#Shattered Memories is my all-time favorite I adore it

[artemispanthar]

Silent Hill games ranked by me

Silent Hill: Shattered Memories

Silent Hill 3

Silent Hill 2

Silent Hill 4: The Room

Silent Hill 1

P. T.

Silent Hill Origins

Silent Hill Downpour

Silent Hill Homecoming

Silent Hill: Book of Memories

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER TWO ━━ Silence and Static

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 4.5K

☆ ━ warnings: nothing really, paige is just kinda emo lol

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: sorry this is such a filler and it’s boring but it’s meant to serve as a basis for paige’s perspective after her and dani’s fall out

THE START of senior year has a bitter taste that Paige wasn’t prepared for. She’s envisioned this time in her life in so many different ways—dominating on the court, coasting through classes with Dani by her side, enjoying the final months before the world outside St. Louis Park opens up to them. But reality always has a way of shattering things, leaving Paige to pick up the pieces of what’s supposed to be the best year of her life.

The ache in Paige’s chest is a constant reminder of what she’s lost—or more accurately, what’s been torn away from her without any explanation. As she sits at the edge of her bed, staring at her phone, Paige’s fingers hover over the message icon, the urge to text Dani overwhelming. She doesn’t know what she’d say; she just wants to talk her. But the memory of her and Dani’s last conversation stops any true thought or idea of communicating with the brunette. She was so hostile, so cold, so different from Dani—who’s always been warm and kind and true. And now Paige stares at the last message she received from the girl and it hurts her eyes to even look at.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

i’m going to camp, won’t have my phone

sorry

It was sent in early June, and that was it. No further explanation, nothing to ease the anxiety that had gripped Paige the rest of the summer afterwards. And now, Dani and Paige are both back, and yet, the aforementioned is more distant than ever before. The silence between them has grown thick, suffocating, leaving Paige alone with her thoughts and the static of unanswered questions buzzing in her mind.

With a heavy sigh, Paige tosses her phone aside and forces herself to get up and get dressed. She goes through the motions: pulling on her favorite UConn hoodie, tying her shoes, grabbing her bag. But everything just feels off. The hoodie’s too heavy, her shoes too tight, and the backpack weighs down her shoulders more than it should. It’s as if the world has shifted slightly, leaving her out of sync with everything around her.

As Paige trudges down the stairs, she finds her dad and Drew in the kitchen, the two of them already busy with their morning routine. The smell of bacon and maple syrup fills the air, though it doesn’t bring its usual comfort to Paige.

“Senior year, P!” her dad, Bob, chirps, grinning sideways at his daughter as he packs Drew’s lunch box. “You excited?”

Paige forces a smile. “Yeah, sure.”

Bob’s brows furrow slightly at her tone, sensing the lie beneath the surface, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he just hands Paige a piece of bacon, which she gladly accepts. “I’m sure you’ll have a good time,” he replies, clearly trying to be reassuring.

Paige nods, sending him a short smile before making her way over to Drew. He sits at the table, eating his pancakes. She ruffles his hair a little, and then kisses it lightly, saying, “Have a good first day, ‘kay? Better tell me all about it when you get home.”

Drew will be in first grade and he’s been bustling with excitement to start back up in school since it ended, having had a wonderful kindergarten year. Paige adores her little brother’s innocence, his love for learning. It clenches at her heartstrings a little bit, though—it feels like he’s growing too fast.

Drew sends his older sister a grin, saying with his mouth full, “I will, Paigey!”

She smiles back, this one reaching her eyes a bit more, before mumbling her goodbyes, Amaya sending a text telling Paige she’s here. No, Paige does not have her license yet—no, she doesn’t want to talk about it. She heads out the door, the morning air crisp. It does little to clear her mind. She smiles a little at her sophomore friend as she gets into the passenger seat, greeting her. Amaya grins back, though she’s clearly unhappy with the fact summer’s over.

When they arrive, the parking lot is already half-full, students milling about in groups, laughing and talking and probably complaining about the fact that school’s back in session. Paige isn’t offended when Amaya leaves her side to go to her friends in her own grade, bounding over to them happily. Besides, the blonde has already spotted Thaliah Sommers and KK Adams near the entrance, the pair waving at her with tired smiles.

“Hey, P,” KK greets. “Senior year, yeah?”

“Seems like it,” Paige replies, glancing at the building, lips pulled into a tight line. She doesn’t even bother trying to fake another smile, expression brittle at this point. Her friends don’t seem to care; they both look more than exhausted, their summer sleep schedules most likely not mingling well with the early arrival time.

“Can’t believe I have a first period,” Thaliah grumbles, wiping at her eyes. Truthfully, the girl looks as if she’s just rolled out of bed—sporting a sweatshirt and sweatpants, face bare. It seems as though senior year has made them all careless.

“Yeah, but at least you get out after fourth,” Paige reasons, shaking her head as she thinks of her own schedule. “I have all these random free periods between my classes, so I gotta stay here all day. I’ll prolly just end up bothering Coach during ‘em.”

“I’d hate that,” Thaliah agrees, scrunching her face up as the three of them begin to walk into the building, recognizing that class starts in a few short minutes.

Inside, the familiar sights and sounds of the first day of school surrounds Paige. Lockers slamming shut, freshman looking lost, teachers already reprimanding students. To her disappointment, Paige doesn’t feel a single ounce of excitement as she takes in her surroundings, instead only feeling an unfamiliar sheen of anxiety graze over her skin. She knows why. Lately, everything that’s wrong with Paige has led back to the same thing. Dani has always been her constant; though, now, it’s in a far different way than it was before. Dani seems to be the source of all of Paige’s problems, all of her recent negative feelings, the new emotions she’s been experiencing. The absolute lack of Danielle Callan has rocked Paige’s world more than most would believe possible.

And Paige has no idea whether it helps or not that her first class of the day is AP Lit—the only class she and Dani will have together the whole school year. When they were signing up for classes last spring, it was Dani’s idea to take it together. Dani had always planned to take it, but when she found out that none of their friends had that same idea, she needed someone. And that someone—always—was Paige. The blonde was hesitant, because, truthfully, she’s only ever heard bad things about the class. The teacher’s good—Paige knows that, she had her for English her freshman year—but, according to some of Paige’s older friends that have since graduated, the class is apparently a shit ton of reading and too difficult for her own good. Yet, because it was Dani, Paige had agreed. And the thought of spending that hour with Dani every single day was enough to make the thought of tackling Shakespeare and Faulkner bearable (especially knowing that Dani would be there to help her). But now, as Paige steps into the typical flamboyant English type of classroom, the reality of what happened over the summer hits her like a tidal wave.

Dani’s already there, sitting in the middle row, her light brown hair pulled up into a messy bun. She looks tired, shoulders slightly hunched and dark circles under her eyes, gazing vacantly at her desk. Paige’s heart twists a little at the sight. It’s not as if Paige hasn’t seen Dani at all since their fight—she has. They live right next door to each other, of course she has. But it still hurts all the same. To be completely cut off with little to no explanation by your best friend who you also happen to be hopelessly in love with is fucking painful.

Paige hesitates in the doorway, her feet rooted to the ground as her eyes stay on Dani. She wants nothing more than to go to her, to sit beside her like they always have, to pretend that everything is okay, even if it’s not. But something in Dani’s posture, in the way she keeps her eyes downcast, warns Paige to stay back and keep her distance.

“Oh, Paige!” Mrs. Donovan, the AP Lit teacher, calls out in excitement as her eyes land on her student. She grins brightly—a bit too brightly for the early hour, Paige can’t help but think—and gestures to a desk. The one that’s— “You’re right behind Danielle!”

Dani doesn’t look up at the sound of her name, doesn’t bother to acknowledge Paige’s presence at all. The blonde swallows hard, forcing herself to move. She slides into the seat Mrs. Donovan gestured to, the one right behind Dani, her heart pounding against her rib cage. From this close, Paige can see the tension in Dani’s shoulders, the way her fingers tap anxiously against the surface of the desk. Paige can only imagine how Dani’s feeling—but, still, she’s usually mostly accurate. Dani’s always been more introverted, and new schedules, new routines, and new people tend to make her anxious. Paige can tell she’s feeling that way right now. Because, despite everything, Dani is still Dani. And Paige will always know Dani. The blonde wants to reach out, to say something—anything—but the words only stick in her throat.

As the bell rings and Mrs. Donovan starts the class, handing out syllabi and talking about what to expect for the year, Paige’s mind strays far from the discussion. Instead, she finds herself staring at the back of Dani’s head, thoughts and memories circling through her head with unwarranted clarity.

JULY 2013

THEY’RE ELEVEN years old, and the summer sun blazes over them as Paige and Dani sit on the swings at the park near their houses. It’s a place they���ve been coming to for years, one of their constants. In fact, it’s actually where they first met.

The air is thick with the scent of freshly cut grass, mingling with the sweet aroma of the cherry popsicles the girls devoured earlier. Paige’s legs pump the air lazily, the tips of her shoes grazing the ground, while Dani swings a bit higher, her hair flying out behind her like a banner in the wind. The worn-out metal creaks with each swing, a familiar sound that blends into the background of their laughter and chatter.

“Race you to the top!” Dani suddenly shouts, voice filled with a reckless enthusiasm that usually belongs in Paige’s instead. Without waiting for a response, Dani leaps off the swing, her feet hitting the ground with a soft thud, making a beeline for the jungle gym.

Paige’s laugh bursts out of her before she can help it, and she scrambles to follow, heart pounding with the thrill of the chase. “No fair, you started first!” she calls, her words trailing behind her as she races after her best friend.

They reach the platform that hovers above the slide, the same spot where Dani broke her arm years before. Paige remembers it vividly—how Dani had cried, the way her elbow was bent all weird, and how Paige had held her hand the entire car ride to the hospital. The spot is a little scarred now, but it doesn’t stop them from sitting side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge as they survey their world from above.

From this vantage point, Paige can see so much more. The neighborhood spreads out before them like a patchwork quilt, each house a different square, each tree a different shade of green. The sun casts long shadows, making the world below them seem like a dream, distant and hazy. There’s a stillness in the air, a peaceful quiet that Paige—for once—isn’t the one who breaks.

“P?” Dani asks, her voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Paige hums in question, keeping her gaze out before her instead of on the girl next to her. There’s something in Dani’s voice that makes her brain short circuit a little, a seriousness that doesn’t belong in the carefree world around them. “Yeah?” Paige asks, trying to sound light, though a small knot of worry forms in her stomach.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Dani’s words hang in the air between them, heavy and laden with thought.

Paige turns to look over at her now, eyebrows furrowed in surprise. Dani’s never been the type to dwell on what’s ahead—in fact, she says it scares her too much to even think about it. Instead, she usually submerges herself in now, living in the moment, seizing the day with both hands.

“What d’you mean?” Paige replies, voice soft, almost afraid to shatter whatever fragile thing Dani is holding onto.

Dani shrugs, her shoulders rising and falling with a casualness that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Like… what we’ll be like when we’re older,” Dani elaborates, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “We’re starting middle school now, and I always hear things about friends drifting apart. I just wonder if, when we’re older—like high school or something—if we’ll still be friends. Or if things will have changed.” Dani keeps her eyes out on the horizon, expression thoughtful as Paige gazes at her.

Paige feels an odd tension in her stomach at the thought of losing Dani, of the possibility of their friendship fading away. It’s too painful, too much that would be taken at once, to even consider. Dani is Paige’s constant, her anchor in a world that sometimes feels too big and too overwhelming for the eleven-year-old. The idea that they could ever grow apart feels like a betrayal of everything they’ve ever promised each other.

“We’ll always be friends,” she says with confidence. Because, in what world could they not be? “Nothing will ever be able to change that, ‘kay?”

Dani finally looks back at Paige now, her expression softening, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Slowly, the seriousness begins to seep out of her. “Promise?”

Paige doesn’t hesitate, reaching out to hook her pinky around Dani’s. It’s a childish gesture that fits the friendship between two young girls. But this time, it’s true—a vow that they’re both determined to keep.

“Promise,” Paige echoes, squeezing Dani’s pinky with her own.

As they sit there, side-by-side on the playground, the world feels small and manageable, just for a little while longer. And, here and now, Paige allows herself to believe that nothing with ever come between her and Dani—no matter what.

PAIGE BLINKS, the memory fading just as their promise did. It hurts all over to think about the fact that she was so sure that nothing would ever come between them, that their friendship was absolutely unbreakable. But now, here they are, strangers but not at all, bigger walls being built between them each and every day.

The weight of that lost connection presses down on Paige’s chest, making it hard to breathe. Her lungs flare in and out. She wants—needs—to do something, to find a way to bridge the gap between them. But she just doesn’t know how, the silence and static between them far too heavy. And the fear that she might never get the chance to again is almost enough to make Paige’s lungs go out completely.

Mrs. Donovan’s voice drones on in the background, but Paige can’t focus on the words. All she can see is the back of Dani’s head, the way her highlights illuminate her brown hair at certain angles, the way she shifts uncomfortable in her seat every now and then, probably feeling the weight of the blonde’s gaze tearing into her back. It’s almost as if an invisible barrier has been built between them, one that Paige can’t tear down no matter how hard she tries.

Finally, the bell rings, signaling the end of class. Paige watches as Dani gathers her things quickly, avoiding eye contact with the blonde as she hurries out of the room. Paige lingers there for a second, heart sinking slightly as she watches Dani slip out the door, her back rigid, her steps quick and purposeful.

Paige feels a mixture of relief, dread, and—oddly enough—excitement. Relief that first period is over, dread at the thought of facing Dani again. But, at the same time, excitement about seeing Dani again. Because if this is the only time Paige can see her, if AP Lit is truly all Paige will ever be able to get out of the brunette again, she’ll take it. As pathetic as it sounds, she’ll take as much—or as little, she supposes—of Dani as she can get.

THE FOOTBALL game is the first big event of the back to school season, and Paige stands there in the student section with Thaliah and Amaya. It’s not like Paige has any particular interest in football; of course, she’s always preferred basketball. But she’s been in need of a distraction, something big and exciting enough to pull her out of the unfamiliar melancholy that’s settled over her, and it seems like a high school football game under the lights is the perfect choice.

The student section is alive with energy, the kids screaming and chanting things that they probably shouldn’t be as the game kicks off. Paige does her best to lose herself in the excitement. She screams along with her friends, sweating slightly under the setting sun, grabbing a Hawaiian lei excitedly when KK offers her one. It’s beach theme tonight—Paige tried to fit into it, wearing sunglasses and some beach button up with a white crop top, the lei helping to add to it.

But as Paige’s eyes drift along the players, along the field, along the track—her eyes land on her and it’s almost as if any and all excitement that had settled inside of Paige is whisked away, just like that. Dani stands on the sidelines, between the line of football players and the cheerleaders, her camera clicking away. It’s not like this is a new thing—Dani did this last year, for yearbook, and Paige shouldn’t be surprised to see her doing it again this year.

The Callan girl has always been passionate about photography, and it’s one of the many things that Paige has learned to love about her through the years. Paige knows that Dani has a way of almost losing herself in the click of her camera, finding beauty in the smallest details, the most mundane moments captured and crafted into something beguiling. Dani used to show Paige all the photos she’d taken, scrolling through the storage on the camera. The two of them would huddle over the device, and Paige would help her best friend pick the best photos for whatever project she was working on in yearbook.

And then, of course, there’s the other memory card that Dani has—the one that Paige knows is labeled “P.” It’s simple—all of the scattered photos that Dani has taken of Paige over the years, all put together on one little storage device. Dani told Paige several times that it was her greatest piece of work, merely because Paige was the star of it. Yet, for a while, Dani didn’t let the blonde look into it, keeping the memory card hidden away. But, eventually, Paige’s curiosity got the better of her and she’d found the card and scrolled through the photos. There were some from when Dani first got into photography, when they were much younger, with chubbier cheeks and more crooked smiles. A good amount was the photos Dani got of Paige court-side, some for the yearbook, some just reserved for the two of them. And then there was the candid ones—Paige remembers scrolling through them, and the look in her own eyes that stared at Dani from behind the camera… God, she remembers thinking that it seems she was whipped from the very beginning.

Paige’s heart clenches at the thought of that memory card, and wishes she was a photographer so she could have one of Dani. She’s got a fair few—or, well, a lot—of photos of Dani on her phone, but it’s just not the same. Faintly, Paige wonders what Dani’s done with the “P” card. Maybe she threw it away, crushed it into tiny little pieces, tossing it into the trash like she did her and Paige’s friendship. Or maybe—maybe—she’s kept it. Paige hopes it’s the latter; she imagines Dani, late at night, thinking of Paige like Paige has been thinking of her, and then going through the photos of her, wishing she could take back everything she said.

Paige almost rolls her eyes at her own thoughts. She’s almost sure Dani threw it away.

And then, the blonde is pulled out of her own head by the sound of the crowd erupting into a series of cheers, the band beginning to play. She glances at the field, then at the scoreboard, realizing she’s just missed a touchdown. Thaliah and Amaya and all the students around Paige are jumping up and down, chanting for Hopkins. Paige joins in, trying to drown herself in it, doing her best to put her mind to rest and just have some fun—she’s always been so good at that; she wishes it wasn’t so hard to do recently.

When the final whistle blows, signaling the end of the game, Hopkins pulls through with a narrow win. The crowd is excited for their first victory of the season, screaming those “start the buses” and “who’s your daddy” chants that Paige has always found ridiculously hilarious. Eventually, everyone begins to disperse, and Paige stands with Thaliah and Amaya, the three of them following the rush of students leaving the bleachers.

Amaya quickly tells Paige and Thaliah that she has to go to the bathroom, rushing towards the building. The other two girls stand around patiently, people watching their peers. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take long until Paige’s eyes once again find Dani’s frame. The brunette is packing up her camera gear, hauling a small duffel on her shoulder.

Thaliah follows the blonde’s gaze, nudging her gently. “You should go talk to her,” she says encouragingly, nodding towards Dani.

Paige shakes her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “She doesn’t want to talk to me.” It’s true; she remembers their last conversation—the cold look in Dani’s eye, the forced indifference, the river she rushed to drown Paige away.

“You’ve been miserable,” Thaliah says, point-blank. Paige’s eyes shift to her left, where the tanned girl stands beside her, brows furrowing in almost offense. “Don’t side-eye me like that—you know you’ve been miserable. And I think you’ve got nothing to lose these days when it comes to Dani, so you might as well just try.”

Paige doesn’t answer, eyes merely locking back onto her best friend. Without thinking, almost like her legs are moving of their own accord, the blonde starts walking towards Dani. She doesn’t know what she’s going to say, doesn’t know if Dani will let even let a word slip out of her mouth. But Thaliah’s right: it’s worth a shot. Paige can’t leave without even trying.

As she approaches, she watches Dani glance up, eyes meeting Paige’s. It lasts for only the briefest of seconds before Dani plainly averts her gaze, eyes anywhere but on the blonde walking up to her. Paige feels her heart stutter against her rib cage, threatening to sink at the sight, but, nevertheless, she keeps going, only stopping when she’s a few feet away from the brunette.

“Dani,” Paige murmurs, her voice soft, almost pleading. It’s all she can say; she doesn’t know what else to say.

The basketball player watches as her best friend’s body goes rigid, her hands stilling on her camera bag. It takes a second, but eventually Dani looks up, meets Paige’s gaze, brown on blue. There’s an unnameable emotion swirling within the Callan girl’s irises, and Paige wants nothing more than to step closer, to look deeper in them, to decipher exactly what’s going on in her best friend’s head. But she doesn’t. Paige stays rooted in place. And, for one, stupid moment, she believes that Dani might actually say something, that maybe this could be the first step in their repair.

But it doesn’t last.

“Dani!” multiple voices echo the name from the pair’s right. Paige turns to see Beau Hudson, still clad in his football gear and eyeblack, grinning and waving at Dani—his girlfriend, the blonde thinks, sickly—beckoning her over. He seeps with the same overconfidence he’s had the twelve years that Paige has known him, and it makes her blood boil over slightly. By his side is Serena Corren—a cheerleader that also happens to be Beau’s best friend, who’s famously known for her sharp tongue and dismissive attitude—also grinning and waving. Serena and Beau stand with a group that’s more than excited and impatient for Dani to join them.

Paige’s stomach twists at the sight. It’s clear that her best friend has integrated herself into this new crowd, one that Paige has always found superficial and unkind.

“I have to go,” Dani mutters to Paige, not meeting the blonde’s eyes. She slings her bag over her shoulder before hurrying off to her new friends, leaving Paige standing there, aching all over.

Paige watches Dani go, feeling like the weight of the world is pressing on her shoulders, weighing her down. She wants to scream, to cry, to do something to make Dani see that they don’t have to be like this, that they can fix whatever has gone wrong. But she can’t. So, instead, she just stands there, staring, missing her best friend.

Yes, Paige misses her. God, she misses her so much that it fucking hurts—it hurts her insides, her outsides, her bones, her skin. It makes her feel all wrong. Every part of her aches with the absence of Dani Callan, the loss of everything they’ve had. She misses Dani’s smile, the gleam in her eyes when she’d look at Paige, the giggles she’d let out whenever the point guard made a stupid joke. She misses the way Dani used to make her feel—alive, whole, like she could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, as long as Dani was by her side.

But now all of that’s just—gone. And that’s clear as day as Paige watches Beau Hudson wrap his arm around Dani before pressing a firm kiss to her mouth.

She’s going to be sick.

Paige feels a hand on her arm, a head resting on her shoulder. It grounds her a little. Thaliah mumbles, “It’s gonna be okay, P.”

Paige doesn’t have the heart to say it, but she knows that’s not true. There is nothing okay with the fact that Dani is slipping—or, she supposes, has already slipped—through her fingers. There is nothing okay with the loneliness and pain that comes with it.

Paige doesn’t really know if anything will ever be okay again.

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#2: The Dreamgirl (1.01)

As Rick lies on the ground bleeding out from chopping off his own hand, he goes to the one place and the one person who makes him most feel alive, just like he did when bleeding out on that bridge. All these years later, he still turns to Michonne as his safe haven in trying times. 🥲

It's been clear for years that Michonne was Rick’s dream girl, but I absolutely adore the way TOWL just confirmed it even more with these great Richonne dream sequences...

I love that, after a crazy heartbreaking first few minutes of TOWL, we then get to see Richonne interacting with each other right away through Rick's calming dream. I really was not expecting that we’d be seeing Rick and Michonne on screen together in episode 1, so it was such a pleasant surprise that they found a way to have them together through the dreams. 🙌🏽  

I remember seeing Michonne show up on the bench and just feeling instantly emotional and elated that they were really back. 🥹 After all the years and patience waiting to see them back on our screen the time had finally come to see Richonne on TV together again. And one thing Andy and Danai said we’re going to remind y’all of immediately is that Rick and Michonne have impeccable captivating chemistry in any world. Oh, there’s so much to say about these dreams and I'm going to try to say it all. 😋

So Rick fades out after cutting off his hand to get back to her and then he starts to recall an array of flashing memories. The clips include the burning crops of his childhood home which will have added significance by the end of the ep, windmills, a chopper, a prison cell, a home, and then he sees Michonne’s eyes (which I like to think is a suggestion that her eyes are one of his favorite features).

gif cred: @nerd4music

Then the memories cut to the stairs of Rick's family home during the night of the fire from his youth and then the bridge burning as he screams Michonnes name and recalls when she screamed his that devastating day on the bridge. And my heart was shattered yet again to learn that this implies Rick did in fact hear Michonne scream his name that day. 🥺 The torment of that is immense for many reasons.

One of Rick's favorite things in life was making Michonne happy and their relationship was one of joy yet the note they ended on was tragic with Rick hearing Michonne screaming his name in agony as he’s then taken from her for years. It means Rick doesn’t just know Michonne’s in pain by the loss of him he straight up heard a glimpse of that pain and isn’t able to alleviate it by letting her know he’s alive and still completely in love with her out here. That tragic bridge moment is the last memory he has of her. Pain. 💔

And I’m curious about the part when Rick yells Michonne's name. I saw someone say the sound bite is taken from a TWD scene but I’m more curious about the reason behind the use of it here in TOWL. At first, I thought it was implying that he too yelled out for Michonne while he was on the bridge, suggesting her name was in fact the last thing he said before thinking he was going to die. But in these memory flashes, Rick says her name before Michonne calls his name so it’s not so much a response to her.

So then I thought they were implying that his psyche was screaming out for her because he needs her, and that's why he hears her call out to him from the awful bridge memory. Not sure, but either way I liked hearing both of them passionately call out to each other. You can fully hear the way they love each other and the way losing each other is a unique kind of horrible for them both.

Like not even being dramatic, Rick and Michonne calling out for each other like that feels like what their souls have been doing every day they’ve been apart. 

So then, almost in his subconscious' own act of resilience, Rick aims to overwrite that tragic real memory of the bridge exploding, Michonne hurting, and being separated from his true love, by immediately going to a happy place. To combat the real memory it’s like his mind has to quickly run to a place where they're at peace. Where Michonne's just enjoying her lunch at the park and he’s just a regular guy, falling for her at first sight.

Rick knows the truth is they’re both not okay right now and to offer himself some solace his mind has to go to a place where they are okay. Better yet, his mind has to go to a place where they fall in love all over again, as falling in love with Michonne is clearly a very cherished achievement and a memorable part of Rick’s journey. I love that he loves that they fell in love. 🥹

At the start of the dream, Rick stands lost and frustrated in the park, and then we hear Michonne say “Excuse me?”

gif cred: @kris-lulu

Rick turns around and y’all for a millisecond I thought they were implying Rick Grimes was dreaming about Danai Gurira herself lol. Like nawt TOWL breaking the fourth wall. 🤭

But being serious, I was overjoyed to see my lovely Michonne back on screen and with Rick. She looked stunning in her purple outfit. The wardrobe department was on point for TOWL throughout.

Also, let me just say when it comes to Danai - every color reaches its fullest potential on her. Like the day she wears the color is the best that color has ever looked. And she was glowing in the purple. 👏🏽👑💜

gif cred: @kris-lulu

I also love how she and Rick are both wearing similar colors to what they wore the day their paths first crossed in TWD 3.06. And while it tickles me a bit that they’re implying Rick's subconscious could conjure up Michonne in cute waist-length box braids and this stylish purple fit imma just chalk it up to Rick’s psyche having some great taste and culture. 😋 Rick’s dreams are correct in knowing Michonne would be a fashion it-girl in the world before. 👌🏽

I adore that when Rick turns around and sees Michonne on the bench he falls for her instantly. Like you see him be fully taken aback and smitten by this beautiful woman he’s just laid eyes on. The way he’s blinking and at a loss for words saying “I mean…” The cutest. 😊It makes sense that he’d be captivated by just taking one look at her.

gif cred: @kris-lulu

And y’all my interpretation of these dreams is that they are almost like a stage play metaphorically depicting elements of Richonne’s real-life journey. Like in TWD, Michonne entered Rick’s life when he was extremely lost and while love grew more in season 4 he was very quickly captivated by her in season 3. He also needs her help right away in both the dream and in their TWD journey.

In the dream, Rick struggles to find words since Cupid plunged that arrow smack dab into his heart the moment he laid eyes on her so Michonne sorta cutely teases him asking “You mean something else?” 

gif cred: @richardgrimes

Rick, who is just super adorable in these dreams btw, finally finds words and gives her the whole scoop nervously saying “I’m not from around here. I’m lost and I’m late for work. Do you know, uh, cartography?”

Ok, first of all, the cutest again lol. It’s hilarious that rather than just ask if Michonne knows directions to where he needs to go he asks if she knows the whole science of drawing maps. 🤓

gif cred: @kris-lulu

And Michonne thinks it’s cute too as she laughs and says “I don’t. I just know where things are.”

gif cred: @lousolversons

Rick stoops down to show her the map and points to the place he's looking for, saying, “That's where I need to be, but I don’t know where I am.”

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Michonne takes a look at the map and quickly has the answer as she warmly smiles and points saying “That way. Past the big blue building.” She knows the way and she’s leading him to where he needs to be just like real life. And the way she smiles at him here is so sweet and encouraging.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Rick takes in her words, even quietly repeating them to himself, while still seeming a bit nervous and lost.

gif cred: @richardgrimes

Then Michonne looks right up at him as she says “You’ll get there. I believe in you.” She, just like the real Michonne can sense Rick’s inner feelings of anxiety, and she, just like the real Michonne, offers such a beautiful comfort to him.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

I feel these dreams make it clear Rick loves her smile and warm aura. And he especially loves her belief in him.

Like I adore the way this shows that Rick knows and values how much Michonne believed in him in their life together. She was always such an affirming and supportive presence in his life and it’s so meaningful to see him find solace in that aspect of their dynamic within his dreams. His wife’s belief in him always makes him feel like he can do anything no matter how lost.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Dream Rick takes her words to heart as he gives Michonne this sincere smile, genuinely appreciating the belief. And once again, signature to Rick irl, he has a quiet moment of just staring at her, taking her in with love in his eyes.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

And then he gently asks “Do you mind if I just…?” wanting to pause everything else going on and just sit by her side which I love and is true to Rick’s character. Work and the whole damn world can always wait when he’s with her.

Michonne smiles and says “I don’t mind” as Rick takes a seat next to her and all gentlemanly says “I don’t mean to interrupt your lunch. You work around here?” Look at him trying to make small talk just to get more time with her. 😊

And Michonne looks right at him, liking what she’s seeing, as she calmly says “I do” and Rick asks “You like it?” This moment reminds me of that sociable season 5 scene when Rick wanted to get to know Michonne more personally, asking about how she got so good with her sword and if she misses it, and Michonne opened up about what she really misses which is people they love. 

In the dream, Michonne is also honest answering Rick’s question as she thinks for a moment and says “It’s not where I want to be.” Then she so tenderly asks Rick “Are you where you wanna be?” And the Richonne tones...ahhh 😍. I just can’t get over how sweet this all is. I love these dreams so much and am smiling from ear to ear as I write and rewatch.

Rick's dreams are the only moment of tenderness he experiences since being taken and it's heartwarming how he knows that even if just in his mind he can always turn to Michonne for comfort and care.

Upon hearing Michonne's question, Rick, looking at her like he has found the greatest gold in all the land, smiles and warmly says “Yeah.” with no hesitation. Because he’s with her - so in this moment he’s exactly where he wants to be. 😭

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

First- I love them so much it hurts. His delivery was perfect. Hearing their tender Richonne tones for the first time in 6 years made me emotional.

And I love that they don’t cut away from the moment right away as Rick stares right at her basically wanting Michonne to know that his “yeah” is completely about her. She’s where he wants to be. She’s home. The second he laid eyes on her on that bench, work was no longer the destination. It was her. I repeat Rick and Michonne are everything to each other (and to me 🙋🏽‍♀️).

And then Michonne smiles and looks away, smitten by Rick yet again as she so often was irl. I love how the quietness of this moment made room for the loudness of their chemistry.

gif cred: @jdmorganz

I also really like the metaphor of it all so I just had to break down the ways I feel this dream metaphorically depicts Richonne's TWD love story.

Paralleling Richonne's TWD journey, Rick is lost, frustrated, in all new territory, and unsure where to turn in the dream just like he was when Michonne met him as an overwhelmed new single dad going through it at the prison.

Then in both the dream and the start of Richonne's TWD journey, Rick is instantly taken aback by the presence of this captivating woman in purple who makes him a little nervous and he tries to pass it off as stranger nervousness when deep down something else is stirring his nervousness. And that something is that intrinsic sense that he’s met his match.

And then Rick is immediately in need of direction and Michonne is the one with the answers on how to get where he needs to be. Rick needing Michonne's direction played out in a literal sense and in a larger figurative sense in TWD. One of the first things Rick had to rely on Michonne for was directions to Woodbury to save Glenn and Maggie.

And while Michonne may not have the answers to everything, like cartography, she does prove time and time again to have the exact answers Rick needs like knowing how to get him to his kidnapped friends or how to get to his job in the dream.

And as Rick and Michonne's relationship progresses she continues to guide him with him ready and willing to follow her lead.

Michonne also quickly can see Rick and the emotions he holds under the surface. And knowing he’s still anxious and unsure she offers him a genuinely motivating dose of encouragement. “You’ll get there. I believe in you.” feels similar to her encouraging affirmations like "You can find a way. We can find a way" in TWD 5.16. And both in their reality and the dream, her belief means the world to Rick.

In Rick's TOWL dream, Michonne is confident and charming and even a little teasy because Rick's mind knows her so well, and he often finds himself staring and mind being consumed by her, trying to not so subtly play off how much he adores her, similar to their dynamic in season 4.

And then in both the TOWL dream and their real-life journey, Rick's destination changes. Michonne's the destination now.

She becomes where Rick needs and wants to be and so instead of heading to the job where he’s already late, he sits awhile with her, eagerly wanting to get to know her more. And she lets him get closer, and further share her space, which elates him.

And finally, in both the dreams and their real-life journey Rick asks Michonne questions about herself and cares if she’s happy where she is. She’s honest enough that she’s not yet where she wants to be, aware she’s missing something in life (missing him). And as he's swiftly fallen in love with her he feels with every fiber of his being that he has found where he wants to be (with her.) 

I also am of the mindset that the 'work' he thinks he has to get to in the dream represents the CRM rather than home. Which I’ll elaborate more when breaking down dream #2 & #3. But I especially think this because in these dreams both he and Michonne have places they have to be but it’s not home cuz home is with each other.

And when Rick sees her on this park bench he’s more than fine with not heading straight to work/'following the call of the CRM' because he’s found what he’s looking for when she shows up. Just like irl, he’s found his safe place. His home. His Michonne. 🤍

So then this beautiful moment is quickly ended as we cut to Rick in bed alone, waking from that precious dream of just a normal quiet, and peaceful day falling in love with his wife all over again.

It’s such a painful cut to see Rick go from being immersed in the warmth of his wife to being alone in a dreary room after the trauma of chopping his hand off. 

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

He wakes slowly, almost regretting that he’s had to wake up at all and return to reality. But I also like how the way he wakes up feels like he’s very used to these types of Richonne dreams. It seems it's his favorite part of life the last few years - going to bed and finding Michonne in his dreams to enjoy simple moments of bliss. He’s in love like they never left, y'all. And I love to see it.

So then, after waking from his dream we next get to see that Rick didn’t just hold onto Michonne through dreams but also through some very heartfelt letters and images. 🥲👌🏽

[frenchkisstheabyss]

୨୧ ｓｔｒａｗｂｅｒｒｙ ｊｕｌｉｕｓ ୨୧

୨୧ Pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x chubby!fem!reader x boyfriend!namjoon

୨୧ Genre: fluff, smut, rocker au/crime au combo

୨୧ Summary: The night of an event you've been stressing out about for weeks, you find stress relief in an unexpected but welcome place.

୨୧ Word Count: 2.4k-ish

୨୧ Warnings: unprotected sex, double penetration, double creampie, anal, light choking, dirty talk, pet names, strong language (I can be a potty mouth, sry), pet names (love, baby), dom vibes if you squint, & that's all I think.

୨୧ A/N: I really wanted to mix two of my favorite au's with two of my favorite people so here we are. There's definitely gonna be a part two because my brain won't shut up about this. Anyway, I hope you like it my loves 🖤

Punk music blares from the speakers in your living room, the distorted strumming of guitars and brutal drumming enough to shake the walls of your two story home. Playing your music as loud as you want whenever you want. One of the few perks that come with living on the edge of the city where your nearest neighbor's an elderly woman a mile down the road who never uses her hearing aid.

A hearing aid. You’ll need one any day now if you keep this up but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re having the time of your life fresh out of the shower, dancing around in your towel while you tear your closet apart to find an outfit for the party tonight. Everything has to be perfect. Your hair. Your outfit. Your makeup. Jungkook says you’re perfect already. That everything else is just decoration.

With all the effort he put into getting your band invited to this party, your “decoration” needs to be more memorable than ever. Everyone who’s anyone on the punk scene will be there tonight. From journalists to producers to some of the women who inspired you to start a band to begin with. The pressure to make a lasting impression is insane and the precise reason you’re running on 4 hours of sleep right now. You’ve been moving non-stop since this morning, trying to outrun your doubts and insecurities.

“Love, slow down. Let me help you” Jungkook whispered in those moments he caught you burning yourself out. You don't know what you'd do without the sweetheart that he is. Digging through your top drawer you pull out a pair of fishnets, the ones he can't get enough of, and you're instantly reminded of the other side of him. Thoughts of all the filthy things you’ve done in these fishnets bring a tingle to your cheeks that spreads between your thighs like wildfire. 

“Not tonight” you say to yourself, tossing them back in, “I’ll never be able to focus.” Shaking off vivid memories of being fucked against the questionably clean mirror of a dive bar last weekend, you continue to raid your closet, carelessly making a mess that’ll be a problem for future you to deal with.

“Baby!” Jungkook shouts, stepping through the front door twirling his keys around his fingers. His heavy black combat boots hit the hardwood like the steps of a giant as he marches over to the speaker and turns the music down. “Baby! Where are you?” There’s an adorable pitter patter of feet from above before your voice sounds from the top of the stairs. “I’m here! Get everything you needed from the store?” 

His brain glitches. The store? Oh, yeah. That lie he told you about needing to run to the store for something. You never pressed him for specifics. A testament to the level of trust you have in him. Trust that hopefully won’t be shattered by the fact that he lied his ass off. He cuts his eyes at the tall man looming by the door, knowing that his presence is the only thing that’ll redeem him. 

“Uh, yeah, I did” he lies, appearing at the bottom of the stairs, “Could you come here for a second?” Without bothering to answer, you skip down the stairs, only hitting the second to last step before he has his arms around your plush figure. The towel bunches up around your waist, raising your towel just enough to allow your ass to poke out the bottom. He can’t resist brushing his fingers along the softness of your ass.

A move that reignites that tingling you felt earlier and has your lips latching onto his before he can say another word. Jungkook dives right in, shoving his hands beneath your towel to hungrily grip handfuls of your curves. There’s no time for this but he’ll make it. He has to. Something about you drowns out his reason. He’d postpone his own funeral if it meant he got to touch you one last time. 

“Does everyone who comes over get to watch or am I just special?” Namjoon teases, slamming the front door shut. Jungkook’s stomach sinks, suddenly remembering what he’d actually left the house to pick up. Yours sinks even lower. That voice. It hasn’t lived within these walls for years. Jungkook steps back, waving Joon over. “I, uh, got something extra from the store.” 

A half dozen emotions brew inside of you, none of them identifiable. You only know that your feet are glued to the ground. That your mouth is drier than it's ever been and your heart’s beating in your throat. Joon approaches you, his arms outstretched to welcome you into a hug. When you don’t budge, your pouty bottom lip the only part of you able to move, he pulls you into his arms anyway.

The strength of his hug, the love laced within it, heals something inside of you that has your vision going hazy with tears. Lifting you from the stairs, Joon brings you between him and Jungkook. They hug you from both sides the way they used to before Joon went away. 4 years in prison. Light work for washing dirty money but an eternity for your close knit trio. You haven’t laid eyes on him since that last day in court.

He’d only let Jungkook come visit, insisting that you shouldn’t be in a place like that. You lost count of the hours you spent in tears hating him for keeping you away but loving him too much for the feeling to ever stick. Your Joon didn’t belong locked away with killers and god knows who else. Everything he did, everything you did together, was to survive. He'd never hurt anyone and knowing he might be surrounded by people who would made being kept at a distance sting that much more.

There was no way you and Jungkook would’ve survived without each other. Him losing his best friend and you losing one of your loves. No matter how far your careers advanced, how nice this house was, or how much money you had tucked under the floorboards in the attic, nothing could change how incomplete you feel. How incomplete you felt.

“Ouch!” Joon cries, jumping when you pinch his side, “What was that for?” “What the fuck are you doing here?” you shout, wiping the tears from your eyes. Joon just laughs, “I still live here don’t I?” “Duh, you idiot! But you’re not supposed to—your release is months away—I thought—” You turn to Jungkook who grabs your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours before you pinch him too.

“Early release. I was gonna tell you, I just thought it’d be a fun surprise. Plus you were so freaked out about tonight. I just didn’t wanna psych you out. You mad at me?” Jungkook pouts, those brown puppy dog eyes pulling you in like they always do. “I’m not mad” you huff, rolling your eyes while leaning in to let him peck you on the cheek. Joon kisses you on the neck from behind, his large smooth hands massaging your tense shoulders.

You reach back, running your palm across his buzz cut hair, “I like the new hair. It’s kinda hot.” “Only kinda?” he asks, nipping at your neck, revenge for that pinch earlier. His hands slide down, patiently rounding your curves to reach your exposed thighs. “Stop” you giggle, a chill running up your spine, “I have to get ready.” Jungkook pulls his phone from his pocket to check the time. “We can always help you get ready” he grins, pushing his knee between your thighs to make enough space for Joon to run two fingers over your slit.

“It’s so wet down there” Joon hums, “Is that just from the shower or—.” Twisting free, you rush back up the stairs, stopping halfway up to glance back at them. “I still need to do my hair.” Jungkook shrugs, taking two steps toward you, “I’m pretty good with hair.” You swallow hard, wiping your sweaty palms on your towel. “And…and my makeup.” Joon tilts his head to see you better, “I can do that.”

Why are they like this? So annoyingly persistent. It’s not like you don’t want it. The thought had crossed your mind to have a quickie with Jungkook when you were standing in your bedroom zoning out with those fishnets in your hand. With Joon back you find yourself wanting it even more. Those feelings that overcame you are much clearer now. Passion. Love. Lust. Joy. All fighting for dominance and right now one in particular’s winning.

Look at them. They’re both so fucking handsome. And the closer they get the harder it is to ignore the voice in the back of your head telling you to give in. “Just a kiss” it whispers as Jungkook catches up to you, his lips dangerously close to yours. You close your eyes as your lips meet, his tongue snaking against yours. One kiss. Just one.

Joon dreamt of being with you like this again. Him lying across the bed, pillows beneath him to keep him at the perfect angle to lower you into his lap. Fingers digging into the plush of your hips, he guides his length, coated in lube from base to tip, to that gorgeous ass he got a few nibbles of when you first took your towel off. “Joon…ah” you gasp, biting down on your bottom lip as the warm tip penetrates your tight hole.

Anal was never Jungkook’s thing. Seeing those cute heart shaped butt plugs you liked to wear when he had you bent over was the extent of his interest. Joon on the other hand had always been insatiable and time hasn’t changed that. “Fuck, still so tight for me” he groans out in pleasure, the tightness of your ass choking his dick the deeper he goes.

When he finally bottoms out, you fall back onto his bare chest moaning weakly, drool already leaking from the corners of your mouth. Earlier your body wouldn't even move. Now you can’t stop it from trembling, the fullness overwhelming you enough to turn your brain to soup.  Joon locks an arm around your waist, the other coming around so he can palm your breast. 

“Missed you” he whispers, rocking beneath you at a pace slow enough for his and your sanity. Your hand skims his forearm, nails digging in when he does a slight bounce to mess with you. He’s definitely put on some weight while he was away. Whatever they were feeding him, whatever weights he was lifting, you approve because he’s stronger than you ever knew him to be and you’re loving it.

“You sure you can take both of us?” Jungkook taunts, shifting his weight on the bed to hover between your legs. He places a hand on your knee, dipping two fingers into your core. He's achingly hard, twitching, leaking precum on the blankets at the sight of how wet you are. Your pussy glistens so beautifully, your walls clenching around his fingers while Joon fucks your other hole. Jungkook awaits your answer but he’s only met with your needy moans and cries.

“You have to say something, baby” he says, his thumb strumming your clit, “Tell me what you want.” The hand on your knee comes around your neck, his hold on you firm yet gentle. Joon slows his movements, offering you a second—and only that—to get your thoughts together. “Come on, you can do it. Tell us what you want.” Jungkook’s fingers are still working inside of you, mercilessly milking your g-spot.

“I…I can take it” you whine, forcing the words from your throat, “Fill me up. Please. Want it so bad. So bad.” “That’s my girl” Jungkook smiles, popping his fingers out of you. You watch as he strokes himself, using your arousal as lubricant. Joon’s hips begin to move again, leaving you pulsing in two places at once. Your clit stiffens as Jungkook rubs his tip between the silken folds of your warmth, sinking into you without warning. 

They take turns thrusting into you, one then the other, making sure you feel every arch and defining vein along their shafts. This perfect dance of pleasure and overstimulation has you crying out, tears leaking from watery eyes. Incoherent moans flow out into the ether and it’s not just you, it's them too. You can’t get enough of it, rotating your hips as best you can to pull the dirtiest noises out of them. Joon pulls your head back to kiss you and the moment you break for air Jungkook’s kissing you too, suspending you in a constant state of breathlessness. 

You’ve forgotten all about the party, your worries reduced to nothing by the ecstasy of this unexpected reunion. There’s nowhere else you want to be but here between the men you love, tension winding in your belly. You whine something between Joon’s lips and they just know what it is. Letting go of your throat, Jungkook slips his hand between your waist and his, rubbing your clit to push you over the edge. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” you scream, ears ringing as juices stream from your core, making the sound of your bodies snapping together even sharper. 

You feel weightless, disembodied, floating above yourself, jerked back to reality only by the pressure of Joon coming inside of you. You hold his hand, pressing down onto him as you kiss him over your shoulder. At the same time you’re tugging at Jungkook’s hair, keeping him flush against you. “Harder” he begs, his thrusts growing sloppier the harder you pull. One final tug has him unraveling, another wave of warmth filling you just as the other fades away.

The energy in the room gradually comes down, heavy panting turning to light breaths as you cuddle beside each other, your sweat slicked bodies still tangled together. “Still need help with your hair?” Jungkook asks, lovingly petting your head. Joon peeks over to find you sleeping more peacefully than you have in years. He kisses you on the forehead, pulling the blanket over you. “I don’t think so.”

[becasworldsstuff]

Can i please request a romantic Simon Basset x OC/reader fic? Simon being completely in love with her since they were young, but since his father told him to go away, they separated. They met again.

-> Pairings: Simon basset x reader

-> warnings: none

Simon basset and miss l/n had always been friends, thing caused by her bubbly nature that could outshine the sun even in an August day. She was the only one with whom he could talk without stuttering, he felt at ease and nothing could really make him sad if she was near him. Her presence as a reminder that not all in life was sad and angry at him, that not everyone was disappointed in him, on the contrary she never made him feel bad about himself.

When the old duke of Hastings sent his son away due to the problems he was causing to his own mental health, the two were separated, nothing in means of letters or visits between the two for years if not the memories captured together and the burning sensations in the part of their body that the other touched, or the single pink flower dried out inside Skmon's favorite book that she gifted him as a reminder of the beauty hidden behind fragilness. Both the young hearts were left shattered thinking they would never see each other ever again.

But in his drawer were piled up letters written in his best calligraphy and on the best paper money could buy, for his best friend and little piece of heaven, who had been his own safe place in the mess his childhood had been.

It was her who motivated him enough to return to his old house when the man died, and he found her on the steps of his big place, with glimmering eyes and the brightest smile that ever existed. He stopped in front of her with his mouth that had gone dry, she had grown into the most exquisite young lady he had ever seen or imagined to lay eyes on, his eyes widened and his hands were begging for something to grasp onto to not loose balance while she watched him, she took one step forward and his heart skipped a beat. Even if he only realized now he could pinpoint her as the only woman in his life to which he could ever truly love, but he stayed silent, catching up with her like old times, not stuttering like when they were just little kids playing in the garden not caring about duties.

The days passed and the season started, now miss l/n obviously came from a very wealthy family and her kindness and beauty were known upon the society, but this was her first season, and her older brother and father refused to give away such a perfect girl to anyone so, when they catched up with the Duke longing stares they decided to talk to him, a man of honor, well bred, wealthy. Simon never in his life thought that he deserved for his dreams to become reality but he knew he was a duke and her best solution to this world of strange couples, so he was the one to go talk to her father, asking him her hand in marriage and bowing down on one knee with watering eyes as he proclaimed his love to her:

" never had I ever experienced such strong emotions nor strange feelings, my stomach flutters and my troath goes dry as if I was denying myself with water for you, you make my heart stop and the dream of seeing you walk down the aisle to me has been my favorite image for my life. So please accept my undying love for you because I cannot breathe if I'm not near you, neither I can eat or drink or sleep away from you, you are my sun and my moon and every single star in the sky, my whole body was created to match yours and my core only exists to love you and adore you, you make me burn like I was in a fire that cannot die. So please do me the honor and let me make you the duchess of Hastings "

Her response was awaited from the ball room that had just seen him pacing in front of the doors before barging in and stopping the dance that was occurring at the time, she held her breath and nodded slowly while forcing herself to blink as I'd to make herself realize that that moment was true.

[creepsopasta]

playing games with some pastas

includes; eyeless jack, jeff the killer, hoodie, masky, ticci toby, homicidal liu, kagekao

eyeless jack:

- bit of a sore loser. not good with games that make him rage or online games

- voice chat with him is crazy!! he is literally foaming at the mouth yelling and cursing he is so bad at games :(

- “jack it’s gonna be okay” “FUCK you”

- he is not very kind about his losses

- most likely ends up throwing the control at the tv and breaking it (bad ending)

- whenever he ends up winning he’s ecstatic he does not stop talking about it and will brag about it to you exclusively. just go with it okay he needs it for his already shattered ego

- 0/10 experience would not do again.. okay maybe he would if you talked him into it and told him how much of a great player he is

- “i AM awesome aren’t i???” “yes you are <3”

- the more you play together the more he’ll learn to calm the fuck down and just enjoy himself

- still rages a lot tho

jeff the killer:

- plays board games like candyland and twister

- he’s a fucking shark he’s got all this shit down he knows how to win

- anyone who gets paired up with him for game night is 85% guaranteed to win (unfortunately there is someone out there who’s better than him)

- gets PISSED over not winning twister fucking furious he is literally the most flexible guy in this house he can do so much with his body

- monopoly is his favorite game. he esp loves to play with the younger pastas bc they believe anything he says and he thinks it’s hilarious

- “NOOOO PLEASE DON’T TAKE MY HOUSE” “your rent is $500,000, sally… it’s my house now”

- not a very avid video game player. he never really played a lot tbh

- good at everything EXCEPT connect four. do not make him play connect four he hates it he has terrible memories of it

- mastermind strategy planner. it’s a shame he doesn’t think this much at any other time

- boasts about it big time if you lose (you will probably lose) but might even try to let you win on purpose if he feels bad or sees you’re upset

hoodie:

- more of an arcade game guy. if you’re looking for like pinball games or pacman or space invaders or maze games or those weird money machines (that he kind of just. steals from) then he’s like great at all of them

- has spent hours honing his skills in his free time so you’ll be grinding for a while if you wanna beat him

- all the highest scores on the arcade machines are his. no one has topped them bc they’re fucking insane

- “wow you really have nothing better to do huh” [takes out gun] “that’s enough out of you jack can’t even fuckin move the joysticks around”

- tries to act like he isn’t competitive about it but he really super is

- thinks it’s just adorable that you think you can defeat him. no he will not be humbled by his lover of all people… that would make him a weak man

- goddamn merciless. no favors for anyone he revels in the rage he causes (see jack for more)

- if you’re a beginner he’ll take it easy on you until you learn the ropes and will offer tips but as time goes on he’s gonna be looking for a fight

- if he’s ever beaten, he will take it in grace and go straight from denial to acceptance

- does not rage that often. just hardcore practices until he’s like fucking unstoppable

masky:

- card player :(

- hates go fish tho he has such bad luck with it and everyone makes fun of him bc it’s like the universe does not want him to win

- good at boring ass stuff like solitaire or blackjack and if you ask him if he can play anything funner he’ll be like “oh so like rummy or spoons :]”

- no masky not like rummy or spoons… like uno or fucking play with some goddamn pokémon cards

- he’s so enthusiastic about it though so cmon just indulge him alright.. he literally has nobody else around him who’s into cards

- “okay so i win” “what… but we just started”

- he plays chess too!!! maybe you’ll find that more interesting?? he’s not very in touch with board games or anything this is the best he’s got

- deadass makes up his own rules if you don’t know anything about the game you’re playing

- “yeah so now you have to eat a rat. sorry babe”

- is never going to make fun of you if you suck at cards it’s not like he can beat jack in video games

ticci toby:

- dnd enjoyer he loves being the dm especially

- he, you, jeff, hoodie, lj, and occasionally masky have game nights and all you guys do is sit around the kitchen table trying not to curse each other out for doing stupid shit

- “c’mon guys this is supposed to be fun :(”

- doesn’t know that most of you have no idea how to play so he makes it super difficult

- has had to REPEATEDLY glue the die back together because jeff cannot stop snapping it in half

- “why does your dumbass partner always win this is fucking favoritism” “and then jeffery fell off a building and into the ocean 🥰”

- teaches you all you need to know about the game he will sit there for hours if he needs to just talking about the complexity of the rules

- he seems to have a lot of fun with it so everyone tries their best to not break the pieces or punch masky or yell at each other or punch masky

- better with snacks and drinks and lots of breaks so everyone can calm down and at least try to find some joy in the game

- 6/10 experience. would only try again without jeff at the table

homicidal liu:

- among us player… pisses everybody off bc he’s unfortunately very good at it and always imposter

- absolutely kills it (pun intended)

- no mercy he kills everyone including his loved ones this is a battle to the death and he is going to win goddamnit

- being imposter with him is some of the easiest shit bc he will carry the team entirely

- nothing to brag about tho since it’s a little space game and it’s really easy

- always knows who the imposter is if it’s not him he’s got some kind of foresight he will go out of his way to sabotage their chances at winning

- “would you love me more… if i killed someone for you 😇😇” “but you killed ME liu” “whoops”

- will stay with you for most of the game so he has an excuse for being innocent. once you are of no use to him he will stab you in the back

- relatively tame over voice chat. unless his brother happens to be there then it’s just jeff getting pissed off bc he can’t activate the reactor

- wakes you up at 2 am, phone in hand, smile on his face, asking “do you wanna play among us?”

- “liu, shut the fuck up and go back to sleep.” “ok.. :((”

kagekao:

- great at those games you play in your yard like frisbee or tag or hide n seek or maybe darts

- since the bitch can fly and run really fast it’s very unfair he pretty much cheats at everything and he thinks it’s funny

- frisbee with him is a literal field day. throws it so far you can’t find it ever again you’ll just have to buy a whole ass new one

- “what the FUCK kagekao” “🤷”

- laughs and makes fun of you for just not being as skilled as him maybe if you could fly you could beat him just get off the ground dumbass

- also likes to race but we all know how that’s gonna go (hint: he wins)

- unless he’s up against candy pop or something no one else really has a chance at beating him

- might help you a little bit if you’re struggling. like that one time he carried you up into the air and then dropped you because he thought it would be funny but then he couldn’t catch you in time so you ended up falling on lj and breaking one of your arms

- wrote you a little heartfelt letter about it later with a very fancy “sorry ❤️” in calligraphy and a few drawings of flowers (it did not help. your arm was still broken)

- really bad sport does NOT like to lose he will completely shut down

- little fuckin bastard

[crying-fantasies]

still the same person who forgot anonymously thing..I really admire and love your angst lore it make my heart hurt (in a gud way)

Thanks for the ask, don't worry I won't show your account name anon!

SG Mayhem, well, to begin with, it should mean that SG Soundwave finally scored a date with his intended to begin with.

The Shatter Glass universe is a very awful one, as the autobots keep having the script on their favor even in this reality, there's such little time to stop and think about the glee of life itself, even for SG Soundwave, but hey, finding joy and showing it to the others is his job, among other things.

SG Soundwave finds his love for the human race even when humans are anything but bitter towards his own race, in the very few songs and recordings of the same almost lost ones, when the humans get tipsy seems to be his favorite part of the day not because they do such silly things, he loves it because it means his little friends are putting their trust in him, in the decepticons, and he loves when they all start to sing, looking at them with the same adoration a child does to the most strange creature, his weight put on his arms as his pedes kick slowly in the air, chest piece on the floor as the humans sing "The look".

His interest focused, as usual, over his human intended, the world seems to slow down as there's that carefree smile you hardly give in the dark world you live, dancing messily and with a hard body, smiling with your flat, little teeth as the lyrics fall from your lips, hair a mess as you enjoy yourself.

In the most forgotten, rotten, stressed, hardened and sad human being he found your light a beautiful shiny drop in all the bitter of situations even when you brushed him away once and then indefinitely.

SG Soundwave, like any other of his other versions, is anything but perseverant.

His perseverance gets him more than a short hello, more than a scornful glance, soon a truthful ounce of expectancy shows on your eyes when you see him, once he is sure you won't take cover to avoid his presence he finally starts courting you, back in Kaon music was so appreciated, he makes his own version of "The look" as he knows is human tradition to dedicate someone a very well know song, he gives it his own touch to make it his own to some degree, his version and yours.

Some cons and humans look the display, most humans look grossed out of their minds when you take place on his waiting servo, making him feel the most fortunate con alive, some cons looking just say "huh, finally".

And many cons can only say "fragging finally" when some find a tiny but discernable smell in you and the beginning of a pretty mark on the skin where your neck meets your shoulder almost a year later.

SG Mayhem is forged during the time the decepticons take over Kaon once again, for a moment SG Soundwave has a happy family, as he can see you smile sincerely once again holding the protoform, the little one searching for your warm body.

It's a dream come true, one that quickly creates a living nightmare.

The cassettes are with Mayhem and you, SG Soundwave is with High Command before the living quarters are attacked, non combative forces are decimated and Soundwave fears the worst when his spark pulses but he can't perceive your life in the other end, his cassettes return to him with a scared Mayhem.

SG Mayhem is maybe one of the most scarred ones.

SG Soundwave tries to raise his sparkling in the best environment he can give him, he wants to keep your memory alive, but Primus is it hard when all Mayhem does is think about how to kill the autobots better, once Mayhem is old enough he tries to kill SG Sideswipe himself once his body is matured because he was an autobot, things got so bad the youngling wanted answers from SG Megatron himself in how he could leave an autobot, who has murdered thousands, who was part of the same group that killed his carrier right in front of him, be now a decepticon.

SG Megatron, in all his wisdom, reminds the youngling that SG Sideswipe changed alliances long before Mayhem was even online, it was not his fault, as everyone has their own choices, and as hard as it is to say in front of his old friend, you made your decision of giving your life for the ones you loved most.

"Decisions, decisions, decisions. It's all about fragging decisions!"

SG Soundwave looks at the fragment of his own spark and your soul walk away, nothing on him more than a few energon cubes on his subspace, SG Frenzy and SG Rumble each holding a pede of the youngling to try to stop him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"If Megatron doesn't kill Optimus Prime, I'll do it myself"

Of course, SG Soundwave stops him, a desperate sire holding to what he has left and never wishing war to befall his precious gift, SG Buzzsaw and SG Ravage try to make him see reason as SG Laserbeak can only watch horrified and SG Ratbat cries for everyone to stop shouting, crying out loud "Your carrier would've never wanted this for you!"

SG Mayhem is full of resentment for any autobot, but is all the sadness and bitterness he seems to have inherited from you, such an endless sadness that, even when SG Soundwave tried to stop it, only gave path for an auto destructive rage, if SG Mayhem were to meet the IDW equivalent of his sire, he would hate him because, even if it was only for a short period of time, he was an autobot ally.

[prismaticpichu]

B, C, F!!

You got it!! 💕

~

Any of your stories inspired by personal experience? ~ Yes!!! One of my personal favorite fics, Lightning, has a huge focus on PTSD and the sense of confusion that comes with spontaneous triggers/episodes. For instance, (and without getting into too much detail) I myself have been able to handle being in a room full of drunk people just fine- while other times looking at a wine glass can cause my heart to pick up speed. Sephiroth in that fic is plagued by horrible memories of being electrocuted by Hojo as a child (triggered by a storm outside), yet is left confused and ashamed, claiming that he has been able to handle trekking through thunderstorms in the past without ever breaking a sweat. The point I was trying to get across there is that, sometimes- and as Zack puts it- PTSD episodes can be completely random, like “lightning having the chance to strike a tree.” Sometimes, we’re just hit by it when other times we’re not. And that’s okay <333 It’s absolutely okay.

What character do you identify with most? ~ ON A LIGHTER NOTE LOL I think I see a lot of parallels in myself to Zack!! It’s hard to always stay positive- especially when his world seems to be imploding- but the young First always tries his best to keep everyone’s spirits high!! I imagine he’s someone who genuinely finds catharsis in making others smile, even when he himself is having trouble doing so. He’s the exact kind of person I strive to be: kind, optimistic, and loyal until the very end!! <333

Care to share a favorite hurt/comfort fic? ~ Absolutely!!! How about I share a few?? <333 (and it doesn’t specify that they have to be MINE soooooo~)

• Warning: Flash Photography by @tardistype221b ~ absolutely ADORE this fic for its implementation of very realistic PTSD- with the flashbacks beautifully laced throughout!!- and Zack being there to comfort his best friend <333 ahhhhhh!!!

• A Haven of Hyacinths by @dyradoodles ~ Just PEAK catharsis wherein a Jenova-purified Seph is reunited with Zack in the Lifestream <333

• Footfalls by @altocat ~ another extremely cathartic ride, only it’s post-Nibelheim addition!! <333 Zack is essentially doing what he does best- carrying a delirious Sephiroth across the snowy mountains as they escape ShinRa’s clutches <333 All with the most beautiful writing you can imagine!!

• Poster Boy by copper_nights ~ Protective Angeal being the best friend on the face of Gaia <33333 Gahhhh I love this author sm!!! So many amazing fics in their arsenal!!

• When the Stars Shine Brightest by @lucky-ladybugs-lovelies (I believe this is the right blog??? Plz forgive me person I tag if it’s not!! 😂❤️) ~ anyway lol THIS FIC MADE ME CRY. LIKE… IT LEGITIMATELY DID. NO OTHER FIC HAS MADE ME CRY BEFORE OR SINCE. Fic follows an extremely shattered Sephiroth in the aftermath of Zack’s death- having been killed on a mission. That’s all I can say without spoiling the rest, bc it’s really worth going in blind <333 Do note that 1) this fic is on FF.Net and might need a little more digging to get to and 2) it is a sequel fic- but I promise you its predecessor, Shine Until Tomorrow, is worth the read itself <333 It’s really just an incredible story she tells, and i’ve always been such a HUGE fan of her worldbuilding <333 SOLDIER always feels so alive!!! As do the characters!!

(Side note- if you ever fsr wondered where my love for Zack & Seph came from, it started here 😂 With this wonderful author!!!)

[myfirstnameisagent]

FALLING

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angsty, Harm if you squint, I'm sorry y'all I'm going through it, cringey ending but we love angst in this garden

Summary: Bucky's struggle to cope finally catches up with him and costs him the thing he loves most; you.

Word Count: 646

Bucky Barnes had been known as many equally great and terrible things over the span of his overextended life time. He was the charming young man that all his mothers’ friends praised and adored,  and now a murderer. He’d been the starring captain of the neighborhood baseball team, now a cold blooded monster. The former best friend to the dazzling captain america, now his greatest burden. Okay, so maybe they weren’t equal. Regardless, he would of taken any one of those titles tattooed in bright red ink on his skin rather than the crumpled form seated on the floor and against the wall. His fingers almost scratching at the flesh covering his chest in an attempt to ease the throbbing within. Breaths were short, eyes squeezed shut. Arguably, he usually only was brought to such a weakened state by nightmares or those terrible moments that a memory from his HYDRA days. 

However, he would of taken any single one of those in comparison to the look on your face, the one permanently etched into his brain. Every emotion shimmering through large tears might as well have been large pieces of shattered glass straight into his chest, driven all the way through until it reached the aching organ behind a bone cage. 

The former soldier had taken many approaches to slowly piece his life back together (well, what he thought was a life, his therapist had very different ideas), and to his fatal flaw, he’d used your kind heart as his foundation. He’d always had a habit of doing it, whether it was before the war rooting his whole life and building his life around taking care of Steve, or now by only trusting you to be the one good thing he had in his life. But as the usual pattern unfolded, the cruelties of the fates had taken his parents, his sister, Steve, and what seemed to be anyone else who mattered. 

“I can’t do this anymore James.” Shaky breaths rattled your form and equally shaky hands formed clenched fists at your sides. “I am a grown woman, I don’t need you deciding where I go and who I spend my time with, like some fucking dictator!”

His head hit the wood behind him, the throbbing from how hard he’d done so almost a welcome relief from how his insides were turning inside out. Mismatched hands ran up his face and through his hair, abdomen clenching with the strength of his sobs, and he really wasn’t sure when he’d started crying. 

 You really had done your best, and he couldn’t fault you for that. You’d taken every single broken piece in your hand, carefully examining each one. However, you were tired of cutting your pretty fingers on such jagged edges. 

It wasn’t like he’d made it easy for you either, with how what his therapist had reasoned was HYDRA still continuing to make a mess of his life. His inability to let you be anywhere by yourself, distrusting almost anybody that even tried to come near you. He’d seen the terrors the world had to offer, hell he has been said terrors, and he’d be damned if he let any of them reach out and put out the only bright flame in a very dark and cold life. However, in doing so he’d managed to smother it out himself. Somewhere in it all, his love for you had in turn become shackles for you, not being able to turn around for a single moment without him standing right there.

Claws of shame dug themselves further into his chest, knowing he was pathetic mess for having such a reaction to a woman walk out of his life. But you weren’t ever just a woman, were you? No you’d found a way to become his hope, his lifeline, his home. Now he had none of the above, just a collection of broken fragments that no longer really belonged together. 

Bucky Barnes had been known for a lot of things in his life, but his favorite had been being yours.

[eyes-closedmind-open]

My precious doll

Rengoku Kyojuro x gn reader headcanon

⦁ When he first heard of you, it would be from the book his mother read to him and he was so fascinated by the protagonist of the story that he plead his mother to read him over and over again when she is not tired.

⦁ One spring he heard there is a puppet show that is recreated from his favorite story, so he begged his parents to take him there.

⦁ his parents didn't understood entirely why he loved that book so much, but they took him there anyways, seeing their child so happy didn't took to much of convincing.

⦁ They got the first row seats and once the light dimmed and the stage got lighted up he swore his world stopped for a second once he saw your doll, pretty just as he imagined, the flowing hair as they made you to move along in your story and the never changing gentle smile they painted on your porcelain face, it's almost like you are real but that feeling went away just as fast as it came

⦁ His eyebrows crunched into confusion momentarily before shrugging it off and continuing to watch his favorite story play out into the puppet show.

⦁ After the show he couldn't stop talking to his parents about it all and then they understood why he liked the story so much, you were such a lovely written person, gentle soul with a burning heart with the love that seems to never end for the people.

⦁ he vowed to himself to become somewhat like you so others could experience your kindness through him.

⦁ And as they were going home he saw a shop through the corner of his eye, it was a puppet shop! and it had you in it.

⦁ His parents saw it and they also saw how fast Kyojuro’s eyes lighten up, by then they knew they had no chance of saying no, so his father just did a hand gesture that meant "go for it" 

⦁ He, of course, picked out you with such a enthusiasm that it shocked a shop keeper for a moment then he laughed about it while calling Kyojuro an adorable biggest fan of you.

⦁ Once he got handed a box with you in it, he felt like he was holding a world in his hands: he swore he will love and cherish you, so you will never have a chance to question his love for you and never felt lonely, a doll or not, you are a precious gem to him. Whenever he knew why or not, his child self didn't cared for as long you are there, everything will be okay

⦁ And when he came back home, he unpacked you with such a carefulness, like you will shatter if he will grip you too tight and too hard even if momentarily and once he was done with unpacking he sat you on the floor and stared at you for a while admiring your human like beauty.

⦁ His mother suggested on brushing and styling your hair and she will teach him how to style your hair in many hairstyles and just like that it became one of his favorite past time

⦁ But as time went on his mother got sick and he needed to pay attention more to his training and his brother, you got less and less played with and talked with

⦁ while you understood as why, you still longed for the boy who looks so much like flame and has fire embers for eyes to come back and talk to you as you were a person and not a puppet.

⦁ Your porcelain skin cracked in the corner of your fingertips and your once perfectly smile faltered, while its not so visible to the human eye, he will see it, if he will come back to you.

⦁ But after his mother passing, he barely had anytime at all for his little past times, so one evening he came back to his room after a long day, the so little kyojuro wasn't so little anymore, you thought to yourself, he is growing and he is growing fast, you just wished you could see more of it.

⦁ And for the first in the long while, he saw you. even if you were always there when he came back, he finally saw you. he stood there for a bit, recalling all the memories with you. he felt guilty for leaving you all so suddenly, but life is demanding for his attention and his precious doll will have to wait for him to come back. "as long you come back, i will wait for you for eternity"- a foreign voice whispers to him in the corner of his mind. but that foreign voice doesn't sound all that foreign at all: it sounds familiar, like he heard it somewhere long ago before.

⦁ He came closer to his doll, to hold them and talk with them like he did all those years ago and for the first time in long a while he felt burden being lifted off his shoulders: being heard and seen even, even if it's by the doll. but his heart is telling him something different: like you are not just a doll, like you are more than that. but he doesn't know, neither does he has words to put his feelings to, so for now you will be just his beloved doll who makes him feel safe to express whatever is on his mind.

⦁ And so you became his safe place everytime he has a bad day, not so great mission or the house is more colder than usual, you're his place he goes to when his father is drinking his life once more, he wonders everytime why.

⦁ why he feels such a strange connection to you, maybe because it hold the memories of his mother? holding the memories of his father before he succumbed to his depression? or there is simply something about you he has yet to find out.

⦁ He tells you everything that's happening in demon slayer corps, from Tomioka saving a demon kid to a kamado being brave and standing up against Sanemi and defending his sister regardless of the consequences he may face and all while he goes off about his day from the corner of his eyes he swear your smile became little bigger and brighter, but when he turns you look like your usual doll self, he shrugged it off and continues on.

⦁ Before every mission he always make sure to hug you as a good luck charm, he hugged you a little tighter before he set off to catch on the train, he had a feeling something may go wrong, but he didn't let his thoughts consume him too much and remained positive.

⦁ If only that saved him.

⦁ He knew he was finished with his demon slayer career the second he saw his mother, but its okay, he saved everyone and sometimes sacrifices must be done for others to live on, right? he thought to himself, he didn't wanted to leave, he still got so much to look forward, he promised to three not-blood-related brothers he will train them to become stronger, he promised to Senjuro he will come back, he promised it to you.

⦁ Once he closed his eyes once and for all, he opened them again, but this time he is in different place, with his mother by his side, he sat up very quickly to hug her

⦁ "I missed you, mom"

⦁ "I missed you too, kyojuro" she smiled at her son as she hugged him back "but you still have someone to visit"

⦁ and before he knows it, he appeared in his room, he looked around and noticed his doll is nowhere to be seen, as he was ready to go and look around he heard a sniffle and a hiccup.

⦁ He follows the sound and sees his photo on the shrine next to his mother and his weeping brother, he ran up to try and comfort him but his hand went through him and that's when it actually hit him.

⦁ He is dead.

⦁ He is gone.

⦁ he can't comfort his brother anymore, he can only sit next to him hoping he will sense his presence and hopefully it will bring him some peace, while sitting next to Senjuro he finally saw his doll, sitting on the top of the shrine, beautiful as ever, but their expression seemed to be more, sad? how a doll can be sad? he thought to himself

⦁ "Because I'm not just a doll"

⦁ he wiped his head to the direction of the voice and there they were, in all their glory who looked exactly like his precious doll.

⦁ "what?" he asked while he looked back and to the person standing "I was real all along, just couldn't really talk to you through my porcelain crafted body" They smiled while looking at his still shocked expression, he then noticed something on his pinky, a red string! 

⦁ connected to the person in front of him, who was his doll.

⦁ "I got trapped into a doll while trying to reborn and I couldn't escape" they kneeled beside him to honor his shrine "so that's why we didn't met this lifetime, but Kyojuro, your love set me free from the porcelain body and for that i must thank you" they looked at him once finished the prayer all meanwhile his mind is trying to put all the dots together.

⦁ "So was it you that i felt the presence of the entire time? and that whisper, was it all you?"

⦁ "it was, did I spooked you?"

⦁ "no! It was comforting actually, not to be alone, thank you" he smiles at you and then he made a shock expression "Oh! I almost forgot to ask, what's the person who been looking over me name?" his smile was ever so gentle even in death.

⦁ "I am Y/n" they smiled back at him

⦁ "Nice to meet you Y/n, you can call me Kyojuro and it sounds like we got a lot to catch up" He hummed in thought

⦁ "that we do, but for now, lets sit for a while, two presence is stronger than one, so I'm sure your brother will notice it and bring him some comfort" they said as they sit side by side.

⦁ Once Senjuro had calmed down and ready to go finish his chores without breaking down again, Y/n and Kyojuro are ready to move on, but before that Kyojuro wanted to say goodbye to his father, so he walked to his room and entered, and he saw something he didn't expected, his crying father, but no sake in sight

⦁ "I'm sorry Kyojuro, for not being there for you..." he said in the whisper, it's like if he will speak any louder the realization will hit him once more.

⦁ And with that he knew Senjuro will be taken care of "Take care of yourself, dad, me and mom will be waiting for you both, don't come too soon though!" He smiled for the last time as he went to Y/n to go further into afterlife. ⦁ "All set?" They asked

⦁ "Yeah, let's go!" he grabbed their hand and disappeared into nothing more but sakura petals.

⦁ Senjuro could swore to himself he heard his brother laugh from the distance, "he is okay" smiled as he thought to himself while looking up to the sky.

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter X.

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: The aftermath of their heated hook up drives our MC into the arms of another man.

WORD COUNT: ~8.7k

RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: discussions of religion, javi being an asshole, angst, crime talk (if it's not accurate don't @ me), talk of violence against women, substance use (weed), slut shaming(?), jealous!javi, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: getting down and dirty with the occult aspect of this intricate ass plotline, lol ! i took a lot of inspiration from some of my favorite horror movies (rosemary's baby, immaculate, the first omen) so if you're into that i def rec watching the movies listed! also javi why are you so bothered?! this is literally what you wanted idk what to tell u... as always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

Paloma feels the excruciating fallout with Javier for the next three days, confined to her bed as if shackled by her heartbreak. Unable to escape the anguish, she seeks refuge in her favorite movies, hoping their familiar narratives might provide a distraction.

She’s also been listening to Olivia Newton-John’s “Hopelessly Devoted to You” on repeat, finding solace in the familiar melody and heartfelt lyrics. Initially, the song’s sweet sorrow seemed to echo her own emotions perfectly, providing a cathartic release as she quietly sang along in the comfort of her sheets, lost in the melancholy tune.

However, by the twelfth listen, the song’s lamenting tones only deepened her sense of despair.

To avoid her father’s concern, she lies, claiming she got food poisoning from the party. He doesn’t question her, fulfilling his fatherly duties with unwavering dedication, bringing her medicine and even attempting to cook her a comforting meal; which says a lot considering he’s a shit cook.

Romeo’s care and concern provide a small comfort, and she doesn’t have to exert much effort to feign her illness. She genuinely feels sick to her stomach as memories of that fateful night with Javier replay in her mind incessantly; a relentless loop she can’t seem to escape.

What she despises most is the lingering evidence of their hook-up that still clings to her skin. The persistent bite mark on her shoulder serves as a stubborn reminder of their intimacy, refusing to fade like a scar upon her flesh. And though the throbbing ache between her legs has dulled somewhat, it’s still there like a faint echo of the pleasure he once bestowed upon her—a cruel reminder of what once was and what now lies shattered.

But none of this negates the venomous words he spat at her, each syllable dripping with malice. He had called her a whore, desperate, and accused her of giving it up for free. How could he? That question has been circulating in her mind for the entirety of these three agonizing days.

How could he say those things to her? Has Javier always been this much of an asshole, and had her rose-colored glasses blinded her to his true nature all this time? No, that couldn’t be it. Everyone adores him. The private, intimate moments they shared stand in stark contrast to the vicious side of him she witnessed at the party.

He played you, Paloma. Did all the right things, said all the right words until he got what he wanted. A spot between your legs. Now that he’s fucked you, you mean nothing to him.

This bitter realization gnaws at her, a relentless ache worse than any physical pain. She replays all their encounters in her mind, dissecting every word and gesture, searching for signs she might have missed. The warmth of his touch, the sweetness of his whispers, all now feel like part of an elaborate ruse.

He had seemed so genuine, so caring, but perhaps that was all part of his act. 

The thought that she was nothing more than a conquest to him is unbearable. She grapples with the harsh truth, feeling a mix of anger and self-loathing. How could she have been so blind? As she lies in bed, these questions torment her, turning her once cherished memories into a source of endless pain.

Tears well up in her eyes and she buries her face in her pillow, sobbing quietly as the overwhelming feeling of being used crashes over her. 

She hates this, hates him. Hates that he wields so much power over her. Javier Peña has found a way to break her completely, shattering her self-confidence and making her feel utterly worthless. All those times she fantasized about sleeping with him, imagining him as a worthy lover who would shower her with praises and kisses, making her feel like the Roman goddess Venus, now seem like cruel jokes.

Instead, she had let him take her against a gazebo. His whispered words a mix of seduction and degradation. At the time, those filthy whispers had ignited something primal deep within her, spurring her deeper into their heated passion. Yet now, in the cold light of reflection, those same words make her feel cheap. 

She had believed in his charm, convinced herself that their connection was special, that he saw her as more than just another one of his girls. But his cruel words and dismissive attitude revealed the painful truth. She feels like a fool for ever believing in him, for letting herself be swept away by his charisma. 

The phone rings but she ignores it since her father is still home so she just lets him handle it. 

She wishes her mother were here. She’s certain that she would know exactly what to say, providing the comfort and wisdom she desperately needs. She had always been a guiding light, someone who could soothe any hurt and offer perspective on even the most absurd situations. This heartbreak is more intense and consuming than anything she has ever endured romantically, including George’s abandonment.

In her mind, she can almost hear her mother’s voice, gentle yet firm, offering comfort and encouragement. She would remind her that her worth is not defined by the actions of others, that she deserves to be loved and cherished for who she is. She would tell Paloma that heartbreak is a part of life, a painful but necessary step towards finding true love and happiness.

A knock sounds at her bedroom door, but she doesn’t move, her face still buried in the soft cushion.

“Can I come in?” Her father’s voice filters through the wooden door. She sighs heavily, lifting herself from the pillow and wiping away stray tears.

“Y-Yeah.”

He enters the room hesitantly, taking in the scene. Her room is a mess, more so than its usual manageable chaos. The black dress she wore that night lies in a crumpled heap at the foot of her bed. He can see she has been crying—the puffiness of her eyes and the red tint on her nose give it away.

“Feelin’ any better, baby?” He asks tentatively, slowly making his way to her side of the bed. He sits down beside her, his presence a quiet comfort.

She shakes her head, laying back down and glancing up at her father. Worry is etched clearly in his eyes.

“Do I need to get you an appointment with Dr. Hughes? She’s not so busy nowadays.”

Daddy, the sickness I’m experiencing can’t be cured with medicine. It can only be cured by a certain someone with beautiful brown eyes and a cruel, unforgiving heart.

“No, I’ll be fine. I promise. It’s just a little stomach bug. I’ll get over it in no time.”

Romeo sighs softly, his hand moving to gently stroke her back. “Alright, little miss stomach bug. I’ll pick up some more medicine on my way back from work. Your friend Slo is on the line again. That’s why I came in here. Just had to check on ya first.”

She feels a pang of guilt. She’s been avoiding Sloane’s calls ever since the heartbreak took hold, too engulfed in her sorrow to face anyone but her father. It’s ironic, given how she often complains about how overbearing he can be, yet now finds comfort only in his presence.

Her father’s touch is warm and soothing, but it doesn’t erase the ache in her chest. She knows Sloane means well, but the thought of explaining her feelings, of reliving the pain with every word, is too much to bear. She nuzzles into her pillow, trying to hide from the world a little longer.

“Guess I should finally talk to her. Thanks, Daddy,” She murmurs, her voice muffled by the cushion.

Her father’s hand continues its gentle motion on her back, providing a rhythm that almost lulls her into a sense of temporary peace.

“You need anythin’, you call me, alright? I’ll be at the station all night. If ya can’t get ahold of me for whatever reason—call Javier.”

At the mention of his name, her breath catches in her throat, her body tensing involuntarily. She hopes her father doesn’t notice the visceral reaction that sweeps through her.

“O-okay,” she manages to choke out, her voice barely above a whisper.

A look of concern lingers in his eyes as he leans in to place a tender kiss to the side of her head.

As he gets up to leave, Paloma turns her head slightly, watching him. She wishes she could open up more, let him know just how deep her wounds go, but the words fail her. For now, she takes comfort in the fact that he’s there for her.

Now, guilt settles atop the heap of unwanted feelings that plague her. How could she ever bitch so much about her father, who has been nothing but supportive and caring toward her? Sure, his protectiveness sometimes feels suffocating, but deep down, she knows it stems from the earnestness of his heart. He just wants to ensure her safety and happiness, especially since she’s the only family he has left.

Once the door closes softly behind him, she lets out a shaky breath. The thought of reaching out to Javier, of exposing herself to the pain of his betrayal once again, fills her with a sense of dread. Yet, beneath the fear and uncertainty, there’s a small flicker of longing, a desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, he might backtrack on all he said and apologize to her— make things right between them.

But she buries that thought deep beneath the layers of hurt and anger that consume her. For now, she’ll remain cocooned in her solitude, grappling with the aftermath of his cruel words and callous actions, unsure of how—or if—she’ll ever find the strength to confront him again.

She shifts in bed, her hand reaching out to grasp the receiver from her bedside table, the plastic cool against her fingertips.

“Hello.”

“About fuckin’ time!” Sloane’s chirpy twang rings out, a sharp contrast to the heaviness in her heart. Surprisingly, the sound elicits a small smile, a flicker of warmth amidst her turmoil.

“Sorry— haven’t really been feelin’ like myself as of late.”

“I thought you died. Had half a mind to stop by your place, but your daddy assured me you were alive and well… well, not well. Heard you got sick. Need me to bring you anythin’?”

She takes a moment, gathering her thoughts before responding. “M’not really sick…” she begins, her words trailing off as she absentmindedly twists the cord attached to the receiver around her finger.

“Um… okay… you’re losin’ me here, doll face.”

And so she begins to unravel the tangled web of her conflict, spilling all the details to her best friend. She recounts every moment of her affair with Javier, from the innocent flirtations at the beginning to the raw intensity of their fight at the party three nights ago.

Each word spoke is a painful reminder of the betrayal she has endured. Yet, there’s a sense of relief in sharing her burden, of finally letting someone else into the depths of her pain.

Sloane reacts just as Paloma had anticipated, her familiar blend of humor and unwavering support providing a much-needed anchor in the storm of her current love life. As she pours out her heart, Slo interjects with witty jokes, each one a lifeline tossed into the turbulent sea of her despair. But amidst the laughter, her words carry a burden of truth, her fierce loyalty shining through in the advice she offers.

“You deserve so much better,” Sloane declares, her voice brimming with conviction. “Don’t matter if he’s got the best cock in the world—he should’ve never talked to you like that or treated you the way he did.”

She feels a fresh wave of tears threaten to spill over, the rawness of her words striking a chord deep in her wounded heart. She blinks them away quickly, refusing to shed another tear over him, determined to reclaim her strength and dignity.

“Yeah, I know,” she murmur, “I just want to get over it. Get over him.”

Sloane’s response is swift after a brief pause. “Your daddy workin’ tonight?”

“...Yes.”

“Perfect,” Slo declares, her tone brightening with mischief. “Me and Gabriel will come get you, and you can ride around with us… I can ask August to tag along if you want.”

She can’t help but smile at the teasing lilt in her friend’s voice. This is Sloane’s not-so-subtle way of playing wingwoman, a role she’s embraced since the moment they met. Despite the pain and heartache, she finds consolation in the unwavering support of her friend, grateful for the chance to escape her troubles, if only for a little while.

What’s the harm in inviting August along? After all, isn’t the saying that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else? He’s already expressed his interest in her, sparked her curiosity and filled her mind with newfound knowledge that she still pores over during her shifts at the library.

August is smart, handsome, newly rich, and most importantly— he doesn’t treat her like she’s disposable. He sees her for who she truly is, beyond the physical, beyond anything else.

“Earth to Paloma? Hello?”

She snaps out of her thoughts, returning to the present conversation.

“Yeah, that sounds fun. Now I gotta get off my ass and take a shower,” she replies, a hint of self-deprecation in her voice as she realizes how much she’s let herself go during this bout of sadness.

“Alright, stinky girl, be there in like an hour,” Sloane teases, the warmth of her laughter echoing through the phone.

She chuckles softly before saying goodbye and hanging up, feeling a renewed sense of energy after the phone call. She throws off the duvet and rises from her bed, stretching her limbs as she hears a few satisfying pops.

She needs this. To go out, do something, feel like herself again.

After her much-needed and rejuvenating shower, she tidies up her room, the act of putting things in order helping to calm the chaos in her mind. With a sense of purpose, she bounces down the stairs, the anticipation of the evening ahead putting a spring in her step. She waits on the porch for her friends to arrive, the warm evening air wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.

She’s forced to forego her go-to halter top, opting instead for a simple t-shirt to hide Javier's unmistakable fucking mark. It’s a small sacrifice to make for the chance to reclaim a sense of normalcy, a reminder that she’s more than just a pawn in someone else’s game.

The distant headlights announce their arrival and her face breaks out into a wide grin as she stands.

“Hop into the back!” Sloane calls out from the passenger side window, her voice filled with cheerful enthusiasm as she leans out, beckoning her over. Without hesitation, she happily complies, her heart lifting at the prospect of spending time with her friends.

As the vehicle comes to a stop, the girls exchange kisses on the cheek in passing, a gesture of affection and camaraderie that feels like a balm to her soul. She climbs into the bed of the truck, where August awaits, his relaxed posture exuding a casual confidence. A joint dangles from his lips, the smoke swirling lazily in the summer night air, and she can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement at the sight of him.

“Hey, little dove,” He greets her, his voice warm and inviting. “Heard you were sick. Feelin’ any better?”

She settles beside him, the cool metal of the truck bed beneath her, and brings her knees up to her chest as she gazes up at him with soft, grateful eyes.

“A lot better now,” she confesses, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She’s determined to throw herself into whatever this is, to embrace the warmth and companionship offered by her friends, if only to keep herself from sinking back into the depths of despair that have haunted her for the past few nights.

He smiles at her, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he blows out a plume of smoke, the truck beginning its descent down the elongated driveway. “Good. So I guess you’re up for that date. Finally,” he remarks, extending the joint towards her.

She hesitates, her mind momentarily grappling with the decision. She’s recently taken on a vow to swear off drugs and alcohol, a decision prompted by Javier’s disappointment when he picked her up at the sunflower field. But now, with August’s expectant gaze upon her, she wonders if maintaining that vow is worth it.

“I dunno— you gonna ditch me halfway through it?” she quips, accepting the joint from him and bringing it to her lips, her resolve wavering.

August watches intently, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Sorry about that, pretty girl. Some of the guys got into it and I had to go deal with that shit. Being the so-called leader ain’t all sunshine and rainbows.”

She exhales slowly, the smoke billowing around her before dissipating into the air. She passes the joint back to him, a small smile playing on her lips as she recalls their interrupted plans.

The truck hits a pothole, causing Paloma to clumsily stumble into August’s side with a small yelp of surprise. They share a moment of laughter as August throws his arm over her shoulders, drawing her close.

“Fine, I guess I’ll let it slide… but don’t ditch me like that again. The whole thing got busted by the cops, and I was this close to goin’ to jail,” she exaggerates, her tone tinged with mock indignation as she leans further into August’s embrace. The darkness of the backroads envelops them as they continue their leisurely drive through the quiet town.

“Nah, they wouldn’t have laid a finger on you, baby. You’re the sheriff’s daughter—practically immune to everythin’,” August reassures her, his voice carrying a hint of confidence.

He’s right and they both know it. Paloma’s status as the sheriff’s daughter affords her a certain level of protection, a shield against the consequences that ordinary citizens might face. If she had been caught by her father or any of his deputies, they wouldn’t have pressed charges. At most, she would have received a stern lecture.

She tries to knock thoughts of Javier aside, but they stubbornly persist, creeping into her mind like shadows in the night. She can’t help but recall the way Javier had taken care of her, buying her food and opening up about his romantic past. She remembers how he had held her close when the snake brushed up against her leg, how he had hidden them in the shadows when her father awoke in the midst of her sneaking back in.

And she remembers, vividly, how he had kissed her back.

Fuck him, she thinks bitterly, pushing the memories away with a forceful mental shove.

“Not everythin’… just enough,” She quips, a giggle bubbling up her throat as she takes the joint from August once more. This time, she inhales deeply, allowing the smoke to fill her lungs, a fleeting distraction from the tangled mess she's involved in.

The four of them spend the remainder of the night weaving through the darkened streets, their laughter and chatter filling the air as they embark on their impromptu adventure. They stop here and there, finding amusement in open fields or exploring the eerie confines of the town’s abandoned buildings. She feels a sense of exhilaration coursing through her veins, her broken heart mending as she loses herself in the company of her friends. High as hell, she revels in the freedom of the moment, carefree and unburdened by the troubles that had plagued her earlier.

As the night wears on, they find themselves at the graveyard, the moon casting an ethereal glow over the rows of weathered headstones. Amidst the quiet stillness of the night, they swap ghost stories, each tale more outlandish than the last. Despite their best efforts to spook each other, the atmosphere is more comical than terrifying, the shared laughter echoing through the darkness.

“We’re all hangin’ out at the creek tomorrow. You should come with,” Slo suggests, reclining on her back in the patch of grass between two gravestones.

“Can’t. I work at the library all day,” She responds, a hint of regret coloring her voice.

“So? Call out. It’s not like they need you there,” Slo counters, her tone brimming with nonchalance.

She bites her lip, her hesitation evident. “I’ve already been out this week due to ‘being sick’. Olsen relies on me. I’m surprised that place hasn’t gone up in flames.”

“Oh, don’t be lame. Just call in sick again,” Slo urges, dismissing Paloma’s concerns with a wave of her hand.

“And when someone sees me takin’ my happy ass down to the creek—what then?”

“No one worth hiding from goes there anyways.”

“Okay, and what about my daddy?”

“Ugh, you and your daddy issues. Swear I ain’t ever met anyone with a good father figure have the issues that you do,” Slo remarks, her tone bordering on exasperation.

“Fuck off.”

“Let Slo be your cover. Tell him you two are hangin’ out for the day now that you’re feelin’ better. S’not a complete lie. C’mon, little dove, it’s summertime. We’re supposed to be enjoyin’ it,” August interjects, his voice calm and reassuring amidst the back and forth between her and Sloane.

Her mind whirls with differing thoughts as she weighs their offer. It’s not the worst thing she could do, she rationalizes, and it’s certainly harmless. After all, she had only promised Olsen that she’d let him know whether or not she could work the shift the following morning; there’s no outright commitment binding her to the library.

Moreover, she considers her father’s perspective. He’d likely prefer her to be out with Slo, especially now that she’s in higher spirits.

With a sigh, she nods, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips as she agrees. “Fine,” she says, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. “I guess I can make some time to go out there with y’all.”

Their cheers ring out, a chorus of excitement that lifts her spirits even higher. As she looks around at her friends, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight, she realizes that, in this moment, she’s exactly where she’s meant to be.

Javier leans back in his chair, exhaustion weighing heavy on his eyelids as he drifts in and out of sleep. The sterile hum of the overhead lights provides a steady backdrop, a monotonous rhythm that lulls him into a drowsy stupor.

True to his word, he’s wholeheartedly been focusing on the cases, his attention shifting from the victims  to the enigmatic symbol that Jessica Valdez had ingested. It’s become an obsession of sorts, his starting point in a labyrinth of clues that he hopes will lead to justice.

To aid in his investigation, Javier reached out to some of the acquaintances he made during his time in Quantico, specifically those who were involved in the infamous Tate–LaBianca murders and the occult subculture that gripped the west coast in the late ‘60s. They possessed a wealth of knowledge about the inner workings of occult groups, their insights invaluable in deciphering the tangled web of motives and allegiances.

After catching up with them over the phone, they promised to connect him with an occult professor at UCLA who could potentially shed light on the mysterious symbol. It’s a glimmer of hope in the darkness, a chance to glean some semblance of understanding from the chaos that lurks over these cases.

The clock is ticking, and with each passing day, the trail grows colder. He isn’t sure if they’re dealing with a lone individual or a larger organization, but he’s determined to leave no stone unturned in his pursuit of the truth.

“Jesus— you’re still here?” Romeo’s voice breaks through the quiet of the office, his tired eyes glancing down at the silver watch adorning his wrist. It’s almost midnight, and yet Javier remains steadfast at his desk, his presence a testament to his dedication.

Javier sits up, rolling his shoulders back with a quiet groan as he reaches for his pack of cigarettes. With practiced ease, he goes through the motions of lighting one, the smoke curling lazily around him.

“Waiting on a call from someone in California. They’re taking their fucking time, though,” He explains, frustration evident in his tone. He should have just given them his home number, he thinks, where he could lounge around in his own space instead of camping out here in the office.

“California? Got a west coast girl I don’t know about?” Romeo teases, his lips quirking up in a knowing smile as he approaches the counter where the coffee maker sits, beginning to make himself a cup.

Javier snorts, exhaling smoke as he shakes his head. “No, just a professor that I’m hoping will give me more information about that tattoo on the scrap of flesh.” His thoughts briefly flicker to Paloma at the mention of having a girl, but the thought diminishes as fast as it came— he can’t let himself think about her for too long.

Since the mayor’s party, Javier has made a conscious effort to rid his mind of anything concerning her. It’s been a challenge, to say the least, since he could still feel the way she had clenched around him when she came undone on his cock; soaking him with her release and letting out the prettiest moans he’s ever heard.

He could also still vividly recall the pain etched across her face, the tears streaming down her cheeks in response to his brutal words. The memory clear as day in his conscience, a constant reminder of the hurt he had caused.

But Javier refuses to dwell on it. Instead, he threw himself into anything and everything that would serve as a distraction. He busied himself in the minutiae of each case with a dedicated fervor. When work became too much, he sought solace in physical exertion, pushing himself to the limit in grueling workouts that left him physically spent but mentally numb.

Yet despite his best efforts, her memory continues to haunt him, a specter that lingered at the edges of his consciousness. It has only been three days since their encounter, but to Javier, it feels like an eternity. Each passing moment seemed to stretch on indefinitely, his actions bearing down on him with suffocating intensity.

“I see, good thinkin’ Peña. This shit just keeps on gettin’ more and more convoluted. Been thinkin’ of enforcin’ a curfew but that’s only gonna spark more fear and unnecessary rumors. Ain’t got a damn clue how to keep this shit from happenin’ again. Need to at least make an announcement warnin’ all the young girls ‘round here,” Romeo muses, his frustration evident in the furrow of his brow.

Javier nods thoughtfully, ashing his cigarette against the overfilled ashtray before leaning back in his chair, the uncomfortable leather creaking beneath him. “Don’t think a curfew is going to do much like you said. It’s just gonna rattle these folks up. We have consistent victimology now. I’m not against spreading the word and raising awareness. Could give the gazette a statement—have ‘em print it on the front page.”

The two men engage in a spirited exchange of ideas, each offering insights and perspectives born from years of experience in law enforcement. Romeo, ever the pragmatic thinker, voices his concerns while Javier, with his keen analytical mind, suggests alternative approaches. Despite the weight of the situation, there’s a sense of camaraderie between them, a shared determination to tackle the challenges head-on.

Romeo places a steaming mug of coffee at Javier’s desk. The gesture is small, but it speaks volumes about the bond between them, forged through countless late nights and shared struggles. With caffeine-fueled determination, Javier braces himself to stay up longer in anticipation of the phone call with the professor.

“Gotta stop by the pharmacy before I leave in the mornin’. Paloma’s been sick as a dog these past few days,” Romeo announces with a hint of concern.

Javier’s grip on the mug tightens imperceptibly at the mention of her name, a flicker of discomfort crossing his features before he schools his expression into one of casual indifference. He can’t afford to let his true feelings show, not when the sheriff is watching him like a hawk.

It’s not like I fucked her good and hard in the middle of the party then completely shattered her afterwards. 

“She okay?” Javier inquires, his tone carefully neutral.

Romeo lets out a heavy sigh as he settles into the corner of Javier’s desk, weariness etched into the lines of his face. “I honestly don’t know. Said she got food poisonin’ from the party, but we both ate the same things and m’perfectly fine. When I went to check on her today, it was clear that she’d been crying. I even offered to take her to the doctor, but she brushed me off. Hasn’t left her bed in three days. Should see the state of her room—s’like a fuckin’ tornado tore right through it.”

Javier finishes his cigarette in silence, the familiar and  bitter taste of regret lingering on his tongue. The image of her bedridden and in tears plagues his conscience, a painful reminder of the havoc he’s wrought. This is what he wanted, isn’t it? To hurt her so profoundly that she would finally break free from him. It’s the only way to definitively end their affair, but the realization offers little support amidst the guilt that gnaws at his insides.

“I’m sure she’s fine. Give her a few days to recover,” Javier offers, his tone carefully measured to convey a semblance of concern.

As if on cue, the phone rings, the shrill sound piercing the quiet of the office. Romeo takes it as his cue to leave, offering a nod of acknowledgment to Javier before disappearing back into his own office.

Javier reaches for the receiver, bringing the phone to his ear and he hears the smooth voice of a woman on the other end.

“Agent Peña, this is Dr. Vivianne Serrano. I apologize for calling so late. My last class ran a little late and then I had a meeting with a student afterwards. You’re in Texas so it’s what—almost midnight? Gosh, I feel terrible,” the woman rambles earnestly.

He rubs at his tired eyes, the strain of exhaustion evident in every movement. His jaw clenches as he scratches at his roughening jawline, ready to get this over with. And yet, despite his weariness, the sound of her sweet voice on the other end of the line draws him in, offering a strange sense of comfort amidst the drama. It must be the exhaustion, he tells himself.

“No worries. I’m more interested in what information you can give me— even if I have to stay up late to get it.”

She laughs, the sound light and melodic, and for some inexplicable reason, a small smile quirks at the corners of his lips in response.

“Right—one of the agents faxed me the photo evidence. It’s pretty brutal. I didn’t recognize the marking at first, but I did some digging and that led me to reach out to a colleague in Rome.”

Javier’s brow furrows at the revelation, his interest piqued by the mention of the city overseas. “Rome?”

“Yes, Rome,” she confirms, “I hope you’re sitting down because I have quite a bit of information to relay to you.”

Spurred on by the prospect of finally making some progress, Javier leans forward in his chair, his eyes intent on the empty page of his memo pad as he waits for her to continue.

As her voice fills the line, painting a picture of a dark and sinister history, Javier’s hand moves almost automatically, his pen poised to capture every word she utters.

“L’Ordine di Eurinomo— The Order of Eurynomos, was a sacrilegious group that masked itself as a Catholic convent in Rome during the 70s,” She begins, her tone grave with solemnity. “This group worshiped the mysterious deity Eurynomos, a flesh-eating demon, prophesying the return of their god in human form. Their quest for a suitable vessel led them to seek out a woman of purity and strength, intertwining her fate with their divine ambitions. They believed that the flesh reincarnation of the deity would bring a new age of power and world domination.”

Javier’s pen halts in its tracks, his brows furrowing in disbelief as he processes the fantastical information unfolding before him. It all sounds too surreal to be true, like the plot of some twisted horror movie or fictional novel. He fights the urge to scoff, reminding himself to maintain his professionalism even in the face of such outlandish claims.

“I know. It’s a lot to take in. Believe it or not, it’s not the craziest thing out there,” Dr. Serrano continues, her voice steady despite the incredulity in Javier’s silence. “They searched for this suitor all over the world, inviting devoted women to their convent. When these women failed to give them what they wanted, their prophesied baby, they were killed. It wasn’t until they had a whistleblower that their atrocities were exposed—an anonymous tip that led authorities to the convent and uncovered everything. No identifying names of any members, just files detailing the women they had taken over the years and records of their rituals. The tattooed symbol was their symbol.”

He lets out a heavy sigh, the intensity of the information taking a moment to process. His hand instinctively rises to massage his tense shoulder, fingers digging into the knotted muscles in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension.

“No arrests were ever made, and the case went cold. So many bodies were pulled from the catacombs beneath the church. None of them identified. All women,” She explains, “That’s as far as it all goes. There hasn’t ever been an indication that this group kept operating after... well, not until now. Where did you say you were located?”

“Seminary, Texas,” he replies, the name of the town feeling heavy on his tongue as he considers the implications of Dr. Serrano’s revelations. “You sure this isn’t just some obsessed person who read about this damn group and decided to indulge in the fantasy too?”

“Could be. Isn’t it your job to figure that out?” Dr. Serrano’s response carries a flirtatious undertone, a playful tease that momentarily distracts Javier from the gravity of their conversation. If he hadn’t been so consumed by the web of information and conflicting emotions surrounding a certain someone else, he might have reciprocated the flirtation without hesitation.

“Suppose it is. Thanks for digging around and finding this out for me,” Javier acknowledges with genuine gratitude for the professor’s efforts.

“No problem. It was quite interesting getting this information. I’ll have my colleague in Rome send you all that they have on this. Is there a time limit on this case? I don’t anticipate you receiving the files for a hot minute,” She inquires, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

Javier considers her question for a moment, his mind already racing with the possibilities presented by the newfound information. “Not necessarily, but the quicker I figure this shit out, the quicker we can get some answers and bring justice to the victims and their families,” he replies, his determination evident in his tone. He longs to put an end to the suffering and finally bring closure to those affected.

“That’s all that matters. We’ll be in contact, Agent Peña. Again, I apologize for calling so late. Have a great night,” she concludes, her words soft with a sense of finality.

Javier hangs up the phone, the conversation lingering in the air around him. Despite the late hour and the exhaustion hanging over him, there’s a restless energy coursing through him.

As he sits alone in the dimly lit office, his thoughts drift briefly to Dr. Serrano and the fleeting temptation to ask for her personal number. But he quickly dismisses the notion, refocusing his attention on the task at hand. There’s work to be done, and distractions— no matter how enticing— will have to wait.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Paloma comments as she rides along with Gabriel, the engine of the truck humming steadily beneath them as they make their way to the local convenience store. They’ve been tasked with buying some more beer for the gathering at the creek, and she finds herself curious about her companion.

Gabriel glances at her, his expression unreadable. “Don’t got a lot to say,” he replies simply, his attention returning to the road ahead as he maneuvers the vehicle into a parking spot at the gas station.

She sighs inwardly, feeling a pang of disappointment at the lack of conversation. She had hoped to get to know Gabriel better considering how close he is to both Sloane and August. However, she understands that not everyone is as forthcoming with their friendship as she is.

Exiting the truck, Paloma shields her face from the afternoon sun, the warmth enveloping her like a comforting embrace. Dressed in a tube top and tight shorts, she feels the heat seeping into her skin deliciously, momentarily distracting her from the lingering discomfort of the bite mark. She had fabricated a story about its origins when they picked her up earlier, claiming it was from a hookup with a random guy at the bar.

It’s not entirely a lie, she reflects, knowing that Sloane is the only one to know the truth about the bite’s origin. However, she’s not eager to divulge the details of her… encounter with the deputy sheriff to her new friend group.

As she strolls through the aisles of the small convenience store, Gabriel excuses himself to take a piss, leaving her to browse alone. She runs her fingers over the various snacks and drinks on display, considering her options for something to bring back with her.

The soft chime of the bell above the door draws her attention, signaling the arrival of a new customer. Without looking up, she continues her perusal until she senses a shift in the air—a subtle change that prompts her to glance in the direction of the entrance.

There, standing in the doorway, is Javier Peña, the star of her all her current struggles. Despite her internal turmoil, she can’t help but be drawn in by his presence. His shirt is unbuttoned at the top (like always) revealing a hint of skin adorned with a glinting gold chain. Aviator sunglasses rest effortlessly on the bridge of his nose, his hair is tousled yet impeccably styled, and his choice of jeans and boots only serves to enhance his rugged allure.

She knows what he feels like inside of her. How big he is. How good he can fuck.

Her heart quickens at the sight of him. Despite the anger and resentment she feels towards him, there’s an undeniable attraction that pulses within her. She quickly averts her gaze, hoping to avoid detection.

To no avail since he noticed her the second he stepped in.

Her eyes drift downward, her focus settling on the colorful array of snacks that line the aisle. She tries to steady her breathing, to maintain an air of composure as Javier traverses the aisle opposite hers. Despite their deliberate avoidance of each other’s gaze, the palpable awareness of their proximity remains in the air.

A subtle smirk plays at the corners of Javier’s lips as he observes her. The flimsy top stretches obscenely over the swell of her tits, her nipples stiff due to the chilly air of the store. Though his gaze fixates on the tousled locks cascading over her shoulder, revealing the evidence of when they fucked. The memory paired with this tantalizing visual stir something in his chest, despite his attempts to remain aloof.

“Don’t look very sick to me,” he remarks casually, his voice cutting through the tense silence between them.

Paloma’s eyes shoot up to meet his, a mixture of frustration and defiance flickering in her gaze. She bristles at his audacity, the resentment bubbling beneath the surface threatening to spill over.

Of course her father had told him about her being sick. Of-fucking-course.

“None of your damn business,” she retorts sharply, her words laced with an edge as she maneuvers away from him, putting distance between them.

Javier merely shrugs in response, feigning casual indifference as he continues to peruse the shelves, his nonchalant facade belying the underlying tension that simmers beneath the surface.

“Got your pops stressin’ the hell out at the station over you being a bedridden mess yet here you are… out and barely clothed. S’not enough to distract me from the job so you had to pull a stunt for your father, too. Are you really that desperate for attention?” 

Every fiber of his being screams for him to let go, to relinquish his hold on the frayed threads of their tumultuous relationship and pretend she doesn’t even exist. Yet, the magnetic pull of their shared history, both bitter and sweet, proves to be an irresistible force.

Javier’s words hit with calculated precision, each syllable laden with a mixture of accusation and disdain. Paloma’s jaw clenches in response, a surge of anger coursing through her as she struggles to contain the torrent of emotion that threatens to engulf her.

The audacity of his presumption— that her actions are merely a ploy for attention— stings like a slap to the face. It’s infuriating the way he casually reduces her actions to nothing more than a petty cry for validation.

For a fleeting moment, a pang of concern flits through her mind, a gnawing worry that he might disclose her whereabouts to her father. But the prospect of facing her father’s wrath pales in comparison to the seething resentment she harbors towards Javier.

“Why the hell do you care about what I’m doing?” she fires back, her voice dripping with hostility. “You made it crystal fuckin’ clear where we stand. I want nothin’ to do with you.”

As Gabriel emerges from the bathroom, the tension between them persists. She shoots a pointed glare at Javier before sidling up to the guy she came here with, her movements deliberate as they proceed to gather the items they came here for.

His eyes follow them the entire time, that pesky jealousy rising up his throat like hot bile. It doesn’t help that she’s got on the thinnest pair of shorts, and she’s clearly not wearing underwear as her ass bounces with each step she takes. If she bent over just slightly, he’d be able to see the outline of her cunt.

She’s such a fucking tease— and now she’s out and about with Gabriel? Is August out of the picture too? Had he hurt her the same way Javier had?

Together, Paloma and Gabe make their way to the register, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken animosity. She remains acutely aware of Javier’s presence, the weight of his gaze lingering on her like an oppressive force as they conclude their errand and leave the small store.

She doesn’t even bother looking in his direction again.

As Javier strolls to the counter, the hum of the convenience store provides a backdrop to his turbulent thoughts. His gaze drifts to the window, where her departure sends a pang of longing coursing through him.

The urge to follow her tugs at him, an instinctual reaction fueled by envy and skepticism. But he forces himself to resist, recognizing the folly of succumbing to base impulses driven by sentiments he can scarcely afford to indulge.

His thoughts drift to the enigmatic group of youths led by August. There’s a nagging suspicion that refuses to be ignored, a sense that their presence in Seminary may be more than mere coincidence.

With a determined set to his jaw, Javier resolves to tail August and his cohorts, his instincts sharpened by the unsettling convergence of events. Yet, even as he prepares to pursue this lead, a lingering doubt nags at the edges of his consciousness.

Two things can be completely true yet unrelated at the same time.

Is he allowing his personal biases to cloud his judgment, grasping at straws in a desperate bid for answers? Or is there truly a connection waiting to be uncovered, hidden beneath the surface of the cryptic symbols and stories that haunt his investigation?

He takes his cigarettes from the clerk after paying, stepping outside to make quick use of one. The acrid smoke curls upwards in lazy tendrils and he finds himself grappling with the uncertainty that looms on the horizon. With each step forward, he plunges deeper into the murky depths of the unknown, unsure of what revelations await him in the shadows.

Paloma’s laughter dances through the warm afternoon air, a melody of joy that mingles with the gentle burble of the creek and the distant hum of cicadas. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she creeps up behind August, water sloshing playfully in her hands as she readies herself for the perfect sneak attack.

In one swift motion, she douses him with a cascade of cool water, a triumphant grin spreading across her face as she revels in her victorious prank. But her victory is short-lived as August retaliates with equal fervor, lunging forward to catch her before she can dart away.

Their laughter intertwines, a symphony of shared amusement that echoes off the surrounding trees, punctuated by the playful splashes of their impromptu water fight. The carefree atmosphere of the creek is a sanctuary of youthful exuberance where worries and troubles are cast aside in favor of simple, unadulterated joy.

As August pulls her close, her heart dances with exhilaration, her cheeks flushed with the thrill of their playful antics and she throws her arms around his neck.

“You’ve got the prettiest laugh I’ve ever heard, baby. Can’t get enough of it.”

His words, whispered against her ear, are a sweet melody that sends her heart aflutter, filling her with a warmth that eclipses the summer sun.

“Then don’t stop makin’ me laugh.”

His hands fall on her waist and she craves for him to move lower, to cup her backside in his big hands.

“I won’t. I’m finally free to take you out Friday. Still got time for little ‘ol me or has this bar hookup already swept you off your feet?” August’s playful words carry a hint of teasing as he gazes at her shoulder, his expression inscrutable.

She feels a brief pang of irritation at the mention of Javier (though August doesn’t know), the man who seems to hover over her thoughts like an unwelcome specter. 

As if. He wants nothing to do with me except to chastise me any chance he gets.

“You tell me… whose arms am I in right now?”

His response is a charming smile, loving how she replied. His fingers tighten ever so slightly around her hips as if to reassure himself of her presence. “Friday night I’m taking you out on that date I’ve been promisin’,” he declares with a hint of excitement, his gaze locking with hers.

But her smile wavers at the realization. “I have a show Friday night…” she starts, a note of disappointment creeping into her voice.

August’s response is immediate. “So cancel it,” he suggests, his tone firm yet persuasive, his hands beginning to explore her body in ways that send shivers down her spine.

Paloma’s initial resistance melts away, “First you have me call out of work, now you have me canceling my shows?” she counters with a playful shake of her head, though her heart races at the thought of spending a night with him. “You’re a bad influence, Dixon.”

But August’s response is smooth and reassuring, his voice a seductive murmur that sets her pulse racing. “Oh, don’t be like that, little dove. You perform every weekend. Just take one night off, I promise to make it worth your while,” he murmurs, his hands now moving lower and gripping her ass how she had just been wanting him to.

She lets out a gentle hum, pressing herself closer to him as her eyes darken with lust and intrigue. 

“Mmm okay, I’ll cancel.” Her eyes drop to his lips as the overwhelming urge to kiss him washes over her.

Sensing this, he tilts his head down, brushing his nose against hers. Feeling his warm breath against her skin, she shivers slightly, her heart racing at his proximity. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, the praise having her pussy clench around nothing, sending a flutter through her chest, and she can’t help but lean into his touch, savoring the tender moment between them.

As he leans in to place a kiss on her cheek, she turns her head, her lips meeting his in their first, official kiss. She melts into the embrace, her senses overwhelmed by the sensation of his lips moving against hers.

Lost in the moment, she revels in the feeling of his fuller lips. She pulls him closer and one of his hands comes up to grope at her breast, her sensitive nipples reacting to his touch.

“Hey lovebirds, get a room!” Their moment of intimacy is interrupted by a raucous call from nearby, accompanied by laughter and crude remarks. Blushing furiously, she pulls away, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Sorry, got lost in the moment,” she mumbles, feeling a rush of self-consciousness.

“Don’t apologize, darlin’,” August reassures her, his voice warm and affectionate. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.” With a gentle squeeze of her backside, he pulls back and takes her hand, leading her towards the deeper side of the creek.

As they wade through the cool water together, Paloma can’t help but feel a sense of excitement. She knows that this date with August is just the beginning of something special.

[fandom-friday]

A couple ways to get hurt this week:

The Hostage series, by @kybercrystals94

https://www.tumblr.com/kybercrystals94/746217418255384576/the-hostage-part-5

Listen - Kyber doesn’t go easy in their fics, so you can basically expect to get your heart shattered. But this little series has me on the edge of my seat, with the worry and anxiety of TBB after Omega is taken hostage. I can’t wait to see where this one goes!!

The Last Word by @ariadnes-red-thread

https://www.tumblr.com/ariadnes-red-thread/705732688009691136/chapter-one-burn-with-laughter-series

18+! I re-read the first chapter of this fic and I absolutely adore the way they wrote this awkward morning-after-drunk sex encounter between OC Mal and Fives. The “oh shit what did I do” morphs into some panty-combusting memories. The best part is that we see the memories from both sides and I tell you - the heat is THERE. 🔥🔥 The way she writes Fives is cocky, but also self-deprecating and perfect. ❤️ Love her version so much and intrigued by Mal. Again - can’t wait to see where this one goes!

Finally, Freeze Thaw by AnEchoInHere

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49683310?view_adult=true

This one is about Echo almost dying on a mission and therefore heavy on the Echo Whump. Honestly it’s Wrecker’s guilt that does me in every time. Bring the tissues. ❤️❤️

OOOOH I love all of these. I've read The Last Word, and I LOOOOVE where Aria is going with it. Mal is FANTASTIC and I love how Aria writes Fives and his interactions with Mal. And The Hostage and Freeze Thaw both seem like PHENOMENALLY angsty fics that are going to curb-stomp my emotions. I KNOW WHAT I'M ABOUT. Thanks so much for sending this list in!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

[silentwillowwhisperer]

Keith and Allura are still my favorite bestie pair.

Mkay, hi! This post is kinda sorta in continuation to another post I wrote.

You don't really have to read the other one to understand this, but it's a similar idea.

Big thanks to @haunted-glassesgurl who gave me the idea for this, go check out her account, she writes thing occasionally.

Waiiiit. Our convo was kinda long. Am I gonna be here for like forever?

-------------------------------------------

Keith is in Allura's room yet again, this time with the princess sitting elegantly in front of him while he paints her.

For some reason, no matter where she is, the light always seems to hit her just right, and she always looks so effortlessly perfect. It makes her the perfect painting subject, her surreal beauty is quite literally alien to Keith.

But he knows that she's also caring and funny. It's hard to take someone seriously when you've watched the them snort like a pig because she was trying not to choke on food goo while watching Keith do a handstand on top of a ten foot tall bookshelf while singing House of Memories at the top of his lungs. It's a long story.

Anyway, he finishes and shows her his latest work. He's painted things for her dozens of times, and she always looks amazed.

She stands abruptly after glancing at the portrait for a couple seconds. Keith does not fall of the bed in surprise, shut up Allura.

"Keith Kogane of planet Earth, I name you the Official Royal Painter."

She says it with a teasing glint in her eye, but Keith looks shocked anyway.

"Really?" His eyes are starry with disbelief and happiness.

Of course, Allura had not been serious when she said that, but she had forgotten that Keith is a very angsty socially deprived child, and therefore cannot tell when someone is joking.

But how can Allura admit that to Keith when he looks like this? It's not possible! His way-to-adorable-for-his-own-good-kitten-puppy-eyes are on full force.

So now, when Keith is super stressed, he drags Allura into one of their rooms and just paints her for hours. She isn't exactly fond of sitting still for that long, but anything is better than seeing her best friend overwork himself to the point at which he regularly has to spend his nights in a healing pod in order to function.

And, sure, to anyone else it would seem like Keith is a creepy stalker who has nothing better to do than make artworks of Allura and stash them all over his room, but who cares? It's not like anyone will be snooping in there.

-

Lance realizes too late that he shouldn't be snooping in Keith's room.

It's not his fault! Keith had left the door to his room open for once, and how can anyone resist taking a peek in their crush's room?

So, really, Lance blames Keith entirely for his heart shattering into a million pieces.

He had decided to take a look in Keith's closet and see if the guy actually owns anything other than that stupidly short jacket. (How does it even provide Keith with warmth? It covers like 25% of his chest. Is he just a natural furnace??? Does he even take it off when he sleeps or is he just that committed to wearing overly cropped clothing and messing with Lance's weak heart?)

What he finds is painting after painting of Allura. Sure, she's pretty, but this is like an obnoxious amount of portraits.

Before, Lance had hoped and wished and thought that maybe, just maybe Keith might return Lance's feelings.

But now there is no doubt, Keith has a crush on Allura.

-

Keith can't deal with this right now.

He has already had a stressful week, and now his crush is aggressively flirting with his friend.

Allura just laughs it off every time, but to Keith, it just drives the knife further into his tragic, gay heart every time Lance says something cheesy or winks in Allura's direction.

Why are all the best people so painfully STRAIGHT?

Keith can't decide if he wants to punch or kiss Lance's stupid face.

At this point, it shouldn't bother Keith. He's watched the energetic boy flirt with absolutely anything, (seriously. Keith once walked in on Lance practicing puck-up lines on a trash can with a sharpied face and bikini on it) but for some reason, he can't stop feeling his feelings.

So now, instead of being mature about this, he's ignoring Lance. Shiro keeps looking at him and shaking his head every fifteen seconds, but if Lance is gonna be an unintentional douchebag, then Keith is allowed to be petty.

Their old rivalry is back, an Keith can't help the tightening in his gut when he realizes that he and Lance are drifting apart once again.

-

Allura is very close to strangling someone.

Honestly! Keith and Lance both clearly like each other, and yet they’re both set on restarting this silly rivalry of theirs.

If Lance says ‘Keith and Lance neck and neck’ one more time, Allura will have his neck.

She’s tried being subtle. She has dropped so many hints that everyone on the ship has figured those two out by now.

And now she’s done. Those idiots are going to kiss each other, and they are going to enjoy it, because Allura has put way to much effort into them.

After dinner that night, Allura grabs Lance by the collar and drags him onto a deserted hallway.

He yelps and complains until he meets her icy glare.

Allura has never shut someone up so quick, and it satisfies her greatly.

“Listen up Lonce. Not only have been flirting with me shamelessly for months, but you’re also failing to see what’s right in front of you. I don’t know about you, but the look Keith gives you every time you dismiss him breaks my heart. So, if you don’t fancy being ejected into space right now, you will go confess to that boy and kiss him like you mean it.”

Lance blinks at her in shock before responding.

“But- the paintings! And he’s in your room a-all the time!” he splutters.

Allura drags her perfectly manicured hand down her face with a groan.

“Well excuse me for being a good subject for his art. If you haven’t noticed, we’re friends, and that’s it. Now shut your trap and go find him.”

The next day, Allura almost combusts when the pair walks into the kitchen bickering. That is, until she notices their find smiles and tangled fingers.

[sweettjrose]

Detective Mickey Pilot P.4

Hey everyone. Hi... Hello... So it has been quite a while since the last part... Okay, so I ended up being extremely busy these past couple of weeks and really struggled to find time to finish writing. It doesn't help that this ended up being another really long part. I think the parts from here to now on will continue to be long. I'll try to get part 5 out next week, but no promises. I should still have 2 more parts left. Though I may add an epilogue. I'll have to decide once I write the final part.

I am so thankful for all of the support I've been getting. Part 3 got the best response which makes me so happy since it was my favorite part, but this part may be a close second. Tbh this is my first time writing "fanfiction" and I can already find myself improving. I wonder if maybe I should figure out what else to write after I finish this. But I'll discuss that late.

I will warn you that there are few somewhat tense situations in this part. For those who read the "Mickey Mouse Outwits the Phantom Blot" comic, you'll get an idea of what I may be talking about. But I did add my own twist to it. I will try my best to add triggers for it, but please let me know if I am missing something.

Now with all that out of the way...

Previous Part: X

Next Part: X

So Close. So. Close. He was about maybe 20 feet from his car until he felt the metallic muzzle at his neck. Instantly able to tell what it was. He slowly raised his hands and froze, doing his best to avoid sudden movements.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

A chill went up Mickey’s spine. That cold but velvety voice was all too familiar and Mickey knew he was in the presence of that cloaked nightmare once again. Memories of their previous encounter flickered in Mickey’s mind, including those eyes. Those frightening white eyes. Mickey quietly took a breath, finally able go calm himself down. He better respond soon. Thankfully though, with help from Horace, he had a backup plan for this exact situation. In his best old-person voice Mickey tried to tell the threatening man behind him that he thought that this was his house and that he made a mistake and would be heading home. He hoped that the shadowy figure would buy that he was just a senile old man and not find value in dealing with him. But that hope shattered when he heard his cruel horrid laughter snake into his ears, growing and growing each second. The Blot paused his laughter every couple of seconds asking the mouse if he thought he was stupid enough to buy his little disguise. He is literally the master of disguise and yet this amateur journalist thought he could outwit him with a fake beard and a hat. Mickey blushed, feeling silly that he thought this would work. Getting the sense that the mouse was feeling embarrassed the Blot faked trying to console him by saying to not feel too bad as he thought that the little costume was “adorable” and if there was a next time he could see the mouse able to pull a more convincing look. Unfortunately, there wasn’t going to be a next time.

The Phantom Blot sighed, adding that he was rather hurt that the mouse didn’t accept his very generous gift. He feigned hurt, going on about how he used up all the kindness in his heart to give this mouse a benevolent second chance, only to have it thrown back into his face. Oh Well. That’s what he gets for showing kindness to others. I guess he’ll have to heal his broken heart by torturing this little pathetic mouse. The Blot poked Mickey’s neck again with the gun, this time partially lifting the camera around Mickey’s neck with the barrel and then picking it up with his other hand, leaving the gun still touching Mickey's neck. He jokingly asks what it is and remarks that this doesn’t look like any of the missing cameras. Almost out of instinct, Mickey tells him to stop and pleads to give it back. Only to freeze again after the gun touches him again. The man laughs before noting that this must be the mouse’s personal camera and questions how he must be concerned about all the incriminating pictures…Or perhaps it is something a bit more intimate than that. Mickey then hears a thud and a loud crack that causes him to rapidly turn to the source of the noise… Did he… Before he has a chance to see, a swift hit to the head quickly knocks him out, leaving him once again vulnerable to whatever the Phantom Blot has planned for him.

Mickey's eyes instantly shot open and he tried to get up. Unfortunately, he found that a bit of a challenge as he noticed that his whole body seemed to be tied up with ropes. From what Mickey can gather he is tied to some kind of bench facing upwards. He tries his best to move any muscle or joint, but can’t even wiggle a finger. Frustrated Mickey looks up realizing that right above him is a giant sharp circular saw aimed right at his neck. He let out a large yelp before seeing a note that was attached to the blade of the saw...

“Hope you rested well little mouse,

Wish I could stay and watch this play out, but unfortunately I had other things to attend to. Do not worry, nothing bad should happen, lest any of our new friends decide to wake. I cannot seem to remember if I fed them or not. I advise you to avoid making too much noise. Nothing good will come of it. 

Your Dear Friend… ”

 The letter was signed with some splotches of ink. He looks around cautiously, noticing dozens of cats dozing on the floor. Thankfully they all seem to be in a deep sleep. But for how long? As Mickey tries to investigate the saw, he notices that it is attached to some kind of mechanical device. At the end of the device, there is a thin wire with a… Fish wrapped around the end? Mickey is confused by the fish until he remembers the sleepy and probably hungry cats over the floor. He puts together very quickly that if that fish is moved too much, that will most likely signal the device to turn on the saw and… Cut right through his neck. Crap. Mickey was unsure what kind of “torture” the Phantom Blot would put him in, but he wasn’t expecting this. This is a bit odd, but still extremely morbid. Bet this would make an interesting headline. Mouse gets his head cut off thanks to starving cats. What a way to die… Thankfully Mickey isn’t one to quickly give up. There is too much at stake. He survived the Phantom Blot before and he can do it again. Mickey stops to think a little and quickly realizes that the Phantom Blot has given Mickey a very powerful tool at the moment. Time. Ha, the Blot could have easily killed him while he was knocked out and yet he gave Mickey plenty of time to figure out how to-o… to-oh… A sudden tingle hits Mickey’s nose… Oh No. Mickey tries his best to hold in a sneeze but finds it near impossible until he is finally forced to let it out. Ah-Choo!

As the sound of the sneeze echoes around the room, about half of the cats perk up. Shoot. Shoot. Mickey feels another tingly sensation under his nose and instantly looks further up. He notices a pepper shaker dangling above him slowly dropping pepper flakes. Crap. He doesn’t even have time. The awakened cats start to wander around the room, getting a better look at their surroundings. A white long long-haired cat jumps on the table, gets near Mickey’s face, and starts to brush his nose with their tail causing him to sneeze more. Not. Helping. Mickey tries his best to shoo away the cats, not afraid of making noise anymore. But they don’t seem to care. A small black and white kitten tries to jump up to the fish and misses. However, now the other cats are aware of the fish. No. No. Mickey uses every ounce of energy he has to try to scare away the cats. Screaming and moving the bench enough to wobble side to side… Wait, wobble the bench. He can wobble the bench! He uses all of his strength to wobble the bench from side to side. Getting more powerful with each swing. Come on. Come on. A much larger orange-striped cat looks at the fish and gets in a position to make a jump. Crap. Come On. Hurry. Swing. Swing. The cat bends back. Hurry. Swing. Swing. And leaps instantly catching the fish in their claws causing the wire to go down as well and turning on the mechanical machine. Within a couple of seconds, the circular saw turns on and swings the powerful and sharp blade downwards right at Mickey. Making a loud buzzing sound as it cuts through something. But miraculously in that very last second, Mickey managed to swing hard enough to get the bench on its side facing away from the whirring saw. 

The saw instead cuts straight through the legs of the bench and stops right before it hits the floor. The noise and vibrations are enough to scare all of the cats causing them to rush around the room, avoiding the saw, looking for any exit. Mickey tries to move and finds that the rope tying him down was sliced through, allowing him to pull himself free. He stands up, rushes to the nearest door, opens it, and lets a flood of cats rush right out the door… He survived. He really survived. Mickey lets out a large breath, relieving the tension in his shoulders. He could feel tears start to build up in the corners of his eyes. Okay. Focus. Need to Get Out of Here. Mickey looks around, instantly recognizing that he is still in the mansion. At least the Phantom Blot didn’t take him too far.

He starts rushing out the door over to where he remembers parking his car, hoping it is still there. Little did he notice a small white and black kitten following him. On his way he spots some trash cans not too far from his path. One of the lids seems to be partially open, held up by something. He feels a strong urge to check it out. Might as well since it is on the way. As he opens the can, a small smile creeps onto his face. Little Korker V39 cameras. A whole bunch of them. They all seemed to be broken into, but quite a few of them don’t look too hard to fix. An idea pops into his mind as he starts taking out as many of the least broken cameras he can find and placing them in a convenient burlap sack that happens to be nearby. As he picks up the last camera he notices something colorful on the side of the trash can. It is probably the thing that was holding the lid up from before that dropped when he opened it. He decided to take a deeper look at the object and in an instant his heart breaks. 

Ol’ Reliable. In this mess he completely forgot about Ol’ Reliable, his faithful camera. He sees it currently lying in a pile of mud shattered beyond repair. He instantly remembered the thud and loud crack from his previous encounter with the Phantom Blot. He did this. Memories flood his mind of the time  he first bought it, Felicity helping him develop the photos, and all the care he put into repairing and cleaning it … It’s gone. It’s really gone. Mickey can’t help but feel a huge hole in his heart. That camera meant so much to him and it was destroyed by that evil man like it was nothing. Mickey then remembers that the camera also held photos of the evidence he found earlier. Not caring about the danger within, the mouse heads back into the mansion and retraces his steps to the secret door. He heads down and looks at the now empty circular room. Crap. Seems like the Phantom Blot cleaned out the place before he left. Mickey sighs. Now he really doesn’t have any evidence left. He somberly exits the mansion with a depressed expression on his face. Now what is he going to do?

As he heads back to his car a little black and white cat comes up to him and starts to meow. Almost as if he is asking Mickey if he is alright. Mickey smiles a bit, picks the kitten up, and starts petting him. As Mickey heads over to where his car might be, the cat meows again, almost as if he is asking what’s the matter. Mickey laughs and tells the cat that he is just going through a tough time, I mean he did almost die, and it seems like it will only get tougher. After a quick pause, the cat purrs and rubs his head on Mickey’s chest, seemingly trying to tell him that it will be alright. It will be alright. Mickey could feel his broken heart mend a bit as his new friend comforted him. He is really glad to not be alone right now. He miraculously still finds his car where he left it and starts placing the broken cameras, including his own, into the car. When he opens the door the kitten immediately jumps in and sits in one of the seats. Seems like his new friend wants to come with him. Hmmm… Minnie talked about wanting a cat. 

We cut to Mickey in his house as he carefully places Ol’ Reliable on the table and can’t help but feel hurt looking at the unfixable state it is in. He has experience fixing small dents and replacing missing pieces here and there. But it is completely crushed and Mickey is at a loss on whatever could be done to save it. Mickey sighs and starts to move over to a chair. Pluto notices and instantly lays his head on Mickey’s lap. Mickey smiles at him and thanks him for the support. The little black and white cat also tries to wobble over to his lap, causing Pluto to growl, which Mickey stops by reminding Pluto that he should be nice to their new friend and that he will only be here for a little while. Pluto begrudgingly ends the growling, deciding that it was best if he didn’t cause any trouble for Mickey at this moment. 

Mickey stops to think a bit. He has to continue this case. He can’t let the Phantom Blot get away with that weapon blueprint. He would never forgive himself if he did. But what can he do? Well before he was hoping to be able to have some evidence to show the police. I guess he could go back to the mansion and check for more clues. But what if the Phantom Blot is there. Mickey shuddered at the thought of seeing him again. It’s possible he hasn’t returned yet. Is it worth the risk though? He already cleaned out the secret room. It’s possible he could find nothing and waste his time. Maybe he doesn’t need clues. If he could just talk to O’Hara, he would know Mickey wouldn’t lie about this. But then again he did mention being really busy.  Mickey continued his internal debate, as Pluto raised his head once more to look at the annoying feline that invaded his home. Only to notice that the kitten is completely gone. The pooch perked up looking all over the room only to spot the mischievous cat playing with something on the table. After peering closer the hound realized the cat was messing with the now-broken item he knew Mickey loved a lot. He instantly got up and started barking at the cat. Trying to get it to leave the special item alone. This broke Mickey out of his deep thinking as he went to calm Pluto. The barking however still managed to spook the cat, as it attempted to run pushing the camera to the ground. After telling Pluto to halt, Mickey went over to the camera to pick it up and noticed that the canister holding the film had fallen out. The canister looked pretty beat up… But not as bad as he thought… He wonders… 

Mickey quickly heads over to the extra bedroom he has been using as a film studio. He pulls out the film in the dark room and sees that it was definitely damaged… But maybe…  He goes through each step of developing the film taking great care to be careful. Mickey follows each process perfectly, clearly the result of doing this hundreds of times. As he removes the film from its final rinse, he braces himself for the moment of truth. He looks through each photo carefully trying to see if any would be usable. Unfortunately, it seems that for most of them, it is as he expected. Too damaged from when the Phantom Blot crushed it… But then he looks at one photo. It actually is pretty clear compared to the others. And it is of the… Chemical. He got a good one of the green chemical he saw before. Hot Dog! That will surely be enough to convince the police. He hangs the film up to dry and carefully exits the room. Here he thought he lost everything, but it ended up being okay. As he thought that he looked at the young cat who was cuddled up next to Pluto in his dog bed. Mickey quietly laughed to himself, glad to see the two finally getting along. He looks at the time and realizes how early in the morning it is. He probably has a couple of hours before the station opens up and he can meet O’Hara there when he is more in a work mood. Well, this gives Mickey time to organize his findings to better explain what is going on. Also, he looks at the bag of broken cameras, this could also give him time to work on the plan he came up with before.

We see Mickey run into the police station carrying a laptop and a tote with a couple of items inside. He looks pretty disheveled and exhausted. It is debatable how much sleep he got last night, but he must press on. He rushes up to the unfazed secretary and tells her that he needs to speak to Chief O’Hara immediately, making sure to add a please this time. She bluntly tells him that O’Hara is too busy to see anyone today and that he will have to try another time. Mickey tries to emphasize that he has really really important news to share and that it’s an emergency. Only for the lady to roll her eyes and repeat what she said before verbatim. Frustrated Mickey then frantically asks if there is anyone he can talk to as he really needs to talk to someone now. As he said that, two dogs, a shorter one in a green suit and a larger one in cowboy boots, entered the main lobby from the front door. Mickey instantly recognizes them as the same dogs he bumped into when he came here earlier. The lady calls out to both of them, referring to the smaller dog as Detective Casey and the larger dog as Detective Brick. She tells them that someone is here to see them. Detective Casey mumbles under his breath as the mouse quickly scurries up to him. Mickey tells him that he has very important information to share and needs the help of the police immediately. Casey doesn’t seem to buy it and tells the mouse that they are very busy, only for the other detective to mention that they should hear him out given how freaked out Mickey looks. Casey grumbles and asks if they have to and Brick mentions that it wouldn’t hurt. He then tells the mouse to follow him and leads Mickey to an empty conference room with an annoyed Casey following closely behind. 

Mickey immediately starts setting up his laptop with the conference projector as the other two settle down into their seats. Once everything was all set up, Mickey started to go into an explanation about how Chief O’Hara sent him on a case about a missing camera so that he could write a story about it. Casey tries to question why a missing camera would be worth a story, only for Mickey to ignore him and continue his explanation. As Mickey went on, a police officer or some other staff would noticed the presentation and started to trickle into the room, giving Mickey more of an audience. He brings up how he thought it was a common thief, but then realized that this was all part of a large conspiracy. Mickey then shows the picture of Jimmy Korker, the article, and a somewhat fixed Little Korker camera. He then starts going into the details about the Little Korker V39 cameras and how a couple of shipments of them were used to smuggle a chemical to a foreign country, pointing to the photo of the chemical. Brick asks if Mickey knows what country it was being shipped to and Mickey mentions that he doesn’t know. Casey peers into the picture closer and asks if it is a glow stick. Mickey explains that it is not a glow stick, but is some kind of chemical. Another police officer asks what kind of chemical, and Mickey says he doesn’t know he just managed to get a picture of it. Another police officer blurts out that it sure looks like a glow stick only for Casey to add that he doesn’t know why he needs them to look for a glow stick, Mickey patiently replies that it wasn’t a glow stick and explains that it is an important chemical that is connected to some kind of weapon. There is a brief pause before another person pipes in asking what type of weapon.

Mickey discloses that he doesn’t know but knows that there are blueprints for it hidden in one of the cameras and they need to hurry and find this blueprint or else… Before he could finish, Casey stops him and tells him that it isn’t that he doesn’t believe him, though he clarifies that he doesn’t believe him, but that Mickey hasn’t really been able to substantiate any of his claims so far. These pictures don’t really tell him anything and he needs to see something a bit more… substantial. Brick asks Mickey if he could take them to where he took a picture of the chemical. Mickey says he could, but also regretfully adds that everything is gone. Casey shakes his head and points out that is the problem. Mickey has been telling them all these wild ideas and nothing he has seems to support his claims. The picture of the glow stick could be photoshopped for all he knows and Mickey doesn’t even know what this chemical or weapon is. Brick adds that while this seems very interesting, they don’t really have the resources or time to waste and if Mickey manages to find more evidence they may be more willing to check it out. As he says that the police officers start to talk amongst themselves, seeming to agree with the detectives, with a couple even walking out the door. Mickey frantically does his best to get everyone to stop leaving. Stop. Please. I know this seems far-fetched. But you have to believe me. Listen, I can show you the mansion. I have a plan I’ve been setting up. I need your help. I-I… Unfortunately, as the mouse looked around he realized he failed to convince anyone as more people started to pour out of the room. No. This can’t be happening. He needs them. They have to help him. “YOU HAVE TO HELP ME STOP THE PHANTOM BLOT!”

Everyone instantly stops, turning to the mouse. Someone repeats “The Phantom Blot?”. Mickey confirms, “Yes the Phantom Blot.” Mickey adds that he met the Phantom Blot face to face and that he is also looking for the blueprint for the weapon. If they don’t hurry and find the other cameras before he does, the Phantom Blot will... And with that, the room erupts into laughter. Between his chuckles, Brick asks Mickey if he is truly saying that he met the Phantom Blot. Mickey reconfirms and someone else pipes in asking if he met Negaduck as well, causing the room to go into another fit of laughter. Mickey gives a confused no and tries his best to plead with everyone that he is telling the truth. He really did meet the Blot. Twice actually. The Phantom Blot tried to kill him. There was a fish and a bunch of cats. Unfortunately, he continued to be drowned out by all the chortling from the crowd. Casey adds that he thought the mouse was looney before and now he knows for sure. Frustrated, Mickey glances around the crowd, seeing if he is reaching anyone. He looks out the conference window and spots Chief O’Hara walking by and talking with some kind of lioness in a fancy suit. O’Hara. He’ll believe him. Mickey starts speeding through the crowd trying to get to him. Only for the two detectives to stop laughing and charge after him, though they struggled to get through the giggling crowd, due to their larger size.

Mickey manages to reach O’Hara and shouts that he needs his help. O’Hara stops his discussion with the lioness and greets Mickey, though a bit caught off guard by the sudden outburst. He looks at Mickey noticing his exhausted appearance and asks if he is okay. Mickey quickly adds that he is and that they don’t have much time. He needs O’Hara’s help to catch the Phant-. That is when Brick and Casey finally catch up to Mickey and start grabbing onto him. Casey mentions that this mouse has been raving about a bunch of baloney wasting their time. Mickey tries to defend himself as Brick adds that he thinks that the mouse may be feeling a bit under the weather. Mickey tries his best to struggle out of their grasp to look straight at O’Hara and plead that he really needs to talk to him. O’Hara looks at him and spots the bags under his eyes. The other figure gives a cough at O’Hara, seeming to indicate that they should get back to their conversation. O’Hara apologizes to Mickey that unfortunately he is really busy and can’t talk now. He adds that Mickey looks tired and should take some time to relax and they can catch up another time. 

This seemed to be the breaking point for Mickey and he stopped struggling against the two detectives. Even O’Hara doesn’t believe him. O’Hara. The two detectives easily carry the mouse out to the lobby as another police officer brings over Mickey’s stuff which they hand back to him. They drop Mickey on the floor and Casey communicates that since Mickey seems like he has a positive relationship with the Chief, they’ll let him go. But they are way too busy to deal with pranksters like him and can’t waste time following some made-up nonsense. They have real crimes to work on, not some mumbo jumbo about the Phantom Blot. Mickey tries to protest, but he stops himself realizing it isn’t worth it at this point. Brick gives the mouse an empathetic look and tells him that he should probably head home. He asks if the mouse needs someone to drive him home and Mickey angrily responds with a no. He then tells Mickey to drive safe and to not worry about it, as it was all probably a bad dream, before he leaves the lobby closing the door behind him. Defeated, Mickey gathers his stuff and exits the building. That didn’t go well at all. He didn’t know why they didn’t believe him. Ugh… This is constantly happening to him. Every time he tries to talk about something important. Nobody ever trusts him. Everyone treats him like a child. Nobody takes what he says seriously. What did he ever do to be treated like this? He sighs, usually he would brush this off if it was just affecting him. But lives are at stake now. A lot of lives. Who can he turn to now?

As if nails to a chalkboard, Mickey could hear a very familiar and annoying snicker behind him. Not Him. Not Now. Mortimer clasps his hand on Mickey’s back. Mortimer adds his typical “Ha-Cha-Cha” and chuckles out that he can’t believe the fact that THE Mickey Theodore Mouse has finally cracked. I mean claiming he met the Phantom Blot. THE Phantom Blot. What a riot! He gloats that he can’t wait to tell everyone about this. Mickey angrily rebukes that he did meet the Phantom Blot and that lives are in danger. Mortimer continues to crack up and tells Mickey that he doesn’t know what has been going on with Mickey lately, but he needs to step up his game. He’s making Mortimer embarrassed to still call him a rival. Mickey could feel his insides boiling before unleashing an uncharacteristic rage at Mortimer. He shouts that he is not joking and doesn’t appreciate how everyone is treating him so badly. There is a big threat in Mouseton right now and no one seems to care. So unless Mortimer wants to help him, he better get out of his way. With that, Mickey shoves the other mouse away and stomps to his car. Mortimer stands there completely stunned. He has never in his entire life ever seen Mickey so angry, and he has known him since Kindergarten. Eventually, Mortimer gave a huff back. What’s his problem?

Mickey drove away in his car, not even knowing where to go. He just had to go. After taking a couple of random turns, Mickey could already feel himself calming down. Alright, now what. Since the police are a bust, Mickey could already feel himself running out of options. Mickey also is afraid to bring any more of his other friends in, as that could just be putting a target on their backs. He shuddered thinking about the odd contraption he was stuck in last night. He wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. Ugh, what can he do? He parks his car at a gas station and looks at his phone. He sees a message from Minnie pop up. Minnie. He opens the message. She’s asking if he has been doing okay. Even though it has been a couple of days since he last spoke to her, it feels like months. Mickey doesn’t really like to share his problems with anyone as he doesn’t want to be a bother. But with Minnie, he always felt like he could truly open up to her. She really felt like his second half. Maybe he should tell her. No. This situation is much different from his other problems. He wouldn’t even know how to tell her about the near-death situations he’s been in. He really doesn’t want to worry her. She’s been working hard running her boutique. She shouldn’t be worrying about her boyfriend’s life.

Mickey spots Horace’s name under Minnie's message and realizes he hasn’t checked in on Horace yet. Maybe he found something that could really give him an edge. He presses the call button and waits for Horace to answer. After a couple of rings, Horace cheerfully answers the phone and Mickey asks if he has found out anything else about the cameras. Horace is just about to respond when there is a loud crashing noise and a grunt and the phone call ends. Oh No. Mickey instantly turns on his car again and rushes over to Horace’s house as fast as he can. This can’t be happening. Please. How did he know to go after Horace? Was it because of the social media post? Did he see him at Horace’s house? He shouldn’t have brought Horace into this. This is all Mickey’s fault. Mickey prays that he isn’t too late as he haphazardly parks at the Apartment Complex and bolts his way to Horace's door. He promptly turns the handle only to find that it is unlocked. No. Please No. Mickey rushes in and calls for Horace, searching every crook and nanny for him. Landing in his bedroom. Mickey falls to his knees. How could he have let this happen? Now the Phantom Blot has gotten to his friends too. Horace could be some kind of weird death trap or even already dead and it is all his fault. Mickey’s phone rings and he quickly grabs it out of his pocket. It is from Horace. Mickey takes a deep breath and braces himself as he takes the call. Mickey then immediately tells the person on the other line that he doesn’t know what he did to Horace, but that he will not give up and will save him. 

Only for a very confused Horace to respond unsure of what is going on. Mickey could feel a large weight drop from his shoulders the moment he heard Horace’s voice. He’s okay. Or at least he thinks he is. Mickey asks Horace what is going on. Horace assures him that he is okay and that he had to leave town to help a friend with a plumbing emergency and when Mickey called, a pipe broke causing the whole house to fill with water. He’s a bit waterlogged, but mostly okay, and should be back tomorrow. This explanation causes Mickey to laugh a little, mostly to relieve the stress that is building up. Horace asks if Mickey is doing okay based on the weird introduction and Mickey responds that he is doing fine, he just noticed that the door was unlocked and was afraid something bad happened. Horace responds that the locks at the apartment aren’t that great. He really needs to find a new place to live. Mickey reminds him that he has the extra room at his house, and the horse responds that he’ll keep that in mind. Horace then asks if Mickey has any more updates about the missing cameras. Mickey tells him a brief explanation of what he learned about the cameras and that he found the cameras broken in a trash can. Horace then asks if Mickey saw the Phantom Blot again. Mickey paused for a second. Oh yeah. He told him about the Phantom Blot. Mickey then chose to lie, not well but good enough, about not seeing the Phantom Blot and adds that he actually thinks he may have just imagined him before. Horace doesn’t need to be too involved in this. He shouldn't have to worry over Mickey. Horace seems confused but a bit relieved over the call and congratulates Mickey for technically solving the mystery. He knew he could do anything he put his mind to, especially since Horace taught him everything he knew. Mickey laughs a bit, feeling much better, and thanks Horace. 

Quickly remembering the fright he had before, Mickey asks Horace if he wouldn’t mind staying out of town for a little bit longer. Horace inquires as to why and Mickey responds that he thinks the Horse deserves a break after helping him with the camera case. Horace gladly agrees, mentioning that he would never turn down an offer for a vacation. Besides, his friend has been showing him how to Bull Ride and he thinks it is his true passion. With that, the two say goodbye to each other and end the call. Horace is safe. What a relief. Mickey heads out of the room to leave, and he notices some black spots on the front door. He did not see those black spots before. It looks like… like… Mickey touches it. Ink. It’s Ink. A shiver ran through the mouse’s spine. Is he losing his mind? Why else would ink be on the door? Is this a warning? Maybe it was always there and he hadn’t noticed it. Maybe Horace just happened to spill it. But why would Horace have ink? Or at least not attempt to clean it up. Mickey breaks out of his wandering thoughts before opening the door to leave the apartment. He needs to focus on what he is going to do next. If the police aren’t going to help and he can’t risk any of his friends getting hurt, then Mickey will have to do it alone. He can’t stop now. Just as Horace says, he can do anything he puts his mind to. Mickey thought about what his next steps should be. He could try to see if he could find any more cameras left. Maybe if he gets the blueprint before the Phantom Blot does, he can destroy it and prevent him from ever using that weapon. 

Mickey gives a heavy sigh as that would be quite the task he would have to take, but what else could he do. Mickey spends the rest of the day going from pawn store to pawn store, going to any camera-related store he could find on the Waddle Maps, and even checking antique or any kind of odd store in hopes that maybe one of them may still have a Little Korker V39 left behind. Unfortunately, just as Mickey suspected, he couldn’t find a single one as they don’t have any in stock or they “mysteriously disappeared”. As Mickey left the last store he looked at the clock and realized how late it was getting and the chances of any more stores being open is probably minimal. Shoot. He was really hoping to get something, but it seems like this was a bust. Mickey feels at a complete loss of what else he could possibly do. I mean there was that one idea earlier. But he would be completely mad to try and do it alone. But what other choice did he have? He had to do it. He had to do the unthinkable. He had to capture the Phantom Blot. 

He decided to head home before he started as he should probably check on Pluto and his new cat friend and gather a couple of things. When pulled into his driveway, he quickly noticed that the lights happened to be on. He did not leave those on. As he went to the front door he picked up a rake that was lying in the grass and slowly crept through the door. Prepared to attack anything that might jump out at him. He peeked in the small window that was next to the door. He saw Minnie who appeared to be making something in his kitchen. He gave a large sigh. This isn’t a surprise. Minnie often would just come into his house whenever she wanted, as she had a key. Usually, she would surprise him with dinner. Though normally she would tell him first. He dropped the rake and opened the door. Minnie greeted him and mentioned how she was making spaghetti for dinner. Mickey tells Minnie that he wasn’t expecting her to come over and Minnie responds saying she sent several messages. Mickey checks his phone and sees that she is correct. He must have somehow ignored them in his search for the camera. Minnie adds that she also wanted to talk to Mickey about something. As she finishes stirring the sauce she goes up to Mickey only to notice the giant bags under his eyes and his general exhausted demeanor. 

She immediately questions whether Mickey is feeling alright. Mickey quickly blurts out that he is. He notices the little cat walking by and picks him up, handing him over to Minnie mentioning that he found her a cat, hoping he could change the subject. She thanks Mickey and places the cat down. Though continues to press on, aware of what he was trying to do. She asks Mickey again if he is truly okay. Mickey doesn’t respond and sits at the dining room table. She sighs and mentions that Mortimer messaged her earlier and said that he was at the police station making a fool of himself. Mickey rolls his eyes, of course Mortimer would tell Minnie that. He says that it is nothing to worry about and that he has it under his control. Minnie drops a plate of spaghetti in front of him with the noodles perfectly swirled, the sauce right in the middle, a couple leaves of basil on the side, and the meatballs in the sauce oriented to look like Mickey’s head. He smiled, she always did cute stuff like this for dinner. She sits down with her own plate. Minnie thinks for a bit and then asks how the camera heist was going. The last thing she heard was when Mickey told her about the successful meeting with O’Hara. Mickey looks down and plays with his food a bit, again not responding. Minnie assures Mickey that he can tell her anything and that she will support him no matter what. Mickey stares at his plate. He wants so badly to unload like he usually does, but this is way beyond what he usually struggles with. But he knows that if he doesn’t say something, Minnie will continue to try to get Mickey to talk to her until he does. She’s persistent. He normally loved that about her, but at the moment…

He decides to start slow by explaining how he thinks who knows who takes the cameras, causing Minnie to quickly congratulate Mickey. But then he explains how he realized that the cameras were part of something… A little bigger than he expected. Minnie tries to pry more into what he means, but Mickey doesn’t answer. He instead talks about how he tried to go to the police to get help, but they didn’t believe him. This seems to upset Minnie as she asks if he tried talking to O’Hara. Mickey looks down and mumbles that he is busy. Minnie pauses for a second and then complains about how she doesn’t know why the police wouldn’t help Mickey. Their job is to help people correct. Mickey sits there silently as Minnie continues to rant, bringing up that there is no reason for them to not give Mickey a chance. She looks at Mickey and notices an expression she isn’t really familiar with. She has known Mickey for almost her entire life and has become all too familiar with his quirks. But when she looked at him she saw something she hadn't really seen. He looks shaken to his core. He’s terrified. Really terrified. But of what. Something happened to him. Something changed him. He’s hiding something. She asks Mickey who the thief was. And Mickey freezes. After a second he says that it is not important. She gets up from her seat and heads over to Mickey again asking who the thief was. He tries to look away and instinctively says that he doesn’t want to worry her. It’s fine he got it. She goes over to grab his hands before noticing something on his wrist. There are red markings on his arms that she didn’t notice before. Is that… Rope Burn… She pleads to Mickey “Mickey… What happened”... Mickey pulls away his arms, realizing what she saw. He got up from his chair and crossed his arms. “Was it the Phantom Blot?”

Mickey turned around, extremely surprised that Minnie knew. Oh wait, she said Mortimer told her what happened. Darn that rat. She stared at him with a completely distraught look in her eyes. She expressed that she thought that Mortimer misheard Mickey, but now she can see… She freezes. She has no idea how to even respond. Mickey looks at her, unsure if he is happy that he finally has another person who believes him. Mickey adds that the Phantom Blot is trying to find something dangerous and he was hoping the police would help, but they didn’t believe him. But he can’t stop. The Phantom Blot is an evil man and if he found what he was looking for, thousands could die. He glances at Minnie to see how she is taking this. Unfortunately, she was unreadable and Mickey had no idea what she could be thinking. The both of them just stand there, until she finally speaks again. She slowly admits that she isn’t sure if Mickey should do this, being very careful with the words she says. Mickey asks why. She stutters that the Phantom Blot is really dangerous and a threat beyond anything they can handle. She doesn’t know if Mickey should be the one solving this. Mickey responds that he has to stop him. No one else can and there isn’t much time. Minnie starts to tear up. Mickey quickly comes up to her and starts holding her. Through her tears, she blubbers about what if Mickey gets caught. He could be killed. She could never see him again. She then erupted into a bawling fit, clinging onto Mickey. Mickey just stands there, rubbing her back. He thinks about the moment in the alleyway when he thought about the very same thing. He doesn’t have an answer. For a while, they just stand there holding each other as Minnie sobs. 

One thing about Mickey that Minnie has always loved is his compassion for others. He always seemed to do what would be best for everyone even at the cost of what would be best for him. Minnie always felt like she had to be the one to stand up for Mickey and make sure that his own needs and wants weren’t ignored. But she didn’t mind. She loved Mickey. She would always support Mickey. Or at least she thought she would. And yet now Mickey wanted to make the ultimate sacrifice and risk his life to protect others as usual. She can’t lie. She wanted so badly to beg him to drop this case and that someone else would take care of it. She felt bad since she knew how much this meant to Mickey and the possible lives lost. But she can’t lose him. Not now. They were each other's soulmates. But she knew that Mickey had to do this or he would regret it forever. She had to let him go. But she really didn’t want to. Eventually, Minnie gets out of the hug, gives Mickey a kiss on the cheek, and heads over to the front door, picking up the little kitten on the way back. She apologizes adding that she knows that she can’t stop Mickey. But she isn’t sure how she feels about the situation and needs time to think. She then pleads to Mickey that before he goes, he will go to sleep first. He looks tired and shouldn’t be doing this with little sleep. Mickey nods and promises her he will. And with that, she closes the door. Leaving Mickey. Alone. Part of him is glad that she didn’t try to stop him. But at the same time, he doesn’t know if he exactly got her support. He was unsure how she would respond and had a feeling she wouldn’t react well. Minnie wasn’t the only one who was scared. Mickey was scared too. But he has to see this through. He thought about the promise he just made. To get some sleep. He could at least keep that. He needed to be in top shape if he really wanted to stop the Phantom Blot. But he’ll have to wake up early so that he can get started on his new plan. He held on tightly to the red bow with white polka dots around his neck. Making one more promise in his heart:

I swear that I’ll come back to you Minnie. We will see each other again.

[9haharharley1]

Hi! Your blog is amazing, and so is your writing! I’m a brand new newbie to the Rise of Guardians / Blackice fandom, and I’m OBSESSED 😂 anyways, maybe you could help a newbie out? What are the best fics to read? The best blogs to follow? Sorry if this is a lot, I just absolutely adore this fandom/ship!

Aw, thank you! Welcome to our little slice of fandom! Please enjoy your stay!

For blogs, definitely check out Gilly and Bunnimew's blogs, they have some lovely work both in art and fic! Here are some authors on AO3 you should definitely comb through:

Gilly

LinesAndColors

XinriaRouge

ChibisUnleased

KamuiWithFangs

not_poignant

And since you asked and I haven't had the opportunity to gush about my favorite fics, here they are:

How to Love Fear - This is it. This is the fic that dragged me kicking and screaming into this fandom. I love it so much and have read it so many times. Jack is given a mission by MiM to go into Pitch's lair to offer reform, but Pitch is not having it. Jack, now stuck in the dark with the Boogieman has to convince back into the light or take his place as the new Nightmare King. All the while, memories of a life he doesn't remember start to resurface and Pitch has something to do with it. Its a WIP, but definitely worth the read!

Black Ice - If How to Love Fear dragged me in, this one is what convinced me to stay. Jack finds Pitch one Halloween night and agrees to help him find his true center and a new way to use fear. What follows is a slow-burn, sci-fi fantasy epic that I finished in less than three days because it was so compelling! Complete.

Baddest Boy of Them All - A blackice Megamind AU where Pitch comes to Earth as a baby is not raised by the best of standards, ultimately deciding that if they're gonna treat him like a bad guy, he might as well be the bad guy. Jack becomes his favorite hostage. WIP, but updated regularly.

Rocks Give Way to Rain - The slowest of slow burns and mysteries and I am dying to see it's completion! It's long, it's epic, Jack has a much shadier past than we've been led to believe, and there's something up with Pitch and his shadows and Jack is determined to help out. WIP, absolutely a must-read.

Evil Boyfriends - If dark!Jack is your thing, this is the series for you! Pitch finds Jack long before the Guardians get him and Jack sticks around, compounding in a dangerously co-dependent relationship. Not what I would actually consider dark!Jack, but he's definitely not on the side of the Guardians. Complete.

Finding a Home for the Holidays - Some Doublemint Oreo goodness, wherein Jack finally has people to spend the holidays with. Fluff, smut, and angst all in one place! Complete.

Hold My Tea and Watch This and Why is the Tea Always Gone - An epic romp of Pitch and Jack discovering how much they need each other while a dark force awakens to threaten the world. Complete.

Shattered Pieces - Gilly's WIP that is currently driving me insane with heartbreak! Twenty years after the events of the movie, Jack is struggling to open up to his friends. When Jamie loses his belief, Jack is left struggling to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart, but Pitch is there to help. Updated regularly.

In Another Time - You want angst? You want tragedy? You want your heart ripped out and stomped on the floor? Then do I have a story for you! In the ongoing war against the Dream Pirates, Fearlings, and Nightmare Men, General Kozmotis Pitchiner already has enough on his plate without dealing with a trouble-making Jackson Overland. Perhaps, it would have been better to kick him out when he had the chance, but growing attached to young Private instead seemed so much more desirable at the time. Complete.

Strange Magic - Strange Magic AU wherein Prince Jack overhears a plot to use a love potion on the Dark Forest King Pitch and decides that that's a bad idea. The fastest of burns and I am here for every second of it! Complete.

I know I'm missing a bunch, but this is what I got right now just skimming through my bookmarks. There's so much more on my read later list, but this is a good start if you're looking for multi-chapter fics! Reader beware though, all of these feature smut at some point.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

The Perfect Lemon Cookies

This is my Christmas present for my most wonderful gf @nb-fearne who I just adore, happy Christmas baby!

If you enjoyed this, please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!

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Ice and Mav would say they're pretty good at keeping their little granddaughter, Poppy Carole Bradshaw, occupied. So when they're asked to watch her, just like any other day, they say yes.

But this isn't just any other day. And as he and his granddaughter make lemon cookies, the same way he made cookies with his babushka, he thinks about how they got here.

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Tom knew, in a logical sense, that there were no biological similarities between Poppy Bradshaw and himself. She was his granddaughter, she had been since the day she arrived, but there wasn’t a scrap of shared genetic material to back that up. There wasn’t any between her and Maverick either, they were a family made of coincidental deployment orders, lives saved back and forth, luck finding you so late in life you didn’t feel you deserved it, a family held together by decision more than blood and DNA.

He knew that but, God, sometimes he looked at Poppy and decided genetics could go to hell. Sometimes Tom was standing in his own kitchen, in the long moment of silence as the flour fell around them like snow without the cold, after Poppy had dumped the entire bag of it in the bowl and whacked the mixer to full speed with a yell of delight. 

And he just thought there was no way there wasn’t any of Pete Mitchell in this kid. 

“Oh…” Poppy spoke first, sounding remarkably unconcerned, “Did it wrong, deda…”

Tom coughed into his fist, before taking off his glasses and calmly rubbing the film of flour off the lenses, croaking, “Well…I’m not sure you followed my instructions exactly? But there’s a lot to be said for enthusiasm, honey..”

His granddaughter beamed brightly, shaking the curls that were identical to her daddy’s so a cloud of white billowed around her, “Snowing!”

Tom had to smile, even as his fingers itched at the mess. He couldn’t ever keep from smiling, not on days like this, when the sun was turning from white to gold, from summer to fall, when every song on the old radio seemed to be one of their favorites, when any problems the Navy was having could wait until tomorrow and all Tom had to think about was spending time with his granddaughter. Days like this made him feel like someone entirely new, like the cocky, terrified, high strung kid who’d first worn his wings was a stranger but thank God he wasn’t. Life had just started being kind to him. Days like this were about as close to perfect as Tom wanted to know. 

Especially today.

He let Poppy make handprints in the flour on the counter while he discreetly tipped most of what was in the bowl into the trash and started again. Baking with his granddaughter- or his husband for that matter- usually included a few false starts. 

“Extra lemon,” Poppy reminded him just like she’d done the first time, sweeping her hands through the drifts.

Tom chuckled, “I know how your papa likes them, sweetie.”

Poppy nodded, an expression of unusual seriousness crossing her young face, “Need to be perfect. Perfect for papa.”

“I know,” Tom promised, feeling a warm rush of fondness, “Of course they’re going to be perfect, sweetie. You made them for him.”

Poppy lit up at that, now happily passing Tom whatever he asked for, stirring and rolling with his larger, stiffer hands gently guiding her little ones, tongue poking out of her mouth in her concentration. They sang along to the songs on the radio, they bickered happily over how big a lemon cookie could reasonably be and whether they’d cook twice as fast if you turned the oven up as high as it would go, they practiced her sign language while she sat on the counter and swung her little legs. 

It reminded Tom of some precious memories he kept tucked safely behind his heart, memories of weekends spent at his babushka’s. Away from the shouting and shattering at home, in the peace and quiet of her tiny apartment with its even tinier kitchen. From when he’d been even smaller than Poppy, listening to her speaking soft, creaking Russian, telling him stories and singing him songs he would only ever know in her voice. Making exactly the same cookies that were baking as Tom finally swept up the flour, filling both the kitchen he stood in and the one in his memory with the same sweet smell that would always make him feel safe and loved. 

He was stirring icing, pretending not to notice Poppy’s finger hovering and ready to steal some, when Maverick walked in, bleary eyed and yawning. 

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Tom turned and grinned, kissing his cheek when he padded over. 

“Shut up…been a while since I pulled a night shift…” Mav mumbled, wrapping one arm around his husband’s waist and ruffling Poppy’s curls with the other. 

Tom supposed he couldn’t make too much fun of him. After all, he was the one who got to stay under the covers, soothing an anxious Poppy until she fell asleep while Maverick was the one who did all the frantic 2am driving to the hospital. Tom still maintained he was a better, faster driver but his reputation couldn’t stand up to as many speeding tickets.

Speaking of which. Maverick caught his eye and mouthed, anything yet?

Ice surreptitiously checked his phone where it lay on the counter. The screen illuminated with the lock screen, still a photo of Maverick crashed out on the couch with a similarly snoring Poppy asleep on his lap, both of them wearing the hideous Hanukkah sweaters they’d all insisted on wearing through the holiday. So that made Tom smile but there were no new messages or missed calls. 

He glanced back at Maverick and shook his head lightly. 

Mav shrugged, pressing a kiss to the top of Poppy’s head as his hand flashed out and snagged a fingerful of icing. 

“Hey! Pops, that's for my papa!” she gave him a very stern look for someone who’d been seconds from doing the exact same thing.

“See, this is why you’re my helper, sweetie, and not your Pops,” Tom hummed, moving to check on the cookies, sliding them out of the oven when he saw they were perfect. 

“Uh huh,” Poppy nodded wisely, “Lick the bowl after.”

“A very important rule,” Tom agreed, shaking them onto the rack, “Though not as important as keeping your hands off these until they’re cool. I’m talking to you, Maverick.”

“I’m offended but I understand,” he shrugged, passing a hand over the mess of his bed head as he went to pour himself some coffee from the pot Tom had ready for him, “Learn from my mistakes, kiddo. Plenty of burned fingers.”

Poppy giggled, obediently tucking hers in the pocket of her dungarees, “Silly pops…”

Tom grinned, taking the mug his husband offered him, “Though I think I might trust him to help ice the cookies if you were keeping him in check, sweetie?”

Mav grinned and turned the puppy dog eyes that had been making Tom’s life difficult for thirty years on Poppy. Less of a pushover than her deda, or at least less of a sucker for a pretty face, she hummed thoughtfully and narrowed her eyes at him. Only after a long moment did she shrug. 

“M’kay.”

Maverick snapped her a more serious salute than he’d given any naval officer, “Many thanks, ma’am. I won’t let you down.”

“It’s fine,” Poppy hummed, “Just be perfect. They’re for my papa.”

Mav softened, smiling fondly, “Right. Gotcha.”

Perfect wasn’t exactly the word by the time they were through but Poppy at least seemed happy with them. Tom was laughing at his husband’s brave attempts at icing their squad patches onto cookies when he noticed his phone screen light up with a notification. Trying not to pounce too obviously, Tom flicked it open and felt his heart settle under a rush of emotion, relief and delight and excitement all at once, so strong it was a fight to keep it all to a soft exhale. 

Everything’s perfect, we’re getting released this afternoon. See you there?

Tom imagined these hours were going to feel like some of the longest of his life. 

He turned to Poppy, smiling softly, “Well, as much as we’ve loved having you stay, honey…I think it’s time for you to go home?”

Another thing that made Tom forget there were no biological similarities between Poppy and her grandpas, they were all absolute nightmares when they were nervous.

Right now she was actually pacing, going back and forth across the Bradshaw’s living room, looking for all the world like Admiral Kazansky in his office after a stressful day. Maverick had tried to coax her into watching a movie, into playing one of her favourite board games, even offering to go out into the backyard and go on the trampoline with her despite what it had done to his hips last time. None of it worked, she still fidgeted anxiously, just like she had ever since they’d arrived, as Tom and Mav had gone around making sure the empty house was clean and tidy as it could be and that there was dinner waiting on the stove. Poppy had just kept on pacing, clutching the box of cookies to her chest like her life depended on keeping track of them.

Tom had just finished vacuuming, collapsing on the sofa to give his knees a rest, “Honey, why don’t you come sit with me?”

Poppy mumbled indistinctly before shaking her head, “Don’t think so, deda…”

Tom’s smile gentled and he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, “You know, I do that so much at work that my receptionist tells me there’s going to be a trench in my carpet.” 

“Okay deda…” Poppy stood on tiptoe to try and peer past the blinds but it was just a car driving down the street. 

“Yeah. And I only really do it when something’s bothering me. So I’ve been doing it a lot less since your pops retired…but still. So is there something bothering you, honey?”

At that, she froze, her big brown eyes sliding over to him guiltily, “Uh…maybe.”

Tom opened his arms, “Something you want to come over here and tell your dedushka about?”

He wasn’t exactly surprised when she ran over and burrowed into his arms but it did give him a warm rush of joy. Especially when she managed to not crack him over the head with the tupperware box of cookies. 

“I want my daddies…”

“And they’re coming, sweetie, they said they’re on their way,” Tom rocked her gently, the way he’d been doing since she was tiny, the way he’d done for her daddy before her. 

“Mm…but also kind of…scared about it.” She sounded like she was confessing a crime to Tom’s jumper. 

“Hey,” he gently moved her so he could rub slow, soothing circles on her back, “Listen, it’s perfectly fine to be a little scared right now. It’s a huge change and that's always going to be at least a little terrifying.”

“Oh,” Poppy looked up at him, “Really? It’s okay?”

“Of course,” Tom nodded, “Because you know what isn’t going to change? How much your daddies love you. And how much me and your pops love you, for that matter.”

That brought the smile he loved so much back onto her face, “Promise?”

“I promise,” Tom kissed her forehead, his smile turning into a grin as the sound of a very familiar engine came up to the house, “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Poppy gasped, grabbing her box and making for the door as quick as her legs could carry her. Maverick came out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a dishcloth and nudging Tom fondly. 

“Ready for round two?” he winked. 

Tom laughed and put his arm around his husband, nodding at Poppy’s retreating back, “After her? Bring it on.”

Poppy didn’t even wait for them to open the door, throwing it open herself and running out onto the drive towards the battered old Bronco and the man who was just getting out of the driver’s door. 

“Daddy!”

Bradley’s face relaxed from general bewildered exhaustion into relief as he saw his daughter running towards him, dropping to his knees so he could catch her in an enormous hug, “There’s my girl…”

“You were gone so long! Gone forever ,” Poppy half told him off, reaching up to pat his cheeks. 

Bradley chuckled, pressing a kiss to her little palms, “Well, if you’ve got a problem with that, kiddo, I’ve got someone you can take it up with…someone was determined to take his time…”

Leaning in the front doorway, Tom felt his breath catch in his throat. Because Jake Seresin was gently easing himself out of the other door, a blanket wrapped bundle in his arms and the tiredest, broadest smile on his face. 

“Ready to meet Dagger Seven?” he grinned. 

“Papa…” Poppy shuffled closer, a little hesitant now, almost shy, “You’re okay.”

“Course I am, pumpkin,” Jake looked torn for a moment, clearly pulled between the need to hold his eldest and his newest, having to settle for kneeling so she could edge closer.

“Is that them?”

“It is,” Jake smiles, gently shifting the blankets so she could see, “It’s him. Your baby brother.”

Poppy peered at the sleeping newborn in his arms, her face gentling in awe, “Oh…he’s so small.”

“They come like that, it’s okay,” Bradley laughs, moving to lay a hand on Poppy’s shoulder, “So. What do you think, kiddo?”

There was a long moment where Poppy seemed to be thinking, her mouth trembling slightly like it didn’t know which way to turn. But as she lightly touched the soft, dark curls on his head, it became a smile. 

“Okay. He can stay.”

If Tom had some tears running down his face as he leaned in the doorway, no one noticed but Maverick.

He was even cuter up close. Tom held the little boy tight to his chest, rocking him slowly, the way that had been working since the first time he held his sister Sarah. Not that he needed to, his new grandson seemed perfectly content to stay snoozing, turned into the warmth of his arms. Perfect little round cheeks, a glimpse of a tiny rosebud tongue when he yawned, a gentle dusting of dark hair. Tom could look at him for hours and find something new to love every moment. 

Maverick hung on his shoulder, grinning down at him, “God, he’s so cute…”

Jake chuckled from the other sofa, where he sat cradling Poppy and munching a cookie, “Well, he’s been quiet so far, that’s all I care about. Might have got it right this time around.”

Though he kissed the top of Poppy’s head as soon as he said it, making her giggle. 

“Are you finally going to tell us what you’re calling him, then?” Maverick asked, making Tom perk up a little. It had been driving them both nuts for the last eight months, their insistence on keeping the name they’d chosen secret until the baby arrived. 

Bradley smiled, quirking his eyebrows at his husband who shrugged and took his hand, “You tell them. Kept them waiting long enough.”

Bradley laughed at that, looking uncharacteristically coy for a moment. His eyes found Tom’s and stayed there, those eyes that would always remind Tom of the tow headed little boy who hung off his leg, no matter how old Bradley got. Right now, he could see all the years in them, all the pain and hurt and confusion and joy and need, all the love Bradley had for him, for the guy who’d shown up for him and stayed there. It felt like too much, like more than Tom deserved but he had it and all he could do was be so endlessly grateful for the day he met little Bradley Bradshaw, the kid who wasn’t his by blood but was his kid nonetheless. 

His kid smiled, “Uncle Tom, you are holding Thomas Nicholas Bradshaw.”

Tom liked to think that he was rarely lost for words. A lot of the time that was because he didn’t bother with them, finding a cold, hard stare or an incredulous look to be more effective ways of getting the job done. But now, for maybe the first time he found himself wanting words, needing words to describe this feeling in his chest, words big enough to thank them for this but there were none. 

All he could do was look down at the brand new little boy in his arms, his grandson, his namesake and croak, “Oh…”

It wasn’t much but it seemed to be enough. He was definitely crying and more people than Maverick were noticing but it was okay, Mav was crying too as he hugged him and Bradley was crying as he came over and kissed his Uncle Tom on the forehead. Jake and Poppy were soon folded into the hug too, Jake misty eyed and Poppy only looking a little confused but very pleased. 

They weren’t a family held together by DNA. They were held together by coincidence, by happenstance that had thrown him and Pete Mitchell into the same Top Gun class, Bradley and Jake into that bar near the naval academy, by sheer luck that had taken people from them and given them others. They were held together, bound so tightly, because they chose to love each other. And they would choose each other every time, on good days and the bad ones.

But today was damn near perfect.