#It got lost in my head spinning over keeping track of so many characters my bad

[ochrearia]

Emptiness of Dreams

Dear god okay there's like a billion bitches in here. No one talks and it's YS POV but there's. A billion

I don't know how to explain this any clearer. Read between the lines. This will make sense for the people that need to I promise. Just things I want to say but can't say directly.

BFs in this one-shot: PoPr!BF (Biff, mine), cs!BF (Beefer, mine), wyd!BF (Beef, Karl's), fc!BF (Boyf, Gold's), Cyborg!BF (Cyber, Gold's), sfa!BF (Peacock, Shed's), S2!BF (Bee, Isaac's), ourple!BF (Brooke, Isaac/VS Ourple Guy), idu!BF (BJ, Storm's), mixtape!BF (Bash, Kry's), fightin!BF (Mic, Lunar's), lca!BF (Bunny, Damien's), Yourself (YS)

Blue, Bastion, Baker, and Blake are mentioned but not physically present

He knew he had a problem. Well, that was quite the understatement really. He had a lot of problems. So many to the point where YS really couldn’t understand why any of them were still here. Broken people attracted more broken people, sure. Fine. But even other broken people still had enough logic to understand when someone was too broken, right? When there were things beyond anyone’s help. Tiring aspects that were just too much to keep thinking about. It was easy for others to stop thinking about it when it wasn’t them experiencing it. YS couldn’t stop thinking. Probably never would. Every time something slipped a little bit under the surface of the water he drowned so fast. And it was so shameful that everyone got to witness it. Felt inclined to help when really, at this point, maybe it was just better to let him drown proper.

The space in between dreams was usually empty. The more people tumbling into the space meant more things would pop up, stemming from the day’s thoughts and wishes. It was always nothing but empty whenever YS was here on his own. Nothing but cold fog. Nothing friendly, nothing warm, nothing all that safe. What did that say about his thoughts and wishes, huh?

But the usual emptiness of dreams wasn’t here this time. Not that this wasn’t meant to happen, it just hadn’t happened when YS was around. Mainly because he never really slept at the same time as anyone else aside from… an exception. He’d been going on for a few days without any real, proper sleep, and while he was an Angel, a supernatural being, there was still only so much he could take before his body completely crashed on him. Which was what happened here and now, a lucky outcome that it happened to be at a time where he should’ve been asleep anyway.

So many of his brothers were here. Half of them he suspected didn’t even realize where they were. And with so many selves came a blooming of the space in between dreams. Things, thoughts, safeties and wishes. Taking form as soft wisps of smoke, alien-like grass and flowers, lavender light coming from no visible source at all. The space here never had to make any sense to begin with. It was all just dreams, mashed together in a magic link across realities that wasn’t really supposed to exist. But it did. Might as well make something out of it.

Biff, of course. Biff was almost always here when YS was, and probably the most aware of what this place even was. Not like anyone truly knew its rules. But the longer you visit, the more you get in-tune with how some things work. YS knew some of his brothers had felt him arrive here and changed their paths entirely to cross with his. The others most likely didn’t know what was really happening and were just automatically drawn to a sense of familiarity. All leading back to him. What a nice thought.

Beef and Biff were wordlessly fighting with each other for who got the space in his arms. Idiots. No damn concept of sharing. If they wanted hugs all they ever had to do was ask. They would wake themselves up with this ridiculous tussle if they weren’t careful, but YS could see the playfulness of it in each of their faces. Silent brotherly fighting. Little bastards who cared a lot about each other but refused to admit it.

Boyf and Cyber were here too. Boyf had a secured spot on his left while Cyber lay sprawled rather unceremoniously across his legs. Something akin to the indignancy pile that YS had endured back when his reach only yielded him five brothers. Now, it was so much more. He wasn’t sure if Cyber really knew where he was, but it didn’t seem to matter. There were quiet purrs coming from him anyway. If YS was there, then nothing else mattered. A bit of a terrifying thought for YS- god, when would his brain just pick one? A constant tug-of-war between reveling in the fact he was that much of a safety to someone, and fearing being so damn important.

YS wasn’t really sure where he stood with a lot of his brothers. Which was so… stupid, wasn’t it? Why didn’t he know? They all had expressed some form of deep care for him thus far, from directly saying it to just small but meaningful actions. Choosing to let him stick around in their lives. A stray passing thought. Not looking at him like he was some sort of disgusting freak. Maybe that last one was the bare minimum but it didn’t matter to him. That was still the world in his eyes after everything.

Bash was behind him, asleep. Balancing him while they leaned back to back against each other. Now, YS loved all his brothers. That was true and it would stay true. And it was painfully obvious that he trusted some of them with different things. Was that shitty of him? Maybe. Certainly felt that way to him when he wanted everyone to feel equally important. But there were so many of them now. That wish might be an impossible task now. But maybe YS would burn himself out still trying to reach it. He never wanted to leave anyone on a metaphorical level of less importance somehow.

To his brothers, he felt love and that was clear. And he should stop worrying so much about the differences in each relationship. They were all the same person but they weren’t carbon copies of each other. It would be stupid to try to condense them all down to that. And where other brothers filled holes he desperately needed fixed, Bash sort of… balanced him. He shared similarities with many of them. There was something about his one older brother that was special. YS just wasn’t sure how to convey that. Or really… fairly approach Bash like he deserved for that matter. But for now in between dreams the connection helped dampen his worries. He hoped he could believe he mattered the way he was told he does soon with him.

Peacock was on YS’s right. He was dozing too, but even in that state YS could feel an insistence to stay as close as possible. Two angels taking comfort in each other. It was funny, being a Guardian Angel and having another angel seemingly be guarding him. Beefer was somewhere nearby too. In his dinosaur form, for some reason, but maybe it was because he had no idea what this place was. Walking around. Guarding. Not just him, but everyone here. Even Boyf, despite them never getting along. Truce in the dream space. BJ kept an eye on the dinosaur lumbering around in circles. He seemed very curious about the other versions that obviously weren’t human. That, and well, it didn’t seem like any of them had seen a living dinosaur before who’s also an alien at the same time. Despite the curiosity BJ kept close to YS as much as he could, when everyone else was already crowding him.

Bee and Brooke were here as well. Lying content in the alien-like grass of the dream plains they were all sitting in together. Brooke didn’t seem very content though. Worried, hesitant. YS hadn’t gotten to talk to him a lot, and the first encounter had gone just about as wrong as it possibly could. YS didn’t think Brooke liked him at all. He’d probably prefer to be somewhere else, and that was fair. He was going through a lot as far as the angel could tell. But despite the dislike he was sticking around. Not for his peace of mind, obviously. Probably just because Bash, Bee, and Beef were clearly happy to stay here. It was enough to let Brooke take a hesitant chance.

Mic and Bunny were very new to YS, but they had made it here too. Playing chase for the sake of playing. Joy in a space they didn’t know, but it was okay, nothing could really hurt them here except their own fears. But it was clear no one truly feared where they were. It was funny, Mic was very much a little brother to YS despite him being five years older than him. Somehow. 

Yeah, no. Bash was the only one who was getting away with any semblance of taking care of YS in an older-brother kind of way. And even then YS felt some sort of guilt he was letting anyone be responsible for him.

It was weird. All of them kind of took care of him in their own ways. Just something unique and different about each one. Balance with Bash. Loyalty with Beef. Understanding with Biff. Warmth with Peacock. The list could go on, really. Though in the end they all seemingly wanted him here. Here, amongst people. Wasn’t that weird? Why did they want him here, anyway? YS still couldn’t find an understanding of that. ‘Because they wanted to’? Why? Why choose that with no real benefit?

People were so confusing.

Most of them managed to end up here tonight. That’s never really happened before. YS wondered what was different about this night. Wondered if the ones missing were awake, or just in their own dreams instead of the space in between. Blake, Blue, Baker. Good lord, if Baker was awake he swore to god he better not be creating a kitchen disaster right now. YS wondered how long it would take to get properly through to Bastion as well. Everyone, always on his mind. So many to keep track of, sometimes it made his head spin. But he’d still find room to fit in more. He had a feeling he was going to meet more brothers in the near future anyway.

People, here. With him. For him, some of them might try to say. That couldn’t be true. People shouldn’t be here for him, not when everyone else was around. Felt weird to think he was some sort of priority. But he supposed he was a massive hypocrite too. Prioritizing everyone else as much as he could, trying his hardest to treat everyone equally, make them feel special because they were. But then flinched away if anyone tried to mirror his actions.

How dumb. YS wanted someone to do for him everything he did for others, but couldn’t even be thankful to accept that if someone tried. Nothing was ever good enough, huh? Ridiculous…

Beefer turned suddenly, red eyes boring directly into the angel. Knowing. Right… emotional walls didn’t work on that one. He could tell right away. He’d made a promise to try and think like that less. He was trying. It was just harder on some days than others.

People… here. Could he indulge in saying for him? Did he deserve that, though? Unsure on that part. Whether he said it or not wouldn’t change if it was true or not. A concept there, to sit in the back of his mind, surrounded by all these people. Did he have to keep himself so lonely? YS was so afraid to somehow hurt anyone here, everyone. But would keeping himself lonely make them happy? That might just hurt them too.

He knew one of them was terrified of him leaving. Just from one old conversation. That never really left his head. But there was still a little guilt there, making him even worry so clearly about that. YS was doing his best to keep to his word- that he wouldn’t leave. Even though things kept sliding downhill so fast some days.

Maybe none of them wanted him to leave. It’s not like he wanted to leave either. Sometimes his mind was cruel, though. It was hard to tell properly if anyone cared enough for him to stay some days. Like all the progress went back to zero. Wasn’t that so exhausting? To deal with someone who needed reassurance so often?

YS wouldn’t leave. For as long as they wanted him at all, he would stay.

He had a lot of problems. Maybe he himself was a problem and it might be time to admit that. Needing so much direct reassurance almost every day. That was a problem. And he should try harder to stop doing that because he clearly wasn’t trying hard enough. He would change completely for them, because he loved them.

Maybe that was another problem.

He was just a problem, wasn’t he?

But all of these brothers were here. Loving him. Him and his problems. And YS swore to spend the rest of his time here making up for it all. However short or long that time was allowed to be.

He loved his brothers. Maybe he shouldn’t love them this much when not much time has really passed. But he did anyway. YS loved his brothers. Maybe in another reality entirely, they were all friends. A reality YS could never find, but existed anyway. He hoped so.

Friends… he hoped so. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Special Order 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Steve Rogers

Summary: You wake up in the trunk of the car, unaware of how you got theere or where your going.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You groan as you rock with the motion of the wheels. A veer has you rolling against the interior, the cloth in your mouth so dry you nearly gag. Your arms hurt, bent and bound behind you, your ankles tied at a cross. You’ve lost circulation in your fingers and toes, your digits throbbing but numb.

You're dizzy and dazed. Your memories are splinters. There were flashing lights and vodka chasers and your friends were all so happy, babbling in bubbling tones as the music pulsed. One minute they were there and the next, you were walking down the hallway, following the beacon of the restroom sign.

Then it all went foggy and you woke up in the dark. The steady whir assures you that you’re in a vehicle, stuffed into the tight trunk. What you don’t know is why. Who would do this? Why you?

You try not to think about it, not beyond how you’re going to get out. You don’t want to think about what your accoster will do to you. Or if you even can get out of this.

You don’t know how long you’ve been in there, how long they’ve been driving. You could be twenty minutes down the road or eight hours; days even. As you try to count, your anxiety mounts. You keep losing track. One minute, five minutes, however many seconds. You’re counting too fast.

Breathe.

You flutter your lashes, fighting another wave of exhaustion. You don’t know if it’s the adrenaline or something else causing these spikes of wakefulness and unconsciousness. You plunge into another void, only to come to with teeth chattering.

You’re still. The engine is quiet and the noise of crickets fills your ears. You try to turn but only jar your shoulder. You lift your feet, trying to kick. You’re too weak for that. The effort has you woozy.

Your eyes round and you gulp as you hear a mulch. Footsteps, steady and certain. You hold your breath as you listen to them get closer. Your eyes tinge and your heart hammers as the stop, just on the other side of the metal. 

Click. The trunk pops and the lid flips up. There’s a shadow over you. You twitch but can’t do much more than that. Even if you weren’t tied up, you wouldn’t have the strength.

The silhouette is broad, shoulders limned in the moonlight, muscles obvious beneath the taut black fabric. A man by your guess. He lifts you, folding you over his shoulder as he slams the trunk shut. You moan around the gag as he pivots sharply.

You can’t see much around him. There’s light coming from somewhere. As you wriggle, a sudden spank on your ass stops you. The impact ripples down your muscles.

“You don’t wanna mess around, toots,” he warns, pinching your thigh. “So be a good girl and settle down.”

You squeak but stop squirming. He’s right. You don’t want to get yourself in worse trouble. You just need to play along until you can get your bearings. He purrs and tickles your leg before dropping his hand.

He climbs a set of steps, the incline making your head spin, and there’s several short beeps. A door opens and he carries you out of the night chill. He puts you down, the sudden change gives you vertigo and you slump sideways on the bench.

“I’m impressed, you shouldn’t be awake yet,” he says as he fumbles around. 

Your eyes flit across the walls, lit by a light overhead. It looks like a typical house. Nothing out of the ordinary. The man before you is vaguely familiar. You squint at him as the edges of your vision cloud.

“It’s alright, I can pop you another dose, it’ll help your head,” he chuckles and pulls you to sit straight, “let me get a good look at you.”

He grabs your chin and bends. His eyes scan across your face and down your body. He tilts his head and clucks.

“Mm, you looked different in those lights,” he remarks as he lets you go. You lean against the wall and whimper. “Not bad though.”

Your blink, eyes stinging. Who is this man? What does he want? You stare him in the face; his eyes are deep blue, almost teal, and a trim of brownish hair bristles across his lip. The sides of his head are shaved close and the longer strands are combed back on top.

“That’s right, get a good look. Just means there’s no going back.”

You blanch and he laughs louder, “relax,” he pats your head, “all you gotta do is listen. That’s all I want from you, baby face.”

You stare at him, terrified. The way he’s talking, fills you with dread. His laughter tapers off and he hauls you up again. You whine around the twisted fabric.

He swings you over his shoulder again and continues down the hallway. He comes to a door on the other side of the staircase and opens it. He descends, a step at the time, following the right angle down to another door. He unlocks it with another series of high-pitch beeps.

This isn’t good. This isn’t spontaneous. This is… planned. This is worse than you could ever expect.

The world whooshes around you as he throws you off his shoulder. You hit a mattress with a squeak. The man stands at the foot of the bed and tuts.

“Well, you can be proud, you made it through day one,” he declares, “but trust me, that’s nothing compared to day two.”

[kenny-the-ken]

Alone at Last Pt 1

Kyle's fic should be out already by the time this gets posted, so I hope you guys enjoy it!! This one I am sooooo excited for, I might actually make it a small series, drug dealer Kenny is my weakness, cause he most definitely would sell drugs, and take drugs most likely. Warnings: NSFW content, not suitable for minors, drugs, alcohol and strong language!! AGED UP CHARACTERS

"Let's get the fuck outta hear." Kenny spoke to you on the phone, he'd had another argument with his parents, and this was the final straw.

"They think I'm a like a charity! I sell drugs for a living, I ain't gonna make no money if they keep taking all my product!" He shouted, loud enough for his parents to hear, and you could hear them screaming back at him in the background.

"Ken, babe, come over." Your tone was gentle, calming, and that was just what Kenny needed right now, he physically and mentally couldn't take it anymore. He was trying his best to make the most out of a shitty situation, and once again his parents were ruining it.

"I will babe, not until I pack all my shit first, I ain't coming back to this shithole, I'd rather shoot myself in the head again, it's more enjoyable." He shouted back at his parents, and you knew his frustrations. You and Kenny had been dating for a while now (3 years), and you had lost track of how many arguments he and his parents have had over the years, and how many times Kenny had appeared at your house, battered and bruised.

"My mom's out, Ken. Come over." You said once more, and Kenny let out a long sigh, you could hear rustling in the background, as if things were being put into plastic bags.

"I'll be there in ten. I love you."

"I love you too, Ken."

And with that the line went dead. You knew Kenny's resolve was worn incredibly thin, much like your own. Your mother was no where near as bad as Kenny's parents, but she put drugs and men before you, she always had and she always would. You were just thankful that you were an only child, Kenny wasn't that lucky.

You sat pondering in your own thoughts as you heard a loud knock at the door, and you opened it, Kenny walking inside, his car parked outside, and looking full to the brim with his possessions.

"When's your mom coming back?" Kenny asked, wrapping his slender arms delicately around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"Not a fucking clue, she never even tells me when she's heading out, never mind when she's coming back. Why, what's wrong?" You enquired, wrapping your own arms around Kenny's neck, balancing on your tip toes to place a kiss on his lips before he spoke.

"I meant what I said on the phone, y/n. Pack your stuff, we're getting the fuck outta this god forsaken town once and for all. Somewhere we'll not be judged for not being well off, somewhere we can actually thrive together. The only good thing that's came from living here is meeting you, please say you'll come with me?" His eyes were soft, pleading with you to join him, and you smiled back at him, his serious face melting away into one of sheer relief.

"Let's do it. We've got each other, we don't need anyone or anything else. Come help me pack." You spoke, taking Kenny by the hand, leading him to your bedroom.

"We could always get frisky before we go." Kenny flirted, giving your ass a slap, making you jump in surprise, spinning to look at him.

"Or I could suck you off while you drive down the freeway?" You offered, knowing that Kenny would never turn down an offer like that.

"Then what are we waiting for babe, let's get your stuff packed and get this show on the road!" Kenny exclaimed, a smirk on his face as you both began cramming clothes, shoes, makeup and anything else you owned into two large suitcases. You lifted your glass bong and Kenny took it from you.

"I've got a box in the back of the car that this can go into so it doesn't get broken, babe." He said, pulling an unlit joint from his jacket pocket, placing it delicately between his chapped, pale pink lips and sparking it up, taking a long drag of it and exhaling, passing it to you.

"You ready to go, babe?" You asked as Kenny took down one of the pictures from your bedroom wall, and put it under his arm.

"Can't forget our prom photo, now can we? Now get your sexy ass into the car and I'll bring your stuff out and put it in the back." Kenny spoke, as you passed the joint back to him, it now hanging from his lips lazily as he puffed on it a few times.

And finally, once everything was inside, you both smiled at each other, smoking the joint between you both as Kenny rolled down all the windows as the car reached the last part of South Park.

"See you never, assholes!" Kenny shouted from the window, and you let out a few whoops yourself, both of you smiling stupidly at each other on your way to make a new life.

[sunflowersoldat]

All is Fair~ Dead-ends & Devotion

Chapter 26: Dead-ends and Devotions

Main Master List

Series Master List

Series Summary: Family is important, but so is the Family business. Everyone has secrets, some are deadly. Your the best in the business, but no one knows who you are. Tensions are high, will you raise the stakes or fold under the pressure?

Series Warning: 18+! Mentions of blood and violence, bad language words, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, death, trauma, please follow the warnings for each chapter.

Chapter warnings: 18+ Only! Major Character Deaths! Violence, Bad language words, mentions of torture, existential/identity crisis.

Pairing: Mob!Steve x Assassin!Stark!reader

Word count: 3K

A/N: Its been a while since I posted for this story, sorry March is kinda a shitty month for me, and I had to make sure this was perfect before posting it! Including this chapter there are only one and a half chapters left! I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Numb.

That wasn’t quite the word Steve would use for how he felt right now. Broken, dismal maybe. Incomplete.

Lost.

In all his years, he’d never seen anything like this, never heard of anything remotely close to this happening in the past. His mind was muddled, foggy, he could barely focus as he, Zemo, Sharron and Natasha, made their way into the main lobby of Stark Tower. 

He was merely going through the motions, there were so many voices and people, he had half the sense to order Sam and Ronin, who had only just arrived, to slip Conquest, whose name they’d learned was Fandral, out the doors and into their vehicle. They would deal with him, on their terms.

He scanned the lobby, catching Tony’s wife, Pepper and one of their men as they received the news. It was truly heartbreaking, she clung to the gurney, the man gently pulling her away, trying to comfort her.

All this chaos, all the death, for what? A goddamn title? Power? He shook his head, there was no amount of power worth all of this.

Scanning the lobby again, his eyes caught a familiar head of white hair dashing out the side door, it had to have been you. He bolted after you, if he could just talk to you, maybe he could convince you to let them handle it; at the very least allow them to help you.

Shoving his way through the crowd and onto the busy sidewalk, he caught another glimpse of your hair in the sea of people, keeping it in his sights, he pushed farther, a paramedic shoved into him, spinning off track, but Steve shoved forward. When he made it to the spot you had been in, you were gone. He cursed, not a single trace of you was left behind. The crowd of people jostled him as he tore his hand through his hair, stepping forward— a scraping crunch met his ears, he jumped back, looking down.

On the ground, covered in blood spatter, a familiar skeletal mask lay broken. He knelt to pick up the pieces, fingers brushing lightly over the white surface, the curves and edges that mimicked bones.

He had to stop you, at least try to reason with you. Reaching for his phone, he dialed you, silently praying you’d pick up on the other end, then, just maybe he could save you.

But as the line rang… 

And rang…

And rang, the hope he held onto disintegrated.

Finally the line died, a deafening silence settled in his heart.

A bone deep chill shuddered through him.

—

Steve leaned back in the hospital recliner, his eyes heavy as he watched over Bucky in the hospital bed, he lay sleeping, his shoulder wrapped in bandages. He had almost lost his best friend, all because he couldn’t see the damn answer staring him in the face. Too much bloodshed, too much death.

The door squeaked open as Steve scrubbed his hands over his face, looking up. Queens hobbled through the door, a bandage wrapped around his thigh, he propped himself against the wall taking a deep breath. He looked like hell, “Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” 

Queens shrugged, screwing his lips to the side, “Got restless, besides Wade finally left my side.” He smiles softly, “It wasn’t by choice though, his boss pulled him away, otherwise I think he’d still be attached to my hip.”

Steve huffs a laugh, “How’d he find you?”

Queens gave him a sad smile, “Ace, she had found me before…”

Steve nods knowingly. Of course, you cared for Queens like he was your own blood, it only made sense for you to send someone you trusted to take care of him.

“She’s something else…” Queens pauses as Steve meets his gaze, “I mean… Have you ever seen her in action? I don’t even know how to explain it, it's…”

“Mesmerizing?” Steve offers. “Yeah, I’ve sparred with her, she’s… something else.”

Queens nods, a silence settles, after a moment, he breaks the silence again “Have you heard anything?” He asks tentatively.

Steve drops his gaze shaking his head, “No. She’s disappeared, without a trace.”

Queens sighs limping towards Steve, pulling something out of his pocket, he reaches out, placing the small box into Steve’s hand. The black velvet soft in his rough hands, he already knows what it is. Steve inhales deeply, “Thought I lost it…”

Queens gives him a sad smile, “I found it in your penthouse office, buried in rubble… Were you really gonna ask her?”

Steve works his jaw, his chest constricting uncomfortably as he stares at the tiny box, he doesn’t have the heart to open it and look at the ring; what he could have had.

What he will never have.

Bucky coughs, moving to sit-up in the bed, his face screwed up, “Ya never asked her, Punk?”

Steve turns to him, shaking his head, “Never had the chance…”

Bucky reaches for it, plucking it from Steve’s grip, “Don’t worry pal, you’ll get to ask her.”

“I doubt that, she’s gone Buck, even Zemo can’t find her—”

“Steve.” Bucky cuts him off. He turns again, Bucky is staring into the box wide-eyed.

“What is it, Buck?”

Bucky’s eyes flicker between him and Queens, turning the box so he and Queens can see it. Bucky’s voice shakes, “It’s gone.”

—

Your breaths were sharp and ragged as you stumbled through the safe house door, your hand holding your side, desperate to keep your blood inside your body. Thor’s men had been waiting for you, they weren’t his usual help, these men were trained, lethal. Heimdal, the only commander he had left, knew you were coming, they put up a valiant fight, in the end it didn’t matter only one survived. But you had let your guard down, let your anger and emotions get in your head, now you suffered the consequences. 

Settling on the couch, you began the dirty work of patching yourself, the vodka next to you only dulled the pain, clouding your mind. Groaning, you poured the little amount left onto your side. You hissed, teeth clenched from the sting of the alcohol.

A throat cleared in the darkness of your ramshackle safe house, slowly you reach for your pistol, aiming into the darkness, your hand slightly shaking. A chuckle floated in the air,

“Come now Peladora, we both know you’re a shitty shot after you drink.”

Jake.

“I still coulda hit ya, wouldn’t kill ya, but it’d hurt like ’ell.” You relax, placing the gun back where you’d retrieved it. You continue patching yourself as Jake makes his way toward you, kneeling by your side.

A small smile curves his lips, “We have to stop meeting like this Peladora.” Batting your hands away, he takes over patching your wound. 

Wincing you lean back so he can assist you better, “How’d you find me?”

He sighs deeply, eyes lifting to meet yours, “I’m always there when you need me.”

“You won't stop me.”

He can see the determination in your eyes, the wildfire burning bright, “I don’t intend to try. Didn’t try to stop you when we began this journey, why would I now?”

You shrug, breaking eye contact, “Do you regret it?”

His brows raise, “Saving you?”

If he didn’t have a needle in your side you would’ve punched him, you roll your eyes, “No…”

He nods knowingly, “But, I think about it sometimes… What you would have become if I refused to train you.” He cuts the stitching, pulling your shirt down to cover you, “I don’t think it would have prevented anything. I think though you have become something you despise, it was necessary.” His hand brushes your hair from your face, “Do I regret what you have lost? Yes, but the losses would have been far greater without you. Sometimes we must become the villain to do the things that are against the heroes’ code”

“One good deed is not enough to forgive my lifetime of bloodshed. Have you seen the paper? They’ve pinned the blame for everything on the Ace of Spades.”

“Did you expect anything different? Is it not better to have blood spilt from those who desire to harm the innocent than for the innocent to bleed for nothing? Thor would have slaughtered everyone, without you. Zemo’s family, your family, Steve and his men… and anyone else who tried to stand in his way. Besides, did you really think Thor would take the blame?”

It hurts, the truth, the undeniability of the monster you’ve become. You knew deep down a normal life was no longer in the cards for you, but it cut deep nonetheless. You’d known someone would have to be the scapegoat, you figured it would have been Loki, but it only made sense to blame the one who no longer exists. You purse your lips, “Tony’s Death was my own fault, and my family is still dead. Loki didn’t deserve his fate, neither did Peggy, or Tony, or my parents.”

Jake sighs, sitting next to you on the couch, situating you to where your feet are propped on his legs, he nods slowly, “Power can be dangerous, it turns even the best people into rabid dogs. Many lost their lives, most of them didn’t deserve it, but you know better than I, no one's hands are clean in this business. But your niece and sister-in-law will live full lives, without fear of Thor and his men.” he pauses to take a deep breath, his hand patting your ankle, “Peladora, you cannot blame yourself for what happened, you didn’t know how it would end. Even if you did, would you change it? If you could trade Steve’s life for your brother’s, would you?”

You snort, burying his questions. Truth be told, you don’t know if you could make that decision. To choose your brother over Steve, or Steve over your brother. It wasn’t a choice that day, but instinct. You sigh, now wasn’t the time to wallow in self pity or mourn, there was work to be done. “Thor is still alive.”

He turns to you, eyes hard, jaw muscles working, “For now. I have a feeling that will change…” he merely lifts a brow at you, “After all he has no one else to hide behind, his commanders are dead, Heimdall was his last defense.”

You hum and slowly rise to your feet, heading into your makeshift room, Jake follows, watching as you repack your bag, pulling out your clothes and weapons.

He turns to leave, but stops, snapping his fingers, “Oh, I almost forgot” —he pulls a small pouch from his pocket— “Wade wanted me to give this to you, says not to open it until you're done.”

He tosses the pouch to you, catching it, you scowl, “What is it?”

He merely shrugs, “Probably some weird ass good luck charm, you know how Wade is.”

You nod, putting it into your pocket. 

“Was it worth it?” –Jake gives a pointed look to your side- “Did he give Thor up?”

You shake your head, “No, but I have my own ways of finding him.” You pull paperwork from your bag, a list of property and other holdings under Loki’s name. Thor wasn’t dumb enough to use his own property as a hiding place.

He frowns, raising his brow, “I don’t have to tell you he’s dangerous, Peladora.”

“I know.”

“This could be our final goodbye.”

You stop packing, swallow thickly and drop your gaze, “It could be, it could not be… but when I get pulled into the depths of hell, I’m taking him with me.”

—

It had been over a week since Ace had gone missing, the underground uncharacteristically quiet on the topic, Bucky felt bad for Steve.

It was almost like you had died again, but Steve was better at hiding his feelings this time, but Bucky knew better. He stared at Steve from the passenger’s seat, “How you doin pal?”

Steve side-eyed him from the driver’s seat, “Fine, Buck. Why?”

He pursed his lips, glancing back at Peter in the back seat, raising a brow. Peter rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Riiighhhtt… how are you really?”

Bucky watches Steve’s jaw work as he chews his lip, “It sucks. It’s almost worse than when I thought she was dead…” his knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, “At least dead, I knew for sure. But now I don’t know if she’s alive or bleeding out somewhere…”

Bucky swallows, twisting his mouth to the side, “You know, I never did apologize to you, Punk…” he sighs as Steve eyes him, “I’m sure she told you her side, how awful I was… But—“

Steve shakes his head, “Don’t worry about it Buck, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“But you see, it matters to me. I know everyone thinks I just had a hard-on to kill her, like I was just set on not letting her get away…” he pauses, clenching his shaking fist, “Look, it may have started out like that, it hurt, she betrayed all of us that night we caught her, more so you, but it hurt nonetheless.”

Steve slows the car, parking it at one of their warehouses. Shutting off the ignition, he turns in his seat towards Bucky, he can feel the weight of his stare going in the side of his head. Behind them, he can feel Peter waiting to rebuttal. Bucky didn’t hate you, he hated what you stood for. What you had done. What you were willing to do.

Taking a deep breath he continued, “That night I followed her, picked her up at some gas station… I didn’t intend to kill her.” His heart is roaring in his ears, his palms are slick with sweat, he isn’t sure Steve believes him, but it's the truth. “I had every intention to scare her off, get her to leave, not only you, but the city. Then she opened her damn mouth and I… I—”

He closed his eyes, shoving at the memory as it surfaced in his mind; you sitting bloody and broken in front of him. He could lie and say there was no fear in your eyes, but if he was honest with himself, he saw it. He saw the lie in your eyes, the false bravado you paraded in front of him. When you realized you had pushed him too far, “She threatened you again… Promised to make you beg for her to kill you. Swore she would make me watch…” he looked to Steve, expecting him to be angry, but he wasn’t. Steve was staring at him in understanding, sorrow swimming in his eyes. Bucky clenched his jaw again, “I promise, never, not even once did she lead me to believe she loved you… if… if she had, I wouldn’t have—“

He breaks off as the memory of you clawing at the dock skitters across his mind. He knew he had gone too far when he had gotten home, he could feel the guilt and remorse eating away at him. But he had to tell himself it was to keep Steve safe, for his own sanity.

Steve’s hand grasped his shoulder, “I understand, Buck. I know her tactics, the way her brain works… That's how I know I’ll never see her again. The look in her eye when she left to chase Thor, it was a goodbye.” Steve sighs deeply, “Whatever was simmering in her veins beneath the surface, whatever was caged and locked away, held at bay by those four little words. It’s out now, and it's after Thor. She’s not the woman we knew, she’s something else entirely. Something dark and dangerous and it's out for blood.”

—

Peter walked with Steve and Bucky deep in the warehouse, where they were keeping Fandrel or Conquest is what the underground calls him. Ronin had his turn, so did Sam, trying to get Thor’s location and allies from him. So far nothing has worked, and their list of possible leads keeps getting shorter. 

Ace has been cutting through the list of Thor’s people too fast for them to keep up, they have been three steps behind her this entire time. They had found Heimdal and all his security dead last night, and then today multiple buildings on the outskirts of the city were burned down. They need to find Thor or you quick, if they didn’t, Peter feared they would lose you for good.

They came to a stop, whimpers and cursing could be heard on the other side of the door, muffled by the thick metal. Steve took a deep breath, nodding towards the door for Bucky, “Do what you do best Buck, we need that information, now.”

Bucky nods, Peter moves to join him, but Bucky stops him, “Queens. Sit this one out, let me handle this.”

Peter scowls, “What? I can do this Bucky, let me help, I wanna find Ace too.”

Bucky shakes his head, “Not for this kid. I need you out here. This fucker and his friends were the ones who attacked you, I wasn’t able to protect you then, lemme make it up to you now.” Bucky’s eyes met his, his blue eyes so full of pain and anger, he was doing this for him. 

Peter nodded slowly, he understood, he said a silent prayer when the door closed, please, just let us find her…

—

Weeks of recon, months. 

You finally had the bastard, there was nowhere else for him to go.

As you stared into the mirror, the eyes that stared back weren’t ones you recognized. A fire burned so deep and hot within them, you thought they would scorch you with a single glance. You knew it was yourself staring back at you, but you couldn’t recognize yourself and what you had become. 

No mask or contacts this time to hide behind. You wanted Thor to look you in the eye when he took his final breath, to understand and feel what you felt. 

You could almost taste the freedom on your tongue, only hours away.

Only two things left to do.

Kill Thor.

Lose yourself.

—

Finally, finally, they found you, if they beat you they could accomplish two things–

Kill Thor.

Save you.

@dontbescaredtosingalong @texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @justlovelifeblog @austynparksandpizza @capson-of-coul @betareader7 @vicmc624 @bigphattygyal @calwitch @buckysteveloki-me @curlyladylazarus111 @talesofadragon @trudy-shams

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE,BLOOD Vol.01 Sakamaki Ayato [TRACK 9+10]

Original title: 痛みの中で & 極限の吸愛 (デスエクスタシー)

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, Blood Vol. 1: Sakamaki Ayato [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Midorikawa Hikaru

Translator’s note:

Track 1+2 ll Track 3+4 ll Track 5+6 ll Track 7+8 ll Track 9+10

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

TRACK 9: AMIDST THE PAIN

*Rustle*

“Come on...Open your eyes. Keep them only on me, ‘kay?”

Ayato continues to kiss you passionately.

“Mmh...Nn…”

*Smooch*

“I won’t make it hurt...It’ll only feel good…”

You frown.

[00:31] “Aah…? You’re scared regardless? Hahaha. It’ll be over before you know it once the pleasure kicks in.”

You continue to protest. 

“What if you won’t be able to walk anymore, you ask? Good question...Then, I’ll just carry you ‘round instead, Chichinashi. Mmh...Nn…”

*Smooch*

*Rustle rustle*

[01:06] “...Ah. Hah...Fuck...This is startin’ to get seriously dangerous...I’m havin’ a hard time findin’ the strength to twist off your leg as well...Damn...Whatever...I’ll just suck from whichever spot I can reach…Haah...Right. Hahaha...This place might not be half bad…”

*Rustle rustle*

“I haven’t bitten you here yet, have I? ーー Your heart. I’ll give you my fangs here.”

*Cling cling*

*Sluuuuurp*

“I’m sure it’ll be scrumptious…”

You seem skeptical. 

[01:57] “Aah? You wanna know if I can even plunge my fangs inside your heart? Fool! I’m gonna thrust them in really deep. Fortunately, I should just barely be able to reach it even with these chains holdin’ me back. If it turns out to be impossible, there’s still the option of twistin’ off your leg regardless. However, I don’t think that’d be enough to calm my anger, so I’ll chop off your hands as well.”

Your eyes widen in fear.

“Hahaha…”

You beg for his mercy.

[02:35] “What? Don’t start cryin’ already when I haven’t even done anythin’ yet. It’s hella annoyin’...I’m sure it’ll feel amazin’ when I suck from your heart. I’m sure you’re happy as  well. Not only do you get to experience pleasure, but you’re given a chance to offer something precious to the man you love. You might just rank up from bein’ just prey.”

*Rustle rustle*

[03:06] “Hahaha...You’re shiverin’? Don’t worry. You won’t die even if I suck blood from your heart. Well, it’s fine if you’re scared. Just scoot a lil’ closer. I’ll hold you in my arms. Not that you’re particularly soft or cozy to the touch.”

*Rustle rustle*

“...Here I come. Just entrust everythin’ to me. Relax, and accept my fangs.”

*Rustle*

[03:44] “Exactly...Just like that...I’m goin’ straight for the heart.”

Ayato latches down.

“Hahn...Nn...Hah…Keep still!”

*Cling*

“Succumb to me...and don’t resist!”

*Sluuuurp*

“Mmh...Nn…”

*Gulp*

[04:18] “Hah...Haah, haah...This is bad...What’s with this taste? ...Fuck! Hahn…”

*Sluuuurp*

“Haah, hahn...Mmh…”

*Sluuuurp*

“Hahn...Nn...Nnh…”

*Gulp*

[04:46] “Mmh…Haah, haah...Dammit...At this rate...I might just tear apart your heart with my fangs...But still...I can’t stop…”

*Rustle*

“Hahn−!”

*Gulp gulp*

“Hah…! Chichinashi...You don’t mind, do you?”

You tell him it feels good.

“Hahaha...Exactly. It’s amazin’ for me too…I also feel as if I’m ‘bout to melt...Hahn...Mmh…”

*Gulp*

[05:34] “...Haah? Harder? Hahaha! You damn nympho! Don’t come cryin’ to me afterwards if you lose your mind for real. Hahn…”

*Sluuuurp*

“Hahn...Mmh…”

*Rustle rustle*

“Hahー! Mmh...Nn…”

*Gulp*

[06:08] “...Shit...My stomach’s on fire...I don’t know how to describe this sensation as it coats my tongue...Haah…”

*Rustle*

“The one thing I can say is that your blood really is the best...and somethin’ very special to me. Haah, haah...Exactly...Give me more...More!!”

He continues drinking your blood.

“Hahn…”

*Sluuuurp*

“Mmh...Nn...Hah...Hahn…”

*Gulp*

“Hah…!”

*Rustle*

[07:04] “Oi! Don’t go faintin’ on me now! We have to get rid of these chains to escape this place. It might hurt, but you can push through it, right? ...I’ll give you another intense one. I’ll thrust my fangs all the way in at once, so you won’t be able to feel anythin’ but pure bliss. Okay?”

You nod.

[07:35] “Here it comes...I’ll pierce you even deeper…”

*Rustle*

“Ughーー!!”

Ayato bites you aggressively.

*Gulp gulp*

[07:55] “Hahn...Nn...Don’t thrash ‘bout…! It makes it difficult to suck! Hahn…”

*Sluuuurp*

“Hahn...Nn...Mmh…”

*Gulp*

“Nnh…”

*Gulp*

[08:12] “Hah...Don’t worry...We’re almost there...Just focus on feelin’ my fangs…! Hahn...Mmh…”

*Gulp*

“Hah...Mmh...Haah…”

*Gulp*

“Nn...Nnh...Hahー! Hahn...Haah…”

*CLING*

TRACK 10: THE ULTIMATE BLOODY LOVE (1) ( DEATH ECSTASY)

“Haah, haah...Ugh…”

*Cling cling*

“With this...We’ve finally been freed from these vexin’ chains, huh? Hahaha…”

*Smack smack*

“Oi, Chichinashi. You still alive?”

You whimper.

[00:20] “Hahaha...Guess you no longer feel the pain. Seems like the pleasure was just too intense, you can’t even respond. Oi, Chichinashi. Look this way.”

*Rustle*

“Your face’s a mess.”

You ask him about the chains. 

“Haah…? The chains? They came off. It didn’t hurt, did it? Even though realistically speakin’, the pain should have been almost unbearable. Hahaha…”

*Cling*

[00:54] “Ah, speakin’ of which...Reiji did mention once that people lose their ability to experience pain when pushed to their utmost limit. However, I guess the same can’t be said ‘bout pleasure, huh? Humans are seriously fascinatin’...Actually, this might not be a human thing...Chichinashi, you’re the only one who is like this. You’re such a funny chick…

[01:26] Anyway...You’re covered in blood, huh? Well, guess that’s to be expected. You’ve lost all strength in your body as well. Still, while I don’t feel as worked up as before, I’m still thirsty. The fun has only just begun...Thanks to those guys, we’ve got plenty of time on our hands as well.”

*Cling cling*

[01:56] “Hehehe...Guess I should be grateful to them for that at least. ...Say, Chichinashi. We’re in no rush, are we? For starters...It’d be a shame to let this blood gushin’ out go to waste, so I’ll drink it all up.”

*Rustle*

“The heavy scent of your blood…is nearly makin’ me choke… I can’t get enough of it…Haah...It’s makin’ my head spin…”

*Rustle rustle*

[02:31] “Haah...I can’t...The smell is too strong...It seems like it’s meltin’ my brain...Haah...I can’t...think...straight anymore…”

*SPLATTER*

“Fuck...My body’s goin’ numb...Chichinashi...Show me your leg...Haah, haah…”

*Rustle*

[03:10] “Hahaha...Ahahaha! I’m sure this must be quite the horrifying sight from an outsider’s perspective. A blood-covered human female and a Vampire, entertwined in each other’s embrace while bathing in a pool of even more blood...Mmh…”

*Sluuuurp*

“Mm...Nn…”

*Sluuuurp*

[03:46] “Hah...It’s fulfillin’...How do you feel, Chichinashi? I bet you’re happy? I’m covered in your blood from head to toe.”

You fail to reply, merely whimpering in response. 

“I guess you’re too happy, you’re at a loss for words? Hahaha...Guess I can’t blame you. I’m sure you’re strugglin’ to even breathe after losin’ so much blood. ...Ah, from the wound...What a waste.”

*Sluuuurp*

[04:29] “I can’t let it go to waste...Mmh…”

*Sluuuurp*

“Nn...Nnh…”

*Rustle*

“Just lappin’ it up with my tongue doesn’t do the trick. I’m sure you feel the same? You want to feel my fangs even more, don’t you?”

*Rustle rustle*

[05:00] “Oi, Chichinashi. Gimme some sort of reaction. ...Did you faint? Come on!”

*Smack smack*

“Fuck…! Guess it can’t be helped. I guess this might wake her up…?”

Ayato bites you.

“Hahn...Mmh…”

*Gulp*

[05:26] “Haah...No use, huh? Did she lose too much blood after all? Hahaha...But I still haven’t had enough. I’m beyond parched...Mm…”

*Sluuuurp*

“Mmh...Nn…”

*Rustle*

“Hahn...Mmh…”

*Gulp*

[05:59] “Hahー! ...Even if I were to suck you dry, I’d become thirsty again soon after. Hahn...Mmh…”

*Gulp*

*Sluuuurp*

“Mmh...Nn…”

*Rustle*

[06:22] “Hah...You finally gave some sort of reaction, huh?”

You mutter something.

“...Aah? What didya say? Speak a lil’ louder!”

*Rustle*

“Fuck...What a pain…”

He leans in close.

“What’s wrong? What did you say?”

You repeat yourself.

[06:49] “Haah…? You want me to kiss you? ...Haah, fine. Didn’t I tell you earlier? I’ll kiss you as many times as you want. Although as you can see, you’ll end up covered in blood as well as a result.”

*Cling cling*

[07:11] “Haah, haah...Well...I guess you don’t give a damn ‘bout that right now. Now that we’ve walked right into their trap, we can’t turn back time, no matter how much we struggle. In that case, we might as well…”

*Rustle*

“Go as far as we can, pushin’ ourselves to the very limit.”

He kisses you.

[07:47] “Hah...Nn...Chichinashi...Stick out your tongue...Yearn for me...Just like I do for you. Mmh...Mm…”

*Smooch*

“Now that we’ve come this far...You can no longer escape me, Chichinashi...Mm…”

*Smooch*

“You can’t even get out of here without me. ...Right. Should I just tear off your arms as well? Hahaha...Mmh…”

*Smooch*

[08:48] “...Seems like you’re quite into this as well, huh? Yeah...Just like that...Crave me...More and more…! Let’s show those guys exactly what kind of relationship we have...You are my prey. Forever. A special one too at that. Right? ...Come on, lemme suck more. That’s the only way we can enjoy ourselves down here. Besides, I’m still thirsty...Hahn…”

*Sluuuurp*

“Mm...Nnh…”

*Rustle*

[09:41] “So sweet...Haah...More…! I need more…! Hahn...Mmh…”

*Sluuuurp*

*Gulp*

“Hah...Nn…”

*Rustle*

[10:00] “I won’t let anyone else have you. Understood? Exactly. Even if you were to die right now, you’d still belong to me. Mmh...Nn…”

*Gulp*

“Nnh...Nn…”

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) 吸愛 which is pronounced ‘Kyuu-ai’ is a word often used within the DL franchise, which actually doesn’t exist in the Japanese language. It’s a combination of the characters for ‘to suck (blood)’ and ‘love’. It’s meant to refer to sucking one’s blood as a metaphor for showing your love for someone. I’ve always translated it as ‘bloody love’ myself in the past, so I will again for the sake of consistency.

[laequiem]

Kiss-proof

/ Jude has lost Cardan in the mall. Of course, he is in the one place she would never go. Domestic fluff, fluffy fluffiest fluff

Fandom: The Folk of The Air

Rating: T for mention of characters having a sex life, but that's it.

The flaw in Cardan's glamour is the same detail that infuriates me when I look at his face when he wakes up: he is impossibly beautiful. Not handsome like a popular actor, not pretty like the members of a boyband. He is absolutely devastating, just as he is as a faerie.

read on ao3 • part of Tales from the Mortal Realm

I check my bulky flip phone for the 5th time.

4:23pm.

I don't know why I expected Cardan to be back on time. I had some errands to do—which might include lingerie I wanted to keep secret until our anniversary—so I told him to explore the mall on his own. I gave him some (real, non-glamoured) money to spend like a child with an allowance.

There are so many red flags with this whole plan.

I do not like to admit it, but I'm worried. My extravagant husband has enough trouble fitting in with humans when he is with me, I can only imagine the trouble he can get himself in without me. Or the trouble that can find him when I am not there to protect him.

I get up from the bench that I had designed as our meeting point. Where could he be? Anywhere I would not go, which does not narrow the list down very much. As I walk around, I can imagine him enjoying every single one of these places.

Cardan smelling some bath bombs and chatting up with a pushy Lush salesperson. All that glitter, all that dye—the servants would rage at having to clean the tub afterwards.

Cardan entering a sterile-looking jewelry store, eyes glittering at all the precious gems.

Cardan browsing Hot Topic, digging into bowls of plastic rings and looking at shirts for bands he does not know.

My stomach drops as I stand before the one store I know I will find him in. Black-and-white striped pillars stand on either side of the storefront and the dreaded white font over black spells out the name of the store: Sephora.

I have never entered a Sephora before. They are intimidating and I know nothing about their products. Whenever I needed new eyeliner, I would just ask Vivi to buy me whichever one she thought was best. Nowadays, I can count on my husband's extensive makeup collection and skills.

“We have servants to do this!” I had insisted the first time he approached me with a kohl pencil. He had laughed, and I let him line my eyes. Ever since, I look forward to it. It’s a small, intimate gesture with which we prove our love to each other without saying a word. It is his way of showing care, and my way of showing trust.

I pass the threshold of the store and I spot him immediately. Even without my True Sight making his glamour ripple when I gaze at him, I would still have a hard time believing he is human. His glamour is perfect—rounded ears, no tail, the glitter of his skin dulled down to a normal healthy shine—but every glamour should have a flaw. The flaw in Cardan's glamour is the same detail that infuriates me when I look at his face when he wakes up: he is impossibly beautiful. Not handsome like a popular actor, not pretty like the members of a boyband. He is absolutely devastating, just as he is as a faerie.

Even amongst gorgeous people who perfected their faces through makeup and good lighting, he stands out.

For me, however, bewilderment comes from seeing Cardan wait in line like a normal person. Like a boy who did not grow up as an entitled prick. It shakes me so much that I stop in my tracks and watch him walk up to the register once the previous client leaves.

He adapts better than I give him credit for. My heart swells with love for this male who keeps challenging and surprising me.

I go to bypass the line and I catch a snippet of his conversation with the boy manning the cash register. On the counter lay piles of makeup, from eyeshadow palettes to colorful eyeliner.

"A good choice!" the cashier exclaims, holding a dark lipstick, "it has the best matte finish. It even passes the kiss test!"

I swear I can see him wiggle his perfectly defined eyebrows. The smile he gives Cardan is wicked—the same kind of grin my husband gives me over dinner then he's feeling particularly hungry.

"The kiss test?" my husband asks, a grin forming on his sinful lips.

"Yeah," the cashier replies, "you can make out with someone, it won't budge. Or transfer."

I get to Cardan’s side and the cashier notices me then. His brows raise in surprise for a moment before he schools his features into a socially acceptable customer service smile.

I can't blame him for his surprise—Cardan and I could not look any more mismatched. His sharp features are accentuated with contouring and a lighter version of his usual silver highlighter. I, on the other hand, barely had time to brush my hair before putting on an oversized hoodie and leggings. I bet I look like someone he took pity on and brought to the mall for a makeover.

"Where is the fun in that?" Cardan looks at me then, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "Still, I suppose I will have to try."

I roll my eyes and he presses a kiss to the top of my head.

The cashier tells Cardan the total, and he raises a brow when my husband starts counting cash. I know other humans use cards nowadays, but without a permanent address in the Mortal Realm, we have been dealing exclusively in cash—mostly given by Vivi in exchange for Elfhame goods.

The boy thanks Cardan for his purchase, and it's all I can do not to laugh when he replies "you're very welcome", like that is a normal thing to say to a retail employee.

On our way out, Cardan stops by one of the many mirrors in the store and applies his new lipstick, ending with a pop of his luscious lips.

"Really? You couldn't wait until we got back to the hotel?"

I smile teasingly at him, and he grins back. The lipstick is deep, dark purple.

"If I did, nobody would see it but you." He slides an arm around my waist and winks. "That would be a shame, when it looks so good."

I roll my eyes and slip out of his embrace, making towards the exit. When my back is turned to him, I allow myself a smile. It does look good, I think, though I won't give him the satisfaction of saying it aloud.

"Jude, wait—"

With those long legs of his, Cardan catches up to me quickly. He puts a hand on my shoulder and spins me around to face him. I lift my chin to look at him, and his expression sends a chill down my spine. This face used to send unwanted images of our younger days to my brain—Cardan spitting on my shoes, pulling my hair, kicking my lunchbox. Nowadays, this wickedness sends my blood rushing south and fills me with memories of his clever fingers and his face between my legs.

"I was not done," he says as he circles my waist again, pulling me towards him sternly. "I have to debunk the claims the boy made."

"Fine," I say, and peck him quickly on the lips.

He chuckles. "You know that won't do, Jude dearest."

Cardan leans towards me. Instinctively, I part my lips and close my eyes. Even after all this time, I hate that he has this effect on me, even though I know it's not fair. I have spent my whole life training with a blade while he spent his training his mind and body to seduce and manipulate.

His lips claim mine and I all but melt into him. I forget where we are, how utterly exposed we are to the judgement of others. I seek out his tongue with mine and bite his lip the way he likes.

Cardan pulls away and I chase after his lips, desperate for more, until I feel his mouth on my neck. Slender fingers grip my chin, angling my head to allow him access.

I open my eyes and finally remember myself, where we are and how inappropriate this is—

"Cardan!"

He hums in question as his cruel mouth continues kissing its way up to my ear. His hand moves back towards my nape and tangles in my hair, pulling lightly.

"We're in—you can't just do that! People are—"

I look around, mortified. The mall is not that crowded, but I see people looking abruptly away when I look in their direction. A mother covers her child's eyes as she notices us. An old lady sneers.

I feel Cardan grin against my skin before dragging his teeth up my ear to nibble at the curved cartilage.

I give a small shove to his chest and he pulls away with a chuckle that curls my toes.

"You're shameless," I say.

"You look like you drank an entire bottle of faerie wine," he replies, then gives a quick kiss to my heating cheek.

When he pulls back, he inspects my face with narrowed eyes, then my neck. He lets out an impressed hum.

"It seems he was right. No marks."

I laugh and his eyes light up, a genuine smile forming on his dark lips.

"Will you buy more, then?" I ask.

"No. I prefer when it leaves marks."

[iaintyourbro]

The Unknown Journey Continues

Part 1

I know it's been a while... but I've been going down a rabbit hole with @starlight-samurai regarding time loops, Jenova, Minerva, and more fun. So I figured I'd try to put it into one post to get the insanity out of my head. Everything in here is based on things we've found by either going through more obscure Ultimanias, learning more about Dirge of Cerberus and trying to decipher what the hell Jenova is by putting together various sources - including other Square Enix games - and how they handled freakishly similar scenarios.

Did you know there is a companion mobile game for it that was out on the good old flip phones? Did you know there was an online mode in Dirge of Cerberus only available in Japan, but had story elements that were not in the main game?

The sad part is, there's still so much to go through...

(I've also had various discussions with @ourfinalheaven, Manu, who doesn't have Tumblr, so here is her Twitter. and Somebody's Nightmare (here is her Twitter). So I wanted to tag them here, as it's much more fun to discuss these ideas as a group, since it'll only help you build on and strengthen your own ideas.)

Please be aware, there will be Spoilers for FFVII - Almost all Compilation titles, Xenogears, and NieR Automata throughout this.

So let's go on a journey where we explore what actually already exists in the compilation - including the idea of the whispers and timeloops - how Minerva may play into everything, and what exactly Jenova is capable of doing.

I asked Sesi if he'd ever played any of the NieR games, because he'd said something that made me wonder if they were going to take a similar approach. As a very, very quick high level summary: NieR Automata deals with a time loop type of idea. The androids will be rebooted and repeat the same things over and over again. This is broken when 2B is killed by A2 because she becomes infected with a virus. That being said, you have the option after Ending E to either erase all of your data and end the cycle OR you can try again. The Pods have a discussion, and one asks, "But won't they just do the same thing again?" and the other replies with "Maybe. But it could also be different this time."

Here's Sesi's message back to me when I asked him about this (cleaned up a bit since we were having a casual conversation over Discord):

Maybe I could just guess based comparatively on the Dirge storyline, because that was sort of SE's first flirtation with “robots and androids” since they’re all programmed and locked behind like task managers and shit that can shut them down. The story of the online mode for DoC that came out in Japan, we never got to see it, you’re basically an Android OC and you have to get to “the end of the level” and then essentially die, and a new one takes its place. This keeps happening until Weiss is essentially freed from being able to be task managed by the guys who are suppose to be able to control them and I know from tons of years with Square games that they’re verrrrry bad at differentiating their narratives they tend to just keep “ripping themselves off” so is it anything close to that?

Cuz if so I think I kinda know what you’re saying and yeah, I agree, I think with CC bringing in its poetic symbolism and LOVELESS, and DoC bringing back the cyclic nature of the lore, whispers, premonitions and future visions, proto-Materia and the perversion of this next cycle since the planet can no longer cleanse and protect itself and its will is weakening lesser and lesser to the point where it’s fate is “in a true sense of jeopardy This time essentially it’s all tied in together and sort of played as though it's a fated track; a cycle of events and something has hitched it, thus the whispers manifesting and Sephiroth's higher implied control over his destiny. Of course, even all that is just their new red herring game, but it’s definitely a part of the lore they want to play with, in order to go back and reMAKE the OG with the comp inserted from inception. Also gut punch a lot.

Time Loops

I was somewhat surprised to find out that this concept is NOT new to FFVII's universe. It's discussed in Dirge of Cerberus... probably one of the least played and least understood of the compilation. (Trying to sell a third person shooter with terrible controls to a market of mostly people used to turn-based combat wasn't going to go well.)

On top of it, we didn't even get all of it, since online mode was never released outside of Japan, and the Dirge of Cerberus Lost Episode was on Amp'd Mobile and Verizon flip phones back in 2006. Were you around for the cell phones in 2006? I had the ones on the list, and how somebody could play a game on those blows my mind.

Square has a tendency to reuse themes from their other titles. Probably one of the most blatant is the similarities between Xenogears and Final Fantasy VII. They were both being developed at the same time and a lot of ideas that didn't make it into FFVII ended up in Xenogears.

NieR

So how does this work? In NieR (both Replicant and Automata), you play the same path multiple times. Each time, it's slightly different depending on what side quests you did your first and second playthrough, but there's also other subtle differences throughout the story. In Automata, you get to play as 2B your first playthrough and 9S for your second. They follow the same path, but you get it from his perspective the second time and it reveals a bit more of what is going on. However, even with some slight differences, the main plot points stay the same and the ending result it also the same.

Then on your third playthrough, you wake up in the Bunker, and you're getting ready to go on a new mission. This time, though, 2B is killed and shit hits the fan. Things get crazy, you play as a new character: A2. In the end, pretty much everyone "dies", but you can choose to "reboot" and try again. You also can say you are done and let them all rest and delete your save data (the game gives you the option for both Automata and Replicant, and with Replicant, it actually leads to a new ending).

The striking thing for me is... There are certain events that will always happen, no matter what.

Fixed Points in Time

It's been years since I've watched Doctor Who, but there was something that stuck with me, and that was the fixed points in time. You can read about all of them here, but here's the basics:

Now, of course Doctor Who goes into this with much more detail and it's a recurring theme. However, as you read through that page, you'll probably find many aspects that have been used in various JRPGs that you've played. And Doctor Who most likely pulled some of the idea from classic Science Fiction novels. Each story puts its own spin on it.

How does this relate to FFVII Remake? Well, when they say that the major plot points will stay the same, it reminds me of this. No matter what, Cloud must fall into the Sector 5 Church, the Sector 7 Plate must be dropped, Aerith and Zack both must die, and Meteor has to be summoned, to name a few. So, with a time loop, those things would still have to take place in order to prevent a complete collapse of reality (at least in how Doctor Who uses it).

Therefore, the Whispers are ensuring that the Will of the Planet is followed.

One of the major themes in FFVII is that of loss. People die and they do not come back. Yes, other FF games do allow this to happen (FFX, FFXIII, FFXV), but VII is not those games. It was written with that idea in mind, that once a person dies, they, just like in real life, are dead and cannot be brought back.

I've previously written that I think they'll make us believe we are able to change fate, but we will eventually be slammed with the reality that we can't. That is because the planet has determined that certain events are fixed points.

Xenogears

Xenogears takes a bit of a different approach to the loop idea. Instead of repeating the same time period over and over, it has the characters reincarnated, and the same outcome happens each time: Elly dies. However, each time it's different. After all, they're in various time periods, in some cases thousands of years apart.

In all of the lives of Fei (who will have a different name in each time period) and Elly (who is always Elly/Elhaym), Elly will end up dying trying to protect Fei and the others. In one life, she is a religious figure at a totally not Catholic church, in another she's the wife of a scientist who was working to create children from nanomachines due to mass infertility issues. But she is ALWAYS with Fei, even if his name changes.

In her Mother Elhaym time, this is when Lacan (Fei) finally snaps. Though he's not fully aware of his past lives, he becomes aware, the anger consumes him, and he becomes Grahf. Fei is then reborn into the time period you play the game in.

There's a lot to unpack with this, so I won't go into it. Grahf wants to destroy God (Deus) because he thinks if he does, then it'll stop the suffering (his suffering).

If you do want to read more about Grahf, you can do so here, but it probably won't make much sense unless you've played Xenogears up to that point... Since it's much later in the game that this is all explained.

Lacan's desire was to stop the cycle of Elly always sacrificing herself for his sake. Though Grahf is not a perfect existence - he's not fully "The Contact", he sacrifices himself in order to let Fei move forward, and hopefully stop the cycle, by destroying the Deus system. (Elly also tries to sacrifice herself here, but Fei goes after her and stops her.)

Now, some people may think I'm saying that Cloud or somebody is going to do this in order to save Aerith or Zack (or his village or mom), but in FFVII if they do the loop method, I don't think Cloud, Tifa, Barret, and the others are aware of it. Most likely, it's only 'Sephiroth' and Aerith who are aware of it.

How this Could Be used for Final Fantasy VII

I'm stressing could because there's so many different possibilities on how they use this (if they are using this), so please, don't take this as fact. This is based on speculation based on what we know.

A time loop is a great way to explain away the differences in the story that we've seen: Biggs being alive, Wedge living for longer than he should have, etc. Since these are not major plot changes, they can simply say that this time it'll be slightly different... but your fixed points (major plot points) will remain the same.

It's a way to pull in some of the more obscure themes from Dirge of Cerberus and also play with the LOVELESS lore.

It could all simply be a big red herring and it's really just a remake of OG, but with the compilation tied together nicely... since it works much better when it's combined and not in 50 different games, books, movies, etc.

I don't think it's a "sequel" per say, not in the way I generally perceive a sequel. It's more of a loop of the same thing. The question is, when is the loop started and what will cause it to end? When will the planet (if it even is the planet) determine that it's good enough to begin moving forward?

JENOVA, Sephiroth, Genesis, and Minerva - Oh My!

Let's be real... Genesis isn't exactly the most popular character in the FFVII Compilation... but what if they make him one of the most important to the story? //Ducks as various fruits and vegetable are thrown in my direction//

I think what Genesis is probably most known for is his love of LOVELESS. He has the entire thing memorized and randomly says lines from it throughout Crisis Core. LOVELESS lore is still something I'm trying to grasp, so I am not going to comment much on it. Once I understand it more, I'll update this.

...And then this happens. The secret ending for Dirge of Cerberus, where Genesis picks up Weiss. Weiss, who has now been introduced along with Nero in FFVII INTERmission and is an optional ridiculously hard boss in the Shinra battle simulator in chapter 17 of the main story. There is some lore associated with the battle sim - so if you don't plan on beating it or you just can't, you can look up the pre-battle and post-battle cut scenes on YouTube. They're very short, but interesting. (I beat this asshole last night - it's a hell of a fight.)

....To Be Continued because apparently Tumblr won't allow more than 10 images per post now.... Next will be more on JENOVA and Sephiroth along with Minerva.

[karikarasuno]

The Sun Doesn’t Shine in Tokyo, Part II

Pairing: Tanaka Ryunosuke x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Angst, Character Death(s), Violence, Graphic Descriptions of Injuries, Mentions of Blood, Grief, Smut, Soft Sex, Vague knowledge of Computer Engineering (once again, please bear with me)

Summary: The end is near. Time is quickly running out. Hope is fleeting, but not entirely gone.

Part I | Part II

Word Count: 9.8k

June 17, 2065

8:24am

It’s morning. The digital clock on his bedside table flashed 8:24am, the angular digits barely seen through the grogginess of your sleepy brain. You shift to go back to sleep, which easily draws you in until there’s a stinging burn on your side. Your wound is itchy and uncomfortable.

“Shh,” fingers are brushing the hair on your forehead from your eyes. “Just gimme a second. This is gonna hurt.”

A wet cloth is pressed to the wound, the stinging sensation returning as you feel the alcohol clean out the dirt and grime from the night before. You squeeze your eyes shut and bite your lip to deal with the temporary pain. “I’m sorry, a little longer then I’ll be done.”

The cloth is removed as you sit up to rest on the headboard, too awake after the cold stinging to go back to bed. A calloused hand comes to stroke your cheek, chapped lips pressing a tender kiss to your temple. “Morning,” you croak, voice rough with sleep.

“G’morning, baby,” you can tell he’s been up for a while, the hoarseness that usually cracks his voice almost entirely gone.

“I should probably shower and then head downstairs. I never actually got the chance to brief everyone on what happened.”

“Don’t worry about it. Yamaguchi already did late last night. So just shower and meet me in the conference room for breakfast,” Tanaka explains before he pushes off his side of the bed, fully dressed as he places clean clothes for you on his dresser. Yachi probably gave them to him this morning and you remember you have to apologize to her today since you most likely sent her into cardiac arrest last night.

Lethargy and anticipation dictate the way you go about your morning, hardly remembering how you ended up sitting between Tanaka and Yamaguchi at the first officer strategy meeting of the day, showered and your gash freshly wrapped. Suga and Daichi are running it, images of the city’s infrastructure holographically displayed above the switchboard. The 3D landscape spinning and flickering as they outline different plans for tonight.

You didn’t realize your leg was bouncing beneath the table until Tanaka’s hand spread out on your thigh to stop it. “You listening?” He questions staring at you intently. Your thoughts have honestly traveled elsewhere, so you shake your head no.

“Do you have the tracking device?” Daichi repeats.

“Oh, no I don’t,” you lean forward and adjust your posture. “I slipped it into Oikawa’s pocket before he lost his shit, but I’m not sure if it survived the crash,” you explain, recalling the exact moment when he was gripping your chin, the distraction of your dagger on his sternum giving you enough time to plant it on him.

“We’ll have to ask Kenma then, maybe he can still locate it. And if that’s the case we’ll be able to see where he is, what he’s up to.”

The meeting continues, your attention drifting in and out trying to formulate a solid plan of your own. Something to ensure that everyone makes it out alive. After your encounter with Iwaizumi you were especially concerned about fighting an army of volunteers. Not that you weren’t confident in the people here, but you managed to plunge your dagger into one of his arteries and he still got up at Oikawa’s demand.

“The tunnels are a no go,” Yamaguchi says at some point when they began deciding on entry routes. “The grenade I threw blocked the only entrance we had into the basement.” You nod in confirmation as you remember the chunks of rubble and debris that were now closing in the stairs.

“The main entrance is our best shot. It’s bold and what they’ll least be expecting. There’s also a chance we could disarm the alarm system if we can break through the firewall. We have the manpower, the only unknown are the volunteers and what they’re fully capable of,” you add on, the floorplan of the estate replacing the flickering city. You stand to describe the various points of entry and what you assume would be the places they are most likely going to have guards stand outside.

“You should have the long range fighters stationed here,” your finger hovers over a patch of tall trees near one of the side doors. “And here,” you shift to point out an area near the front that is also beneath the shadows of the woods.

“Those specialized in hand to hand combat should form the frontlines, while everyone else flanks out in a diamond formation. Yachi in the middle with y/n and Yamaguchi,” Suga suggests while he visually demonstrates the formation on one of the large screens. “Since Yachi doesn’t have much combat experience Tanaka and Terushima will go with them,” he tacks on, giving Tanaka a pointed look.

“And obviously because the two of you are practically useless with your injuries,” Suga teases before he proceeds to assign and explain other roles. The rest of the meeting moves forward without a hitch and everyone agrees on the plan that factored in as many uncertainties as possible. The chairs scrape against the floor as the officers shuffle out to start preparing for tonight.

You stand with Tanaka’s hand in yours and start to make your way through the first floor before you stop in front of one of the only staircases in the building. “I���m actually gonna go visit Kenma,” you explain as Tanaka looks at you silently confused.

“I wanted to ask him a few questions before tonight,” you add as you slip your hand from his and he gives you a solid shrug.

“Alright, I’ll be in the vault, checking the inventory,” he grins, his hands circling your waist to pull you into his sturdy frame. “Maybe I’ll be able to find you a better weapon,” he bends to toy with the dagger on your thigh that you refused to travel without after last night.

“Better?!,” you feign offense. “You don’t think my dagger makes me look sexy?” You grin cheekily at him as his own teasing smile spreads across his face.

“Oh, I always think you look sexy. But you know what would make you look even sexier,” he leans down so that he’s staring directly into your eyes, voice dipping low. “Protection,” his eyes glint with mischief and a knowing smirk settles on his lips.

You shove him lightly and playfully smack the side of his head, his beanie shifting sideways. “Haha so funny,” you roll your eyes as your smile brightens. “Gimme some options and we’ll see.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he responds when you turn around to walk away, his palm smacking your ass as you bound up the steps. “Payback for the beanie,” his hands rise in defense before he winks at you and turns to keep walking down the hall.

You take the steps two at a time like you usually do, except now you have your healing gash as a reminder to slow down. Unlike the other floors in the building the second level is a single large room coined the “Zone” by many of the guys. One half hosts Kuroo’s test lab, usually unkempt with sulfur and boiling chemical concoctions covering the surfaces. The other half belongs to Kenma with his various half built devices stuck between keyboards and multicolored wires.

While Kuroo often ventures out into the other rooms of the hideout to seek socialization, you can always find Kenma sitting exactly where he is now. Headset nestled over his ears, hair pulled back in a messy bun with his controller tight in his hands.

You walk up behind him and pull one of the cuffs from his ear. “Hey loser,” you release the set from your grasp so it snaps back on to his head, this time all lopsided.

“Not a loser,” he responds as he shakes his head so that the headphones fall back around his neck. His screens flashing a bold ‘victory’ to affirm that he is, in fact, not a loser.

“You are the only person I know who can play video games the day our world might end,” you say with a laugh when he shoots you an apathetic stare.

The relationship between you and Kenma developed rather naturally, a sibling connection unfolding before either of you realized. On your many sleepless nights wandering and exploring the compound you often found yourself here. At first, you stumbled upon him accidentally in the middle of the night, while everyone else was either asleep or working on their own projects to prepare for the upcoming conflicts. He awkwardly invited you to sit with him as he played or tinkered with new or semi thought out inventions. You really only watched at first, curiosity overcoming your intentions to not disturb him, but you soon found yourself asking questions. The questions turning into overnighters where he would teach you how to play his favorite games or help him code software he would embed in his tiny devices.

He puts his remote down and swivels in his chair to face you. “I was brainstorming,” the corner of his lips quirk up a little as he gets up and bumps your shoulder with his to step around you.

“Brainstorming what exactly?” You ask, your eyes following his thin frame as he walks to his crafts table and picks up a few things. He tilts his head to signal for you to walk over to him. “I’ll show you.”

You move to stand beside him and he hands off the small devices to you. You inspect them and realize they are watches, complete with a touch screen center and small dials on each side.

“These are reinforcement devices,” he says. “I don’t have enough for everyone but you clasp them around your wrist and twist the dials. A shield will manifest from here,” he points to the watch’s face, and what you incorrectly assumed was a touch screen surface is actually a reflection of the software’s veil.

“This is actually the code you helped me develop a few weeks back.” You smile up at him fondly, remembering the argument you got into after he refused to explain what it was for.

“How many do you have?”

“Six are complete,” he answers. “But I also have this.” He grabs a larger cylindrical device from a shelf attached to the wall.

“This is essentially a bigger version of those. The shield covers way more surface area. You can stick it to a wall or door, enter the pin and the shield will reinforce the structure to protect whatever’s inside,” he finished explaining before he places it back on the shelf.

“When did you have time to do all of this?” His production rate when it comes to his inventions is impressive to say the least.

He takes some of the reinforcement devices from you to organize them beside the others. “You know I hardly sleep,” he shrugs as if his lack of rest doesn’t bother you.

You open your mouth to voice this for the millionth time, but he lifts his finger to shush you. “Don’t. I get it,” he interrupts.

“Fine. But this doesn’t explain why you were brainstorming,” you say instead of nagging him about his awful sleep schedule, not that yours was really any better.

“Right,” he slides you over by your shoulders to switch spots. “This is for you,” he opens the locker in the corner of the room to pull something out. It’s another round device about two inches thick with small legs to hold it up.

“What’s this?” Your intrigue successfully piqued.

“Just watch,” he walks to Kuroo’s lab table and pushes some stuff around to clear a spot.

“I’ve been working on this for a while now,” he grabs his phone from his back pocket and punches in his password and then opens an app. The device begins to illuminate as streaks of ultraviolet waves burst through the top. “It’s a simulation machine that kinda works. I can’t seem to get the graphics right for some reason, hence the gaming,” he explains.

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t have been playing regardless,” you say, which earns you an eye roll from him and a chuckle from you.

“Pay attention,” he points to the device, redirecting your attention instead of answering you. There’s a distinct humming noise before the room’s image starts to ripple. A pixelated version of a beach envelopes the room warping and disguising the furniture.

“It’s not perfect, but it’s an illusion that can trick enemies into believing they are somewhere else,” he whispers, looking a bit sheepish. “I’ve only been able to generate this stock photo, but eventually I want it to replicate different rooms or even scenery we haven’t experienced in a while.”

“Kenma,” your voice is wistful as you absorb the sway of the palm trees, the gentle rolling of the waves lapping the shores. “This is amazing. H-how did you do this?”

“I had Yachi’s help. She came up one night freaking about the control center’s algorithm and asked if I could help since you and Yamaguchi were already asleep. We ended up talking about sunsets, mainly her rambling,” he lightly snorts. “So I showed her some games with high resolution graphics that had some pretty cool sunsets and she came up with this. She coded it really quickly while I built it. I just haven’t been able to fix the kinks.”

You were near tears. The words escaped you, but mostly because you could never describe what you were feeling out loud. The snapshot of a panicking Yachi running to Kenma makes you laugh because there is no way he calmed her down without having a silent stroke of his own.

“And this is for me?” You ask for clarification before the tears really start falling.

“Yeah,” he raises his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Other than computer engineering, you are really the only thing we have in common.”

“Kenma, I-,”

“Woah!” You both turn to what used to be the floor’s entrance, which is now limitless sand. “The beach! This is so cool!” Hinata squeals, his eyes lighting up with wonder and amazement.

“Oh hey, Shoyo,” Kenma fumbles with his phone to turn off the display.

“What’s up?” You’re grateful for his interruption, afraid you were about to become a sobbing mess in front of Kenma, which he would not have appreciated.

“Tanaka asked me to come get you,” his smile is wide and enthusiastic. “Said something about your options being ready.”

“Of course he actually went through with it,” you shake your head not the slightest bit surprised.

“Also said if you don’t hurry he’s not afraid to kick some ass,” Hinata adds on, his smile turning impishly cheeky.

“Of course he did,” you laugh before turning back to Kenma, who’s a subtle shade of red.

“We aren’t done here,” you tell him, knowing how flushed he gets when he’s alone with Hinata and you walk away from him backwards until you’re standing behind your new guest. “Watch him, he’s known to cause trouble,” you whisper to Hinata but it’s still loud enough from him to hear you.

“Oh, I know,” he plays along, only for Kenma’s neck to burn a brilliant red as Hinata steps further into the Zone. You make kissy faces behind his back to tease him as much as possible before you run down the stairs, narrowly missing the object he threw at you.

June 17, 2065

4:57pm

The gun is spinning on the turntable in front of you. The gun you and Tanaka compromised on. It’s a small black pistol, the deep metal drinking in the harsh light from the screens lining the walls as it spins and spins. In the center of the room, Yachi is typing vigorously, the reversal code practically finished, but she tended to be a perfectionist, so you sit beside her waiting for it to be done.

“I can help,” you offer, hoping she will let you this time. She just glances at you, a flick of anxiety flashing in her gaze before she shakes her head no.

“Why not?”

“It’s already done,” she responds, fingers still tapping on the keys. “I just have to double check if everything is in order.”

“Well, what is it?” You’ve been begging for her to share the code with you, trying to convince her that it would be smarter if more than one person had it, especially if she’s not able to reach the control center in time.

“Not telling you,” her hair falls to cover her face as she looks down at her stilled hands. “It has to be me. I just need for you to get me there.”

“Yachi, c’mon, at least tell Yams,” you argue, not understanding why she won’t share the information with anyone.

“S-sorry,” is all she says in response, and you let out an agitated sigh because you won’t win this argument. “What’s with the gun?” She motions towards it with her hand as she leans back in her chair, avoiding the initial topic.

“Tanaka doesn’t believe my dagger is enough protection,” you look back down at the spinning gun and your chest tightens at the mere idea of having to use it. “It was this or a fucking katana.”

She laughs, the abruptness startling you, but she doubles over and wheezes. A blush is blooming on her cheeks at the lack of oxygen going to her lungs, her laugh turning into hiccups and breathless gasps. It’s contagious, your own laugh soon wracking through you.

“I don’t get it,” you say through snorts. “What’s so funny?”

“I cannot imagine you wielding a katana,” tears of laughter are decorating her face. “You’d probably accidentally cut off your own arm before you manage to land it on anyone else.” She’s wiping the tears from her eyes as her breath slowly returns, her cheeks still flushed a pretty pink.

“I take offense to that. I would be such a badass with one,” you rebuttal.

“Sure,” she squeaks out.

“I just might need a little practice first.”

She falls into a fit of giggles again, probably imagining you tripping over the long blade forgetting that she’s the clumsy one. Your cheeks are hurting from smiling, a warmth rooting itself within you, and for the first time in weeks the flower of hope feels like it will bloom soon. The delicate petals unfurling with a promise of prosperity, a promise that things will be okay.

“Hey,” Tanaka bursts through the door, a little out of breath like he ran here. “Kenma was able to track Oikawa. He’s still at the estate, probably never left.”

“You think he’s still alive?” You jump from your seat, Yachi at your side in an instant.

“Definitely. Yamaguchi said you left him in the basement, but Kenma can see his movements and he’s currently on the move.”

“But what if it’s not him? What if someone just found his body and is carrying it around?” You are skeptical, unsure if Oikawa was able to survive two gunshot wounds and a crash.

“First of all, that’s nasty,” he wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Second of all, I don’t think it matters. The person, Oikawa or not, is heading to the control center. We have five hours before the thing is set to explode, so we leave in four.”

“Got it. The reversal code is ready,” Yachi interjects before you can. “I’m ready,” she straightens her shoulders, eyes determined as she meets yours.

You grab the gun that is now still on the table and place it in the holster on your hip. “Me too.”

June 17, 2065

9:22pm

The front of the estate is surrounded by steel poles, roughly 16 feet tall. Weaved between each pole are copper wires that conduct heat and electricity constantly, making it difficult to enter without burns or electric shocks. Fortunately, Kenma was able to hack into the compound's firewall rather easily since it had been abandoned for months and disconnected the alarm system.

The group gathers around the front gate, those who specialize in combat form the first row and once you enter the plan is to split into various smaller groups. You would head straight to the control center with Yachi and Yamaguchi, while Tanaka and Terushima serve as bodyguards. Yamaguchi’s ankle is doing better, his limp gone and the reinforcement device adorning his wrist. You are all wearing bulletproof vests, the material surprisingly thin and breathable as it’s strapped over your tank top. Your cut is safely hidden beneath it.

The gates are set to open at 9:30, the distance fighters successfully hidden in the trees while everyone else fans out on either side of your group. Kuroo managed to hand out flash grenades and smoke bombs to every unit, the sulfur in the lab results of failed bombs that blew up prematurely. You search the crowd counting the bodies, committing the number to memory; twenty-six, hoping that it will be the same when you exit tonight.

Kenma is standing next to Kuroo and you watch as he sends up a mini drone. The device flying into the trees and an image of Hinata and Nishinoya flash on his phone. The boys are settled high up in the trees, Noya’s crossbow strapped to his back, while Hinata is busy tying knots into rope, his knives and shuriken hidden beneath his clothing.

You start to feel the signs of a tension headache strain your neck, the anticipation sucking your soul from the confines of your skin. Tanaka is kneeling in front of you and you stare at the muscles of his back flex and relax through his black sleeveless shirt as he laces up his boots. Once he’s finished he twists on the balls of his feet to face you, hands going to check your laces and tucking the hem of your cargos into them, your ankles thanking him for the extra support.

“It’s almost time,” he whacks your thigh so you look down at him. “You ready?”

You give him a small nod, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You remember the plan, right? Once we enter those doors you stay behind me. I’ll say when the coast is clear, but if things get too crazy, Yachi is the priority,” he rises from his position. “Get her to the control center, then find me. Don’t do anything irrational,” he finishes.

You give him a nervous laugh, “I’ll try.”

“No, it’s not you’ll t-”

“I’m kidding, Ryu,” you cut him off.

“Not funny, love,” he turns around to settle next to Terushima, whose arm is extending behind him, pinky linking with Yamaguchi’s.You link your arms with Yachi’s as you wait, only five more minutes left.

“Welcome!” Everyone’s attention snaps to the balcony above the double doors of the entrance. Oikawa is standing there, pale and bloody. “I wasn’t expecting to have this many guests come to watch the end with me. This is so heartwarming.”

The gates creak and shudder as they shuffle open. Volunteers begin to reveal themselves from their hiding spots to gather at the front doors, but no one on your side of the gates moves. Your hand wraps around the hilt of your dagger and your stance shifts so that Yachi is partially blocked by you.

He spots you in the crowd and he has the nerve to smirk at you, the once endearing gesture looks pained on his hollowed cheeks and sunken eyes. A daunting beauty transforming his features. “Oh, darling, I’ve been expecting you,” he waves with his good hand, his injured arm is supported with a sling.

“I’m sure you’re glad to see me alive, but Iwa didn’t make it,” you can’t tell if he actually is pained by this with the way he sulks and leans on the rails. “So obviously I can’t let you leave here alive,” he giggles, almost drunkenly. “An eye for an eye or whatever they used to say.”

“I’ll kill him,” Tanaka snarls, gun pointing at Oikawa. You grip his arm to yank it down, fully aware that now is not the time.

“What was that about being irrational?” You hiss at him so he lowers his weapon. Oikawa sees this and you watch his entire demeanor change, his taunting gaze igniting into something far more terrifying.

“Who’s this, princess? You brought me a new toy?” His tone is flat, monotone. “Since you killed my last one!” You flinch at the rise in his voice, the rebels frozen in disbelief, a motivating fear beginning to billow through the crowd.

“We need to move,” Daichi’s deep voice diminishes Oikawa’s immediately. “NOW,” he screams and he’s the first on the move, gun firing shot after shot in the volunteers’ direction.

“STOP THEM!” Oikawa’s shrill shriek is hardly heard above the sounds of battle, but the volunteers do not hesitate. Their smell smacking the air from your lungs, no description adequate enough to warn you. Yachi’s hand is now firm in yours as you run close behind Tanaka. Your dagger unsheathed as your biceps tense with untapped energy. You slip through the front doors quickly, most of the fighting designated to those who formed the front lines.

You deduce that the volunteers are abnormally strong as you witness them tear metal like paper, and crack the estate’s concrete in single punches. Luckily, they are incredibly slow, their limbs swing and jerk in unsynchronized movements, as if they are babies taking their first steps. The rebels on the other hand are nimble, even the largest members fight with the agility of trained ballerinas, their movements fluid and graceful.

You yell for Tanaka and Terushima to take the stairs down to the basement. The claustrophobic idea of being stuck in an elevator is enough to stop your heart. Terushima reaches the door first, the force with which he tears it open rips it from its hinges.

You fly down the first flight, your grip on Yachi never loosening. Yamaguchi brings up the end, he’s holding nunchucks that you have no idea where he got them from. He flicks his wrist to swing them at one of the volunteers that followed you, the wood thwacking against her nose, splatters of blood erupt from her skull and dot Yamaguchi’s skin as she crumples to the floor, her body splaying out across the steps. “Don’t stop running!” He yells, hand grabbing Yachi’s elbow pushing you down the final flight to the basement.

The elevator dings at the end of the hallway, a ghastly Oikawa steps through and you catch a glimpse of silver. At first, you thought it had to be his veins visible through his milky skin, but now you can see the thin lines of silver snaking throughout his body. “He did not look like that yesterday,” Yamaguchi skids to a stop behind you.

Tanaka and Terushima have their weapons raised in front of you, a spear twirling in Teru’s hand. “Where’s the control room, Oikawa?” Tanaka calls out, his voice dripping with poison.

“Why would I tell you when they already know?” He quips, his retort losing substance when a wet cough breaks through his chest. “As you can see I can’t put up much of a fight,” he coughs again, dribbles of thinning blood leaks from his lips. “Iwa’s device doesn’t suit me too well,” he leans his neck to the side, a sickening pop coming from it.

“Iwa’s what?” You say it before you mean to, the situation only becoming creepier with every drop of new knowledge.

“You see, when Iwa was crushed, I found his body in the rubble. The implants we use jutting out from the skin between his shoulder blades, so I tore it out,” he staggers towards your group, the leg he was shot in scraping against the floor with each step. “I inserted it into the bullet wound above my knee,” he points to his twisted leg. “That way Iwa and I will always be together.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” Terushima says behind his hand as he gags. The smell of rotting flesh and rusty metal wafting through the hall with each drag of Oikawa’s leg.

You know he’s not down here alone, that he probably has volunteers stationed somewhere near the control center, but that’s down the hall, through another room. The five of you don’t stand a chance alone without knowing exactly how many are here. You also know that Oikawa’s breaths are numbered, his body actively rejecting the implant stealing away his time like he’s stalling yours.

“But if you really want to know,” he draws in a shallow breath and stops a few feet away from your group. “The control center is down this hall through that room,” he points to his right, the door cracked open. “I’ll let you pass, but good luck. I already input the code,” he inches towards the door and dramatically looks at his watch. “Seems like you only have 8 minutes.” 

He wags his fingers at you as he leans into the door, his weight pushing it open fully and he disappears in the darkness. Tanaka’s running first, fluidly rushing to the open door, but before he reaches it many of the other ones open. Decaying bodies hauling the burden of their transformation into the corridor. “Ryu, wait!” You call out to him but he’s already surrounded. He unsheathes the sword strapped to his back and swings it out in a swift circular arc to force the volunteers back. You count seven in total, all focused dangerously on your boyfriend. 

Terushima bends down in front of the three of you and unzips the pouch clipped around his hips. “Fall back,” he says.

“What’re you gonna do?” Yamaguchi bends at the waist to look over his shoulder. “I’m gonna use one of the stun grenades to distract them. Tanaka’s quick on his feet and he’ll know he only has a split second to escape. But first I need you guys to fall back.”

You’re hesitant at first, but Yachi tugs you away from them while Yamaguchi follows, still a step ahead. “Tanaka, get ready!” Terushima yells before he pulls the clip and tosses it. The grenade rolling to a stop at Tanaka’s feet. 

“Get down,” you turn to tackle Yachi in your arms, your body shielding her from any fallout. The flashes and popping noises signaling its detonation. You look up when some of the noise dies down, the door leading to the control center swinging wildly while the volunteers trip over themselves, disoriented and scattered at the end of the hall. You missed the exact moment, but three of the volunteers were now on the ground, their implants sliced out from their shoulder blades. The pincers on the devices opening and closing in search for their host. 

“Thanks, Tanaka,” Teru whispers in awe. “Impressive bastard took three of ‘em out on his own and discovered that you disable them by removing those creepy shits,” he laughs.

“Okay, babe, we’ll go in before the ladies,” he stands and helps Yamaguchi to his feet. “You take the small one in the corner. Leave the three big guys to me,” he smirks. 

“Now’s not the time to compete, Teru,” Yamaguchi sighs, grabbing a switchblade from his pocket, while clutching the revolver in his other hand.

“A little healthy competition never hurt nobody,” he nudges Yamaguchi with his shoulder, sending him a sly wink. “Trust me.” 

The boys bolt forward, weapons in hand as they twirl in combat, the first heavy body thumping to the ground. They clear the path for you and Yachi quickly, the space in front of the door now empty.

You grab Yachi and book it. Your concern for Tanaka’s safety rises exponentially as you rush to the control center, where he and Oikawa surely are.

The room opens up and near the center you see Oikawa and Tanaka arguing loudly, Tanaka’s gun pointing at Oikawa while he grips the sword behind him to keep the volunteers at bay. The control center is blinking, digital numbers floating above the panel counting down ominously. You have five minutes left and the prospects of disabling the system are low. The ring of volunteers lining the perimeter is your main obstacle because at any given moment their motionless blank stares could be activated. 

“What do we do?” Yachi whispers hurriedly beside you, no one noticing the two of you enter the room yet. 

“We get you to the panel in the next five minutes. How?” You’re trying to think as fast as possible. “I don’t know yet.” Thoughts are racing through your mind, words popping out to form some coherent thought before you rattle out your best plan. 

“I’ll distract Oikawa. You run as fast as you can to the panel,” you suggest. “And we pray some of the other rebels show up as back up.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very good plan,” Yachi bites the nail on her thumb.

“Well unless you have something better, I can’t think of anything else,” you respond, eyebrows raised and she shakes her head no. 

“So just walk behind Oikawa and hopefully he won’t see you. Once you’re out of his line of sight I’ll say something to get his attention,” you explain.

“Got it,” she nods, releasing your hand as she steps across your body to start moving towards the control center. The boys are still arguing and you get the sense that Tanaka knows you're there. Coincidentally, maneuvering his body to obscure Yachi until she isn’t visible to him.

“Tooru,” your voice echoes in the chamber. “How about we talk this out?”

His voice dies in his throat once he notices you. Somehow surprised that you would chase them down here. “I know I blew up on you in the past but just give me another chance. We can stall all of this,” you wave your hands around at the control center and all the volunteers. “And maybe come to a compromise.” 

Four minutes.

“Compromise? As if you even know the meaning of the word, princess,” there’s no endearment in his tone anymore. Just condescension and disgust. “I’ll start by killing your boyfriend and you can watch me. Then I’ll kill all your pathetic friends. Saving my sweet, sweet love for last,” his voice is eerily flat, similar to when he was speaking from the balcony earlier. 

Three minutes, twenty-three seconds.

“You son of a bitch, I’d like to see you try,” Tanaka growls, the sword that was pointed at the volunteers now positioned over Oikawa’s chest. “I’ll tear your heart out before you can lay a finger on her.”

“I sense a challenge,” Oikawa chuckles and steps so the tip of the sword is touching his chest. “Let’s test that. You heard him, right guys? Why don’t we see if this knight in shining armor can save his damsel in distress,” he knows he’s going to die here, he’s smiling from ear to ear at Tanaka and he reaches to wrap his hand around the sharp edge of the sword, blood spilling from his palm down his wrist. “Kill them.”

The volunteers bumble forward, their numbers overwhelming the three of you. Tanaka pulls his sword from Oikawa’s hand to go after them. Yachi is almost to the control panel, but a volunteer suddenly blocks her path, lunging to crush her beneath their fists. You sprint for her, she has a knife on her leg but it’s clear she forgot to reach for it. She ducks beneath their arm, she’s surprisingly agile despite her frequent clumsiness. There’s an opening between the monstrosity’s legs as they stupidly move to follow her. You slide on your knees straight between their legs to slice through their achille’s heel, cutting off the function of their lower body. They faceplant by Yachi’s feet as she shrieks from nearly being crushed as you climb the limp body, your fingers locating the implant and stabbing into the tough skin, the implant wiggling in your hands as you tear it out. The device latches on to your pointer finger to dig into your skin. You scream and shake it off immediately and it lands at Yachi’s feet before she stomps on it like a bug, the crunching resembling the sound of a cockroach beneath her boot.

There’s a grunt from Tanaka’s direction and you see he’s pinned Oikawa to the floor between his knees. The tussle looks like it’s in his favor when Oikawa rips the implant from the wound above his knee and attempts to insert it into the smooth skin of Tanaka’s neck. You stare as he screams in pain, the pincers scratching and cutting into him. You’re too far to use your dagger, you won’t make it before the implant is successfully transferred to him, so you reach for the pistol on your hip. You hold it out in front of you preparing your shot but it’s too risky. Tanaka’s back is to you and only with perfect aim will you be able to land a shot on Oikawa from over his shoulder, the trembling of your hands only worsening the situation.

Two minutes, twenty-five seconds.

The time will be out before you shoot your gun, before Yachi will make it to the control center. Despair ruining your disposition and any confidence you would have had taking this shot is snatched from you as Tanaka screams in pain. You position the gun as best you can, praying to any divine being who happens to hear you to bless you with perfect aim. You begin to squeeze the trigger, forcing your eyes to stay open, when an arrow comes whizzing past your cheek, the speed of it burning the soft skin. You stare in astonishment as it lodges itself in Oikawa’s eye, blood spraying everywhere from the impact and his body slumps to the ground, hand still clasping the implant as it fidgets in his fingertips. Tanaka cringes when he gets off of him and turns to Nishinoya, whose crossbow is still aimed at them and the tension in your shoulders ease slightly.

Your relief is short lived as you survey the situation. Nearly all of the rebels are here, but there are simply too many enemies and they don’t have enough energy to continue to fight. You jump from your spot to look for Yachi and she’s still running to the panel, the disaster gathered in the room preventing her from reaching it. You know it’s too late. Your naive dream beginning to wither away before your eyes so you rush to go get her. 

“Yachi, stop! It’s over,” You scream over the noise of the chaos around you, bodies strewn across the floor while blood begins to pool and smear everywhere. You are holding her arm, pulling her away from the control center in the middle of the room.

 “It’s not over, how could you give up so easily?! I can do this, you have to trust me! I am the only one who can decode the software. It’s my fault any of this is happening anyway. I did this!” Tears are flowing down her face in a violent stream. Her cheeks red with frustration and stress, eyes pleading with you to let her go. “I put all of you in danger! I’m an idiot and I should’ve been able to figure out their plan, but I had to go and try to prove myself to my mom! I-I had to ruin everything because I was so stupidly naive,” her voice was breaking around every syllable, guilt ripping through her. 

“But I can’t lose you!” The lump in your throat was making it difficult to speak as the only option dawned on you. The only option she is pleading for you trust her with. Tears are stinging at your eyes, threatening to spill over while you try desperately to hold them back. “Y-you’re my best friend,” you’re exhausted, the words sincere as they slide through the space between you. Yachi steps towards you, hand coming up to rest on your cheek to catch the stray tear slipping down. 

“I know and that’s why I need to do this. I need to save you. I need to save Yams. And the others. We can’t lose anymore lives because of something I created,” you let your eyes shut, all the fight you had leaving your body as your grip loosens on her arm. She wraps her arms around you for a final embrace, her body still for once, the trembling gone from her nerves as your arms hold her. “I know I can fix this, but I need for you to get as many people as you can out of here first,” she untangles herself from you. 

“There’s a large safe at the end of this hallway. The code is my birthday. Grab anyone left, anyone still alive and shut yourselves in there. I won’t be able to disconnect the devices in this building because I won’t have enough time so there will still be a loud explosion. When you hear that it’s safe to come out,” she takes a step away from you, expression fixed leaving you no room to argue. 

“O-okay,” you force the word from your lips because this was far from okay, “j-just know that, um, that I love you. So fucking much,” her figure begins to blur as the tears gather in your eyes. 

“I love you too, y/n. Promise me that you will make it out of here. Promise me that you will get to watch the sunset. A real one. For me,” she pleads and you blink to clear your vision, hot tears burning the raw skin of your under eyes. “Yes, I p-promise,” you choke on these last words. 

“Thank you. Now go, please” this is the calmest you have ever seen her as she steps away from you, body turning to clumsily run to the control panel. Time is moving in slow motion. The bodies around you moving in vivid detail. Every swing, punch, and kick are stuttering like a stop motion film. You don’t know if you’re breathing anymore, all of your functions glitching in a solitary moment of grief. 

“Hey, look at me!” You can hear Tanaka’s voice, see his figure pummeling towards you, but he’s fuzzy, out of focus. You think his hands are on your arms, but it feels distant and cold, a ghost of everything he is. “Hey!” He shakes you aggressively, your brain fighting against the current of sorrow dragging you below the murky surface. “Don’t let the last words you said to her be a lie! Don’t break this promise!” 

You cut through the surface and see Tanaka clearly. He’s covered in blood, his neck bleeding from where Oikawa punctured his skin with the implant. “We have to go. You have to go,” he shoves you to the exit, your motor functions working on autopilot. You grab who you can as you run for the safe. Yelling orders and instructions to anyone who can hear you. 

One minute, seventeen seconds.

Suga’s at your side holding up Ennoshita while Daichi is calling for people to rush to the safe. You make it there first, and incorrectly punch in the code at first, the small numbers duplicating, but you get it right the second try. The heavy door swinging open with surprising ease as you move out the way to let Suga and Ennoshita in before you. A few of the other guys bolt in soon after and you just stand there waiting for Tanaka, waiting for Yamaguchi, and Kenma, and Yachi. 

Yamaguchi cuts the corner first, Terushima on his tail. You feel a flash of relief when you see them, the distance between you closing rapidly. Yamaguchi trips over the step into the safe, but Terushima catches him before he makes contact with the ground, mumbling something to him that you can’t quite make out. 

Tanaka’s next and he’s screaming at you but you hardly hear him over the commotion. You hardly register the distance until he’s right in front of you again. “What are you doing just standing here?!” He yells. “Let’s go,” he practically lifts you into the room and holds your back to his chest against one of the metal walls, preventing you from running out again. 

You can’t tell who else enters the safe, your panic and grief merging in a merciless waltz. The door slams shut and Daichi is the last to come in, his strong hands holding firm on the handle. Your eyes now begin to scan the bodies in the room, some fine with just a few cuts and bruises, others worse, bleeding dangerously from various points in their body. You count like you did before any of this started. 

Twenty-six. Minus one. Twenty-five. 

You start from the corner opposite you, whispering number to face to name. 

Twenty-one, orange hair, brown eyes: Hinata. Twenty-two, flash of blonde, fixed glare: Nishinoya. Twenty-three, disheveled black hair-

“Where’s Kenma?” Kuroo’s voice breaks your trance. There’s only twenty-four people in the safe. 

“Where’s Kenma?” You repeat, fighting Tanaka’s grip to bolt to the door. 

“Daichi!” Kuroo screams. “Answer me!”

“He stayed behind,” Daichi’s shoulders fall in defeat. “Said something about this being his final move. That this was game over for him and the prize for winning would be our lives. Then stuck something on the door and told me to tell you that he’s,” he pauses, his usually solid voice wavering. “He said he’s not a loser.” 

“And you let him?!” Kuroo runs at him, intent on pulling him away from the door and ripping it open. “He’s an idiot! I have to go get him!” Daichi locks Kuroo’s arms behind his back. “Let me go!” He’s kicking and shoving, but Daichi refuses to stand down. “There’s still time! I HAVE TIME TO SAVE HIM!”

“There is no time, Tetsuro! We are out of time!” At this moment the floor rumbles, the walls vibrate as they shield you from the brunt of the blast. Kuroo’s reaction is visceral,  a primal scream blowing out his vocal chords as dust starts to fall from the ceiling. You watch Hinata fall to his knees, the inhibited light dimming in his eyes as his head falls in his hands, body convulsing with sobs. 

00:00

You’re drowning, your lungs are full of water, air sticking to the lining of your esophagus, the burning pain of no oxygen clouding your brain. Your head heavy on your neck, the effort of holding up your body wearing away as you let all of your weight fall back on Tanaka. His own body sliding down the wall until you’re both on the floor, you wailing pathetically between his legs and he just holds you to his chest, even when you resist and scream for him to leave you alone, he silently holds you. 

No one makes a move to leave. The burden of losing people weighing heavy in the tight, crowded room. 

You don’t remember too much after this. The solemn, dreadful walk back to the hideout is syrupy, your body hardly moving through the thickness of desolation. You stumble over bodies and slip on spilled blood, the aftermath of the explosion evident on every surface, making your ascent cumbersome as you climb out. The familiar fog an odd comfort concealing you from intrusive eyes. 

The hideout is stale and uneasy. Your heartbeat pulsing irregularly in your chest, grief induced anesthetic numbing your bloodstream. Tanaka’s room is dark and his bed looks unusually comfortable. You lurch towards it, but Tanaka stops you. His arms pulling you into the bathroom, the shower already running with steam creeping over the top of the glass door. He helps you undress and step into the tub, tying your hair up in a messy bun before the water hits you. He steps in behind you and swipes a wet cloth over your body. Blood, dirt, and dust turning the water at your feet a translucent brown as it disappears down the drain. 

Tanaka wraps new gauze around your waist, the sting of the alcohol barely noticeable anymore. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts as he tucks you into bed. His body settling in beside you, his strong arms cradling you in his embrace as he whispers gentle words of affirmation into your hair. His soothing voice eventually lulling you into a dreamless slumber. 

You wake up unexpectedly, the sounds of your own whimpers breaking the awful silence. “I’m here,” Tanaka pets your hair. “I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here,” he reassures you as his arms press you deeper to his chest. Your fingers clinging to the sheet draped over his bare torso. 

He leans down to pepper kisses across your tear stained cheeks. His lips connecting with every inch of skin. You tilt your face to catch his lips in a slow kiss, his movements initially hesitant. You drift your fingers to outline his collarbone, tracing along each line of muscle and ridge of scar tissue, determined to memorize all his imperfections. Determined to cement the entirety of his physique into your memory so he will never fade if he ever leaves you too. 

Your fingers stop at the waistband of his underwear, toying with the elastic before you venture further down as you sketch the dip of his hip bone, the sharpness of his pelvis, and the strength of his relaxed thigh behind your closed eyelids. He stops you before you can delve deeper. “We shouldn’t,” is all he says, lips still slotted perfectly between yours. 

“I want you, Ryu,” you’re aware of the desperation in your tone, aware of your need for physical touch emitting off of you in heady rays. “Please.” 

He screws his eyes shut, his internal dialogue written all over his handsome features. It’s not because he doesn’t want to, the evidence of his quiet arousal mere inches from your fingertips. He’s afraid of hurting you, afraid of pushing you too far even though you’re asking for this, but you want to show him how much you want him. How much you need him. 

How much you love him.

You gently pry your wrist from his loose grasp to massage the soft skin of his erection, slowing your motions when he stiffens. “Let me,” you plead beneath your breath. 

“Let me feel you, let me know you’re here.” 

You feel him nod above you, his body relaxing into your touch, his hips rutting gently into your palm until he’s painfully hard. He shifts to caress the back of your neck, tilting your head to look at him as he places a lingering kiss to your forehead. His lips smoothing over your features before he melts into you again. His kisses are slow and passionate, a welcome distraction to the flurry of disheartening emotions plaguing you. 

He rolls the both of you over so he’s resting on his elbows above you and removes your hand from his cock to place it over his heart. The action is cheesy but you can feel the heartbeat beneath his muscle. The steady, rhythmic pulse pumping blood through his veins, a sign that he is alive, that he’s breathing and he’s with you. 

You fight the tears begging to spill over, fearing that you might ruin the moment. He strokes your cheek, thumb rubbing soothing circles beneath the skin of your eyes. 

“I’m gonna touch you, okay?” His voice is broken from exhaustion and vulnerability, but his hand moves to shift your panties to the side when you nod for him to continue. His fingers slipping between your folds to gather the slick at your entrance, circling your clit lightly. You lift your hips to roll into his fingers, silently asking for more as your pleasure begins to prickle at your nerves. 

He begins to move away from you and for a moment you think he’s going to stop, instead he pulls himself from his boxers and strokes whatever slick he gathered over his erection. The tip of his cock a blossoming red as he continues to touch himself. “Ryu, hurry,” you whine, impatience beginning to nag at you, body seeking the delirious sensation of pleasure. 

“I’ll take care of you, don’t worry,” his voice is soft, the meaning of his words holding avenues of interpretations as he positions himself at your entrance. His arm shakes with strain beside your face as he pushes his head past your initial ring of muscle, stopping midway to thrust shallowly. Despite your begging for him to hurry up, you’re still tense, your walls clenching tight around him. 

“Baby, I need you to relax,” he says through gritted teeth, the efforts of restraining himself lock his muscles into place, but you take a deep breath at his words, allowing your legs to fall open around his hips, crossing your ankles behind the small of his back. 

“Move,” your breath catches in your throat as he thrusts a little deeper that time. “I’ll be fine, just move.” 

He looks at you for a long moment, eyes searching yours for even a semblance of doubt. When he doesn’t find it, he rests his forehead on yours, eyes closed as he sheathes himself inside you entirely. You feel too full when he doesn’t follow through so you wiggle your hips to press firmly into his, a low groan reverberating through his chest as you grind against him, your arms stationed securely around his neck. 

Not too long after he begins to meet the rocking of your hips, his movements deliberate and measured. You keen into his touch as his head falls to rest beside your neck, mouthing the skin to muffle his moans as his pace quickens. 

He slips his arms beneath your back, hugging you tightly to his chest. The new angle sends a jolt of electric pleasure through your veins, his thrusts are determined as he searches for your release. 

“Not gonna last long,” he groans into your neck, fingers digging into your sides as he tries to stall his own release. You’re closer than he thinks though, your head is swimming with euphoria, brain clouded with the tastes of ecstasy. 

“Don’t stop, Ryu. I’m so close,” you beg, your voice dripping with desire. You feel one of his hands move to fist the sheet below you as he breaks his steady pace, the force of his hips jostling you passionately. The pressure building in your abdomen is unbearable, his cock slamming into your sensitive walls fervently. 

“Fuck,” you moan into his ear as your senses crash, your body singing with unexpected bliss. His thrusts begin to falter, his own release on the horizon as his grip on you hardens. 

“M’gonna come,” he stutters out, voice gravelly with need. “Need you to move, so I, shit,” he’s struggling to get his words out as the hand fisting the sheet moves to wrap around your calf. “So I can pull out,” he groans and pushes on your leg to unlock your ankles. 

“No,” you refuse. “Inside, just come inside, please Ryu” he never has, the implications too dangerous for him to ever consider, but right now you need to feel every part of him. 

“Baby,” he whines, his voice an octave higher. The desperation in your tone crumbling his resolve and before he can say no he’s spilling inside you. The sporadic contractions of your walls around his cock coupled with the way you whimper his name against the shell of his ear is what ruins him. 

He collapses on top of you, his dense weight flattening you into the mattress as he twitches inside you. You don’t mind the heaviness, content with falling asleep just like this but he rolls the both of you on your sides, probably realizing he was crushing you. 

His face is still nestled in the groove of your neck when you feel him chuckle against your skin. “Can’t believe you tricked me into doing that?” A small smile stretching his lips on your shoulder. 

“Trick? I wouldn’t it call it that,” a matching smile plays on your features. 

“It was sneaky and you know it.” You laugh despite everything that happened today. 

“I love you,” you never said it back, but you’re certain now as your body flows with appreciation. 

“I love you too.”

June 18, 2065

6:38am

It’s too early to wake up, but your mind disregards your obvious fatigue when you find yourself on Tanaka’s balcony. The events of last night looping perpetually in your head as you stare at the city that was supposed to be demolished. There’s no movement, hardly any noise beside the buzzing neon sign flickering four floors down. It’s as if everyone is in mourning. A victory cause for celebration, but the density of grief burdens the atmosphere. 

“What’re doing up?” Tanaka appears behind you, arms enclosing around your waist. 

“Couldn’t sleep anymore,” you reply dryly. He hums behind you and rests his chin on your head as you two watch the sky change from a deep purple to the dull pink that never cuts through the fog. 

“What now?” You ask, not really expecting an answer. 

“I’m not sure,” he shrugs, this transition stretching into miles of uncharted area. 

“We leave,” he says, finally. 

“Where would we even go?” Confusion laces your tone. The two of you have never left Tokyo, partially because it was impossible with the barrier surrounding the city.

“Miyagi,” he says as if he’s familiar with the prefecture. 

“I don’t know,” you hesitate. “There was a project I wanted to complete for,” your voice fades into the early morning. The image of the simulation machine popping into your mind as you remember the pixelated beach glitching in the large room. The last moment you had with him. 

“Bring it with you,” Tanaka suggests as he turns you in his embrace to look at him.

“What’s in Miyagi?” His adamant stare confusing you further. 

“My sister,” he’s never mentioned her before, and you raise your eyebrows in question. “A few of the rebels left here right before you showed up to search for others. She led them,” he explains. 

“I hadn’t heard from her until she called me two days ago. I was worried something happened, but she’s fine,” he shakes his head. 

“I obviously didn’t get the chance to tell you, but she’s there and they found more than they were expecting.”

“How did they even get past the barrier?” 

“Kenma.” His tone softens around his name, but you're not the least bit surprised that he managed to break down the barrier. 

“Of course.” You rest your head against his chest.

“The rebellion is stronger there. We may have a chance to save all of Japan. Not just Tokyo,” you process his words, unsure of how to respond. 

“And,” he cups your neck so you’re staring into his eyes. “The sun sets in Miyagi.”

[rainbowbutterfrosting]

The Revived - Chapter 18: Exceeding

This is chapter 18 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @dramaticsnakes​ and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur, Sapnap, George

Word count: 3,121

Cw:  Violence, getting shot, spiraling, pain, crying, tension between characters, brief discussions of lying

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

Sapnap stood in the entryway of Tommy’s house, expecting an answer.

Wilbur smiled in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. His voice remained passively cheery with something reserved behind it, “We were just having a talk. A private one.”

Sapnap took another step into the home, “I’m not leaving you here with him. You're looking super… off right now." Something was held back in Sapnap’s words. 

Wilbur took a second to reflect on the moment. The moment wasn’t that abnormal by itself. He pulled a fun harmless prank with George and the two were simply chatting inside a vacant home. It wasn’t necessarily his fault George had too many attachments to his Dream and refused to tell him anything as a result. Wilbur growled out, "It's nothing that concerns you. Leave." 

Sapnap kept his eyes centered on Wilbur. "George, come over here." Wilbur flickered his eyes back for a moment, seeing George try to side-step out of his way. His mind momentarily switched him with Tubbo as their actions mirrored each other. He wasn’t letting another person leave him. He wasn’t letting more information slip through his hands. He couldn’t afford it.

Wilbur harshly exhaled, “We just need to finish this up, then both of you can go do whatever." He really despised how difficult people could be. Simply blinded by a lack of understanding- one Wilbur shared- that was destructive if not properly taken care of.

And how Sapnap was a destructive fool. So easily swayed by his emotions. He pulled out a loaded crossbow, aiming it at Wilbur. His finger rested gently over the trigger, twitching occasionally. “Step the fuck away from him. Hands where I can see them.”

Annoyance filled Wilbur’s eyes. “Sapnap, don’t do anything rash. We can talk this out.” Wilbur gestured to the man in front of him, “I haven’t done a single thing wrong, isn’t that right, George?”

He looked back towards George, who immediately refused to meet Wilbur’s gaze. George was painting him as a villain. The one that cornered him until the heroic Sapnap came to save the day. The one that needed to be taken care of. The one that died to his own flaws. Heroes never died to their flaws. Heroes loaded a crossbow to protect the ‘innocent.’ 

Wasn’t Wilbur just as innocent himself? All he needed was answers to fix the mind of his. The one that insisted to be nicer and embrace the little parts of life. The child in his brain who could be removed if he simply knew a little more. Just a few more minutes of conversation and he would have all he ever needed. But with Sapnap present? He had to turn those minutes into quick moments that would pass before the man holding the crossbow even blinked. 

He placed his hand firmly on George’s shoulder, slightly pushing him back into the wall. He didn’t even intend to. He didn’t apply much pressure. “George-” He was sharply cut off by the stabbing pain in his leg. He jumped onto the other leg to avoid the painful pressure as he was tackled down by someone he couldn’t see.

A punch hit him square in the jaw, landing on top of a bruise he received from Niki not too long ago. He hissed out in pain and tried to throw the person off of him. When he caught a second to look, it was Sapnap on him, but the moment it took to realize that, he whipped his head to the side after getting punched again. 

He wiggled his arms from underneath him and weakly punched him back, unable to move his body into the motion. After more hits that made Wilbur almost dizzy, he knew he couldn’t play fair. He took his fingers and poked them into Sapnap’s eyes, making the man on top of him stop for a moment. Wilbur took the opportunity and punched him as hard as he could, flipping their position and making him on top. 

He prepared to hit Sapnap again, not even thinking about why. All he knew was he was getting attacked, and he wasn’t going to be on the losing side of history. Just as he was going to hit the man under him, a blue blur pushed him off, Wilbur’s curled up fist connecting with George’s arm with half the force he aimed for Sapnap. 

Still, he made a grunt from the impact and muttered something Wilbur couldn’t hear. George seemed to take a small, hesitant step away, but Sapnap didn’t follow suit as he rolled over and grabbed the collar of Wilbur's shirt. Sapnap must’ve pushed on the pulsing pain in his leg as he groaned from the dizzying sensation. Sapnap took it as his chance to hit Wilbur again. It didn’t just happen once, but Wilbur lost track. He just felt his head jerk back and forth and he closed his eyes from the pain. 

When the punches stopped, he opened his eyes slightly. He saw George telling Sapnap something, holding his shoulders firmly. He felt like he could see Sapnap pulling against George’s pull with an anger in his eyes. 

“He’s not worth it,” He heard George mumble. 

Despite being on the floor and writhing in pain, he hissed out at George, “Fuck you.” He felt pain connect with his face once more. He laughed bitterly. The day was saved. The hero put the villain in his spot. He wouldn't do anything bad now. The innocent people could finally live in peace.

The peace that thrived off of the villain being put to a permanent retirement. The stories he heard from a young age painted it so simply. If only he could have a permanent rest. A permanent rest from this routine he lived in. Besides, everyone else needed a break from him anyway. Just a couple of days alive, and they already needed a break.

Sapnap got off of him. Kicking the place where the pain lay in his leg as Wilbur curled up. “Shit,” he whispered, barely able to acknowledge the people still in the room as the pain throbbed once more. He whimpered quietly to himself as he heard footsteps slowly grow fainter and fainter. There was a distinct sound of voices but he didn’t bother paying attention as he closed his eyes.

“-bur! Wilbur?! Please, please respond, Wil.” Panicked whispers filled his mind. “Oh no, oh no, he’s dead. What happens if he’s dead? Do I die and get put into limbo two: electric boogaloo? Does he get put in limbo? Oh no this is bad.” 

A moment of silence was followed by a slightly calmer tone, “No trains coming. That’s good.” Ghostbur cried out in pain, “Wilbur, what did you do this time?” The question wasn’t meant directly to Wilbur, despite him being the subject of it.

Wilbur only managed a groan in response as Ghostbur excitedly gasped, “Wilbur! Can you hear me?”

Wilbur pushed himself up to where he was sitting up. His head spinned as he mumbled, “Yeah, I can hear you.”

“That’s great, because I’d like an explanation of everything that just happened. I thought you said George was your friend! And George didn’t even try to stop all of that. While I don’t think I’ve personally met him, he sounds a little rude.” 

Wilbur tried to stand up but he cried out in pain along with Ghostbur at the sensation in his leg. He muttered, “Oh shit.”

“Language,” Ghostbur bitterly mentioned.

“I got shot with Sapnap’s crossbow.” He frankly should have connected the dots earlier, but he just assumed he got kicked really hard. The blood trickled down his leg, slightly staining his pants along the way.

“Oh! Okay… how- how do we fix this?”

“Prime, Ghostbur, I have no fucking clue.” Wilbur sighed quietly to himself, “I’m not cursing at you or anything. I’m just upset that all of it happened.”

“The feeling is mutual.” 

The comment took Wilbur off-guard, “What did you say?”

“I said the feeling is mutual. Do you not know what that means? It means when-”

Wilbur cut him off, “I know what it means. I just- I really didn’t expect that out of you.” A light astonishment slipped into Wilbur’s voice.

Ghostbur sighed, “That doesn’t really matter right now. We need to focus on your- well I suppose it would be our- leg.”

Wilbur nodded vaguely. “Right. Okay step one…” Wilbur’s voice died as he tried to think of a vague-ish rule that would apply to any injury. “Get out of immediate danger.”

Ghostbur asked, “Is anyone with you?”

Wilbur shook his head, “It’s just you and me. And me and you. We got the whole place to ourselves.” Wilbur chuckled at the familiar jingle. 

Ghostbur didn’t laugh though. His voice stayed firm in a way that frightened Wilbur more than Sapnap did. “What’s step two?”

Wilbur let out a shaky breath, “Um… assess the damage taken.” Wilbur thought for a moment, “There’s gonna be swelling in the face and eventual bruises. There’s also the arrow in my right calf. The injury is on the exterior, about the middle of the leg.” He slightly moved his leg closer, making him wince in pain in company to Ghostbur’s hiss. “It doesn’t seem too deep.”

“You’re doing good so far,” The praise sounded dull, as if it was just supposed to keep Wilbur busy as his mind ran. “Now step three.”

“I’m guessing that would be taking inventory on your medical aid and equipment. As far as medical aid, I-” It was quite pathetic to say that he didn’t have anyone, so he settled on an alternative, “I don’t think anyone is nearby to help.”

“We could go to someone and get help?”

Wilbur quickly feigned an excuse, “I don’t want Sapnap or George seeing me again.”

Ghostbur hummed in acknowledgement, “Good point.” He thought for a moment. “We can’t go to Tubbo or Ranboo either?”

“George or Sapnap might see me and I don’t want to risk going into the nether.”

Ghostbur frustratedly sighed, “So no one wants to help us.” It was stated so matter of factly that Wilbur almost agreed. Instead, he slid himself up one of Tommy’s walls, standing mostly on the leg that wasn’t injured.

Wilbur tried to sugar coat the situation the best he could, “I’m sure people want to. They’re just…” Only helping him out of pity. “Unavailable.” 

“Sure. Alright, what supplies do you have?”

“I doubt I’d find much, most of the useful stuff Tommy had was transferred to Pogtopia.” Before Ghostbur could speak again, he added on, “Ghostie, are you alright?”

“It’s-” Ghostbur took a shaky breath, “You need medical attention. Focus on that first.”

“You’re just as important as I am,” Wilbur reassured.

Wilbur hated the silent response more than the arrow in his leg.

He restated, “You are just as important as me.”

The quiet voice filled his mind once more. It was hesitant and small compared to the pain that persisted in Wilbur’s head. He could hardly focus on the words themselves. "I'm not. I'm really not.”

Wilbur furrowed his brow, "Woah, where is this coming from?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I just don't feel happy right now." The voice lingered in a dull disappointment that stabbed Wilbur in the heart.

Wilbur pulled a cheery voice, "Uh, you can think about Friend?"

He expected a happy rant about the shade of his wool, or the time of day the little sheep ate. He couldn’t expect anything else out of the happy little ghost. He couldn’t expect Ghostbur’s actual answer. "But then I think about things I shouldn't."

"Like what?"

"I…” Ghostbur took a shaky breath, “I feel like you lied again. No- I know you did. I just don't like to think about it too much."

“I didn’t li-” Wilbur cut himself off at the realization that he promised Ghostbur they were going to see Friend. The talk was still fresh in his mind, remembering the exact part of the cobblestone bridge he was on along with how he shifted in his clothes uncomfortably. “Oh shi- shoot. Ghostie, I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you that I didn't see Friend. I tried looking for him, but he wasn't at L'Manberg like last time."

Ghostbur bitterly laughed, "Do you really think that's all you've lied about?" Wilbur thought for a moment before Ghostbur continued, "I know I have memory problems from time to time. But I've been remembering things really clearly ever since you got revived. And nothing makes sense anymore. You said we would go to Tubbo, but now we can't. You- you said Tommy was coming back, but he never did. And- And you rarely tell me things anymore!" Ghostbur’s voice wavered with a saddened anger. It teetered in a way that made him sound like he was crying, "I thought you were my friend." Wilbur’s vision seemed to messily blur at the final words.

Somehow the ghost that loved everyone he met and named a sheep ‘Friend’ was against him. 

One could easily look at Wilbur and see him in those history books. Slightly tint the photos of him a dark gray color or a crimson red if it was recent. State so loudly that no one could stand him. Source all the lives he ruined, and explain how Ghostbur should be in the overworld instead. Let the innocent person run free as the villain rots, cold and alone. Stuck in a train station. That was where Wilbur belonged.

While part of him thought he wasn’t the villain, he was just on the wrong side of history, he knew he was lying to himself, because the two were much the same. It was a habit he developed years ago. He had to believe the best would happen and it would come. So he tried to believe the best, his tone coming off as sarcastic and uncaring, "Oh, we totally are friends! Best friends forever, y'know?" 

Ghostbur’s voice shook with such confidence and resentment, "A best friend would tell me things and stop the pain from constantly hurting." A melancholic gray filled his vision for a moment, before flickering away.

Wilbur shifted on his uninjured leg and hobbled towards the entrance of Tommy’s house. Ghostbur wanted to be told the perspective of the world. Simple. There was the wretched villain looking out of an abandoned home, squinting into sun, attempting to help a ghost trapped in his mind. Wilbur spoke in a hushed tone, “I can tell you things. There's an apple on the ground. It’s bright red-"

Ghostbur cut him off, his words rushed and eager to escape him, "Tell me the important things! The details about clouds and trees mean nothing if I'm in pain!"

Wilbur hummed in acknowledgement, “You’re right.” He hopped once more out of Tommy’s house, using the exterior of the wall to act as a support as he limped towards a familiar direction. The world was closing in on him, when he realized who he was once more. Wilbur Soot. Creator and destroyer of L’Manberg. The villain who had been slayed yet again. A repressed genius, who had been holding back for far too long. He let out a breath as he felt his entire being soaring towards the sky, out of the pain, and into the sky that belonged to him as much as his sunrise. “We’re- I’m going to Pogtopia.”

He heard sniffles echo through his mind accompanied by hisses of pains and quick apologies. It turned into white noise as he centered his mind on his throbbing leg, well- as he tried to center the pain there. His mind still ran, telling him about all the things he grinned at. 

It felt nice to be above it all. He was simply a mastermind, a work of art that no one else understood. The walk was moderately quick, but peaceful. The adrenaline must have been kicking in as his limp lessened. 

He coughed once, as he supported himself on the walls of Pogtopia. His hand ran over the buttons, and while he didn’t press them, he could hear them clicking faintly. They weren’t mocking him anymore, he thought. They were shaking underneath his grasp, and it sent a laugh through his body. “I’m here,” he said out loud.

“Great,” Ghostbur said sharply, though it was clear he had a hard time saying it.

He threw back his head a little, as if he was bored. “I’m not sure where they put the medical equipment.” He thought about his last trip to this place. “Ah, perhaps Tubbo brought it to that little bunker of his.” The name seemed to sting his tongue, but everything else stung him more, so it was hardly relevant.

“We…” Ghostbur tried with a shaky voice, “We’re not allowed to go in there without him. H- he said-”

“You were the one who said medical attention was the first priority,” Wilbur reminded the ghost, continuing to walk ahead. He received no response.

Whatever.

He remembered where the bunker was, fortunately. He soon found himself in there, and while it felt forbidden just before he walked inside, Wilbur never cared much about what he was supposed to do. The world wasn’t going to keep him down. He had been staying at the train station, with little to no light, and hours, days, years ticking ahead. He had let the comfort of tolerance, and connection that would be broken at the slightest misstep, overwhelm him. He had forgotten everything he had learned last time he was in Pogtopia. A silly little shell, who was far too easy to keep down. But Wilbur wasn’t anyone’s shell anymore.

He looked at the books and the little farms for food. One could stay there for months or longer, and remain perfectly intact. “Huh, I could do some reading while I’m down here,” he said.

“Please- please take…” Ghostbur’s voice wavered, though the next part came out harshly, “Please take care of the wounds.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I will.”

Ghostbur responded to that with a hiss of pain, but Wilbur barely noticed as he walked to the nearest chest to pick up some bandages. There was thankfully a potion of regeneration, and something that would disinfect the wound. He wished it was an instant health instead, or even just having more potions in general. 

Regardless, he sat down on a chair, feeling the pain slightly more as his leg changed position. He looked at the arrow. “I’m going to remove the arrow now. Brace yourself I guess.”

Ghostbur held his breath, and Wilbur ripped it out with as much quick force as he could, knowing full well that it would be less painful to get it done quickly. “There we go.” His smile wavered for a moment, though he settled on the most confident expression he could muster. He’d done this countless times before. Ghostbur sobbed, and Wilbur huffed. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Ghostbur didn’t respond though. Instead, Wilbur heard the sound of muffled cries and whimpers echoing through his mind.

[liibrii]

Chapter 2 of Stillness || Ch. 1 || yokai hunter!Suna x fem!Kitsune!reader || wc: 3.2k ||

Synopsis: When Suna gets himself into trouble you make a decision that will change your life, be it for better or for worse.

Warnings: violence, graphic descriptions of blood and wounds, mentions of death and corpses, characters get beat up, swearing.

a/n: in case you're unfamiliar with yokai here are some basic information. if you want to be tagged in future chapters let me know and as always feedback is greatly appreciated!

You curse. Silently. You curse the dark clouds covering the sky, you curse yourself for oversleeping, but most of all you curse that damn Mr Witch for slipping from under your nose.

After an hour of running around the forest trying to find him you have to begrudgingly admit he's damn good at covering his tracks. Too bad you know the area like the insides of your pocket and once you catch the trail of his scent you know exactly where he's heading. You have to hurry.

You take a shortcut by the hot spring heading to where you know Mr Witch will come up the hill. You're right and just in time for him to turn the corner, out of breath from the long climb and hours of walking through the woods. You attack, but even caught off guard Suna manages to block you; a sling of his arm allows you to catch a glimpse of an exorcising charm scribbled on his palm beginning to glow. A trick so old it needs a cane to walk. One swipe over it and the ink smudges and it becomes useless. That is what you do but the ink doesn't smudge and the last thing you see is blinding white light.

Opening your eyes alone hurts. You blink trying to get rid of the blurriness. Are... are you dead? The hammering in your head is unbearable. You feel like throwing up. Very slowly you manage to pull yourself up, the trees around you spinning. You look yourself over. No visible wounds. You carefully touch your neck. Untouched. It doesn't seem Mr Witch did anything else than knock you out. Terror washes over you. He didn't kill you. Why? Isn't that why he's here? The hammering in your head makes you screw your eyes shut.

You don't know how long it takes you to get back on your feet and pull yourself together enough to start searching for him again. Whatever he did dulled your senses. Unfortunately for him you know exactly where he's heading.

The northern part of the forest is one you stay away from if possible. It's inhabitant is too quick to pick a fight for your liking, and no doubt the one Mr Witch is looking for. You should've noticed sooner. That damn man, he led you astray with his snooping, making you overlook the trap of daily routine and he took full advantage of it. Crashing sounds from the distance let you know you're close.

What moves between trees is a mountain of a creature, tall as the surrounding trees, red skinned and clad in loincloth made of pelts. A pair of horns grow from his head, hair wild and ruffled, swaying with his movements as he fights the one you're looking for.

You're too late and now Mr Witch will have to pay the price.

Unlike Suna the Red Oni takes immediate notice of you. “Young Inari servant!“ he shouts after launching Suna over the small forest clearing.

“I'm staying out of this." With your vision still occasionally going blurry and your knees shaking you couldn't stand up to the red demon even if you wanted to. Better take this opportunity to see the full extent of Mr Witch's abilities. Still bitter over Suna catching you off guard you make yourself comfortable on a rock standing on a safe distance, thinking a good beating is what he had coming anyway.

Mr Witch's eyes linger on you, distracting him enough for Red Oni to almost land a finishing blow. But Suna is fast, nimble on his feet. He keeps dodging Oni's attacks and casting spells before his opponent can recollect himself. But you see the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His breathing is fast, shallow, you can almost hear his rapid heartbeat from across the forest clearing. His eyes keep jumping between you and the oni. Is he waiting for you to join in the fight? He's nervous. You grin.

Mr Witch is scared.

Your arrival has distracted him just enough for Red Oni to get the upper hand. Mr Witch fails to dodge a spell then Oni grabs him and starts throwing him around like a rag doll. You smell blood. Suna is thrown against a tree trunk and it takes a worryingly long time for him to get back up. He's trying to catch his breath, tripping over a tree root while dodging Oni's club. Suna doesn't get up anymore. Red Oni raises the club again, all three eyes fixed on the man at his feet-

“Aka-sama. That would be enough.“

Red Oni's club stops in the air. “Do not interfere young Inari servant!“

You jump from the rock to stroll closer to unmoving Suna. “He's barely conscious.“ A large gush on his forehead is bleeding profusely and if the uneven breathing is anything to go by at least one of his ribs must be broken.

Red Oni crouches and brings its enormous face closer to where you're checking on Suna's pulse, all of his three eyes fixed on his unmoving body. “Young flesh.“

“He's not for eating.“

“Not? What else is it good for? Once it's old flesh it's bad flesh.“

“That's a poignant observation and I'll keep it in mind Aka-sama but this one lost already. He won't bother you anymore. I'll make sure of it.“

Red Oni's club crashing into the ground causes a small earthquake. “A human dares appear. In my home! Challenge me! Me, the great Red Oni!“ No other wound hurts as much as the one inflicted on pride.

“Well sadly this human is part of the Inarizaki clan and I'd very much prefer to not get in trouble with them,“ you sourly reply.

“Let them come! Great Red Oni will crush them into dust!“

He could. You are sure most humans wouldn't stand the slightest chance against his power. But he is one. Clan's hunters are many.

You hoist Suna on your shoulders. Fuck, your head hurts so bad. He isn't nearly as heavy as you expected him to be but you still feel unsteady on your feet. Damn beanpole. You turn to leave but a club blocks your path. “Leave the human here young Inari servant.“

“Move.“

The club doesn't budge. Red Oni's eyes flare with fury and his thunderous voice shakes the surrounding trees. “You dare oppose? Me? Me the-“

“The great Red Oni, yes, yes I do.“ Suna weakly moans in pain. Barely noticeable magic prickles around him. Even drenched in blood he's still trying to fight. With a finger to his forehead and a simple spell you knock him out before turning your attention to the furious Red Oni.

You don't have the time for this. You don't have nearly enough strength for this. A debt hangs over your head and you'd like to repay it as soon as possible. Your tails spread like a fan, not a very impressive feat since you only have three, but the flames appearing on and around their ends make up for it. “Do not stay in my way.“

Red Oni stares back. You both know this is not a fight you can win. Not even if Suna wasn't dead weight on your back. He slings the club over his shoulder. “It's a dangerous path you're stepping on young Inari servant.“

“Don't worry, I have a map.“

“A map for this path does not exist.“

On the way towards the town you realise you can't sneak into Suna's house since there's nothing you can do to disguise the bloodied hunter in your arms. He just had to fight Red Oni in the middle of the day, didn't he? At the edge of the forest you consider leaving him there.

You set him down beside a tree. He doesn't respond when you pinch his cheek. The deep wound on his forehead is still oozing blood and it's metallic smell is starting to attract others. Perhaps it would be better if they got him before he causes more trouble. You should leave him. Your debt is repaid already. You owe him nothing anymore.

Were he only a lonesome hunter the decision would be easy. But he isn't. Oh no, he has his clan, he has people waiting for him, he has someone looking out for him. He has someone who will seek retribution should anything happen.

Dead Mr Witch is more trouble than living Mr Witch.

He slides and falls to the ground, his breathing shallow and barely hearable. You notice he's bleeding from a deep gash on his arm too.

With no other choice left you pick Suna up and head towards the temple. He's getting heavier with each step and the staircase leading towards the entrance proves to be a treacherous terrain.

When you finally reach your room, panting and sweat trickling down your forehead, you carefully lay him on your bedroll. Humans, so delicate. Red Oni didn't even hit him that hard. You grab a bucket of water and a cloth to wipe away the blood to check his wounds. The one on his forehead looks worse than it actually is. You fish up some bandages and patch him up to the best of your ability.

Koda and Chochin peek from behind the corner but keep their distance. You aren't sure if the the smell of blood or the hunter is scaring them more.

Suna stays asleep for the rest of the day. You sit beside him, weighing over your options. Right now he doesn't seem much of a threat. Leaving him alive is your best bet even if the uneasy feeling only grows stronger.

Once the night falls you take him back to his home. Just as you lay him on his bed a loud sound makes you jump. It's coming from Suna's pocket and you fish out a rectangle with a glowing screen that reads 'Miya'. Suna stirs and slowly turns his eyes to you. You drop the glowing screen and flee.

That night you walk around the forest bustling with uneasy rattling. Other yokai are worried. They wrongly believed Suna would only do some exorcising and soon leave as all previous hunters did. Instead he went after the most powerful yokai in the area. It seems he'll sooner have more than just you and the Red Oni on his list of enemies.

When you check up on him the following day he seems to be doing better already. He's slowly walking around, having to stop and lean on the wall every few steps. All things considered he could be doing worse. You leave some stolen medicine on his porch.

It's not long before you get a visitor and it's one sure to make your night worse. “Yaku,“ you say without a trace of friendliness and not even bothering to look up from teaching Koda how to form clay into a tiny cup.

“Your human is asking questions,“ purrs the nekomata.

“My human?“

“You saved its life, did you not? It's as good as yours now.“ You never liked the snide look in his eyes, but now especially it's coated with poison and something akin to malice.

Nekomatas never were very fond of you. It was your Grandfather who commanded respect of the other yokai. In their eyes you've always been only a baby fox trailing behind him. And after the Nishikawa incident... well, that was just the straw that broke the camel's back.

"Trust me, if I could left him to die, I would have.“

“You could've easily done that. Truly unfortunate you have always wanted to protect others.“ Yeah. you've always looked out for your own kind. But why should the damn cat care? It wouldn't be the nekomatas dealing with the clan should it come seeking revenge. The one to get their hands dirty has always been you.

“I don't remember any complaints when I saved your ass all those years ago,“ you grumble, vividly remembering how much trouble that old hunter caused. It's always the old senile looking geezers that are the most troublesome.

“I am more than grateful for your help. Which is why I came all the way here to say goodbye.“

You close your eyes and slowly exhale. One by one till nobody else is left. “Not enough corpses around for you to feed on, eh? Where will you go?“

“You robbed us of an especially delicious one. We'll head to one of the big cities. One with a big fish market.“ He licks his whiskers then stretches and turns to leave. “Do take better care of yourself in the future Inari’s servant. Your human got visitors and they do not seem pleased. Farewell.“

Strange emptiness forms in your chest as nekomata leaves. One by one till only you will remain. Koda hugs your trembling fingers.

With the rising moon you leave the temple. It has been days since you checked on Suna and if what Yaku said is true, that others like him have arrived, then it's past time for you to snoop around. This time you take precautions to keep yourself hidden, disguising yourself as a sparrow and watching from far away. You doubt any of the yokai would risk their skin to help you should you stumble into trouble.

Two hunters are visiting Mr Witch, which is two more reasons for you to worry. One has golden hair and a smile that seems anything but sincere, the other is shorter, with dark, spiky hair. The mischievous gleam in his eyes makes you uneasy. Just like Suna they smell like hunters. But they feel different. All are winding rivers appearing calm on the surface, one hides rocks, others hide whirlpools that will pull you in their depths, drown you if you let your guard down.

They don't stay in town long, apparently only stopping by Mr Witch's house because they were passing by during their own mission. There isn't much you learn, except that Mr Witch likes seafood ramen. Only a day passes before they're on their way again though the weight on your mind remains.

The same day they leave Suna visits your temple. You hear him approach wile sitting at the top of the stairs, wondering if you should scrape away the moss. When you were still little, long before your second tail sprouted, long before you learned how to disguise yourself as a human, monks used to keep the stairs moss free. But Koda seems to really like it. Sitting on it he rattles contently.

Suna ascends the stairs slowly, often stopping to catch his breath. He's still pale, his face bruised. He should be resting, not bothering you.

He stops on the step below you. Does he enjoy looking down at you? “You saved my life.“

Not even a 'hello'? How rude. “Worry not, it won’t happen again. You seem to make enemies at every turn Mr Witch. You keep going like this you won't last long.“

“I can take care of myself.“

“Hm.“ Yeah, you’ve seen how he holds his own against yokai. Judging by him avoiding your eyes he’s aware that statement doesn’t carry much weight. “I guess running into the Red Oni was just an unfortunate slip up then. No doubt you’d be able to take him any other day Mr Witch. If you're here to thank me don't bother.“

“Thank you.“ 

Some gratefulness, insulting you to your face. “Why are you here? To pick a fight? You're not much of a threat, you know?“

Suna steps on the next step, throwing you a side glance. “I'm here to pay my respects to Inari. Not everything revolves around you Miss Kitsune.“  

To your annoyance Suna makes it a habit of visiting the temple every other day. He doesn't always speak to you, the previous day he only came around to leave offerings and get startled by Chochin. The possessed lantern laughed almost hysterically and so did you. Seeing Mr Witch jump brought you immense satisfaction.

Chochin has been with you for almost a century now. You recall in detail the day the lantern became conscious. One moment it was just a lantern, the next an eye appeared and the paper split into a wide grin. Your loyal companion. If only it could talk too.

You wake up in the late afternoon and brush your tails with the golden comb that a long time ago belonged to a noble travelling through your forest. Koda sits on your shoulder, enamoured with the sun rays reflecting on its surface. Promise of a quiet night is ruined by all too familiar footsteps.

Annoyed you watch Suna wash his hands by the basin and offer up mochi and a bouquet of flowers he must've picked on the hike through the forest. You've seen flowers just like these growing down where the path leading from the town splits in two. He looks a bit better, though the wound on his forehead is still surrounded by a nasty bruise.

When he approaches Koda slips in your pocket.

“Hello,“ he says, awkwardly, his hands shoved deep inside his pockets.

You don't even spare him a glance. “Do not waste my time Mr Witch. Get to the point.“ Oh how that calm, deadpan face tickles you the wrong way.

He clenches his jaw. “Listen Miss Kitsune, you don't particularly like me and I don't particularly like you either-“

“Rude.“

“- but I think we can learn from each other.“

You stop brushing your tail. Is he joking? “There isn't much for me to learn from someone like you."

“Oh really? So you don't want to know why you failed to stop this little charm?" he waves his palm with the black lines on it. It takes all your restraint to not throw the comb in his face, but his small smirk tells you that isn't something he'll let you forget. "It's a tattoo," he tells you. "There, do you believe I'm being serious now?" He doesn't wait for your answer and pulls out his phone. “Don't you want to learn how to use this? How to get unlimited access to entire human knowledge? Do you even know how to use a rice cooker? I doubt it. And riding trains-“

“Hey I know how to take a train! I do it all the time!“

“And let me guess you get busted for not having the right ticket all the time too? I can teach you how to use the ticket machine.“

“Or I could just make my own ticket.“ To prove your point you change the leaf on the ground into what on the first glance looks like a perfectly ordinary train ticket.

Suna sighs. “No one will be fooled by that. It's a sloppy fake.“

“Hey!“

“My point is, we can help each other out.“ He offers you his hand. “Truce?“

You eye him carefully. Suna isn't someone who fights with weapons that would leave callouses and rough dry patches behind. He uses magic. And magic in the hands of humans is dangerous. Life has taught you that much.

Against better judgement you take the hand he's offering.

tag list: @blurring-stars​ @lsqueezlimel​

[winter-fox-queen]

Small Gambles

Ezra (Prospect) X I pronoun character

I wanted to get this done before tomorrow, my unread – oh Lord – attempt at my second Writer Wednesday.

I might come back and edit it tomorrow.  It’s supposed to be stupid busy for me tomorrow so I might not have the brain for it, and I am so sorry.

Summary:  Ezra gets his new arm from a black market fixer.  I THINK it is a gender neutral reader…my writing tends to be from the female viewpoint so it is possible I messed up.  But I tried to keep it neutral.

Warnings:  Some violence.  Some pain? Blood assumed.  Ezra talking should come with a warning.  

“It’ll hurt,”  I say to him.  “You should get this done by one if the top siders.”

Ezra, his name was, gave me a wry smile.  “While I am aware that the pain will be exquisite, I am most certainly assured that getting back the use of my arm, be it a mechanical one, will be worth these moments of misery.”  He paused, and said, oddly and without any embroidery, “Besides, it can’t hurt worse than when I had it cut off.”

“Kevva.”  I whisper.

“Indeed.”

I’m on the third floor of a tenement in the Downsides.  We’re on my balcony, looking out at the rain soaked streets.  He asked to come out here “So I can day dream of petrichor and the soft lights of the stars while you work your magic” and after several moments of negotiations – where I let his words flow over me like a beautiful, over complicated waterfall, we struck a deal, and I pulled out the best black market arm his money could buy.

Actually, that’s a lie. The arm on my work table was actually a little better than his money could buy.  But I liked his smile.  I liked how he embroidered the air with his words and made the silence gentler.  A person could sit and listen to that voice forever.  

“First, the cap.  That’s the part that will hurt.”  I examined it carefully under the light.  I suspected that this was not the first man this cap had been attached to, but you ask questions in the Downsides, and you die. “This will cover the stump…I mean…”

“You are a being of most direct and forthright language, which, despite my loquacious nature I do appreciate.  It is kind of you to try to make a bad situation sound less dire, but it is not needed, I assure you.”

“Tell me how you lost your arm.”  I start preparing the cap.  The cap was (almost) the best I had, and the part I encouraged him to splurge on, because the arm attachment could be switched up.

There were two jars on my worktable.  One of them was conduction gel which would basically melt the skin to the cap.  The other had nanites who would much more gently and finely unite man and metal.

One had been paid for. One had not.  Which one do you think I grabbed?  I shoved the cap on, gave him a couple of shots to numb the pain and make the nanites work.  He gasped softly, interrupting his story about someone named Cee.

“So, you know, you can get attachments to switch out that will make prospecting easier…”

“I am afraid that you have quite emptied my pockets, dear sparrow.”  His voice sounded strained.  I sat in front of him, put my hands on his knees.  

“Look at me Ezra. So.  You killed this girl’s father…”

“He was stealing my…”

“Oh, no, I get it.  I’d have shot him, too.”  

He gave me a look.  “I have not always been a good man.”

I looked back at my workshop, crowded with junk parts, a bed in one corner.  Rent overdue.  “I’ve not always been good, either.  I think you can’t be good and desperate at the same time.”

“Perhaps.”  He managed to give me a smile, “Is that why there has been a – I do think it is a man – sitting on a motorcycle type conveyance, watching your domicile all this time?  I thought at first he was here for me, but to be honest, I am not that well known around these parts and have not been here long enough to cause offense.”

My eyes flicked up, met his.  I didn’t want to look.  “Is his helmet silver, with a blue star?  Doe he have a jacket with a star, too?”

“Indeed he does.  May I take it that you are familiar with our watcher?”

“He thinks I cheated him. He used to bring me salvage.  He brought me some bad parts and I refused to pay what he expected.  And I told others,”  I leaned forward, took his arm in my hands gently.  The cap was almost set.  “They refused to buy the parts.  Some of them were…well.  I recognized the logo.  They came off soldiers.  Upside guards.  People who put tracking chips in everything.  People you don’t want to catch the eye of.  SO…he wants to hurt me.  So far all he does is watch, but.”

“This is not the most secure of locales.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Please rest assured, I did not mean to apply otherwise.  However.  Everyone must fall into the sweet embrace of slumber sometime.”

I picked up the arm. It was a good model – strong. Made of metal that was light, but durable.  “I wish I had a sleeve for it.  Something that would make it look like…robotic.”  

“I am not a man given to vanity, my pet.”  He was staring out at the road, watchful but not looking directly at the man on the motorcycle.

I started attaching the fine connections.  I did it with the arm on so I could do some of the work by feel…I could feel the thrum as each bit of the arm started to come online, the metal tendons and gears coming to life.

“Why does it feel so cold, up my shoulder and into my head?”  He asked.

“Is your head starting to hurt yet?”

He shook it.

“It will.  The nanites are making pathways, reconnecting your mind to your arm.”

“I did not pay for that.”

“No,”  I say.  “You didn’t.” Three more connections to go.

“And what am I to do, in exchange for your generosity?”  There was a slight edge to his voice.  The voice of the man who had shot a girl’s father, who had fought and gotten plenty of blood on his hands.  It didn’t frighten me, though I suppose it should.

When you go,  I want to say, Two things will happen. Either I will run, and manage to flee and find safe harbor.  Or I will flee, and I will die, either by the hand of the man below, or by some other desperate Downsider who wants to sell my bits and pieces.  I might as well give you the best I feel I can.  Because I’m probably not going to live to serve another customer.

“You have not told me the whole tale, I believe.”

“No,”  I say, and give into the temptation to rub his back gently, to trace the blonde gash of hair at his temple as I stand up.  “I have not.  But.  I’m done. Let your arm rest best you can over night…that’s why I gave you the sling.  If you can let it rest two days, you’d be even better off.”  I grab some pills off a shelf.  “Blue bottle.  That’s more nanites.  Your system is killing those little builders as we speak.  There should be five pills…”  I check, nod, “Take one a day.  And practice using your arm in a few days.  The more you practice, the better the connections will be.  Take it slow and build up.  The last three days of the pills are the most important.”

He took it without a word, strangely quiet.  His eyes flickered to the now empty road.  

“Red, for pain.  Take when you must.  And now…”  I smiled a little.  “How would you say it?  I bid you a fond farewell, and safe travels as you leave my place and rejoin the great mortal coil?”

He smiled at me softly, and with great, great effort and probably greater pain, made his new arm take my fingers in his, and lift them to his lips.  His good hand clenched into a fist as he shook with the effort.  His new fingers were very, very cold…and his lips were soft and very warm.  A coil of longing like a snake twined around my heart and squeezed painfully, fangs singing deep.

“Take care of yourself, Ezra.”

“And you.”

As the door closed, I grabbed my go bag.  It was already mostly packed with things I would need, and I finished packing.  I slipped my most expensive arm out from under my bed – it was state of the art and came with attachments.  I also had some eyes and other smaller parts I threw into the bag with the last of my tools and nanite cream and pills.  I didn’t intend on fitting the arm on anyone, but I could sell it.  Maybe I can get off world.  Maybe find my way to where the prospectors hang out when they look for jobs.  Listen for a deep voice like brocaded velvet spin tales with seven words when one would do.

I ran down the stairs, out the back.

My watcher was waiting for me.  I should have gone out the front.  Now I was alone, in an alley, with someone who would enjoy hurting me.

“Trying to run out on us?”  

“I owe your boss a lot of money…I was hoping to sell this…”  I raised the case “And with the money I made tonight maybe make a payment.  You know.  Show my good intentions.”

He sneered at me, but I never knew what he meant to say because a silver arm wrapped around, silver fingers gripping his throat, crushing him.  Ezra held him tight as he struggled, the new arm making little whining sounds of displeasure as he lowered the man to the ground.  

“I told you not to use your arm!”

“I am afraid…”  Ezra panted, “That it is not allowing me to let go of this unfortunate fool’s throat.”  He gave me a slightly panicked look.  Not because he (probably) killed someone, but because he lost control.  

“I’ve got it.”  I approached gingerly, pressing the arm in a few places to make it relax.  “The cap’s messed up.  I’m going to have to reset it…Ezra.  Why did you come back?”

“I thought I could repay your generosity by making certain that you had at least one night of relative safety. If I had known you were about to flee…”

We rolled to body against the wall.  I frisked it for useful items before covering it with trash.  

“Your hands are shaking, dear doctor…I am afraid you will not be able to assist me in fixing the problems I so egregiously caused by using my new arm.  May I propose that you take safe harbor with me?  I have a small ship…she is not much but she will get us somewhere else. Anywhere is better than here, I do think you will agree, and there are many who would value your talents greatly.”

I finally ask one of the many, many questions I had been wanting to ask him, since he showed up at my door.  “Ezra, do you always talk so much.”

He draws himself up a little.  “I assure you, I can be silent when the need arises.”

“No.  No.”  I stand in front of him.  “I want you to promise you’ll never stop.”

I struck him silent, again, I think, for just a moment and he just gives me that slight, curious smile.  “I think I can promise that.”  I liked that.  I liked the idea of his words wrapping me in soft comfort.  

“Then I gratefully accept your generous proposal.”  

“Right this way,” he bowed.

I didn’t look back, as I followed Ezra down the alley and away from everything I’d known, and feared.

There was too much to look forward to.

[waynedunlaptheorgandonor]

can i say a sort of pointless rambly thing i was thinking about that i can't put under the cut bc i'm on mobile?

jk, i'm not actually asking. ramble below, not edited for clarity. the following is completely unclear and i will not fix it:

i've been thinking about how part of the reason i'm so chill about caryl is bc growing up as a queer woc 99% of my main ships were like, never gonna fucking happen bc they literally couldn't. it was like, "omg, they gazed at each other from across the room, let's analyze the homosexual subtext of this one scene for the next fifty years, that's not necessarily hyperbole." i've watched all my ships fuck other ppl/have other love interests, and i knew that my thing was never gonna be canon, so to see like, one thing being like, "one half of my ship fucked another person several years ago while pining for the other half of my ship," i'm like...#nice, bc that can and likely will be used as a plot point to get them together later on, whereas in other situations i've been in i just kinda had to deal with it. so my impulse when i see ppl losing their shit is to be like

and to be slightly annoyed, tbh, bc the ship is still on track to be canon, and it's like, literally two white heterosexuals, they're prime candidates for juicy angsty pining that actually gets a resolution.

but!

that being said, i recognize that that attitude isn't necessarily fair. for one thing, i'm not the only queer woc (or some variation thereof) in this fandom, and some ppl's impulse might be exasperation instead, bc like, "wtf, even my mayohet ship has dumb fucking drama," and that's valid as hell, and i get it.

and also, i get that, even if you didn't grow up shipping impossible ships (or mulder/scully, bc that's a brand of bullshit all its own), this has been a suuuuper drawn out process where sometimes it feels like they're legit sprinkling crumbs to keep you hooked, just to play you again, and when you are invested in something, like /rly/ invested, especially if it's a form of escapism or hyperfixation or whatever, that can be e x h a u s t i n g. and i get that. i truly do, and while i make a lot of snide comments about the fandom being bonkers, i do get where the bulk of you are coming from (unless you're one of those ppl who hate on actors and esp actresses for just doing their jobs, and attack them on social media, in which case i am very much judging you and you need to get your life together).

i also realize that in the scheme of things i'm still a newbie. i've been here, what, twoish/threeish years, whereas some of you have been here since the beginning, so i'm not as worn out as y'all. but i also think that gives me a bit of objectivity that some of y'all have (understandably) lost.

my positivity is not meant as a sleight against those of you who are feeling negative, but is more of a semi-objective viewpoint (i say semi, bc lbr, i'm invested af in this, so i definitely have bias), and to me the threads of the storyline they're crafting seem sort of obvious.

like, let's look at it, yeah? they have one season left of this show that has been on for over a decade. they need to cater to everyone to give them a satisfying ending, while still hanging on to carylers bc of the spin-off. darylrreah seems like a very calculated move, bc it gives them both something to make abcers happy, while also creating tension and suspense and pining for carylers (i think they might underestimate just how fed up some carylers are tbh, and are banking on us to hang on for one last ride, which, honestly? if they play it right will probably work.)

if they end up doing a dumb love triangle thing, which, without seeing the episode and gauging the subtext i can't confidently say if i think they will or won't, it will ultimately end in our favor. it has to, bc leah isn't going to third wheel them on the bike in the spin-off. we can say with good authority that whatever that relationship ends up being (again, idk if they'll drag it out or not) it will be temporary. which leaves caryl open to ride off into the sunset and then bone down in every state in the united states and in puerto rico for good measure.

it's a lot of cheap drama, but i really and truly do not think it's anything to worry about, and i still really and truly trust kang to not make it out of character. ik ppl still don't agree with me on that point, and i'm not gonna argue, but to me it really does make perfect sense.

and i also predict that they are gonna play it up hardcore in the promotional shit and talking dead, but when that happens, remember it's bc it gets attention. regardless of where the story is ultimately going, relationship drama gets attention, which gets viewers, which gets amc and twd producers nice and comfy with full pockets

idk. to sum up ig i just wanted to clarify that i don't mean any harm with my relentless positivity. my history in fandom has just made this seem like nothing in comparison, bc while ppl are freaking out, i'm like, "oh damn, they're actually gonna get together by the end of this, aren't they? i didn't know that could happen!" and that makes me excited instead of upset

and you definitely don't have to listen to me. maybe i'm actually wrong. maybe i'm completely full of bullshit and am just good at making things sound confident. i got a lot of As on papers in college over books i never read, i know how to bs. but i also know how to analyze, and i while i will be the first to tell you i am not the best at a great many things, i do know that i am good at critically analyzing text while taking into account the context it was written in, and imho all signs point to canon caryl. when, i'm not entirely sure, but i see it happening. if it doesn't then they severely fucked up their storytelling, and that'd just be bad writing on their part.

(if you want proof that i'm good at reading writers'/producers' intentions, consider that i watched like, 8 seasons of supernatural before giving up, and said to myself, "i think they're gonna make destiel canon, but not until the very last second bc they are rly into catering to their fans but also have to consider their dumb fanboy audience so they can't do anything crazy overtly gay," and guess who hit the nail on the fucking head on that one)

none of this is important, but it was rattling around my mind grapes and i wanted to write it down into something vaguely coherent, and where else better to do it than here. i can word vomit and then send it into the ether and pretend i never said a thing. i love this horrible website, nothing can compare

i have no real conclusion to this, it was mostly stream of consciousness, but i hope it sort of helps y'all understand where i'm coming from, and why i am as chill as i am about things. not about y'all. y'all cause me so much anxiety i get physically sick and have to legit block tags, but with the actual show content i'm zen as hell

uh

the end ig?

it feels weird even signing off on this, but w/e

-diz

[descendantofthesparrow]

Interlude - Rewrite POYW - Part 6 - new buildings and snowball fights

=

-Six months later(February 2017)-

Diego stood in front of a work in progress building that was supposedly being turned into a shelter for vks that needed a warm place to stay and regular meals that they couldn't get on their own. His eyes drifted to the yet-to-be-hanged sign next to the open door where workers inside built the kitchens and bathrooms.

‘Carlos’ House - A safe place for lost kids - Auradon department of the isle’

Around a month ago King Ben and his councilor; Evie, had announced an on-Isle shelter for anyone that needed it, with two sections of the building, one for adults and one for minors. Fully furnished with fresh food, a handful of bedrooms that could house up to 10 people, multiple bathrooms, two full kitchens, and two snack kitchens, and isle hired guards and caretakers that would be screened and recruited by Harriet's crew.

Some of the building was finished so several homeless or starving VK’s had already moved into the empty rooms. Some of Harriet's crew had taken charge of guarding the building, keeping an eye on the Auradon workers to keep the younger kids safe while also keeping anyone dangerous out.

Diego felt a hint of pride looking at the sign, his little cousin, someone many thought would never amount to anything more than a slave for his mother, was now in Auradon, inventing and creating in Auradon and establishing a shelter for his fellow vks still on the isle.

Diego brushed his thumb over the walkie talkie in his hand, Carlos has sent it to him with one of the workers, something about Diego being an ear on the inside to keep track of things the isle needed and to help spread any news about more vks coming off the isle at some point.

Diego pocketed the device and turned on his heel, walking back to his apartment through the market, eyes drifting over the new posters detailing the upcoming -yet to be scheduled- VK day, where six VKs would be chosen and head to Auradon. It was a good year from now, the so-called CPS that would be ‘in charge’ of the new vks would apparently take the longest and both that and the Auradon shelter had been required for Ben to get the council to approve the new transfer plan.

Diego pushed open the gate to his apartment building and hurried inside, night was falling and even after everything king Ben had implemented onto the isle it still wasn’t safe to be out at this time. Diego walked into his apartment and locked the door behind him, tossing his keys and the walkie-talkie onto his couch.

He sighed and walked into his room, flopping against his bed and buried his face in his pillows. Just two days ago, the rotten four, as they used to be called on the isle before they left, had visited the isle to see how everything was going. And he had seen Carlos, no longer the short and scarily skinny tween, but an almost fully grown young man. Carlos had only been in Auradon for just a little more than a year but he was thriving, he was stronger, taller, and much more confident than he was before.

And Diego couldn’t help but be a little proud. When Carlos had seen Diego, he had rushed over, whispering to him as if it was a secret he was about to tell.

‘when the applications are sent here, fill one out, you’ll be my pick’ Diego pushed down the smile on his lips at the memory, it was nice to know that Carlos hadn’t forgotten him.

So maybe in a year, he would be joining Carlos in Auradon, both finally away from Carlos’ insane mother.

-

Evie overlooked the file that Yen Sid had pulled out for the young daughter of Dr.Facilier, Celia. Dizzy had requested from all of them that Celia be one of the next off, saying that she had promised her friend that she would get Celia off the isle as soon as she could.

And Evie had told Dizzy she would do her best. But unfortunately, it would be up to the council for Celia to be approved, and Evie hoped that Celia wouldn't try to be smart on her application. But again, the applications wouldn’t be sent for a good two years from now, so Auradon and the isle had a long time to wait until they could celebrate ‘vk day’ which was Doug's idea, he had said that the vks still on the isle deserved a day for themselves for waiting so long, and the vks in Auradon agreed, eight months was too long for Harriet and the others, two and a half was overdoing it.

It just sucked that Ben had no choice but to go with the council's requests, and it would be 2019 at least before they got the next round off. It was only thanks to Ben and (y/n) that the vks still on the isle knew that they in Auradon weren't abandoning them.

There was a new shelter being built in the name of Carlos’ for any kids or adults that needed a warm place to sleep, it also served as a place to keep track of the kids that took and turned in applications when the time came. Dizzy, around a week ago, had brought up the idea of possibly letting the older adults apply for Auradon as well, as some of them were long since reformed before the isle. (y/n) had said that Dizzy meant her aunt Anastasia, and told them about the baker and the alternate timeline sequels of Cinderella’s stories.

Which had confused the hell outta them but…considering (y/n) was from a world where they were all characters and had actors, they couldn’t argue with her about it.

Evie sighed and set down Celia's file, standing and stretching to get the tightness out of her muscles from sitting at the table for so long. She grabbed her jacket and shrugged it on, it was mid-February in Auradon so while the deep winter had passed it was still snowing and cold as hell outside.

Evie walked out of her room and made her way outside, smiling as she saw Dizzy, the Smee twins, Sammy, CJ, Harriet, and the rest of the vks (other than Gil) along with Doug, Ben, and (y/n) all having a snowball fight, (y/n) in Harry's arms as he lifted her out of the way of a snowball from Jay.

“Evie, heads up!” Evie squealed and ducked as a snowball soared past just where her head was a moment ago, CJ wincing as Carlos and Mal glared at her “Sorry! I was aiming for Harry!”

“I’m over here yeh lame-ass!” Harry cackled, dodging another snowball from Jay and grabbing your hand to bolt to the next snow fort Dizzy and CJ had made before the battle had started.

Evie laughed as she stood up and ran towards Mal and Ben, pulling Mal in front of her as a snowball from Harriet came speeding towards her “E!” Mal squeaked, wiping her shoulder and chest of the snow and turning towards Evie “No fair! No using your teammates as shields!” Evie laughed and stuck out her tongue, crouching down to scoop up snow.

“vks don’t fight fair M~! you said it yourself!” Evie then screamed as Mal squished a snowball into the side of her head, her blue hair trimmed with white “Hey!!”

“Payback!” Mal cackled, spinning on her heel and dodging another ball from Harriet then sending one back, pouting as Harriet just stepped to the side and the ball hit Sammy in the face. “oh come on-GAH!” (y/n) chucked a ball straight at Mal and hit her in the face, sending Mal to the ground. The snow flurried around Mal, almost creating a blanket on her from the thick frost. “really?”

Ben held in his laugh and lifted Mal out of the snow, holding her into his side as he dived behind another snow fort. “Ben” Mal faked a weak cough, holding her hand out towards Ben “you must…avenge my death…Bleh” Mal ‘died’ and slumped against Ben, closing her eyes and sticking her tongue out the corner of her mouth.

“Nooooo” Ben dramatically yelled out, a smile on his face as he let Mal slip off his chest. He stood, a snowball in each hand “revenge!” Jay cackled as Ben was immediately pummeled by several snowballs from the other side of the battlefield, (y/n) catching herself on Harry as Ben flopped back into the snow “treason! You’ve killed the king!”

“False! Dizzy is king now! She threw the last ball that hit you!” Harry cackled, lifting Dizzy by her armpits and holding the giggling teen in the air “all hail king Dizzy!”

Evie covered her mouth to stop the loud ‘guffaw’ from bursting, leaning on Carlos to prevent herself from falling “all hail king Dizzy!” Jay and Carlos echoed, throwing their hands forward and mock bowing at Dizzy, who was still giggling in Harry's grip.

“Fore!” Jay looked to the side and yelped, a snowball slamming directly into his face and he fell back into the snow “I said fore!” Gil laughed, Jane at his side giggling behind her periwinkle snow mittens.

“there yeh are!” Harry yelled, setting Dizzy down and gesturing for Gil to join the side of the pirates “come on, we need’a tank!”

“don’t you have (y/n)?” Jane laughed, sitting down on a bench nearby as Gil jogged over to Harry and quickly made a large snowball. Gil and Harry looked at each other at Jane's mention of you, then looked to (y/n), who was in the middle of hurling another snowball at the opposite team. They shrugged and Gil continued to make a large snowball

“(y/n)’s tha’ sharpshooter, Gil’s the tank” Harry grinned, cackling as Gil launched the foot wide snowball at the other side, completely decimating the small fort CJ had made and knocking her to the ground. “yeah!!!”

“Ow!” CJ groaned, shaking the snow off and crawling out of the battlefield “im done! Count me out!” she flopped into the snow a few feet away and took a few deep breaths as Gil launched another snowball at Carlos, knocking him to the ground.

“Dodgeball rules! You get hit you’re out, loser team makes hot chocolate for everyone!” Harriet called out, giving a sharp grin as everyone yelled in agreement.

Snowballs flew everywhere, Jane curling in on herself squealing as a few stragglers landed near her “not playing, not playing!”

“Jane!” Gil laughed, running toward her and picking her up bridal style, and running back to the battlefield, setting her behind the fort (y/n) and Harriet had reinforced “stay, I'll protect you” Jane giggled and swooned as Gil stood back up and launched a mid-sized snowball at Jay, hitting Jay square in the chest and getting him out. “got ya!”

“Not fair! You have (y/n) and Gil on your side!” Jay complained, Mal popped up, her eyes glowing green as several snowballs floated next to her. Jay laughed and grinned, running off to the bench where CJ and Ben sat. “ooooh! Yall are goin down!”

Mal threw her hand forward, the snowballs aiming for you but they hit the snow fort instead as you flipped behind it “Dang it! AH!” Dizzy chucked a snowball right at Mal and hit her in the face, marking the fae out “DANGNABIT!”

“Ha!” Dizzy cheered, throwing her hands into the sky, squealing as Evie sent back a snowball at Dizzy “Evieee!”

“Dizzyyy!” Evie mocked, a sharp grin on her lips as she tossed two more snowballs at Dizzy, the first missing and the second hitting Dizzy in the back “Gotcha~!”

Dizzy pouted and joined Mal, Jay, CJ, and Ben at the bench, cheering on her team as the fight continued. Now it was Evie, Carlos, Doug, and Sammy, vs Harry, (y/n), Gil, the twins, and Harriet.

It was all too easy.

Within moments Evie and the boys were pummeled by snowballs, all screaming in ‘pain’ as they fell into the snow. The twins rushed over to the other side, throwing their last few balls into their ‘dead’ brother's stomach. Sammy coughed at the impact and sat up, pulling the two into his chest and rolling around, cackling as the twins squealed with laughter.

“We win! Ya’ll gotta make the hot chocolate now!” (y/n) laughed out in victory, Harry pulling her into his side with a grin, hiding it in her hair.

Ben sighed and gestured back inside the dorms “come on, there's a closed patio with a fire pit, we can make smores too!” the twins and Dizzy gasped at that and rushed inside, Dizzy pulling Evie as the twins pulled their brother and Harriet with them.

Soon all 16 teens were inside the closed patio, the firepit roaring as Harry helped the twins roast their marshmallows, their whipped cream-covered hot chocolates still steaming on their seats behind them.

“I can't believe at one point we outnumbered you and we still lost!” Mal grumbled, taking a layer off her toasted marshmallow and eating it, putting the treat back over the fire to let it toast again.

“that’s what happens when you have both (y/n) and Gil on the same side, (y/n) throws ninety-five miles per hour and Gil throws meteors, it was their game as soon as they picked their side” Ben laughed, handing Mal a hot chocolate in her glittery green and purple mug and sitting down next to her, sipping from his gold and blue mug.

“Then next time have Harry on your team to make sure you also have (y/n) and Gil” CJ snickered, leaning into Harriet's side as she chewed on her freshly made smore, gram cracker crumbs on the corners of her mouth.

(y/n) let out a small snort, leaning back in her seat and lifting her feet, setting them on Harry's shoulder as he helped Skipper set his marshmallow onto the gram cracker. “Maybe, who knows, I might play the other team next time~” Harry turned to look at (y/n), giving her a look “What? Don’t look at me like that? Just because I love you don't mean I won't kick your ass in a snowball fight” Harry rolled his eyes with a fond smile and pushed (y/n)s boots off his shoulder, ignoring the pout (y/n) was aiming at the back of his head.

“well, I’d say today was a good day” Ben sighed, sipping at his coco again and smiling as the group agreed with him, Harry standing from helping the twins and sitting next to (y/n), (y/n) slipping under his arm and laying her head on his chest.

Ben let out a content sigh and leaned back against his seat, closing his eyes and letting his head hit the headrest. Getting more vks to Auradon was going to take almost two years from now but for now, knowing the recent six and the original six were enjoying their life free from the isle was enough.

He couldn’t wait to share it with all the vks in the future.

-end of part 6-

part 6~!!! forgot today was Saturday but its only 630pm for me so i still posted on time, but yeah! Diego! Carlos! snowball fights! cuteness!!! its all getting wrapped up and loose ends are (hopefully) being tied!!!  hope yall enjoyed reading! part 7 next saturday!

@queer-cosette​ @sephiralorange​ @lunanight2012​

@daughter-of-the-stars11​ @musicarose​ @random-thoughts-003​

@remembered-license​ @rintheemolion​ @verboetoperee​

@imtryingthisout​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​ @jatp-rules-my-life​

[chicgeekgirl89]

The Way Our Horizons Meet: Chapter 4

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes

Summary: Carlos' perspective through the aftermath of T.K.'s shooting. Follows the events of episodes 1x08-1x10.

A/N: I had a few requests to write T.K. and Carlos’ conversation about what happened in New York. Hopefully I did it justice!

CW: Mentions of past drug use, overdosing, suicide (just mentioned, not attempted)

Read Chapters 1-3 on AO3

Carlos woke slowly in the morning. Sunlight streamed in through the curtains and he frowned trying to get his bearings; usually he was up before the sun, even on his days off. He liked to get a workout in early, before the day had really started. He shifted in the bed, wincing when he realized his left arm was full of pins and needles.

Blinking his eyes open fully he came face to face with T.K.’s sleeping form. Carlos’ mouth slowly curved into a smile. It had been a long time since he’d woken up to someone else in his bed. Even longer since it had been someone he really cared about. 

Carlos watched him for a moment, just taking it all in. T.K. was lying on his back, mouth slightly open, chest rising and falling slowly. Last night had been…perfect, was the word that came to mind. There had been nothing between them anymore, nothing standing in the way of their feelings for one another, and they had spent many hours making that clear.

His arm was trapped underneath T.K.’s pillow, hence the numbness running all the way up to his shoulder. He didn’t want to wake his sleeping boyfriend (wow it felt good to call him that), but his arm was starting to tingle painfully. Slowly he attempted to ease it out from under T.K.’s head. Despited his best efforts, T.K. immediately began to stir, inhaling sharply and opening his eyes. “Hey,” he said, voice rough with sleep as he rolled onto his side to face Carlos, allowing him to free his arm completely.

“Hey,” Carlos said fondly, flexing his fingers as feeling began to return. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“That’s okay.” T.K. smiled sleepily. 

“Did you sleep all right?”

“Mhmm,” T.K. said as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Carlos’. “Did you?”

“It was…the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a while,” Carlos said honestly. 

“Well,” T.K. grinned lazily at him, “we were pretty enthusiastic when we got back here last night. You were probably exhausted.”

Carlos grinned back, running a hand down T.K.’s side, resting it on his hip as memories of the night before flitted through his brain. They’d had to get a little creative considering T.K.’s stitches situation. He didn’t seem any worse for the wear though. “I think I was.”

T.K. looked a little more awake now, his eyes glinting with that look he got when he wanted something. Carlos liked that he knew what so many of T.K.’s different looks meant now. “Are you still exhausted?” he asked, voice low.

His fingers trailed slowly down Carlos’ spine, causing him to shiver. “Not in the least.”

“Good.” T.K.’s mouth was on his in an instant, hungry, searching, and Carlos lost himself in the kiss as they picked up where they’d left off the night before.

It was an hour later that they both lay in the bed, T.K.’s head pillowed on Carlos’ chest. “I like waking up with you,” he said quietly. 

T.K. didn’t say anything for a long moment and Carlos felt the certainty and bliss of the last few hours stutter in his chest. He thought they’d finally been on the same page, but maybe…

His hand fell back to the bed as T.K. abruptly sat up, determination on his face. The sheets twisted around his waist as he crossed his legs and looked seriously at Carlos. “I want you to know what happened in New York.”

Carlos pushed himself up on his elbow, reaching his free hand out to touch T.K.’s knee. “You don’t have to. There’s no pressure. You can tell me now or never, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“I know,” T.K. cupped Carlos’ face in his hand and stroked his thumb across his cheek, his gaze fierce. “And that’s why you deserve to know. If we’re going to give this a shot, you should know everything.”

“Okay,” Carlos said softly, mentally bracing himself. Based on what little he did know, he didn’t think this would be easy to hear.

T.K.’s eyes fell to the bed as he collected his thoughts. “I had only been clean again for about six months when I met Alex. I was at a friend’s birthday party, testing my sobriety in a way I probably shouldn’t have been. Someone introduced us, and we hit it off right away. I realized later the whole thing was a setup. But I was okay with it because Alex was charming and fun and I was so desperate to get my life back on track. He was stable, had a good job, knew where he was going in life; he was everything I wasn’t.

“We were together a little over two years and it was good. We didn’t fight or have problems. I just…didn’t see who he really was until it was too late.” T.K. swallowed hard and twisted his fingers into the sheets. “I loved him. I really did. I wanted to marry him. I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with him.”

He laughed ruefully and shook his head. “My dad never liked him. My mom did, but my mom likes anyone I like. My dad…he didn’t say anything outright but I could tell. And even if he had said something I probably wouldn’t have listened. I’m uh, I’m kind of stubborn.”

“I’ve noticed,” Carlos said with a smile. 

T.K. smiled sheepishly. “Yeah well, sometimes it’s for the better and sometimes not so much.” His face fell a little. “I had it all set up. Dinner at this fancy place, I was going to propose right before dessert. So cliché, but that’s what I was going to do.” T.K. gave a humorless laugh. “And when he got there I got so excited and I just couldn’t wait. I pulled out the ring and started to get down on one knee and he stopped me. Grabbed my arm and told me to sit down.”

T.K.’s jaw worked and Carlos could tell tears were near the surface. “Hey,” he said, sitting up so they were eye to eye. “Take your time.”

T.K. nodded gratefully and blew out a shaky breath. “He’d been cheating on me. With his spin instructor. They were in love. Now I wonder if the spin instructor was even the first. There were times he seemed distant, and then a couple months would go by and he would be all attentive and sweet again. I think there might have been others, I don’t know. I didn’t ask.

“I had never felt so stupid. Like it was my fault. If I had just been better, done more then he wouldn’t have had to cheat. And I should have seen it. I just wanted so desperately to tick all the boxes that proved I was doing the right thing in my life that I didn’t see any of the warning signs until after the fact.”

T.K. rubbed his hands up and down his thighs, no longer able to meet Carlos’ gaze. “I knew where to get pills fast. So I left the restaurant and I picked up some Oxy and went home. I didn’t even try to stop myself. I just did what I do best in a personal crisis: completely self destruct.”

Carlos’ heart picked up its pace. He knew where this was going, knew that this story ended with them here, together in bed right now, but that didn’t make it easier to hear. 

T.K. cleared his throat. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I just…wanted it all to go away. The thought of being left, of not being enough…it eats away at you until it’s all you can think about.”

He shook his head. “I took a few and when that wasn’t enough I took a few more and then a few more. And the next thing I knew I was on the floor, puking my guts out, with my dad and his crew picking up my pieces. It wasn’t my first overdose, but it was the closest I’ve ever come to…if they’d been even a minute later…”

Carlos felt his throat growing tight. He’d come so close to losing T.K. before he’d ever even known him. The thought made him oddly protective. He wished he could somehow reach into the past and keep T.K. from ever knowing such incredible hurt.

“My dad didn’t report it, not the way he should have. If he had I would have been fired,” T.K. said, his voice breaking a little as he spoke. “He basically took control of everything and told me to pack my stuff. Because of me he uprooted his whole life and dragged us here.”

He looked up nervously, trying to judge Carlos’ reaction. “You know the rest.”

“You were right,” Carlos said softly. “That is messy.”

“It’s a lot, I know,” T.K. said quickly. “I just…I want you to understand why some things might be hard for me. I fell so hard and so fast last time and I can’t take risks like that again. My dad, he needs me, now more than ever. I can’t do anything to put my sobriety in jeopardy. And I realize this,” he gestured to the disheveled bedding and their naked bodies, “doesn’t exactly look like going slow, but as far as feelings and stuff like that go…”

“Hey,” Carlos put a hand on his knee, “I will never pressure you into anything you don’t want. We’re in this together.” He looked T.K. directly in the eye. “And I want to be really clear here; you can trust me. Always. It’s going to take time for you to see that, for us to build that trust together, but you can. And any mistakes I make along the way are mine and mine only, not a reflection of you.”

T.K. looked at him for a long moment, a hand coming up to softly touch Carlos’ face. “You’re so ridiculously perfect.”

Carlos shifted, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “That’s the second time you’ve said that.”

“Well it must be true then,” T.K. said with a smile.

“That is…incredibly sweet,” Carlos said. “But if this is going to work, you can’t put me on a pedestal like that. The only place for me to go is down.” He slid his fingers between T.K.’s. “You and I are the same; flawed, human. I am not some…god among men, now matter how much I might want to be. I have my stuff too. Which I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

“You can’t possibly have baggage like I do,” T.K. said, leaning back against the pillows.

Carlos shrugged. “Yours might be more obvious, but mine could be worse. You have to watch out for the quiet ones, isn’t that what they say?”

T.K. raised his eyebrows and smirked. “You certainly weren’t quiet last night.”

Carlos threw a pillow at him, which T.K. easily deflected. Carlos shook his head, but he smiled. “That is not what we’re talking about.” His face grew serious. “If this is going to work you have to love me for who I am, not some idealized version of me.”

T.K. blinked at him for a moment. “Love you?”

Carlos’ cheeks flamed and he rushed to take back the word that had slipped off of his stupid, besotted tongue. “I didn’t mean—I—“

T.K. laughed. “It’s okay, Carlos.”

“No, I’m sorry. You just poured your heart out and I can’t keep my damn mouth shut—”

“Carlos,” T.K. leaned forward and kissed him, effectively cutting off his apology. “It’s okay.” He traced his fingers down Carlos’ cheek. “I may not be ready to say that word yet. But I am ready to be with you.” He brushed a kiss over Carlos’ nose. “And I like you,” he kissed his cheek. “Very,” his ear. “Very,” his neck. “Much.”

They were falling back into the bed again, limbs tangling, lips finding bare skin. They clearly had so much more to talk about, but for now, what they’d said was enough. If this was love, it would find them the time to take care of the rest.

[deiliamedlini]

I did this Tier Ranking the other day of Zelda’s with the most to least amount of agency in their games, and I’m going to be honest... I’m still thinking about it. I was getting so annoyed when I played SS the other day because of something that happens that made me mad. So now, I’m going to rant about every single Zelda because she deserves better. 

This is my short essay on which Zelda’s have agency in their games and why. Omg if only I could have done that topic in grad school. 

So this was my list. 

Before you keep going, this is just spoiler central. So, if you haven’t played, say SS yet, heads up.

I’m going to start by saying I’ve never played the Four Swords games nor watched a playthrough. IDK why there are 4 of her, but maybe it’s just ironic to have 4 of them? But that’s my ‘don’t know’ pile. Maybe she’s epic, but I remember her being captured by Vaati in an intro to the GBA game, so I doubt it. 

~~~

Most Agency: Wind Waker Tetra, Sheik, and Spirit Tracks Zelda

I almost feel like this part of the list goes without saying. Tetra (WW) is a queen. She’s a captain, has a crew, goes where she wants, helps Link, hurts Link, literally, queen. 

Sheik should also go without saying. We don’t see a lot of Sheik actually doing things, but we know she’s doing them. She’s been all over Hyrule for 7 years training, and keeping the world spinning. During the game alone, we know she’s out there rescuing Ruto, trying to fight the spirits in the well, etc. So we don’t see it, but we know it. 

And Spirit Tracks Zelda! SHE’S YOUR LITERAL COMPANION!!! SHE’S WITH YOU THE WHOLE GAME, FINDS A WAY TO FIGHT, HELPS, IS FUNNY, IS ACTIVE IN THE KINGDOM, AND IS AN ALL AROUND UNDERATED ZELDA. She lost a little agency because she has no body, but she didn’t let it stop her. 

~~~

Good Agency: OOT Zelda, BOTW Zelda, TP Zelda

This is the “I’m in danger of being smited for including these three here” pile. OOT Zelda isn’t in it for long as adult Zelda, and she does get trapped in a crystal almost immediately, but you know she was training for years and managed to stay out of sight of Ganon. And at the end, she holds up an entire castle for you to escape. I want her on my team, but I’d prefer Sheik. Plus, this Zelda is one in SSB sooo does that count? I don’t think so but whatever. I wanted to put her lower, but I was thinking of her off screen and she managed to make it up into the ‘good’ agency pile. 

BOTW Zelda. She’s got a lot more agency in AOC than BOTW because she just runs around and basically commands the whole kingdom's army after a while, but in BOTW, she’s held back by everyone! She had the potential! She wasn’t a damsel, she was a smart cookie, she had character, but everyone was like nah girl. Go wander Hyrule doing stuff. And she did! Not because she had agency, but because everyone told her to. She wanted to work with the tech! Let her work with the tech!

And TP Zelda, my girl, I love the thought of this Zelda SO MUCH!! SHE HAS A SWORD!! SHE COULD HAVE USED IT IN THE GAME!! THE CUTSCENE WAS RIGHT THERE!!!!! But you know she defended Hyrule off screen anyway, literally fought with her soldiers to protect her people. Gave her literal life of her own accord, took full blame for things, like, no one told this girl no. She was full blown agency... except that she was locked in a tower for the whole game, then went poof, then got turned into a puppet, then only managed to show off her battle badassery in ONE SCENE aka one of the best multi-stage final boss battles. Just could have pushed her further. 

~~~

Okay Agency: Child OOT Zelda, SS Zelda, ALBW Zelda

Child Zelda. She’s a child. She gave Link an instrument and was forcibly (but thankfully) spirited away on horseback. She doesn’t really DO much at this point. But she WILL! So she’s cool, but she’s just a wee sprout still! 

SS Zelda: Don’t hit me! I love her, her general plot, and her relationship with Link. But she isn’t even allowed to hug him. She is dragged everywhere, captured MULTIPLE times, stuck in a big old amber crystal thing FOR I DON’T REMEMBER HOW LONG, nearly sacrificed, and is bombarded with memories of a life that wasn’t technically hers and she has to sort through being Hylia and not just Zelda. Poor bean. She’s not at the bottom because you can tell that before the game, she was top tier agency queen.  

ALBW Zelda is just... meh. She’s not as bad as ALTTP Zelda, but she doesn’t really do much and then gets stuck in a painting for most of the game. Points if we’re counting Smash Bros again though!

~~~

NO AGENCY: ALTTP Zelda, Oracle Zelda, OG Zelda, Minish Cap Zelda, WW Zelda, PH Tetra, Zelda II Zelda. 

ALTTP Zelda is just a sad, sad tale of ‘can you be more damsel in distress if you tried’? She: starts the game in a cell, hides in a sanctuary, is kidnapped again, is sacrificed, is stuck in a crystal, and finally, is chilling in the end credits. Girl. I’m so sorry for you. 

Oracle Zelda is apparently the same Zelda as ALTTP and it shows. She hangs out in a house and tells you the weather and then (you guessed it) is kidnapped and nearly sacrificed. This poor bean has gone through too much. 

OG Zelda literally pops up at the end of the game and is like HEY you’ve been trying to save me this whole time, in case you didn’t know. And Link’s like omg I have?? Because I don’t even remember her being mentioned outside the info pamphlet and the ending. 

Out of order, but Zelda II, she’s the most relatable, because she sleeps the whole game. She’s under a curse, wakes up, sees Link and is like damn you’re cute, and kisses him. If we use the info booklet, it gets worse and her brother used a spell to blah blah. She sleeps. That’s all she does. 

Minish Cap Zelda is so precious at the beginning of the game and you can tell her and Link are besties and I wanted more of that! AND THEN SHE’S TURNED TO STONE THE WHOLE GAME. But no, wait, she’s...... almost sacrificed in the process. Deja vu. 

Wind Waker Zelda was cool in the final scene, but she spent her entire portion of the game trapped in a basement against her will for her protection. No agency. That’s really all the poor thing gets to do as Zelda. 

THEN THE DIRTIEST OF ALL DONE DIRTY CHARACTER MOVES IS PHANTOM HOURGLASS TETRA! ONE OF THE BEST ZELDA’S REDUCED TO NOTHING! SHE IS CAPTURED IMMEDIATELY AND SPENDS THE ENTIRE GAME AS A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS WHO HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED AND TURNED TO STONE. I’m still salty and will hate Phantom Hourglass forever for many reasons, and Tetra being done dirty is one of them. 

I feel better now. If anyone actually read all this and has other thoughts on this, I’m fired up and ready to talk because who needs to sleep at 1:30am? Not me!!

[goose-books]

& while i am posting things today. some more maxwriting, specifically two mini-fanfictions for yves. @yvesdot​ ’s WIP the one and only universe of kay rainier (would recommend! arguments to lovers! he/him wlw! interdimensional (?) shenanigans!) one of which also features an OC i've mentioned a few times on this blog but done historically very little with.

it’s occurred to me in my moment of posting that neither of these pieces have titles. oh well.

THE FIRST ONE

you ought to send yves. some bingo prompts. anyway, i sent them kay + daemons, and then immediately realized i had ideas and thoughts about that, too. so i wrote my own version. unlike theirs, this is vaguely set in the HDM universe, which is funny because i haven’t read HDM and learned everything i know from waya vivji, a single war and peace fanfiction, and also wikipedia just before i wrote it. the notable context here is that daemons are usually the “opposite sex” of their humans, and if i got that wrong do not tell me because i am embarrassed.

Kay is a precocious child; she is twelve years old when her daemon settles. Chesire is a sleek dark mahogany, a ferruginous hawk with a wickedly curved beak and eyes that glitter like beads. He is also male. This, for the Rainiers, is not done; even the absent Ariel, despite his eccentricities, had a properly gendered daemon. It unsettles Kay in a way she will not place for many years; still, as soon as she registers her disappointment (for it must be disappointment, surely; nothing more), she’s awash in guilt.

“How lovely,” she tells him, stroking his glossy new feathers, keeping her voice low less to keep out her father and more because it is only polite. Cheshire bobs his head and flutters his wings and seems, very slightly, to preen. He must be able to sense her uncertainty, the subdued flatness to her voice, but he is a Rainier as well; the polite thing is to ignore it, and he does.

“How curious,” Father says, stroking Fauntleroy’s velvet ears.

“Not unheard of,” the dormouse says from her seat in his breast pocket. Constantine inclines his head slightly; he does not deign to offer more.

/

When the Neighborly enters the house the jackal stalks at his heel, ears pricked at attention, wet black nose gleaming, mouth crooked open in a canine grin. With it comes a distinct smell — not unpleasant so much as it is unbalancing, an earthy scent, filling the foyer as its claws click on the floor. Like his clothes, it is black, head to toe. They aren’t usually. Kay wonders if it’s coincidence, if perhaps he dyes its fur so it will match.

She thinks of it as such — it — because to be frank she is not sure what to make of Atlas, and what to assume about his daemon. During the customary introductions, Cheshire perches atop Kay’s shoulder, and Fauntleroy emerges from her pocket to whisk up to Father’s collar and cling to the fabric to study the Neighborly. He can’t stay quite still. His hands twitch at his sides. He shifts his weight. The jackal paces maddening circles around the room, eyeing the dark walls and the fine wooden furniture, too dignified to lower its head and sniff but not too good to cast judgment without speaking. Every time it passes Kay in its slow inexorable orbit, Cheshire’s claws tighten on her coat.

“It’s a pleasure, Atlas,” Constantine says stiffly, extending a hand to shake with an expression that suggests he’d rather have it removed.

Atlas shakes, grinning easily, a looseness to his motions, and then he tilts his head and says, “Anubis.” In a moment the jackal’s at his side, curling around the backs of his legs to turn its wet smile on Kay’s father. It’s too large; that’s what she decides. How does he take it anywhere? Why hasn’t it learned to behave? Unless this is his goal: to part rooms, to announce his presence as soon as he steps through the threshold.

“Anubis,” she says, the first time she and Atlas are alone. “Like the god?” Atlas and Anubis; it is the sort of half-joke she can appreciate.

Anubis looks up at its name. Atlas looks at it. “I don’t know,” he says. “It was my sister’s idea.” He looks to Cheshire, who has settled near Kay’s inkwell to reorganize her pens. “And this is…”

“Cheshire.”

“Cheshire,” Atlas repeats, piercing glinting as his eyebrow quirks.

“When I was younger, I thought he would be a cat.”

“I thought she’d be a crow. Probably better this way. Crows are poser birds.” Anubis snorts at that, a sound both doggish and human.

“She is… she, then,” Kay says carefully.

“Oh, yeah. Apparently that’s weird.” Atlas leans back in Kay’s chair until the front legs leave the ground.

“Is it,” Kay says.

Atlas’s eyes flit around her face, like he knows what she’s asking; his smirk doesn’t lessen. “Well, women have male daemons, right? Ask Cheshire.”

Kay and Cheshire look at each other. Cheshire fluffs his feathers and says, “This is dull.”

Kay is less certain. She does not smile at Atlas, but some of the edge has smoothed from her voice. “I should like to watch you explain it to my father.”

“If he could take it,” Atlas says. “What’s the mouse’s fucking name again?”

Cheshire steps back and forth, feathers ruffling, until Kay sets a hand out to still him, gentle, comforting. “Fauntleroy.”

“Christ,” Atlas says. “Bless you.” When he catches Kay stiffening, he relents a little, letting the chair clatter back to the floor. “Fits the vibe, I guess.”

“As yours fits you,” says Kay, making it as uncomplimentary as she can.

“Guess my soul’s black,” Atlas says cheerily. He balls up a piece of paper and tosses it to Anubis, who, flopped across the floor, doesn’t move. “Not the weirdest thing about us.”

“Well,” Kay says, “I think it would be rather unfair for me to talk about oddities,” and she takes a small victory in the look they share: not friendship, not fondness, but something like an understanding, reached in the quiet moment before Cheshire hands her another pen and she resumes her work.

THE SECOND ONE

this one’s a bit older but i never posted it until now, at yves.’s urging! i think i was doing... camp nano last year? or something. and couldn’t think of what to write. or maybe i couldn’t focus on my project because i was thinking about my other project, the butch4butch hamlet retelling i still haven’t written. to which yves. said, “write kay x your lesbian hamlet character,” to which i said, “you don’t think i will, but i will,” and i did. so really this is yvesmax crossover fic.

It is annoying, Holden’s habit of dropping by whenever she likes. This can probably be attributed to the fact that Holden, herself, is annoying. Kay can only adjust the items on her desk (pens, mainly) so many times; she is caught up in an aggravating state of waiting but also not waiting, and she does not care for that.

Just as she thinks so, there’s a knock at the front door.

Holden doesn’t ring the doorbell anymore. She did that the first time and Kay came down the stairs a few seconds too late to find Father staring at the creature in his front hall, looking like he didn’t know whether he should be put out or concerned. “I think the earrings got him,” Holden said later, on Kay’s bed, tapping the crosses hanging inverted from her ears. Kay’s opinion was that it was all of her, from the messy post-buzz hair to the propensity for suits to the Doc Martens to the way Holden leans on any available surface.

She opens the door and Holden is leaning against the doorframe. Which looks a little more awkward coupled with whatever she’s carrying under her arm.

“Hi,” she says.

Kay blinks slowly.

“It is late,” she says, spinning on her heel and heading for the stairs. Behind her, she hears the quiet click of Holden closing the door. The grandfather clock in the front hall is ticking toward eleven.

“I never get over how weird this place is.” When she glances back, Holden is peering into the nearest glass cabinet. “Like a little dollhouse.”

“Thank you,” Kay says stiffly. She cannot decide whether she is irritable.

“And this is coming from someone whose parents were devoted to taxidermy.” Holden follows her up the stairs, hands shoved into the pockets of her suit jacket, looking entirely too comfortable here, and Kay decides that she is irritable after all.

“I do not know what you suppose your business is here,” she says. “Especially as it is almost an hour past ten.”

Holden shrugs.

“Do not shrug at me.”

Holden opens her mouth as if to speak, then casts a glance behind her. There’s no one in the darkened hallway; Father is in his office. Still, Holden waits for Kay to shut her bedroom door.

“I know I’m late,” she says, slouching back against it. “Sorry. I lost track of time in the bookstore.”

Kay blinks. “You are late to see me because you went to the bookstore,” she intones.

She says nothing as Holden withdraws the books from under her arm and extends them. “I really wanted to find Carmilla for you,” she says. “Like, the oldest print version I could find.”

It certainly looks old. Kay purses her lips. “I own Carmilla.”

“I know. But, like… it’s vintage.” Holden attempts one-handed jazz hands. “I have a sentence in my notes app from six months ago that just says carmilla but like the old edition.” She shuffles the stack of books. “And then I sat down for — look, I swear I was trying to be timely about it. Trying to be punctual.” She pops the P. “But time isn’t real and I read two chapters of Pride and Prejudice and I don’t know if you own that but it feels like the kind of thing you’d find sexy.” Her smile glitters. “And then — I know The Catcher in the Rye isn’t your thing. But I wrote in this one, so.”

Kay reaches out, very carefully, to take the books. She does own Pride and Prejudice, actually, but she still feels a pang. She flips through The Catcher in the Rye and is met with scrawls of black-ink handwriting, filling up the margins and underlining passages.

“Thank you,” she says, very softly, and moves to set the books on her desk. “You didn’t have to… get me anything.”

“I like knowing that my parents’ money is fueling homosexual agendas,” Holden says pleasantly. When Kay turns around, Holden catches her hand and steps in closer, showing her teeth in a smile. “But I’ll try to be on time from now on.”

“As you should,” Kay says, pulling Holden a few inches closer.

Holden raises a hand to caress Kay’s cheek. “That said,” she says in a low voice, “now that I’ve — what did you say. Now that I’ve fulfilled my business here, I can think of a few things we could do. Unless it’s too late.”

Against her will, Kay smiles.

“I suppose we can extend your stay a little longer,” she says, and their lips meet.