some of us were immune, I don’t know why, so we saw ourselves as the resistance. We were the ones loyal to the human race. This meant a rupture with society. Most of knowledge became lost or destroyed because of the war. Giants called themselves Newman, the new improved human race, since my kind was baptized as Older, the old, outdated, weak that had to disappear in order to favor the specie’s development. Newman versus Older.

Older were expelled after losing the Size War. They hid themselves into the most rural places, out of reach from Newman. It wasn’t an easy task since nature seemed to grow with them, grass strands were the size of a person. A lot of species disappeared along the Size War, some others integrated the mutation.

Nowadays, here we are. It’s been 200 years and, theoretically, Older are all dead. We are a fantasy creature that only appear on kid’s tales and history books. We have been forgotten and my generation is being prepared to guide our little world, the one they let us without knowing it.

Who would believe that creepy story? It was a horror tale to tell the children to sleep. Real world was there waiting for me to conquer it. I wasn’t supposed to waste my life yearning for something interesting to happen in Berhem, was I? It was a beautiful and small city with a familiar atmosphere. It was perfect for breeding kids and living a peaceful, long live. It was placed in a long-lost forest, protected by some hundreds of natural, green barriers that kept us from the ugly outside. None of the young knew how to go through it neither we had permission. Where was the sea? Snow? Dessert? Legends, that’s all it was. And I wasn’t one to keep dreaming and waste my time wondering. I needed to know the truth.

What was outside those green walls?

—Don’t stop running, Walker! — the trainer’s voice resonated through the pavilion’s walls. I knew she wasn’t expecting an answer, so I didn’t. I kept my usual rhythm. Resistance test was the one I was focused now, it took me time to get the trick, but I got it at least.

Sooner than later, my life was going to change. I was training for the Military Force, Exterior Initiative -MFEI abbreviated - section. I’d always been a curious child. Reckless and shameless, my mother used to say. Me joining MFEI was completely opposite to her beliefs but she had understood it would be the only way for me to be happy: finding answers to my never-ending questions.

I could have started my own little company, study abroad, learn a profession or even just stay at home with a good husband who would keep me fed and healthy, but that wasn’t my deal after all. I dreamt about exploring new areas, look for whatever land that was our so far in the past. I wanted to find a time where we weren’t Older, just human.

And that time would come when I was accepted at MFEI.

[hermesserpent-stuff]

hi~~ @lirabuswavi i wrote ahead a bit and have a scene with dagur. will prolly get tweaked in the story to fit anything that I write next.

Dagur spots the Night Fury on the rooftop of a building he suspects is the smithy. His heart slams into his ribs. Is that… it has a missing half of a tail on the correct side but no saddle. Had they killed Hiccup and taken his dragon? He cannot seem to believe that the dragon would have stuck around with Hiccup’s murderers. He decides to investigate. He has his men distract the leaders of the Acumens tribe and sneaks off. He slips in to the smithy with out attracting the attention of the Night Fury. 

He freezes.

Hiccup. 

He is not dead.

His brother is there, tongs holding steady a red hot piece of metal as he hammers it. The Dragon Conquer sings to himself as he works, a smile decorating his face. The song is full of trills and snarls. He looks…

He looks happier than Dagur had seen his brother in a long time. Dagur cannot hold back anymore and rushes in. He wraps his arms tightly around Hiccup’s arms. His brother had managed to grow some but is still thin. Hiccup tenses and throws his head back in an angry shriek. He slams his head into Dagur and then leans forward and bites Dagur while growling.

“It is good to see you brother!”

He laughs through the pain and nuzzles Hiccup’s hair. Hiccup bites harder, blood starting to flow. His fake claws are digging into Dagur’s armor. 

“I thought you dead.”

Dagur whispers half-reverently. Hiccup was one of the last steady pieces of his life. His sister had drifted, his father had disappeared, and Dagur had lost his tribe. And for a while he thought he had lost Hiccup too, and truly had nothing left in this world of value. But here Hiccup is! Alive!! So alive. The thought makes him squeeze tighter, afraid that Hiccup will vanish or die that second.

Hiccup unlocks his jaw and throws his head back again, this time giving a Night Fury shriek. Dagur covers his mouth and gets a harsh bite to his hand for his trouble. HIccup stamps on his foot with a metal leg at the same time. Dagur howls in pain and lets go. He starts to laugh, relief still coursing through him. Hiccup turns to face him, grabbing up a sword in his left hand. It ignites and Hiccup hisses.

“Are you here to ensure my death?” Hiccup snarls, swiging the blade. The flames dance in a most mesmerizing way. Dagur snatches up a war ax and blocks the blade with a wild smile.

“Why would I ever do that? After finding you alive??? The gods truly smile on me, brother.”

He blocks another swing. A well-timed swing. Hiccup’s feet move smoothly as the blade moves confidently through the air. 

“And hate me. Who in Hel brought you here? In the dead of winter, the storms should have kept you away!”

Hiccup snarls and twirls the blade to knock away a swing of the ax. The fire peters out from the blade. Oh. OH! Hiccup can fight with a sword!! He giggles merrily and smiles.

“Oh, brother, I would brave a million storms to see you breathing again. I am here because I was looking for the owners of the dragon eye. And follow the dragon migrations.”

“I'm not your brother. I have two, and both are going to be pissed at you trying to murder me! Stop it. Go away.” His swings get harsher with each declaration. “Stop ruining my life. I wish just for a moment my life could stay perfect! The nest was just starting to feel like home!”

Hiccup snarls and screams. Dagur finds himself confused. He locks blades with Hiccup and then uses his heavier weight to shove Hiccup back. Hiccup crashes into a table and gets tangled in leather and metal.

“Brothers? Who? Trying to replace me?”

He feels a flash of anger fill his guts. Hiccup looks up at him, eyes huge as his chest heaves. There is a wetness in those sea-green eyes. Dagur growls as no answer comes and presses the ax closer to Hiccup’s throat.

A blade nicks the side of his neck. Dagur freezes.

“You would do well not to threaten the life of the chief's younger brother. My younger brother.”

Viggo growls. Dagur feels wrath surge through him and he spins and the clang of metal rings out. Hiccup lets out a shriek of worry, calling out the man’s name. Dagur’s heart shatters and he yells brokenly as the ax is knocked away from him.

“So I have lost you too, Hiccup Haddock.” 

He howls as he stares into Viggo's eyes. They are so cold. Ryker comes in right after his brother and picks up the ax with a frown.

“You're not leaving our sight again.”

Viggo snarls and harshly grabs Dagur’s arm. Dagur notes that Hiccup has vanished but says nothing about that.

“You stole my brother.”

He growls. Viggo gives a truly nasty smile.

“You left him in a vulnerable position. Hardly my fault to take advantage of that.”

[definitelyunhingedagentphoenix]

Hey so I lost the ask about my headcanons for Fabricator because the person deleted their blog (😭)

So here are the headcanons for everyone to enjoy and hopefully the person who initially asked for this, will see it on another blog or something. Now let's not waste any more time, and get right into it.

Sorry as well. This ended up being way longer and more detailed than I had anticipated. As it turns out, I have a lot to say about her.

Fabricator was a child prodigy. She was building things from a young age; her favourite pastime being taking things apart and putting them back together. After a few years of her (accidentally) destroying her parents' appliances, they enrolled her in a program for geniuses and she THRIVED there.

By the time she was a teenager, she had skipped many grades and was instead enrolled in her first year of university. She was extremely happy with this. Her experiments were now funded by the school which meant she had more freedom to do as she wished (as long as she didn't get caught that is).

She never particularly got along with the other students but she never really cared either. She did enjoy a party now and again though, which she got invited to fairly often. The other students found her very interesting.

She was never in need of money; she was given full scholarships all throughout university and had jobs lined up as soon as she graduated. None of the jobs really gave her what she wanted though. She wanted action and freedom in her inventions.

She was never a goodie-two-shoes by any means and she was never one to pretend to be. She got in trouble constantly in her youth but she managed to talk her way out of it.

Solaris and Zor had been following her work for a hot minute when she began building things that... seemed dangerous. They LOVED those machines. That's when (through a lot of prompting) Solaris managed to convince Zor to hire her on and the three of them hit it off right away.

Solaris and Fabby became inseparable. Most thought they were sisters because of how close they became. And Fabby quickly became Zor's favourite after she revealed her true potential. World domination had always been a particular pursuit of hers. She wanted it more than Zor ever did, but she never had the lab to herself to work on her true desires before. And Zor was the perfect cover. They both know that the other would end them should things ever go sideways enough so keeping each other in line/happy became an ongoing endeavour. Their relationship is absolutely based on mutual respect, sprinkled with a little fear.

She loves cats. She would have a million cats before interacting with one person (Solaris is the exception to this rule). However, she hates cleaning up after them so she had Zor hire a maid to clean all. "Yes, this is a necessary expense Zor! How am I supposed to build you another death machine for that stupid agent to destroy right under your nose if I spend all day cleaning!"

Speaking of Solaris, they bought matching convertibles just for the hell of it. They spend every weekend drinking wine and talking shit. Fabby is the main reason Solaris was able to escape and go into protection after the Death Engine.

When Roxana entered the playing field, she was honestly ecstatic. She had been watching Roxana's work for years and had often said she should be recruited to Zoraxis. However, she knew Zor's plan from the beginning was to betray and kill her. She played the part of an uncaring side character in Zor's plan but she wanted to help Roxana. Brilliant minds like hers shouldn't be wasted.

After a month of working with Roxana, she fell head over heels for her. Even if she would never admit that. Then when Roxana saved Agent Phoenix and returned to the agency (at least she assumes she did) she knew it was over. She took a vacation after that and there was nothing Zor could do to stop her.

She loves travelling so it wasn't unusual for her to pack up and leave when Zor wasn't in immediate need of her. This time her reasoning just happened to be a little different.

She considered leaving Zoraxis after that but she could never justify that. Even if there was somewhere to go after, she would be forever hunted by Zor and would give up the life she had worked so hard for. She had to stay.

Maybe someday Agent Phoenix would take down Zor for good and she could flee to another country. She liked Agent Phoenix. She definitely respected someone who could cause so much destruction and chaos. And anyone who could piss Zor off that much was a worthy opponent.

She will never give up on her dreams of world domination but her motives have definitely changed over the years.

[boyakishantrinity]

Criminal delegate: Good morning.

Alien Delegate: *staring at the human sitting on their chair sipping tea* ... It's afternoon.

CD: ... So it is. Do you know who I am?

AD: ... An intruder on a delegate for-

CD: *waving their comment off* a bunch of important people way up there. Yes, I am aware of what I literally am in this situation. But, do you know who I represent?

AD: ... A fool who has- *reaches for hidden laser gun*

CD: *flings a button into their hand, leaving a bruise* You sir, are writing a report on the current state-

AD: *snaps close their laptop*

CD: ... Are you aware I didn't know entirely?

AD: *slowly realising their mistake*

CD: ... And you've all but confirmed what was an unconfirmed guess on my part?

AD: ... And what do you want?

CD: the same as your predecessor would ask. I am a representative of a large faction who keeps the criminal underground together.

AD: *silent, betweens scowling and spitting words out* And why-

CD: If you wish to get off this planet alive and unharmed, I suggest you at the very least listen and transmit my terms.

AD: ... *Scoff laughing* you think-

CD: *snaps fingers. Lasers appear over their chest.* I think it's be wise to at least hear me out, I'd hate to bloody this suit.

AD: ... You're joking.

CD: I'm not, my wife sew this by hand. I'd very much prefer not to get it stained, now. Would you like a seat? *Waves hand to seat beside them, tea set for them.*

AD: ... You threaten me-

CD: I would like you to consider what kind of clientele I must co-ordinate and communicate with. It's practically standard protocol to show how well organised and powerful you are.

AD: *practically foaming at the mouth* You think that threatening-

CD: They have mining bases up there, right?

AD: *freezes*... Yes?

CD: What would it be like, if a mine inspection by your organisation occured and not only did they fail to show their equipment, safety. State and general affairs, were drunk, disorderly and unprofessional?

AD: ... It'd be highly out of order, now-

CD: *cutting over them* Now. WE are a criminal organisation that organises anything from a local smuggling ring-

AD: You-

CD: *louder* WHICH MEANS, for instance. An illegal shifting of goods for birthdays, rapid legal drug and other dangerous goods transport. We deal with the messy part of society, you have everything clean.

AD: *silent, staring at the teacup* ... And why does that matter-

CD: *sigh* Notice how I have raised no hands to you, only shone the light of a sniper rifle as a proof I have the capacity to end you if this were to get... Messy. Think about the higher end clientele, what do you think would happen if we didn't have that protocol?

AD: *scowling and silent*

CD: and what would happen if we weren't here?

AD: ... If you're trying to convince me-

CD: We're not. We are only here because, like any other company, there is profit to be made doing this. Sure, we may be staffed, deal with and clean up the scum of society. But would you rather devils with standards, or devils with ideals?

AD: ... What's the difference you're all criminals.

CD: ... A young adolescent stealing something to impress a girl is far different from a man who ransoms shipping lines. If we weren't here, those kinds of things would happen randomly. Uncoordinated, resulting in millions of deaths that could be prevented.

AD: ... Is that meant to be some kind of argument?

CD: no. It's a sales pitch. Our, associates. They will be moving to, clean up your operations. We are merely an independent branch working to maintain the peace of normal society.

AD: ... And your terms?

CD: Nothing, we may pay a tax, you may hire our services and any issue raised by our operation, if it is our fault. We will pay in full, with all interest up front. In return, you may only interfere where necessary.

AD: ... And?

CD: If you refuse, very well. We will do our work without communication to you, unless you come to request it. We will provide no hints, no details. You will be treated as a hostile government and will need to earn our trust.

AD: ... So-

CD: Not bribery. Cooperation. We inform you of what we can do, if crime were truly as unnecessary as your people believe, then we shall cease to exist as society continues. However, we have existed within society as this operation for the last ten thousand or so years.

AD: ... And I am to accept these terms?

CD: *Shakes head* No. You are to hear us out, our explanation and decide where to go next. If you wish for a cooperative relationship, we offer you it now. Good day.

AD: ... That's it?

CD: *Folds files into backpack* ... Yes.

AD: You forgot-

CD: That is for you. Good day fine sir. *Leaves*

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP MEMES FROM REDDIT 5/24/2023

“What is it with insufferable people and gaping their mouths open like fucking whales when they speak?” “I hate accountability too.” “Why cheat when you can leave the relationship?” “I guess we should decide who we’re eating first.” “Target in sight-- take aim and be ready to fire at my cue” "This body is weak, I must find a new host.” “So who wants an orgy if the elevator gets stuck?” “That might be kinda hot if everyone’s in the mood.” "Calm down, calm down, I said scabies not rabies" “Do you still have lice?” “Does anyone have a handkerchief, scarf or some garment I can borrow? I promise to return it.” “100% mortality rate my ass!” “Given your history, do you think you should be in here?” “Say nothing. Just laugh hysterically like someone’s just told you the funniest joke you’ve ever heard.” “Just taking this baby for its test ride. We've fixed it 3 times this week.” “You can add green onions to almost everything. “You have become the very thing you swore to destroy.” “Once every few months?!?” “What exactly does she want to know about her vagina?” “The standard has been pretty fucking low for a very long time but it's clear today that the mask of integrity has totally fallen from the face of greed.” “I can only imagine how funny that must have been from your neighbors perspective.” “Did you light your house on fire to kill the bedbugs?!?” “Just let me be happy before I die.” “Two chicks at the same time, man.” “You got a million bucks?” “You ever meet some of those people who are just happy people? Like genuinely happy, and kind.” “I want to do shrooms and experience ego death, cause god damn it sounds so horrendous and scary, but so beautiful and enlightening.” “I want to hit a crocodile in the face with a frying pan.” “I desperately want to be genuinely happy with what I have but I feel a fire burning deep inside me telling me that I havent hit the top of the mountain yet.” “I just wanna be the hottest goth at the gas station.” “Hunt a boar and eat it in a fire camp.” “My goal is to Eiffel Tower someone.” “Giraffes. No, I won’t explain myself.” “Not kinkshaming but kinkquestioning. Kinkpondering.” “I'm sorry for ruining 4.5k people's day.” “I’m so glad I don’t know what a lot of these are.” “Those disgusting, dirty little perverts.” “So long as everyone involved consents then I don't care, honestly.” “Rule 4, no chili powder in the bedroom.” “Sure enough, it was a small plastic baby doll he has shoved up his ass and then gave birth to.” “How do I delete my vision history?” “Yeah don't actually shove stuff up your ass unless you have a way to remove it Like a rope or a flared base Or some really strong ass muscles.” “Is it possible to kink shame someone who's into humiliation?” “I can not be responsible for anything I do.” “Lady that was dressed in full nurse regalia just took a squat and pissed in her nurse pants in the middle of a CVS parking lot.” “How do you feel about wigs?” “Are you sure there is tea in there?” “I wish Tinkerbell would poop rainbows on my face.” “Equal cake for everyone?” “Made it look so easy. That was badass.” “This takes me back to my childhood.” “Now I want my face painted!” “His jiggling is almost hypnotic. It's like a lava lamp.” “This is not the belly-dancer I ordered.” “So his red flags are all women!??!” “I love that our oceans are still a mystery to us.” “The earth is fucking weird.” “I'd hate to have a little tailbutt like that. I'd probably get it caught on everything.” “Wow that looks like a creature from a S. Dali painting!” “Why bother looking into outer space for aliens when we can just look at the bottom of our own oceans?” “You’re trying to tell me THAT isn’t from outer space?!?” “No idea what it is but it looks beautiful” “Once you decide to believe something, not only without evidence but in spite of it, all bets are off.” “It’s awful when a blowup doll gets a mind of its own. “The best pranks are the ones intended to confuse, not abuse.”

[doctorguilty]

intense emotional vent re: current events

every time I donate anything to palestine causes I have to try not to cry but I do anyway because I just wish there was more I could possibly do to help anyone, it's so. horrific. sitting here looking at a huge list of families trying to escape death, and I have to just.. randomly choose. whether it's one donation or a donation divided up into smaller amounts to several, there's no most ethical process there's no correct choices, the only worst thing to choose to do is nothing at all. I feel like I'm playing god and I don't want to, this is awful and terrible, if I only had the means, I would just pay every single gofundme in full, page after page, but then I feel angry because I think about. I think about how there are so many people who could. right now. people will millions of dollars sitting in the bank, they could do what I would give ANYTHING to do I would give away a kidney and a lung and everything of item of value to me right this second for that kind of money I'd let someone torture me I'd saw off a limb myself if that's what it took, and I'm not kidding I'm not being hyperbolic, whatever i'd have to trade in exchange to save everyone. it drives me insane the moment I think too much about the fact that people with the means would choose not to on purpose... i hate it all I hate this I hate this so much I'm trying to keep it together, I keep doing everything I can do, but oh my god oh my goddd I just break sometimes and I need to get it out of me

[rumbleonthemill]

I want to address this issue, and I want to write my thoughts about it (it’s my page after all) It’s the old story: people shitting on Hello Neighbor, despite all they know is misinformation and lies. Nothing more.

…

I’ve been subbed to Markiplier for 9 years, if not more. He was the first and only youtuber I began watching, when this whole youtube thing became big. I remember watching him during university years, whenever I felt down, whenever I was happy. and after university too. And for long, I watched nobody else, but him.

…

He has a recent video, which you find here: https://youtu.be/tkREzi3IL7M I’m going to ignore the fact that they probably paid for a traced art for the thumbnail, this is another topic, but holy fuck. Ew. Okay, so this video went out recently, for nobody’s surprise, it is full of misinformation and gossips, and that’s HN for Mark and his friends.

This video…this video goes against one single rule, which sane people keep: “don’t like? Ignore”

I have a shitton of things I dislike. Heck, I even have things about Mark I dislike, but I have no right to change him, nor to criticize him. I skip the disliked things. But what does Markiplier do?

Nothing special. He does what every “fnaf youtuber” does nowadays: kicks into a game that is already laying on the ground. This doesn’t only mean a kick in the game, and the developers, who are probably the nicest people I’ve ever met. I love them. (And no, they didn’t beg to fucking matpat, whose HN theories are WRONG, it is marketing category, not development, and matpat himself does tag people multiple times, so find another cringe excuse to shit on us) God save us, the developers are not equal to the producer/publisher, who is responsible for the marketing part. Tinybuild is ONLY the publisher of HN, the game was created by Dynamic Pixels(now Eerie Guest Studios) who were five people in an office during that time. Five. Their first pc game.

This doesn’t only affect the devs, or the publisher. Believe or not (I don’t give a shit if you don’t) the FANS of the game also receive hate and actual death threats - because they’re fans! You read it correctly, I’m being harassed and sent death threats, made fun of, people wish my DEATH, because I’m thinking DIFFERENTLY. I word my comments fairly and trying to encourage people to not instantly hate something and try it for real - useless. Makes me think, where is the brain level of those shitting people. If I, a random person, despite hearing a lot of bad things, could try HN on my own and experience it, while my forming MY OWN opinion, then why can’t others?!

I like something they know nothing about, but the xy famous youtuber said, it is bad, so it must be bad, right?!

…

Absolutely fucking not. I’m tired of mob mentality and people shitting on things they have no real knowledge NOR REAL INTEREST about. I wrote my personal story about Mark, because I’ve been his faithful fan for years, watching his videos, saying “hey, Mark disliked HN and I’m okay with it. I wouldn’t want him to play with something he dislikes. At least he won’t shit on HN this way.” BUT HE FUCKING DOES. I don’t care that I’m one of the million fans of his, that he doesn’t care if he loses one. I’m aware.

But as a 30 something GROWN adult man, he should think and be aware of the consequences of his words. It was so fucking unnecessary to shit on something he has no interest in, nor knows anything about.

DONT LIKE? IGNORE. SCROLL PAST. or say “I’m not interested” and people with brain will perfectly accept and understand. It’s this simple.

(And no. Idc if Mark is famous. He is a human being, a man like many others. I treat him like a normal person. His opinions are as equal as everyone else’s, those opinions just have insane consequences which make people attack others. Shit on others, harm people they don’t even know.)

all I want is peace and people minding their own business, especially if they don’t care about something.

[doki-mocha]

Constantly plagued with noise. There is no quiet. Not in the brain and not in the world. The only true peace is death and I've been wishing for it since I was 12 and I don't get it. It's always constant noise, static, murmuring, creaks, thoughts, tvs, phones, millions all at the same time I can't hide from it.because the quieter the room gets the more noises you can focus on. Farther out you hear them and I hate them. You don't have to focus on them for it to attack your ears, distract your mind, destroy your focus, ruin your peace of being just you.

I'm a weird kind of suicidal, I'm a weird kind of nihilist, I'm a weird kind of pessimist. I'm still making mediocre crafts with a brain that wants to shoot itself because of all the terrible things in the world. All the noise, all the ruin, the end of things that can come anytime for no reason. People have dreams and projects and people that will get cut off from that in a random instant. And I'm crying over paint drying slowly in a house full of noise and a brain full of death.

I'm crying over a bag of trash and I can hear every tear hitting the plastic. I can't even cry in peace because you can hear everything in the house. I can hear every movement t every TV I'm sure if my parents heard me crying they would ask me what's wrong and I can't explain I don't know what's wrong it's just everything it's nothing it's never anything. What am I doing in my room. The answer is nothing. Nothing I do matters. Everything I do doesn't matter. I can play games make art watch videos and all that they don't bring me joy because it doesn't bring anything.i can die right now and it will not matter. At least now I have life insurance. Too bad killing myself makes it moot. So I just have to be caught by surprise, by an explosion or random falling brick and my life will amount to 200k to parents who aren't even that healthy to begin with.

I fear everyday I find one of them dead and what can I do. I never did anything to make them proud or love me. I'm on my room trying to make art that won't sell. Is it fun? It makes me cry because I'll mess up. There is no merit in messing up. So I can perfect something that has no purpose. Who will buy fucked up products. Who wants this shit in their house. I can put them in my room for display but who will see it. Who will care. It's all clutter. It's all mess. It serves no purpose. That's how it's always been. It's how I've been raised.

I want to be dead I want to stop caring I want to stop hearing all this noise. I fucking hate what I am.

[avatar0ftheeye]

Part f Ive? Phar t 5 mayhaps? Perhaps, methinks, I will write part 5?

anyway weekend hiatus because I was doing other dnd stuff and hyperfixating on dndads

can you tell my special interest is dnd?

anyway, thanks for all the support, it still blows me away that you guys like my campaign! Here’s part 5 :D

for those who don’t know, the Deck of many things is a legendary item. Depending on which card you draw, something wonderful or something horrific will happen. These cards are not meant to be used lightly. things i wish I had told my players before they drew

after some consulting, it has been discovered that 99% of my players completely forgot what they had drawn, since THEY ALL SOMEHOW DREW MOSTLY GOOD CARDS

so, dear readers, I will recount the only ones everyone remembers and their effects

Alex had drawn The Rouge. The Rouge is a card that makes one NPC of the DM’s choice hate said person with a passion. The player does not know what NPC this is unless they meet said NPC or the DM tells them.

Goose, who drew 3 cards, drew Knight, Skull, and Ruin. Knight is a card that makes a knight who will do whatever the drawer says and has pledged their loyalty to the drawer. Ruin is a card that destroys any gold or wealth TGE drawer has on them. Since he is a goose, he has nothing on him of value and nothing happens. Skull, however, is a card that summons an avatar if death.

Death appears in a cloud of smoke, cloaked and menacing. He points toward Goose with his Scythe and begins to speak. “Foolish mortal-“

“hey, death buddy,” The Devil interrupts, “we’re in the middle of something. Step to the side and wait until we’re done.” The Devil shoots his sharp toothed smile toward the cloaked mass.

Death lowers his scythe and shrugs. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” He scoots off into the corner to let the players continue.

Damien pulls sun. I hate him for that to this day.

don’t remember the card but Maisie just levels up 1

And nobody remembers what Thomas drew.

the devil sits back in his chair seemingly impressed. “Wow. Did not expect you to survive that, props!” He laughs. “You’re free to explode the dungeon and try to find your mother.”

The dungeon door in the corner of the room swings open, beckoning the players inside. They enter, ans well ans Jim, and are greeted by a door.

Thomas reaches forward and opens the door to reveal a hand. Just a Hand The hand reaches down and slams the door

after a few turns, everyone tries to get the door open by either ramming it down, opening it, or punching the hand

nothing works

until Alex just

knocks on the door.

The hand opens the door and beckons the players inside politely.

the next room sits a tall man. He is broad shouldered, terrifying, and-

“I roll to befriend him.” -Goose

“you what?” -Me

“I want to befriend him.” -Goose

“roll???? Charisma?????” -Me

“17.” -Goose

“ ” -Me

so that entire room was trashed because the guy just opened the door for them because he and Goose are pals.

In the next room,

Is Skylar.

she is dirty. Her clothes are tattered, her hair is matted, and she looks exhausted. She is tied to the door they need to escape. She locks eyes with the party and smiles.

“oh thank god! What are you guys doing here?? Nevermind, get me out of here and we can leave,” Her voice is soft, a familiar sound to Alex. He rushes forward from behind the party to untie his mother.

Skylars smile drops

“Alex. What are you doing here?” She says, her voice full of anger.

“we’re here to save you,” Alex tries to explain.

“Kids, please untie me do i can kill my son.” She says. Alex steps back, flabbergasted. His mom and him had always had an amazing relationship. Why is she suddenly-

The Rouge Card

Skylar Ander currently hates her son with the passion of a million fires and she wants him dead.

Damien takes none of this shit. He grabs the door she is tied to and yanks it open. Skylar flies straight into the wall of the room with a sickening crash.

Alex is speechless

the party exits the room, and again sits the Devil, dumbfounded.

“how did you-?” The Devil begins, but he’s cut off by a scream.

“RUN!” Jim screams at the party. He rushes forward and throws himself toward the devil.

the party takes no time to abandon Jim and run away. They begin to bolt toward the door as fast as they can. Before they can reach freedom, the doors slam shut and they hear a blood curdling scream. A scream they’d heard before, a scream of a child being turned inside out.

the party turns around and sees Jim flat on his back on the ground. His entire body is slowly flipping inside out. His intestines are in the outside of his body, and he is screaming a horrific scream. The devil stands above him, laughing manically. Zach is no where to be seen.

Damien walks forward slowly. “Why are you doing this?” He asks.

“because he deserves it.” Says the devil

“why?”

“Because he disobeyed me.”

“why?”

Me; Okay, roll persuasion because you can’t just keep asking why.

Damien: okay…..*eye contact* NATURAL 20

Me: I HATE YOU

“Why?” Asks Damien again

“because…we’ll I don’t know.”

“why are you turninf him inside out though?”

“because it’s his punishment.”

“why?”

“because I’m evil?”

“why?”

“because I’m the Devil?”

“why?”

“Because…” the Devil freezes. He stares off into space, eyes glazed over. Jim begins to slowly flip back to normal due to the Devil no longer focusing on him.

“I don’t know. Christ I don’t know. Why am I evil? Why…” he begins to cry.

Goose and Maisie steps forward. Goose reaches into his Hat Of Holding and pulls out a broken landline. He hands it to Maisie and dials a number.

“I think you need to talk to my therapist.” It says. It hands The Devil the phone and he begins to mumble into the phone. He slowly walks into his back room, sobbing and whining into the phone.

and that my friends, is how the entire Party sent the devil himself to therapy.