#Snipe Rides in to Save the Day

[aheckinmess]

Bullet in a Gun [Snipe] (Angst)

(One-shot 23/? in a collection of My Hero Academia one-shots posted regularly on Saturdays - and sometimes Sundays.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Snipe, Choku Dan, Pro Hero Snipe, Snipe x OC, Snipe x Reader, Original Female Character(s), Ichijiku Aoki, Angst, And When I Say Angst, I Mean the Cliche Damsel in Distress This Time, I'm Not Sorry, I Committed to the Chivalrous Cowboy Trope, Snipe Rides in to Save the Day, I Gave Myself a Panic Attack Writing This, It Was Worth It, Snipe is So Underappreciated, I Did My Best to Remedy That, We Stay Writing 1.6K Words This Week

Word Count: 1,639 words

Summary: As Ichijiku contemplates life, a villain decides to make her contemplate her life specifically when he kidnaps her to get back at Snipe. As the clock for Ichijiku's life ticks down, Snipe finds a hint left behind as to where she's being held. When he finally arrives, he might be able to save her, but at what cost?

Ichijiku (Tigress)

If I stare at the sky for too long, it almost seems like a cardboard cutout, ready at any moment to fall forward and reveal its Great Creator behind it, spanning out into the dark, expansive realm of space. Will galaxies seem finite in the infinitesimal vacuum of space? Or will they only seem that much bigger with my own microscopic existence soiling the atmosphere? 

Those thoughts plague  my mind before a blue-haired man with tattoos wrestles me out of my rocking chair and through my house to steal me away.

Now, tied to a railroad track and left with nothing but the sky to look at, I’m not wondering about the vast expanse of the heavens any more. I’m wondering what Snipe will think of my absence. Will he think I’m ready to move on from our year-long relationship, unaware of my predicament? Or will he be lost and confused, distraught when he doesn’t find my warning in time?

Death doesn’t even cross my mind, despite the fact that Chameleon makes it very clear I’ll be dying at precisely 3:00pm.

“You’re awfully calm for someone in this situation.”

“You’ll have to forgive me. I’m an introvert and not entirely sure how I should respond to this.” My tone is, in fact, far more calm than it should be. “If this is your idea of catching a date, you’ve got the wrong idea. This isn’t a girl’s idea of a fun time, nor is it what she means when she says she wants to be railed.”

“Shut up. That’s hardly an appropriate response.” I hear him huff out a breath before he continues. “You’re not nearly as fun as I’d hoped. I’d been banking on hearing you scream until you lost your voice.” He drawls, apparating into existence in my line of sight.

What I thought to be a simple blue, turns out to be iridescent scales camouflaging him with every winking beam of sunlight, a kaleidoscope of color with every step he takes. He might be handsome if he didn’t just hogtie me to the tracks.

“I’m so sorry to disappoint you.” I roll my eyes as I glare at him. “But it’s Snipe’s job to make me scream, you know.”

A moment later he’s got a rope tied around my mouth, effectively gagging me.

“On second thought, it’s far too irritating listening to you talk. You have no class.” He crosses his arms across his chest before looking down one side of the tracks. “But don’t worry. You’ll be screaming soon.”

When I feel the ground rumbling beneath me followed by a thunderous horn in the distance, panic sweeps through my chest. Even so, death still isn’t my first thought. Instead, I squeeze my eyes shut and think of Snipe. I think of the sky. I think of infinity and my cat and love letters and regrets and what could have been. 

Only when I see the approaching silhouette of the train do I allow myself a fleeting thought for death.

. . . . .

It’s 2:23pm when Snipe dismounts from his horse. It’s 2:25 when he whips past the overturned rocking chair and bursts into her open door, barely hanging onto its hinges.

It’s 2:26 when he finds the note plastered to her fridge. 

Been a while since we’ve had a fair fight, Snipe. Let’s see if you’re still on your A-game. Your lady dies at three o’clock sharp. See if you can save her in time.

C

Snipe’s world is out of sorts. The world is not in harmony because she should be here and she should be making tea. She should be turning to the door with that blue-ribbon winning smile as he offers her a bouquet of her favorite flowers. She should be gazing into the corral of his eyes that he leaves open just for her.

She should not be gone.

Snipe slams his fist into the wall trimming, using the pain to pull himself back together. He doesn’t have time to waste. No time at all. Time that ticks down with every second he spends rummaging through the house, searching for any sign of where Chameleon might have taken her.

He’s nearly given up hope by 2:35, where he sinks to his knees and reminds himself to breathe. She will not die. She will be in his arms again. She will hide little love letters in his hat-shaped ring box that once housed her engagement ring now sitting on her finger.

Love letters. Without thinking, he opens the box and what should he find but a note? A blue, crumpled sticky note folded more haphazardly than the rest, and on it is a scribbled word in her handwriting: train.

The box falls to the floor and the door slams shut as Snipe leaps onto his horse and spurs the mare to motion, flying through the forest and into the open plains like a bat out of hell.

When a train comes into view, his eyes follow the tracks on an uncomfortably close trajectory towards two figures. He knows even as he urges Kuroashi faster that he won’t make it. 

At 2:59 he aims his gun.

. . . . .

The train is here. It’s close enough to feel the heat from its smoky breath as it rattles the tracks. All sounds drown out from the steady rhythm of chug-a-chug-a-choo-choo until my brain turns the cadence into an ominous Death is coming for you. 

The train is here. The train is here. Death is here and all I can worry about is whether or not Snipe will keep the box for my engagement ring. Will he hold it when he wants to remember me? Or will he get rid of everything so he doesn’t have to remember what he lost?

Chameleon’s timer goes off to the sound of a gunshot. 

Click. Clank. The switch lever swerves with the tracks and suddenly the train zooms past me, still far too close for comfort, but no longer on course to swallow me with its iron jaws. The warmth of the train mingles with adrenaline and suddenly I can’t stop wiggling and whimpering in my restraints, muscles buzzing as I fight to get off these damn tracks.

“More vocal now, huh?” Chameleon hisses, disappearing and activating his quirk just as Snipe rides into range.

“MMPH!” I try to warn him.

But his camouflaged offender sends him flying off his horse and into the dirt, gun still primed in his hand. He’s on his feet quickly, but what can he do? I watch helplessly as Snipe’s homing quirk becomes useless. How does one shoot what he can’t see?

My eyes scour the dirt, searching for footprints and other minute signs of his movement. When a cloud of dust swirls by Snipe’s feet, I thrash in my bindings, desperately trying to free myself and help him. My fiancé’s head arcs back into the ground from his unseen adversary, kick-starting my heart.

Blood drips from his nose as keen, pro-hero eyes start searching for the same tell-tale signs of Chameleon’s movements I’ve been watching for. It costs him a hit in the stomach and his ribs, but he analyzes his foe’s movements to reclaim the upper hand. Snake battles snake in the hot, barren plains while my body quivers with fear.

All it takes is another dust cloud and bam! Snipe wrestles the invisible villain into the ground, appearing to fight air until Chameleon relinquishes use of his quirk.

“Glad to see you’re still in tip top shape, Snipe.” Chameleon growls, turning his glare to me as Snipe pulls out the restraining tape. “But you cut it kind of close, and next time she won’t be so lucky.”

“There won’t be a next time if you’d prefer to keep breathing.” Snipe barks out, his voice feral and sharp.

Snipe gets Chameleon’s hands behind his back and calls the cops as he sprints in my direction. Calloused hands act as a balm to the tremors tainting my muscles. When he cuts the bindings loose, he grabs my face and presses his forehead to mine; we share each others’ oxygen, our eyes promising the other what our mouths can’t say right now - I’m here and you’re safe and I’m not going anywhere.

My life remains finite while stretching infinitely before me, stretching straight out for Snipe. 

I don’t ever want to let him go.

“You’re okay.” He whispers; it’s hard to tell whether he says this for me or himself. “Are you hurt? Did he do anything before he tied you up?”

“A few bruises and cuts.” My fingers card through his hair and slide down his cheek, soaking in every ridge and bump of his body. “And that’s only because I put up a fight before he got me here.”

“That’s my girl.” He grins and the world clicks back into place.

The heat sears my body and pain torments my bones as I become abruptly aware of the world around me. His presence anchors me as I’m swirling dangerously close to the edge of unconsciousness. He catches me with whispered coos, keeping me tethered for now.

“You’re having an adrenaline crash. And, hell, I can’t blame ya. But take a few deep breaths for me, okay, darlin’? Police should be here soon.”

It’s 3:34 when the police arrive to stuff Chameleon in the back of their car and EMTs arrive to check me for injuries. Only when the blinding blue and red lights disappear from my line of sight do I make myself stop counting the minutes.

“Do you want me to take you home?” Snipe whispers in my ear, securing a shock blanket around my shoulders.

“Not my house.” I whimper. “Will you take me to your place?”

“Of course, honey. I’ll keep you safe. Let’s go home.”

Want More Snipe? Try: Hanging Fire in the Pond

[xanqels]

Make Daddy Proud.

joel miller x f!reader

Pairings: joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and joel have never gotten along, so what happens when you come to his house and piss him off?

word count: 5.1k

warnings: size kink (reader is small and joel is a big boy) dirty talk, daddy kink, creampie, breeding kink, cursing, foul language, reader likes to play on joels’ nerves, spanking, hair pulling, fingering, oral (m receiving), choking, alcohol consumption, unsafe p in v (wrap before you tap), pet names, joel is daddy, cum eating (?), tommy ships, minor spit use, brief aftercare, age gap (joel is mid 50s, reader is late 20s), degradation. NO USE OF Y/N!!! ellie is mentioned, sarah is mentioned. slight angst. Save a horse, ride a cowboy.

a/n: thank you all for being so patient with me after my writers block. this is based off of an ask i was sent. this has not been edited‼️

————————————————————————-

Joel Miller.

A dangerous man, a killing machine. A man who wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in your head if you looked at him the wrong way. A man who aged like fine wine, and along with it his attitude towards the world soured. A grumpy man.

You met him one evening, the weather starting to cool, when Tommy called you over and introduced you to his brother. Maria didn’t seem to thrilled about the older Miller brother coming to stay, and it was written on her face. You’d known her long enough to spot the telltale signs of her upset and and disapproval. A small frown line on her dark skin, or the way her eye would twitch slightly.

Tommy, on the other hand, a smile on his lips. His estranged brother was alive and well, after all. Who wouldn’t be happy? Well, Joel, it would seem. A scowl on his weathered face, covered in deepened wrinkles, something any normal young lady may see and scarper away at the sight of, but not you. No, you were intrigued. You wanted to hear more about his troubles, his experience on the outside, but when you opened your mouth to greet him, he merely grumbled at you. Thus, starting a month long war of snide remarks and quick insults, immature snipes at each other just to wind the other up. He’d open up to you on the occasional dark night, after many whiskeys and the occasional hug, but by the next day you’d be back to bickering.

The pair of you couldn’t be in the same room without your quick tongue and his dark scowls ruining whatever good day the other had. Tommy was tired of it. Tired of the bickering, tired of the pettiness. He knew you found Joel attractive, he could see it in your eyes the first day he introduced you to him. The way your eyes swallowed him whole, the way your tongue swiped across your bottom lip as you took him in. You’d never admit it though, you were too proud.

As for Joel, on the other hand? He never showed much emotion, he was a tough cookie. If you’d known him before the world went to shit, you’d know he was a carpenter. A lively soul with a daughter of his own. And now? He was closed off, only talking to Tommy, you, Maria and Ellie, the young girl he ended up hauling around with him, or that’s how he puts it. And on the odd occasion, the bartender who serves him his favourite beverage – Whiskey, neat.

“Shove off, Miller.” You whine, pushing his large frame slightly as you try to take seat. “You’re taking up the whole booth, fatass.” You grumble as he rolls his eyes and moves further into the booth. You sit across from Tommy, Maria beside him as you give them both a warm smile.

You can hear Joel grumble beside you, but you brush him off. You take a sip of your drink, grimacing as the liquid burns it’s way down your throat and into your stomach. You notice Maria has a tall glass infront of her, raising an eyebrow. “Only water tonight, Maria?” You ask, and she nods.

“On patrol tomorrow morning.” She sighs. “So, can’t really be dealing with a hangover. Need to keep my mind clear.” She taps her head with her index finger, and Joel just scoffs.

“That’s some pussy shit.” He says, earning a glare from both you and Maria. Tommy was in his own world, watching Cameron and Pete arm wrestle at the bar, secretly rooting for Cameron. “You gotta learn how to handle your drink better, Maria. Heck, I even take a bit of whiskey with me on the days I am on patrol. Keeps ya warm.” He shrugs as he takes a sip.

“Just because you drink like a fish doesn’t mean the rest of us have to.” He frowns at that, but you continue. “Next time you fear you might get cold on patrol, dress up warmer. Don’t want you freezing to death now, do we cowboy?” You pat his shoulder in a faux friendly manner.

“There’s only so many clothes a man can put on his body, darlin’.” You like that nickname, “darlin’”. Though sarcastic, it warms you, electrifies your loins and leaves you wanting more. “Gotta let the whiskey warm ya from the inside.”

You scoff, silently mocking his words with your face screwed up. You loved and hated the game you’d play. “I’d expect an old man like you to have more sweaters, Miller.” You circle the rim of your glass with your index finger. “I see you flaunting around town in your shirts and flannels. I know they’re not thick enough to keep you warm. Just an excuse for you to drink on the job, I’d say.”

“I’m not an old man.” Joel scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re just young and clearly have no knowledge of the world. Not my fault you’re so naive.” He speaks, swirling the liquid around in his glass, avoiding eye contact with you.

You close your mouth for a moment before opening it again, a single syllable falling out of your mouth as you were just about to tear Joel a new one, you weren’t naive, but Tommy cuts you off with a laugh and a cheer. Obviously, Cameron had won.

He turns back to the table, his eyes immediately scanning yours and Joels faces. He frowns. “God, are y’all bickering again?” He asks, eyebrows raised. You feel like a child being scolded. “You two just need to bone it out or something.” He earns a smack to the arm from Maria for that. “I’m just sayin’! These two bicker like there’s no tomorrow. It’s getting past a joke now.” He grumbles, finishing his last dregs of his now room-temperature whiskey.

You sit back in the booth, arms folded and pouting. Joel just rolls his eyes, but chuckles to himself at your scowl. He pats your head in faux sympathy. “Cheer up, Doll. I’m sure Uncle Tommy didn’t mean to scold you.” He coos, and that only annoys you more.

You smack his hand away, annoyance written across your features. “Piss off. You’re not my daddy, Joel.”

“I could be.” He says audible only for you, grinning. “All you have to do is say the magic word, and I’m all yours, darlin’.”

You look in his eyes, and for a moment you think he could be serious. A dark glint behind those deep brown eyes. Something resembling lust, a fire, a yearning for more, but that glint flickers away as his grin grows wider until it turns into him laughing. A hearty laugh, a laugh that could warm your soul.

“God, give in, Joel!” You push him again, but he only laughs harder. It only annoys you more, and you end up having yet another grumble in your seat over it.

“Oh for gods sake, what did I just say?” You hear Tommy shout at the pair of you for bickering again, and that brings a smile to your lips.

It was late when the four of you walked home, with Joel being the first to leave the group, and you being the last. And it wasn’t long after that for you to get changed into an oversized grey shirt and some old fabric shorts. They were old, tatted and had holes in a few areas, but they were comfy and you were thankful to even have clothes to sleep in.

You lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling, the slight buzz of the alcohol in your system making you sleepy, but the thoughts running through your head kept you wide awake. You knew Joel was just being grumpy when he said you were naive. You weren’t naive, you’ve been through the exact same shit he has with the Cordyceps infection that ravaged everything you ever knew and stood for. It upset you, the fact he thought so lowly of you, the fact he thought you didn’t know any better than him.

The upset swirled in your stomach, half of turning into anger at his stupidity. If he’d ever taken the time out of his day to actually have a half-decent conversation with you, aside from those late-night drunken talks he usually forgot, he’d realise you’re not naive at all.

The anger bubbled inside of you, until you find yourself out of your bed and storming down stairs, throwing on the first coat and pair of shoes you could find. You set out onto the dimly lit streets of Jackson. You needn’t worry about locking your door, everyone knew the rules and the consequences and wouldn’t dare set foot wrong.

You found your feet dragging you towards Joel’s house, your mind had no control over your body at this point. You were determined to prove him wrong, to show him you weren’t naive. And that’s how you ended up banging on his front door, impatiently tapping your foot against his porch.

You were actually surprised when he opened the door, his hair all scuffed up, eyes squinted slightly as he rubbed sleep out of them.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice gruff and deep with sleep. You’d obviously just woken him up. He yawns, leaning against his door frame in nothing but a pair of plaid pyjama pants. God, he was so attractive, if you weren’t mad at him you’d jump his bones right now. His tanned skin, marked with scars and evidence of his battles. It stirred something in you, he stirred something in you.

He clears his throat, and you snap out of it, eyes darting up to his. He has his eyebrows raised, dark iris’ boring into yours. You shuffle slightly, swallowing thickly. “You really upset me.”

He groans, rolling his eyes. “Chin up, Darlin’.” He sighs, running a hand through his ragged hair. “Can’t we talk about this tomorrow? I gotta get my sleep.” He yawns, moving back into his house slightly as he goes to shut his door, but you place your foot in the gap and push it open.

You step inside, shaking your head. “No, Joel. I can’t sleep. You said I was naive, what do you mean by that?” You ask, and he just grumbles to himself as he shuts the door behind you. Obviously, you weren’t leaving anytime soon, and you’d just made your mind up then and there, and Joel had no say in the matter.

He laughs, thinking you’re messing with him. His laugh falters as he sees the look on your face, pitiful and innocent. His smile turns into a frown, furrowing his brows. “You’re not serious are ya?” He chuckles nervously. “C’mon darlin’, I was only messing with you.”

“Yeah, well it wasn’t cool. I’ve been through just as much shit as you have, Joel. You can’t just take my experience for granted.” You speak, folding your arms across your chest.

“You’ve had it easier than the rest of us.” He looks away from you, avoiding your gaze. “You haven’t dealt or even seen half of the shit I’ve gone through. The things I’ve had to do just to survive, the looks on peoples faces I’ve had to endure.”

“Don’t give me that shit, Joel.” You take a step forward, his eyes darting back down to yours again. “Just because you lost Sarah doesn’t mean you can disregard everyone else’s experience. We’ve all been through the same shit.” You regret saying that immediately.

That statement, the mention of Sarah. It’s like it clicks a switch in his mind, his face warps into something you’ve ever seen before, pure disdain. Pure anger. You can see his nostrils flare as he takes in deep breaths, and his chest rising and then falling. You’re both somewhat afraid and oddly aroused.

“How fucking dare you?” His voice stone cold, jaw stiff as he steps towards you, backing you against the front door, pointing at you as his tall, stoic frames completely engulfs yours. You wince, turning your face away from his as his hot breath hits your cheek. “You do not mention her name in my house. You do not mention her name at all, you don’t deserve to even speak her name.”

Tears prick your eyes, you feel so ashamed of yourself. You’ve hit a new low, you’ve stooped to a new level, all because he called you naive. You brought up the ghosts of his past, the things he has nightmares about that leave particularly dark circles under his eyes, the thing he often drinks to forget. No wonder he’s angry at you.

“Joel.. I’m sorry.” You whimper, giving him big doe eyes. He just tuts and shakes his head.

“Stupid. Stupid naive girl. You need to be taught some manners.” He’s suddenly calm, or atleast calmer, and you don’t get to question it, his hand wraps around your waist and he’s dragging you into the main room, switching the lamp on. He sits himself down on the two-seater leather couch, and you look at him confused.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He speaks, and you’re even more confused. You’re stood inbetween his legs, his hand caressing your face. Have you just stepped into another dimension? His mood swings are confusing, but he’s so fucking handsome. “Why don’t you apologise to Daddy properly, hm?”

And there it is, the burning hot feeling in your stomach, the desperation to be touched, manhandled, anything. He manoeuvres you into his lap, your crotch ontop of his, hands gripping your waist. He glides your coat off your shoulders, throwing it onto the other side of the room. You shiver, goosebumps raising on your arms from your loss of warmth, your heart beating a million miles an hour as he leans in.

“You gon’ be good for Daddy?” He asks, his texan drawl coming out in full force as he leans towards your neck, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses along it. You whimper at the feel of his warm, plump lips against your cold skin, unable to answer him until he’s nipping and sucking at your jawline.

“Maybe, maybe not.” You sigh out, and he seems not to mind your answer, rather he seems intrigued by it. He pulls away, eyebrows raised.

“That so?” He tilts his head, his right hand coming up to grip your face, making you look at him. “I’m not afraid to show you who’s boss, Doll.” His fingers buried in your cheeks, his eyes full of intensity. You think you broke him. “You crossed a line.”

“I know I did, and I’m sorry.” You choke out, tears still pricking at your lash line. “Please.” You beg, you don’t even know what you’re begging for. He releases your face from his grip, smiling to himself. His hands grip your waist again, and he leans back, eyes scanning your fragile form. He hums.

“You’re a sight to see.” He growls softly, gently grinding you against his crotch. You whine at the feeling as he repeats it once, twice until you feel his cock harden against you. You don’t even have to see it to know it’s big.

He leans forward, lips connecting to your neck again as he guides you, but he soon finds he doesn’t have to as you take control yourself. You gently grind against his clothed cock, whining at the friction as your sleep shorts catch on your clit. He leaves a sloppy trail of open-mouthed, wet kisses against your neck, and you can’t believe this is happening.

He pulls away, lips glistening with saliva in the light. You don’t stop until his hands hold you in place. You look up at him, confused. His pupils are blown out, eyes full of lust and desire, hunger for you.

“Think you’re ready to apologise?” He strokes your hair and you nod. “Don’t take long to break ya.” You roll your eyes at that, unable to muster up a witty comeback, and he pulls your hair. You moan at the feeling, the pleasure going straight to your weeping pussy. “None of that now, Darlin’. Alright?” You hum, and he gently pushes you off his lap.

He stands up, towering over you as he points to the floor, and you kneel down. He nods, happy with your submission. He bends down slightly, cupping your face in his hand. “You know what I want?” You nod, tongue poking out to wet your lips. He stands back up. “Good.”

Your hands are quick, scrambling to grip his waistband, as you pull down his plaid bottoms slowly, not knowing what to expect.

But then you see it. It’s angry red tip, weeping with precum and you just know he hasn’t had something like this in a while. His own hand? Maybe, but not another woman. It’s girthy, and has a considerable length to it, maybe seven inches? If not slightly more. It’s definitely going to be a stretch, a burn, something for you to gag and choke all over, but you’re almost certain he’ll hit those right spots with it. The spot you struggle to reach with just your fingers.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” His voice pulls you out of your trance, and you wonder how long you’ve been looking at it, drooling over it. “You gon’ open your mouth for me, Doll?” He holds his cock at the base, waiting patiently for you to open your mouth.

You shuffle slightly, placing your own hand around his cock as you open your mouth and lean forward. His precum spreads across your tongue, salty and slightly bitter, but you don’t mind, rather quite the opposite. You hear him groan as your warm mouth and wet tongue take him, moving your head down slowly, only getting to about halfway before your gag reflex starts to kick in. You stop, pulling back and repeating the same motions, only managing to fit about half of his cock in.

At some point, he grows slightly impatient, taking his hands and placing them on the back of your head. He holds you in place as he thrusts forward, the entire length of his cock gliding down your throat. You gag at the intrusion, eyes filling with tears again, but you focus on him. The way your nose is pressed against his lower abdomen, the way he smells. You want to make a mental image of this, remember and cherish it forever lest you forget it.

He gently pulls you back, repeating the action multiple times. Tears roll down your cheeks as he fucks your face, head feeling slightly dizzy as he depraves you of oxygen. He moans, and you can feel his cock throbbing in your throat. He tears your head away from him, groaning softly as he wraps his hand around the head of his cock, staving off his orgasm.

You gasp for air, coughing and spluttering slightly as you come back down, wiping your tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand.

You okay?” You hear him speak, sounding slightly out of breath. You nod, wiping the drool from your chin. Your pussy was aching by this point, you just wanted to be filled by him, to be fucked relentlessly til you didn’t know your own name.

He helps you up, ever the gentleman he is, and sits himself back down on his couch. He removes your sleep shorts, and then your shirt, manoeuvring you back into his bare lap. His eyes scan your body, now naked and in all its glory. He groans at the sight, hand coming up to pinch your hard nipple.

You sigh at the feeling. “How many fingers can you take?” He asks.

“Two.”

“Two what?”

“Two, Daddy.” Your cheeks flush. He holds his hand up next to yours, and your fingers are nothing compared to his.

Yours a thin, nimble and fragile. His are calloused, thick and long. “Only two?” He asks, incredulous and you nod.

He furrows his brows, bringing the pad of his thumb to his lips, swiping his tongue along it. He reaches down, placing his thumb on your clit, rubbing in small circles. You moan, hands coming up to grip his shoulders.

“Just makin’ sure you’re wet enough.” He knew he didn’t need to, he could see you practically dripping on his lap, but he just wanted to hear you moan.

He pulls his hand away and you frown, until you see him sucking on his index and ring finger. He pulls his fingers out, examining them in the light before giving you a look, and you nod. He was asking if you were ready.

He brings his hand down, gently pushing his two fingers into your tight pussy. You cry out at the dull burn, but underneath the burn you could feel the heat, the need growing for him. He lets out an audible sigh, he makes a scissoring motion with his fingers, stretching you open for him.

“Oh, Joel.. Fuck.” You moan, squealing when you feel his calloused hand smack against your arse. You whine, frowning at him. He just shakes his head.

“Wrong. Try again.” He stills his fingers inside of you, they’re just nudging that sweet spot you’d been unable to find yourself.

You groan as you wriggle in his arms, trying to get him to move. “Fuck, Daddy. I’m sorry.” You beg. “Please, Daddy.”

It seems to appease him, as he’s soon fucking you wide open with his fingers again. He makes a ‘coke here’ motion with his fingers, and you’re sure you can see stars.

Your nails dig into his broad shoulders as he hits that spot, throwing your head back. He takes this to his advantage, leaning in and sloppily leaving kisses along your collar bone.

“Fuck, Daddy I’m gonna cum.”

“Don’t you fucking dare. I haven’t said you can yet.” He grumbles against your skin.

You try to hold off, but the pleasure is so overwhelming. He’s hitting that spot again and again, purposely rubbing up against it even though you’re struggling. You can’t hold on.

“Fuck, I’m cumming.” You cry out, and to your mercy he allows you to ride through it.

It’s quite possibly the best orgasm you’ve had. Your jaw goes slack, and you feel as though you’re having an outer body experience. You can feel it in every crevice of your body, on every inch of your skin. It’s incredible, you never knew you could feel this good.

You slump forward, resting on Joel’s shoulder as you come back to planet earth. You’re still panting by the time you come to.

“Oh, sweet girl.” He tuts, and the sound sends chills down your spine. “Didn’t I tell you not to cum?” He slowly pulls his fingers from your pussy, and you jolt, the movement sending aftershocks through your body.

You sit up, strands of hair sticking to your forehead as you meet Joel’s eyes. They’re angry, but still full of lust. You disobeyed him, and now you’re gonna have to suffer the consequences.

He lifts his fingers up, examining them in the light again. “Look at that.” He grins, your slick gleaming in the light. You’re embarrassed, you made that mess. You’re surprised when he places them in his mouth and sucks them clean. He shuts his eyes momentarily, giving you an exaggerated moan. “You’re delicious, Doll.” He says as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth. You truthfully don’t know what to say, but it seems as though Joel didn’t plan on you speaking anyway. He practically pushes you off him onto the seat next to him. He stands up, rolling you over on your stomach.

You can’t see what he’s doing, until his hand connects with your ass. You yelp out, fingernails digging into the leather.

“This is for cumming without my permission.” He speaks. “Dirty little slut. Can’t even wait for her daddy’s orders, hm?” He asks, spanking your ass again and again until you’re certain he’s left a bright red handprint.

Every slap he gives sends waves of pleasure to your pussy, and you can’t believe you’re enjoying this.

His hand reaches up, wrapping itself in your hair as he pulls your face up, he leans towards you. “You gon’ listen to me?”

You nod. “Yes Daddy, I promise.”

He wipes the tears running down your cheeks, and honestly you hadn’t even noticed you’d been crying. He plants a kiss to the side of your temple, a simple gesture that shocks you.

He flips you over again and climbs in-between your legs. You watch as he places your legs on either side of his waist, and begins to gently stroke his cock.

You can feel yourself desperate for him again, even the simplest of his movements turn you on.

He holds his hand out infront of your face. “Spit.” He commands, and you do. He wipes the spit on his cock, even though he doesn’t need to as you’re wet enough, but he enjoys it when you do what you’re told.

You gasp as you feel the smooth head of his cock against your tight hole, biting your lip as he pushes into you.

The stretch hurts more than his fingers, but it was expected. He’s thick. You scrunch your face up as he pushes into you, and you hear him sigh as he bottoms out. You open your eyes, lifting your head up slightly to see where you’d connected at the seams. A holy sight, a gorgeous sight. You’d take a picture and frame it on your wall if you had a camera.

He reaches up and caresses your cheek, rubbing his thumb against your bottom lip. You open your lips slightly and he slides his thumb into your mouth.

You suck on his thumb as he starts to pull out, slowly, before slamming back into you. Your tits jiggle at the force, and he seems to find that somewhat amusing.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He coos. “Gonna make you my little cum slut.” You moan around his thumb.

His pace is slow at first, almost as though he doesn’t want to break you, but he soon picks up the pace. Your mouth falls open as sweet melodies fall from your lips, and he trails his hand down to your neck. He wraps his hand around, gently squeezing your neck as he fucks you, hard.

You feel as though you’re on cloud nine, your mind is spinning as he fucks into you. You don’t even care that you’re sweating so much you’re practically glued to the leather, or the fact he’s nearly depriving you of oxygen for the second time tonight. You’re just focused on the way his cock feels, the way it hits that sweet spot and nudges your cervix. A pleasurably painful sensation.

He removes his hand from your throat, leaning down and taking one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks on it, gently pulling it with his lips before letting it go. He plants opened mouth kisses along your salty skin, sucking and nibbling at the soft spots on your neck. There’ll be marks tomorrow.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He groans. “I’m gon’ ruin you for any other man. You’re mine, you hear?” He growls against your skin.

You cry out, arching your back slightly as you feel the leather rip from your skin. “I’m yours, Daddy.” If someone told you that you’d be in this situation five hours ago, you would’ve laughed in their face.

You can feel it starting to grow again. The fire in the pit of your stomach, the wave that grows ever larger before it crashes.

He can tell you’re close again, the way your pussy strangles his cock. It makes him desperate to feel you cum around his cock. “You gon’ cum sweet girl?” He sounds breathless, almost as though he’s on edge himself. His thrusts are growing slightly more erratic.

You can’t reply, you just nod. He brings his free hand down to rub your clit, rubbing circles into it.

“Fuck. I’m gonna cum.” You manage to make out, face scrunching up as the intensity of it builds.

“Cum for me, Doll. Strangle my cock.” And you do just that.

Your pussy pulsates around his cock, legs shaking as you reach your high. Your mouth falls open in yet another silent scream, and he fucks you through it. Your head feels so light, you feel as though you’ve reached new highs, reached new extremes.

His hips are stuttering by the time you come to, and you can tell by the way his cock is throbbing and by the noises he’s making that he’s close.

He doesn’t give you much warning apart from those tell-tale signs, as he thrusts harshly into you a few more times before he’s moaning your name. You can feel him throbbing inside of you as he paints your walls in ropes of his thick, warm cum. You feel stuffed.

You both lay there in silence for a while, him ontop of you whilst his cock softens.

He eventually clears his throat, slowly sitting up and running a hand through his hair. You make eye contact, and all that anger and must that was previously in his eyes has gone and been replaced by adoration. He caressed your face again. He slowly gets up, and you hiss as his cock slips out of you.

He reaches down, fingers spreading your pussy as he looks at it, full of his cum. He grins, scooping up a bit that had run out and pushing it back in. You can hear the squelch of your juices, a vulgar sound.

He slowly gets up, and you can hear his bones crack as he stretches. He pulls his bottoms back up, turning around and looking at you from above. You were a sight. Eyes slightly red from the tears, sweaty skin and a pussy leaking with cum. He stays there for a second, making a mental memory of how you look.

“One moment.” He walks out of the room, and you can hear the tap in the kitchen turn on and off.

He returns moments later with a damp cloth and a cup of water. He cleans you up as you drink the water, giving you a warm, genuine smile. A rare sight.

As he’s cleaning you, he places a hand on your smooth stomach, caressing it softly.

“You’d look so good swollen with my babies.” He murmurs.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

————————————————————————-

tags: @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @planet-marz1

a/n: please note this has not been edited and is my second ever fic. will happily accept any constructive criticism :) also i love receiving asks so feel free to say whatever

[eliotquillon]

i have to imagine that at some point during chase and cameron’s fwb era, chase went back to aus for a trip. what about a time zones/jealous cam drabble?

sorry this took me FOREVER and is also not really jealous cam but more…pining cam?? argh. but i tried :) set between fetal position and airborne

In the end, it isn’t House who goes on vacation after they discharge Emma Sloan. It’s Chase; he walks into work one morning, a rare day when they’re not both riding in together, shoulders hunched and face pale, and says, “House. I need to talk to you.”

“You know I hate it when you do that,” House complains, but he must see what Cameron sees: the sunken gaze, the tense fingers. Who died, Cameron thinks, but his parents are both dead already. He leads Chase to his office and shuts the blinds. Cameron looks, and looks, and looks. Chase does not look back.

*

“I’m going out of town for a few days,” Chase tells her at lunch. They are attracting stares: the whole hospital knows they’re sleeping together now, no thanks to House. No thanks to me, Cameron thinks, a little guilty, and pushes another forkful of salad into her mouth. “Can you check on my stuff while I’m gone?”

“Out of town?” Cameron presses, selfishly wanting; she regrets it as soon as she says it. Chase presses his lips together, pushes his fries sullenly around his plate. Cameron is all too aware of the choreography. In two hours, the nurses will all be whispering about the big break-up—false for all the obvious reasons, but also because there’s nothing to break up. “What happened?”

“I have to go to Melbourne,” Chase says flatly. “There’s an issue with my dad’s will.”

“But I thought he cut you out of it,” Cameron frowns. She doesn’t mean to be insensitive with her bluntness. She only means to clarify; she had been shell-shocked, when he spat it out bluntly all those months ago, not at the specifics but at the mere concept of it. It’s the sort of thing you hear about, vague family gossip about a friend of a friend, but surely, Cameron had thought, it didn’t really happen. Surely people—mothers, fathers, great-aunts—were never really so cruel as to deliberately strike someone out with their last act in this world, not for no good reason. Chase spears a fry, and does not eat it.

“He did,” he says heavily. “Including the stuff he had no right to cut me out of. Can you do it?”

No, Cameron thinks. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t handle it. I’d be a sobbing mess, not coming into work every day to flirt with a colleague and snipe at Foreman and save people’s lives. Not casually discussing it over lunch. But that isn’t what Chase is asking.

“Of course,” she says, “just leave me the key.”

*

She gets into the routine of it easily enough. It helps that she knows her way around Chase’s apartment already—though, of course, she knows the bedroom best. Cameron stops by every evening on her way home from work to air the place out, sort the mail, check there’s nothing spoiling in the refrigerator. Chase left at the last minute; there are still clothes in his laundry hamper, a towel on the bathroom floor, electronics still plugged in. When she turns on the TV out of idle interest, it is automatically tuned to a sports channel. Cameron laughs, and the way the sound rings out across the empty room makes her feel absurdly guilty.

It would be so easy to pry. She has the experience, after all—years of snooping around patients’ homes, always careful to put things back where she found them, and she’s far more familiar with Chase’s habits and floorplan than she is theirs—and, secretly, she has the desire. Without him here to distract her with his hands or mouth or terrible post-sex cooking, it is easier to admit her own curiosity to herself. It is easier to admit that she wants to know him beyond the scope of what he has already told her. But easier isn’t the same as easy. Cameron closes windows and throws out expired milk. She ignores the bedroom. She always leaves the key behind.

*

It isn’t that she misses him, at work. It’s simply lacking for a case—House is due to fly to Singapore the day after Chase is scheduled to return—and there’s scarcely anything to do. She has brief, cordial lunches with Foreman, spends the mornings doing clinic duty and the afternoons catching up on House’s permanently-backlogged charting. It is all very companionable; she has always liked Foreman well enough, save for the times he has given her reason to be annoyed, and without Chase to wind him up Foreman seems to return the sentiment. He only tries to broach the subject once.

“About you and Chase,” he starts, and Cameron’s pen leaves a dent on her chart.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says. It’s the wrong answer: she should’ve said, there’s nothing to talk about. It’s what she means to say, but for some reason her mouth won’t form the words. Foreman sighs, and his eyebrows make a grand leap of frustration, but he just nods.

“Don’t bring me into it,” he warns, and this time Cameron doesn’t bother trying to correct him.

*

Melbourne is sixteen hours ahead of New Jersey. It is natural, Cameron thinks, to wonder what he might be doing. It is natural, given the circumstances, to wonder if he’s alright. It is not natural to wonder if he misses her, but she finds herself doing that anyway. His voicemail beeps with messages; the sound of the dialtone makes her so irritated that she has to fight the urge to delete them all at once.

*

“Thanks,” Chase says when he comes back to work, jetlagged and small-looking and yet, Cameron hopes, a little pleased to see her. “You didn’t have to clean up after me.”

She didn’t mean to. She didn’t even want to, but her hands were idle and his phone kept beeping and once, while she was intercepting a delivery he must’ve forgotten about, she heard a strange woman’s voice ask about him on the speakerphone, words garbled through the closed hallway door. In Cameron’s experience, it is easier to resist temptation if there is something to be tempted away from. “I don’t mind,” she says. “Did everything turn out alright?”

“More or less,” Chase shrugs. He leans close; he still smells a bit like stale plane air and, Cameron imagines, a certain kind of foreign-ness. “Come over tonight?” he asks in a hopeful undertone.

Cameron is sick of his apartment. She would rather not examine why. “Come to mine,” she says, decisive, and rises to greet Foreman.

[snowbryneich]

“I’m your lock screen?!” - “You weren’t supposed to see that.” For Jacaela (or Baelon x Jacaera, whichever inspires more)

This one didn't quite stay drabble length oops so is behind a cut (again tweaked for canon)

Baelon liked to give Jacaera jewellery. She objected to him spending the income of the Antlers on it. There had been a raven from the citadel announcing Autumn's end and they would need to prepare for Winter.

"Have it your own way Lady Stark," he'd told her with a kiss and gone out to find a game. He was excellent at tiles and dice and wrestling. The population of the Red Keep changed so often that it worked in Baelon's favour. He had a bit of a reputation but there was always some newcomer. Tonight it was Ser Cerys Brax - and in a stroke of good luck for Baelon, he saved him a step, running out of money and wagering a necklace of huge dark amethysts set in silver. He was morose to lose it and Baelon bought a round of drinks in consolation. He then declined the man the opportunity to win it back.

Jacaera had looked askance at the necklace despite his assurance he had spent no money on it. He was in fact the better part of twenty dragons up if she wanted it to buy grain or firewood or whatever it was she wanted for winter.

"I can't wear that in public," Jacaera said.

"Why not," Baelon said. "You are a Targaryen Princess - I should be able to drape you entirely in jewels if I want to."

"I am six and ten and newlywed," Jacaera said. "It is much better for me to appear modest and sensible."

"I don't object to modest and sensible," Baelon said tangling one hand in her hair, tilting her head back to kiss her. “Not in public anyway, Sweet girl.” There was no one sweeter than his wife but she was wickedly clever as well which only made it better - he loved to see her plot. "Perhaps you could wear it for me. In private?"

"I will wear it once," Jacaera said. "Then you will sell it and buy me something maidenly I can be delighted over publicly."

"I'll look miserly," Baelon objected.

"You'll look prudent," Jacaera told him. She was plotting again Baelon knew - one of these days she would tell him what she was up to but for now, he would do as he was told. But then so would she.

"I’ll have you in nothing but the necklace then," he said his hands at her laces. "I want to make once worthwhile."

Baelon did not sell the necklace, merely stashed it. Not after that night. He would have her in it again - and one day he’d get her to wear it in public and think of how she looked in it privately. 

But he had winnings to spend and he did as she asked and bought her a single amethyst drop on a silver chain with matching earrings and watched her wear them to court looking every bit as proud as if he had bought her 

“It would look better on Helaena,” Alicent was heard to snipe. As if purple and green would go.

“Amethysts would suit Aunt Helaena,” Jacaera agreed with the Queen graciously. “Perhaps Uncle Aegon should buy her some. Baelon is so generous.” Baelon watched her turning the ring on her finger - the ring he had given her after the wedding - Valyrian steel. Let Aegon look for some of that - if he would even try. Baelon had had to nag his grandfather until he’d parted with that and who knows where on his nine voyages Lord Corlys had acquired it. 

Baelon went out and won a wrestling match, Luke had been deputised to bet on him and came back with a set of amber jewellery. And topaz. Then tourmaline. Then emeralds not for her eyes just because it would be funny. 

“Baelon,” Jacaera said. “I fear you have lost sight of prudence.” Baelon had forgotten about prudent. What he had sight of was Jacaera riding him, in another new set of jewels. 

“I have jewellery already,” she said shyly. When he had expressed this opinion. “I could wear that for you if that is what you want.” 

Baelon didn’t think it was quite the same as her modelling gifts he bought her but he had a look in her jewellery box anyway - she had a set of rubies that he had never seen her wear and not a single set of Pearls. He made a note. There was a piece almost hidden at the bottom - a little locket - silver with tiny stripes of inlaid sapphire, ruby, and emerald. The colours were not lost on him and he reached for it only for her to make a small sound. 

“Not that one,” she said. 

“Of course not sweet,” he said, kissing her hair. He was not that crass. He knew the colours of House Strong - he just wanted to see. He’d never met Ser Harwin, he’d died while Baelon was in Pentos. Jacaera had reached for the locket as he opened it but it was too late. 

But how was he to have known he would open the locket, Jacaera had gotten from the father she could not acknowledge and see a painting of his own face. A boyish face but still.

“I’m in your locket?!” Baelon was surprised. The locket was old. She was fond of him now but when he had first come to court she had barely spoken to him. 

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Jacaera said, she looked anxious about it. Unsure in a way that she hadn’t since before they were wed.

“I thought our betrothal was your grandsire’s idea,” Baelon said. “Everyone said he wrote to my father personally - after years of estrangement.” 

“I am quite sure he did,” she said. It did not explain why she was carrying a miniature of him around in her childhood locket. “I might have expressed an interest,” her cheeks were heated - two brights spots on her pale skin. 

“I was one of your plots,” he said delighted. “You ordered me up from Pentos for your very own!” He scooped her off her off her feet. “Tell me everything at once.” 

[cattimeswithjellie]

The Ultimate Comprehensive Guide to the Forty-Six Deaths of Limited Life Session Seven

Well, that session was quite a ride, wasn't it? Between TNT minecarts, rocket crossbows, glass-lined traps and a general devil-may-care attitude towards gravity, the Life Series Players managed to rack up an astonishing forty-six deaths during the three hours of play this week! For those keeping score at home, that is more than double the entire total of kills from the six weeks of Double Life, all in one day.

It's no wonder that the action is hard to follow, especially if you're only watching a few POVs. With that in mind, here is my comprehensive guide to the whos, whats, wheres and whys of all the Session Seven deaths, in order. If you notice anything wrong, or if I missed any deaths in all the excitement, please reply and let me know!

The Bad Boys ascend the ladder to their skybridge, M-Rye-5. Joel misclicks while turning around on the ladder and falls to his death.

Grian, distracted by Joel’s sudden departure, wanders off the side of the ladder and falls to his death seconds later.

The Bad Boys regroup at the bottom of the ladder, where Jimmy accuses his teammates of playing a prank and using /me commands to make it look like they died. He’s really mad about it and shoots the others with a crossbow as they ascend again, knocking both Joel and Grian off the ladder. Joel nails an MLG bucket clutch and saves himself, but Grian falls to his death again.

Irritated with Jimmy, Joel and Grian use fishing pole and crossbow to bring Jimmy down from the ladder. Grian hits Jimmy with his sword, apparently intending to knock him off the platform and into the water, but Jimmy’s health is low enough that it becomes a PVP kill instead.

Scott realizes that he is being pursued by half of the server because he is the yellow with the most time still on his clock. To take some of the heat off, he allows Scar to kill him so long as he does it before the Bogeyman is assigned. Scar shoots him several times with a bow.

Scott is chased off of Skynet by Etho and TIES, but enderpearls safely to the ground. They follow him and Etho and Impulse shoot him with rocket crossbows. Etho tries for a Bogey kill but Impulse accidentally kill-snipes him.

Etho returns to Skynet with TIES and attempts to Bogey-kill Grian with a rocket crossbow, but Grian kills him in self-defense.

Scott enters a temporary alliance with TIES and follows them up onto Skynet. He fires into the TIES-Bad Boys melee and kills Grian, who was very injured from fighting Etho.

Scott also manages to kill Jimmy with a bow shot into the same combat, kill-sniping Tango.

TIES and Scott celebrate their victory over the Bad Boys while all clustered together on Skybridge. Grian drops a TNT minecart on them from M-Rye-5 and kills Scott.

He also kills Impulse.

He also kills Tango.

He also kills Etho.

Joel and Jimmy go to spawn for a bit of lighthearted mockery of the respawning TIES. They are shot at with bows, which don’t do much damage until Scott’s arrow knocks Joel off the single-wide bridge between Clockers Tower and the remains of Bread Bridge, sending him falling to his death.

With Joel gone and Jimmy undefended, Etho chases Jimmy up onto the flooded remains of Bread Bridge and finally scores a Bogey kill by way of crossbow rocket. It is unclear why this did not take Jimmy out of the series. It may have been a clerical error, or could mean that a Bogey kill bonus cannot take someone out of the series.

Impulse and Tango follow Etho onto Bread Bridge but are met by Jimmy and the Clockers, who are desperate to get a kill for Jimmy before his last seven minutes run out. Impulse tries to dodge by enderpearling off the bridge (despite multiple nearby water streams off the bridge) but misjudges somehow, bounces off a mushroom and falls to his death.

Jimmy begins frantically messaging Scott to come and give him the thirty minutes he promised. In the meantime, Bdubs demands that Jimmy kill him in order to save his life. Jimmy shoots him with a bow and gets 30 minutes.

Jimmy and Scott meet up in the wheat fields on M-Rye-5, along with the other Bad Boys. Jimmy escorts Scott a little ways away and then pushes him off the bridge, sealing the promise Scott made to give him time as Scott falls to his death.

Grian and the other Bad Boys return to M-Rye-5 for more TNT minecart fun. A very fortunate accident of timing lets him drop a TNT minecart right onto Tango, who blows up.

The Bad Boys realize that it is difficult to get ground kills from M-Rye-5 and descend to Skynet, where they can at least see the ground. Joel runs to the Clockers base and pushes out a TNT minecart, which kills Cleo.

It also kills Martyn.

Flushed with success, the Bad Boys attempt to reset their minecart push when they realize that Martyn is once again standing under the Skynet bridge. Grian encourages Joel to let Jimmy push the cart because Jimmy is still badly in need of extra time. Joel lets him push the cart but Jimmy gets a bit too enthusiastic and falls off the bridge after the minecart. The minecart detonates harmlessly, but Jimmy falls to his final death and is out of the series.

Skizz pursues Martyn off of Skynet and into the ruins of Bread Bridge, hoping to get a kill. Martyn jumps off the side of the manor and into the water, but when Skizz tries to follow, he bounces off a lower roof for half damage and dies when he hits the treeline. Martyn gets credit because they were in combat.

With Jimmy dead, Joel and Grian split up and Joel returns to the now-moldy Sub Sandwich. He finds Tango there and chases him out onto the platflorm, where he tries to jump-crit him with a sword. The knockback from his own jump attack sends Joel off the platform and falling into the water, which Martyn has laced with panes of blue glass. Joel falls onto glass and dies.

Joel sees that people are congregating around the Frog Tower and approaches it on Skynet with some TNT minecarts. He cannot actually see the ground but blind-pushes two minecarts where he thinks people are likely to be. The Nosy Neighbors see and avoid the first minecart, but the second one blows up BigB.

Team TIES invades the Clock Tower and engages in a shooting battle with the Clockers. Impulse is injured during the shooting and then dies from fall damage when someone (Scott takes credit) shoots him off the ledge he is standing on.

During the shooting battle, Skizz pushes four or five TNT minecarts out of the Clock Tower, all in the same place. Scott gets distracted enough by attempting to shoot Impulse that he wanders straight into the blast path and gets blown up.

The shooting battle continues outside the tower as the Clockers fend off TIES. Scar tags Etho with a weakness potion and gets in several good hits but is hampered by Bdubs, who does not want Etho dead despite his general murderousness. Scott snipes the kill on Etho while Scar is distracted.

During the fight, Skizzleman jumps into the melee and begins fighting Scar as well. Scar scores several hits, as does Cleo. Both of them also hit Bdubs as well as a cow who happens to be in the waterlogged hole where the battle I taking place. Scar kills Skizz with his sword.

Meanwhile, Martyn finds himself treed in Frog Tower and pursued by Joel, Pearl and Grian. He escapes into the woods and attempts to set a minecart trap to kill the others, but it blows up in his face and kills him. Pearl gets credit because she got the last hit in on him.

Skizz respawns and notices he was not carrying his totem in his offhand. He equips it and dives straight back into melee combat agains Cleo, apparently maddened by bloodlust. He jumps off the bridge after her and takes significant damage. Scar follows them and hits Skizz with a sword in defense of his Mom, popping Skizz’s totem.

Skizz chooses not to take the opportunity the totem provides to retreat, instead attempting to kill Scott when he joins the fray. He is quickly killed again by Scar.

Joel is pursued across the server by Scott and Scar, who is determined to introduce Joel to Mrs. Puffy the pufferfish in retaliation for Joel’s kill on Cleo. Joel is unable to escape and is eventually worn down by the pair of them and Martyn. Scott snipes the final kill off Scar, but all is forgiven when he gives Scar another Mrs. Puffy to replace the one that perished.

Scar returns to the Clock Tower, where he and Bdubs are surprised when Etho MLG buckets out of the sky near them. Scar moves in to attack, but Bdubs says he cannot possibly kill their dad. He does not get in the way this time, though. Scar takes Etho to very low health, but the kill is sniped when Etho dies to fall damage with a skeleton nearby to take credit.

Etho respawns and the fight is back on, this time with Martyn trying to kill Etho as well. Etho gets the upper hand against Scar but Scar accidentally shoots one of his own wolves, aggroing it. The wolf snipes the kill on Scar and gets the credit.

Skizz assembles TIES at Windsor base one last time. He distributes his valuable possessions, explaining that he has been unable to score the kills he needs to survive and he refuses to give their enemies the last of his time. He orders his teammates to help him sacrifice himself in the hopes that someone in TIES will make it to the end of the game. Etho, being the TIES member with the least time remaining, kills Skizz with his own axe, taking him out of the game.

The newly-reduced Team TIE faces off against the Clockers on Skynet. Impulse leads the way because he has the most life remaining, and after a long-distance battle kills Bdubs with a bow.

Injured from the fight, Impulse bricks himself up long enough to eat, then tries to get off Skynet when it’s clear he’s still under fire. He uses an ender pearl that puts him on the ground with half a heart remaining and flees, then dies to the fall damage from a two-block drop.

Scar climbs up onto M-Rye-5 where Grian and Joel are hiding in the irrigation holes of the wheat field. Grian gets the drop on Scar and after a pitched two-on-one PVP battle, Scar attempts to jump to safety but is killed by Grian at the last moment with exquisite comedic timing.

Joel and Grian travel on M-Rye-5 looking for targets on Skynet. They choose to ignore Pearl and focus instead on Martyn, Cleo and Scar on the platform above the Clock Tower. Grian pushes a minecart onto them which obliterates the platform. Martyn and Cleo blow up, but Scar merely falls off and is saved by a timely bucket clutch.

Joel encounters Scott and Scar in the ruins of the Bad Boy base, after almost dying several times to forgetting about the glass in the water. Scott is annoyed about Joel griefing his base, and Scar would like to show Joel the new and improved Mrs. Puffy. They fight in the flooded remnants of the Bread Bridge and Scott gets in the final hit.

The kill from Scott takes Joel to seven minutes on his timer, leaving him desperate for more time. He tries unsuccessfully to kill Scott with a crossbow, then engages with Scar at the base of the Clock Tower. They do a lot of damage to each other, but Grian intervenes and insists that Joel kill him rather than risk dying to Scar. Joel kills Grian and gets thirty minutes back.

Moments later, Joel also finishes Scar off for another thirty minute gain.

Moments after that, Scott catches up and kills Joel with a bow, taking Joel back down to five minutes remaining.

Grian and Joel reunite at the Sub Sandwich where they’ve both respawned and decide they can’t afford for Grian to give Joel more time. Grian gives Joel TNT instead and they head for the Clock Tower where the Clockers and Scott are grouped up and waiting. Joel is desperate for a kill despite the odds stacked against him and tries to speed-build a platform to push a TNT minecart from. Joel is unsuccessful and ultimately falls to a bow attack from Scott, taking him out of the series.

[perseusofjackson]

Zephyr loreee

(Warning im really tired rn so this may come across as poorly written, I will change it if its not fitting within the elemon universe!)

Age: 28

Demiromantic Gay

Zephyr is a scout/rescue aid following in his mother’s steps. His team consists of a Runigrif named Snipe, a Cruserian named Swift, and a Fuzzee named Swoosh!

Snipe is the elemon that does rescue missions that take place in the high up areas such as high plains or mountains. He is exceptionally fast and good at retrieving items (or lost people).

Swift, unlike other Cruserians that are used to explore the sea bottom, works in cave rescue missions. Often getting into places too dangerous or deep for Zephyr to go to. It may be helpful during underwater rescues, but those types of rescues are rare.

And Swoosh? Swoosh is just a pet that Zephyr has as company, she mostly keeps company to the other elemons when Zephyr is busy doing his own thing.

(Small tw for mentions of death)

His dream of being a rescue aid has stuck with him since he was young, viewing his mother as a hero for saving the people and their belongings.

He wasn’t as outgoing and relaxed as he is today. Back then he would keep to himself, clinging to a Fuzzee plush and hiding behind his mother’s legs.

During his rookie years of being a rescue aid, he had a few friends that he worked alongside with. Zephyr often hung out with them even after work hours.

Everything in his life had gone smoothly so far, until during an urgent rescue mission that could cost the lives of the people needing saving.

Zephyr and his friend group, despite their lack of experience, were the only ones available at the time who could take on the mission.

When they set out on it, they were lacking in skill. Zephyr was riding on Snipe, but they weren’t fast enough, and it was too much for rookie Zephyr to handle.

Luck wasn't on his side, as soon enough he crashed into one of his friends and fell off Snipe. He was luckily caught by his runigrif fast enough, but his friend wasn't as fortunate.

He couldn’t pause the mission to save one man however, so with a heavy heart, he carried on with the current goal.

Despite how hard he tried, the team didn't come fast enough and all the victims either suffered major injuries or had already died.

There were four lives lost that day, three people he couldn’t rescue, and his own friend who he killed.

Zephyr racked with grief and shame entered a bout of depression, distancing himself from his friends, family, but also his very own elemon despite living with them.

He didn’t take another rescue mission for a full two years after that, in which he deeply ngelected himself.

It took him long to go to therapy, long to start talking to loved ones again, and even longer to forgive himself.

Eventually, he did recover from his period of depression, but he now does suffer from ptsd from the accident.

[making-dough]

🌈- A memory about when they first fell in love

memories meme - very closed and very late.

♠ - Love? Hers was a lifestyle far too risky for love. What would happen if she were to fall in love with someone and then went and gets herself impaled on the nearest lance? Can you even imagine the trauma that would bring to her supposed loved-one? Can you even imagine the pain and the heartbreak?

That was why, unlike her sisters, she'd tried to keep herself detached. They could feel the idealistic warmth of falling in love and being loved but not her. Oh, it'd be nice but it'd be too dangerous. She'd needed to keep her eyes on the prize.

But there was once she was almost tempted to say stuff it all and start on something that might look like a relationship. It was on the boat ride back to Port Badon. Nergal was dead and everything was over and done with. Once back in Lycia, she'd really just planned on slipping away quietly. She really hated saying good-bye. Good-bye just meant never seeing everyone again and returning to the road alone. So long as she didn't say it, they'll meet again one day. Well, she'd planned to save for the heavy hand on her wrist. A hand belonging to a certain dumb pirate. "What is it, wharf rat? Whatcha need?", she muttered at him.

"Aye know tha' look, woman! Yer plannin' on jus' slippin' away, ain't ya?", came the guttural response.

"And what of it?", she sniped back. "I don't need to say good-bye when there's a lot more cash to be made out there!", she pointed out, waving a hand at the still far-off Lycian shore. "And besides, it's not like you guys'll miss me at al-"

"Bu' wha' 'bout yer sisters?" That brought her up to a stop. "Aye, uh, jus' found out Aye had a sister lately. Aye ain't great at al' 'tis but aye tink aye care fer her lots. Aye'm shure yers care fer you too."

"I...they'll be fine.", Farina murmured out, hanging her head downwards. "It'll just be business as usual for them. They won't need me at all."

"Woul'n't they? Aye'd tink dey would. An' Aye tink aye would too."

"I-", Before she could even begin to think of a response to that, she found herself wrapped up in his arms and held close to his chest. "Aye ain't no great shakes at 'tis but aye 'tink aye'm gonna need some help wit' mai dream. Can yer stay an' hel' me?"

For a moment, she found herself moved. Why not? Life as a pirate won't be that much different than as a mercenary. It'll be just as freeing, anyway. And probably less dangerous. At minimum, she won't be treated as cannon fodder and that was an improvement all on its own.

But can she trust him? That was always her bugbear, wasn't it? Trust. Could she even bring herself to trust him and trust that she won't find herself used again? Can she bare her heart out to him and trust it won't get broken? No, she can't. It's still too dangerous.

"Heh, nice try.", she declared, peeling herself from the pirate. "It's for that treasure map, right? You probably just want to go ahead and pick my brains or something? You can go ahead and try. I'm still nabbing the treasure first."

That's right. Ever since that training accident, it had seemed like she's been alone. So, why shouldn't she stay alone? She's freer that way. She can reach anyone and anything that way. So, she didn't need anyone. She turned her back on the pirate and declared simply. "I-I don't need anyone." Now, why did it seem like she was trying to convince herself that?

[libertys-lovers]

Heat and overcast!

-selfshippery

Hiya selfshippery, welcome back in, and thanks for sending an ask!!

I believe… I believe I shall apply this to my TF2 F/Os! It’s been a while, why not? Bring out Sniper & Pauling!

—

Heat: Does it get hot where we live? Do they like the hot weather, and how do we manage on those days?

So, our base is in the middle of the New Mexico desert… so I’d say it gets pretty damn warm. Mick doesn’t seem to mind the heat as much, & Pauling dislikes it but doesn’t let it distract her… but ME?!? I’m fucking suffering out here please save me 😭🙏

When we work on especially hot days, I just try to bring a couple water bottles and a portable fan; luckily for me I don’t have to fight, so I can safely hold my fan to my face & just… observe. Assuming Pauling’s leaving her office on these days to do the dirty work, she brings some water bottles & really takes in the breeze she gets while riding around on her bike. And Mick, he just tries to find a real shady spot to claim as his sniping nest. Usually I’m able to convince him to drink more water than coffee in those days… usually.

Overcast: What do we do when storms hit? Are Mick or Pauling afraid of thunderstorms?

I absolutely love thunderstorms; I’ll just stand out there for hours & let myself get drenched in rain, to the utter confusion of every other merc. Pauling, she either loves or HATES the storms depending on where she is. If she’s doing office work inside, then it provides some relaxing background noise while she works. But if she’s outside… she’s just miserable the entire damn time.

I’d say Mick likes storms the least though. Sometimes it’s a nice way to wash off the heat of a day, but for the most part he just finds the rain to be annoying, & he doesn’t care for the noise either.

Louder thunder scares all of us, though I’d say I’m the least scared of it. But none of us are like, inherently scared of storms.

[themovieblogonline]

Deadpool and Wolverine: Wesley Snipes Blade Returns

When Ryan Reynolds texts, you answer. That's the lesson Wesley Snipes learned when the "Deadpool" star reached out with a tantalizing proposition: a return to the silver screen as Blade, the iconic vampire hunter. Snipes, known for his cool demeanor and swift martial arts, might have thought his days of slicing through vampire hordes were over. But when Reynolds called, it was like a superhero team-up waiting to happen. This collaboration isn't just a throwback; it's a cinematic event that's shaking up the Marvel universe. The Call That Changed Everything Imagine getting a call out of the blue from a fellow actor you worked with 20 years ago. That’s exactly what happened to Wesley Snipes. Reynolds, ever the charmer, convinced Snipes to reprise his role as Blade in the upcoming "Deadpool & Wolverine" movie. This unexpected twist brings together a roster of beloved Marvel characters in a multiversal adventure, with Deadpool and Wolverine at the helm. Why Wesley Snipes' Blade Is Back For years, fans clamored for more Blade, especially with Mahershala Ali's upcoming reboot on the horizon. But the stars aligned in a different way. Reynolds' pitch to Snipes wasn’t just a reunion; it was a promise of something fresh and exciting. The film explores alternate realities, giving Snipes’ Blade a unique entry point into a universe teeming with possibilities. The Plot Thickens: Deadpool & Wolverine's Multiverse Adventure "Deadpool & Wolverine" isn't your typical superhero flick. It’s a journey across different dimensions, with Reynolds' Wade Wilson seeking Wolverine’s help to save a dying reality. The film features a slew of cameos, including Jennifer Garner as Elektra and Channing Tatum finally suiting up as Gambit. But the real showstopper is the return of Snipes as Blade, bringing his signature blend of stoic cool and lethal efficiency. Behind the Scenes: Keeping the Secret Snipes had to keep his involvement under wraps, even from his family. The challenge wasn’t just secrecy; it was getting back into Blade shape. The actor shared his struggles with getting "Blade ready" after years away from the role. Despite the physical demands, Snipes was excited to don the iconic trench coat and shades once more, proving that some heroes never fade. The Future of Blade While Snipes' return is a treat for fans, it raises questions about the future of the Blade franchise. Mahershala Ali is set to star in a standalone Blade film within the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Snipes has nothing but praise for Ali, expressing confidence in the new direction Marvel is taking. As the original Daywalker passes the torch, he leaves behind a legacy that's hard to match. "Deadpool & Wolverine" is more than just a superhero movie; it's a cultural event that brings together iconic characters and actors in a unique multiverse setting. Wesley Snipes’ return as Blade is a highlight, promising to blend nostalgia with new adventures. As fans gear up for this blockbuster, it's clear that the Marvel universe still has plenty of surprises in store. Whether you're a fan of the old Blade movies or excited for the new wave of Marvel films, this movie is set to be a wild ride. Read the full article

[fabiansociety]

Death in a Time of Strife

There are long periods of time in which no one is killed and no one needs saving, and the Great Detective does indeed savor those moments, but only ever in retrospect. Life is more vibrant, more real, somehow, when the Rule is broken. He can almost feel, like the turning of the seasons, all the various parts of his long and colorful history shivering briefly into synthesis with this more contemplative life. He is never so devoted to the order as when he is flouting its strictures, never so passionately in love with monastic life as when he is breaking curfew to ride through the woods with a lean and lissome deputy sheriff in hopes of saving some poor doomed idiot or other.

But he does cherish the quiet times; the long months of growth and harvest, the placid nights of plainsong, the unmemorable merriment of a feast day, the hushed chill of an icy winter. Even in the midst of civil war, he has found, clung to, a peace everlasting.

His Archnemesis, never one to be outdone, has anticipated him, wormed his way into the abbey before the Great Detective’s calling had even come upon him. But he, too, is made mild by the unchanging hours of the liturgical day, rendered no more venomous than any other toadying subprior trotting along behind a marmoreal and unregarding bore. They snipe at each other in chapter, but what of it? Their swords are sheathed, always sheathed, in the presence of the divine.

A story about The Great Detective | source: alexanderhammil.net

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

“Goodbye, for now..” (Macready x Reader)

(Guess it could be platonic or romantic…)

“So, this is it..isn’t it?” The words felt more painful to hear yourself say than your voice portrayed. Of course, it was selfish to be sad to see him go considering the circumstances of his departure, however whenever your whole life was ripped away from you and you finally have something new..it’s hard to let that thing go too no matter how good the reason nah be. “Think you have everything you need?”

The blue-eyed man, either unaware of the sadness in your countenance or choosing to ignore it, wistfully looked over once he fastened the final strap to hold down his luggage on the caravan. “Yeah, could always do with some extra caps but hey, the capital isn’t too far.” He more or less hummed, cracking his knuckles after he fixed his rifle strap upon his shoulder.

Turning his body to you completely, he gave a soft sigh. “Don’t matter how far it is though, I’m just happy to go get Duncan.” He finished with a smile. “You sure you don’t want to tag along? I think the commonwealth can manage without you for a second.”

His offer resonated within your mind. It wasn’t the first time he proposed it, and this wasn’t going to be the first time you denied it either. It would be a lie if you said the appeal of leaving this place behind wasn’t very, very attractive- especially considering you’d be right at your companion’s side. Alas, there was simply too much unfinished business to tend to for you to be free. Not to mention the others you considered friends..no, you couldn’t leave. Certainly not.

“You know my answer, Mac. Can’t leave things the way they are now..” Was your forlorn reply, a forced smile accenting your words once you spoke them.

He eyes you up and down after your response, seeming to hold his breath in the same fashion he would before taking a shot while sniping. Seeming to arrive to some unknown conclusion, his hands calmly seized the ratty green hat on his head before he handed it over to you. The merc didn’t give much of a choice whether you wanted to receive it or not, seeing as he took only a second of hesitancy to simply fix it onto your head.

“Suit yourself, boss.” He mused with a chuckle, the usage of his old nickname for you good enough to entice a giggle from you as well. “I’ll be back again soon, you can’t get rid of me that easy. Plus I think Duncan sort of wants to meet the person that saved his life, just sort of.” With that he gave a playful punch to your shoulder before mounting the caravan.

“Believe it when I see it. Goodbye.” “Not goodbye, just see you later.” “Fine, see ya.”

Watching him ride off wasn’t much easier than your farewells, but waiting for the day he came back was the hardest part.

[d-andilion]

heart, be true

@witcher-bows-and-arrows day 1: song

(valskier, established relationship, fluff, lightest angst, 1.6k)

read on ao3

Valdo is nearly ready for bed when there is a knock on his door. He can’t stop the heavy groan from leaving him. Who in their right mind would be calling at this hour? If he wanted company, he would go out to the taverns and find it. Tonight, he was perfectly content to have a glass of wine and turn in early. He’s hardly the young sprite of a man he once was, even if his skin is still flawless.

The inappropriately late caller knocks again without leaving much time in between. Valdo has half a mind to ignore it; serves them right for interrupting his calm evening in. They knock again.

“Have the decency to announce yourself, at least!” Valdo complains, already getting to his feet. Then, muffled by the wood of the door, a familiar voice croons:

“My lover rides with the sea–”

Valdo’s heart freezes in his chest and he bolts to the door, wrenching it open before the daft man behind it can finish the line. Jaskier looks like shit. He always does when returning from the road, covered in grime, bawdy ensemble in need of repairs, but it never fails to be a shock. He’s in need of a shave this time. And a haircut. Valdo has his arms around Jaskier’s neck before the other bard can breathe a word of greeting. Jaskier sways a bit, but he’s sturdy as ever, keeping them upright and returning the embrace with equal force.

“You’re late,” Valdo mutters into the crook of Jaskier’s neck.

“Forgive me,” the other bard replies. “The path of follies and toils abound, keeps me through the seasons but here I am found.”

Valdo groans at the familiar rhyme, but he doesn’t let go just yet. He can forgive Jaskier for speaking in verse like a bloody troll under a bridge when it’s that song—their song.

It isn’t a great song per se. The metre is simple, the tune has been done, hardly the sort of thing they teach in the classroom. It’s an old one as well, tried and true with perhaps a dozen versions if one were to count them all up. If it had a composer, their name has long been forgotten, lost to annals of time.

Of course, that isn’t to say it’s a bad song either. It’s catchy and well-loved and surprisingly versatile, at home as much in a tavern as it is in a court. And its many variations mean that it hardly ever gets old—there’s even a verse sung in Elder to add an air of sophistication and mystery.

Valdo can’t remember the first time he heard it. When he was a child, surely. It is ancient, after all. But the first time he listened to it, the first time he really paid attention, was when Jaskier first sang it to him.

It was ages ago, maybe a decade after they left the Academy. After years of petty sniping and sabotage and frustration burned off behind closed doors finally caught up with them. Valdo was tired of fighting. Tired of pretending. Jaskier, as it turned out, was tired too.

They spent the winter together at Oxenfurt, bitter rivals turned blissful lovers. It was like a dream or a dream of a dream. But the Earth turns and seasons change and winter came to an end.

Valdo knew better than to expect Jaskier to give up the road for him; would never ask it of him, wouldn’t want it from him. Jaskier wouldn’t be Jaskier without his ever-present wanderlust. But that didn’t make parting hurt any less. So Valdo sulked in silence while his lover packed his possessions away, watched Jaskier’s clothes and books and soaps and oils disappear, leaving Valdo’s behind. They looked so lonely on the shelves now.

“Will you keep my trunks here?” Jaskier asked him without looking up from the delicate work of folding his winter things. “I usually pay to have them stored, but my purse would certainly be thankful to save the coin.”

Valdo hummed from his perch at the end of the bed in a manner that could reasonably be construed as assent. He didn’t mind storing Jaskier’s things, of course—if fact, he was tickled at the prospect of stealing the other bard’s doublets in his absence—but Valdo wasn’t about to let on, not while he was playing the part of the dejected lover.

Jaskier dropped a half-folded shirt into his trunk with an exasperated sigh and rose to his feet. Valdo didn’t expect Jaskier to stay. He wasn’t even upset with him for going. But they say misery loves company and Valdo had always been living proof of that sentiment.

For a moment, Valdo thought Jaskier was truly miffed at him, weary of his theatrics over the last few days. But then the other bard smiled. And as he strode towards the bed with slow, deliberate steps, he sang.

“My lover rides

With the sea and the skies,

To the long and endless blue.

Though I weep, oh I pine,

May my love take his time,”

Valdo tried to remain aloof, but he could feel the blush rise on his cheeks and Jaskier's grin only grew wider as he reached the end of the bed, pausing his chorus. Valdo nearly held his breath as he felt a warm finger under his chin. The touch was light, little more than a suggestion, but Valdo let his head be tilted up without resistance.

Usually, when Jaskier gets a chance to look down at Valdo, he’s smug about it. It’s a rare enough occasion; Valdo is exactly two inches taller than Jaskier. But that time, Jaskier was sweet. His blue eyes were unbearably earnest and he leaned in close, nudging Valdo’s nose with his as he finished the first verse of the song.

“For to me his heart be true.”

Valdo wanted to keep pouting if only to prove he was capable of it, but he didn’t. Instead, he smiled and Jaskier kissed his grin and they both laughed at the absurd feeling of their upturned lips pressed together. Jaskier yanked Valdo to his feet and tugged him in close, leading them in a dance about their bedroom while he went on with the song.

Jaskier sang differently in private than he did in competition, or even among his beloved masses. He leaned into the caveats of his accent, strayed to the deeper end of his range. It suited the style of the song perfectly and the honeyed notes seemed to stick in Valdo’s chest.

Valdo rolled his eyes a few times at the lyrics. They were terribly cheesy at times, so silly and cliche. The singer lamented their lover’s loss and fanaticized about their time together, but they were never down about it for long—for they knew he would return. The seasons would change and the autumn would come and their wayward lover would come home.

And to me his heart be true.

They never really decided the song would be theirs. It just… was. Every year in the final days of winter, Valdo grew sullen and Jaskier burst spontaneously into song until Valdo was smiling again. It was amusing, of course, able to lighten the mood whether Valdo liked it or not. But more than that, it was the reminder he always needed, however many years passed.

And when the cold nights drew in, it was a balm for seasons spent apart.

Jaskier seems different tonight, though. It’s more than weariness from the road. Valdo wonders for a bit if it’s the gruffer look tricking his eye, but even after Jaskier has washed up and had something to eat, he’s quiet. He passes too many moments staring off into space.

Valdo waits until they’ve settled in for the night to mention it. Jaskier reclines in their bed, arm stretched back to pillow his head while Valdo sprawls on top of him, chin propped up on Jaskier’s chest. Valdo’s been regaling him with the gossip he missed, and Jaskier has been humming in all the right places, though without his usual enthusiasm.

The latest tale comes to an end and Jaskier lets his eyes fall shut. “I’m still listening,” he says when Valdo doesn’t start a new one. Valdo runs a finger along the other bard’s jaw and his eyes flick open again.

“Are you alright?”

For an awful, fleeting moment, Valdo thinks Jaskier is going to cry. His eyes well up and his breath hitches in his chest, and there’s the slightest tremble of his bottom lip. As if Valdo’s acknowledgment of his altered state was all he needed to fall apart.

But he doesn’t fall apart, at least, not tonight. Jaskier takes a few deep breaths and blinks away his unshed tears. Valdo feels Jaskier’s free hand on his back, tracing his spine up and down.

“I’m learning a lesson you tried to warn me of,” Jaskier all but whispers. “The road is unyielding. And it cannot love you back.”

Indeed, Valdo has warned him many times. He always knew this life would trample Jaskier’s ever-open heart sooner or later. His apt prediction tastes bitter on his tongue.

Jaskier expects Valdo to be smug about it. It’s clear from the self-deprecating little smile he paints on his face. True to form, Valdo refuses to be what Jaskier expects of him. No, it cannot love you back, Valdo thinks. But I do.

“I do.”

The phony grin on Jaskier’s face disappears, replaced by a gentle look of something like awe. “Yes,” he says. “Yes, you do.”

Jaskier’s eyes fall shut. He smiles. Then, he sings.

Whatever troubles him, whatever demon dogs Jaskiers steps, Valdo is not afraid of it. He will face it, chase it off with a stick if he must. It will not harm them here. It can’t. His lover has returned and is safe in his arms.

And to me his heart be true.

~~

bows and arrows masterlist

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #255

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we're going to France! Wait, no, hold on. We're building Paris. Sorry for the confusion. He's a Swarmkeeper Ranger for all the sheeps he keeps, and a Light Cleric so he doesn't weigh them down too much.

Check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: She's hungry like the wolf!

Race and Background

Apollo is a sheep, but Paris is a Human, specifically going with the Variant variety for +1 Dexterity and Wisdom, as well as proficiency with Religion (mostly with Apollo's help), and the Crossbow Expert feat. This gives you the ability to fire multiple times with a crossbow, and you can fight without disadvantage even if there's enemies within 5' of you. You can also dual-wield hand crossbows, but yours is a little too big for that. Paris is a Noble, for the standard History and Persuasion proficiencies. Wow, y'know a lotta these historical figures are super rich, huh?

Ability Scores

If you're gonna be good with arrows Dexterity is a must, so make this super high! After that is Charisma. Paris is a cute kid, almost cute enough to make you forget he kidnapped a woman an started a world war. Almost. Wisdom is next, mostly out of necessity. Seriously, you had to pick against the queen of the gods and the god of victory, huh? Intelligence is next. You're a prince, they have good tutors. Your Constitution isn't great, but we're dumping Strength. You're not much of a front-line fighter.

Class Levels

Ranger 1: Starting as a ranger is neat, you get an extra skill, so let's start there. You get proficiency in Strength and Dexterity saves, as well as Animal Handling for riding Apollos, Perception for sniping, and Athletics. Even if he's a little kid, he still had some training. He can also pick out a Favored Foe when he hits them, using his concentration to deal an extra 1d4 damage the first time you hit it each turn, up to Proficiency times per day. You also become Canny in Persuasion, doubling your proficiency with it. Still not totally sure why Aphrodite would give you the most beautiful lady out there for an apple, but good for you, I guess. Or bad for you, if the later part of the story is anything to go off of.

Ranger 2: Second level rangers get a fighting style, and the Archery style gives you a cool +2 to your ranged attack rolls. Now you're more accurate than ever! You can also cast Spells now using your Wisdom. Your best friend is a talking sheep, so pick up Animal Friendship and Speak to Animals to make that happen.

Ranger 3: At third level you get your very own Apollo! And another one, and another one, and... Swarmkeepers get a lot of animal buddies. Kinda in the name. You gain a Gathered Swarm of sheep, all hanging out in your space until you die. Once a turn you can add an effect to an attack that hits, either dealing extra damage (piercing, but you can probably talk your DM into bludgeoning), forcing a strength save or moving the target 15 feet, or moving yourself 5 feet. Fun fact, being moved doesn't provoke opportunity attacks like moving yourself does, so have fun with that. You also get some more spells, including freebies from your subclass. Use Mage Hand to have Apollo carry stuff for you, or Zephyr Strike to use Apollo's swiftness to get out of danger. You also get Faerie Fire, which isn't super in character. I guess it helps with your aim? You also gain Primeval Awareness, spending spell slots to sense nearby servants' locations. Or nearby dragons, fiends, celestials, etc. Either or.

Ranger 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Dexterity for a higher AC and more accurate attacks. That dress isn't armor no matter how fluffy it may be, so avoid getting hit, k?

Ranger 5: Fifth level rangers get an Extra Attack each action, which you can actually use since we got that feat at level 1. You can also turn your crossbow into a Magic Weapon to cut through some creature's defenses and deal extra damage. You can also spread out some sheep to create a Web, slowing down anyone who sets foot in them. Who could move through that adorable flock without stopping to pet them?? Nobody. (You can also set them on fire, but... don't.)

Cleric 1: According to the forgotten realm wiki, Apollo falls under the divine domains of Light, Life, and Knowledge. You're not super clever, and you don't do much healing, so that leaves only one possibility. As a Light cleric you get some extra Spells (plus a new spell list that you can prepare and cast with Wisdom). Since you're multiclassing, check the player's handbook to see how many slots you have at a given time. Speaking of spells, Apollo's Guidance will add 1d4 to your next skill check, or you can use Thaumaturgy to sound a little more godly. Finally, pick up Toll the Dead for a magical sniper shot, dealing more damage on weakened targets. For leveled spells, you get Burning Hands and Faerie Fire for free, though neither are particularly in character. For chosen spells, Healing Word works for the tiny bit of healing you normally get, and Shield of Faith is another Apollo to put between you and danger, adding 2 to your AC for a while. You can also create a Warding Flare, putting an Apollo between you and danger, forcing disadvantage on an incoming attack roll Wisdom times per day.

Cleric 2: Second level clerics can Channel Divinity once per short rest. You can Turn Undead or create the Radiance of the Dawn, both as an action. The former forces a wisdom save on every zombie nearby, making them run away if they fail. The latter destroys darkness and forces a constitution save on nearby enemies, dealing radiant damage to them, or half on a successful save. This is probably the closest we're ever getting to a ranged smite.

Cleric 3: Third level clerics get second level spells. This includes the freebies like Flaming Sphere and Scorching Ray, which aren't super in character, but tbh there's not much we'd really want here anyway. Hold Person is only super great for melee fighters since it gives instant critical hits on melee attacks, but it certainly strips them of evade options, so it fits the build.

Cleric 4: Once we hit fourth level we start hitting what we came to the cleric class for. Those sweet sweet ASIs! Use this one to grab the Sharpshooter feat to ignore half and 3/4 cover, plus you can fire at long range without disadvantage and take a penalty to your shot for a bonus to damage. You also learn to Spare the Dying. Apollo's a god of medicine, but I like to imagine this is just Paris using two of them like defibrillators.

Cleric 5: At fifth level your Turn Undead can Destroy Undead of CR 1/2 or lower, and you learn third level spells. Again, Daylight and Fireball aren't in character, but the other options you can choose definitely are. I'm not sure if it would fall under Bestow Curse or Incite Greed, but you finally have access to that apple that started it all. Have fun.

Cleric 6: At sixth level you can Channel Divinity twice per rest, and you gain an Improved Flair, letting you protect allies with your sheep-flinging skills as well.

Cleric 7: Seventh level clerics get fourth level spells. Your freebies are Guardian of Faith and Wall of Fire, but we're really here for Locate Creature. We usually have evade skills as some kind of invisibility, so this will cut through those pretty easily.

Cleric 8: Your last level of cleric gives us one more ASI for the Martial Adept feat. Once a short rest, you can use your superiority die (a d6) on one of two maneuvers. A Precision Attack adds the roll to your attack roll, or you can Rally an ally and add the roll to their temporary HP. If you're going to cause a siege you might as well keep morale up. You also gain Blessed Strikes, adding a bit of radiant damage to your first weapon attack each turn.

Ranger 6: Finally back in ranger now, just in time to start Roving. This gives you an extra 5' movement speed, and you can climb or swim just as fast. You're getting a cooler way to move in style in a bit, but it's nice for now.

Ranger 7: Seventh level swarmkeepers command a Writhing Tide, letting you ride on your sheep for a mobile sniper platform. (It gives you a flying speed of 10' a round for up to a minute as a bonus action.) You can do this Proficiency times per day. So right now that means you get a total flight distance of 500' a day, or up to 1000' if you make them dash everywhere. You can also cast Lesser Restoration. Your actual skill gives you debuff resistance, but this is kinda like that, right?

Ranger 8: Okay, we're done with feats. It's finally time to max out your Dexterity for the strongest and most accurate shots. You can also use a Land's Stride to ignore difficult terrain from nonmagical plants, with advantage on saves against magical ones. You can fly though, so...

Ranger 9: Ninth level rangers get third level spells again, like Lightning Arrow. Even if you miss, you still hit! You also get Gaseous Form for free, but like most of your freebie spells it's not in-character. Ah well.

Ranger 10: Tenth level rangers are Tireless, letting you recover from exhaustion on short rests. Sieges last a while, it's a good idea for you to stay on the alert. It would really suck if your defenses got bypassed by something stupid because you were tired, right? You also learn to use Nature's Veil for your own sort of evasion, spending your bonus action to become invisible for a round Proficiency times per day.

Ranger 11: Eleventh level swarmkeepers maintain a Mighty Herd, buffing all three options of your Gathered Swarm. Now you deal more damage, can knock a creature prone when you move them, and gain half cover for a round if you move yourself. That's a +2 bonus to AC and dex saves, btw. Unless you're fighting another you, I guess. For your final spell we're going back a bit so you can Summon Beast to create the one true Apollo that cuts through the swarm. You can also make a bird or fish, but why not make a sheep?

Ranger 12: For our final level, use this last ASI to bump up your Constitution for an extra 20 HP. Rangers like concentration, who knew?

Pros and Cons

Pros:

It's really hard to stop you thanks to all your movement options and defenses. Whether you're using zephyr strike or your swarm to pull you out of harms way, or even just using a flare to give opportunity attackers disadvantage, it's just really hard to get in your way.

And that's assuming they can get in your way to begin with, since flying archers tend to have free reign of the battlefield. Rain hellfire from above, and nothing can stop you.

Even though we didn't focus on charisma, that expertise in persuasion makes you a pretty good face, both for humanoids and beasts. You're literally a cleric that hangs out with sheep, who would be suspicious of you?

Cons:

We only focused on dexterity this build, so your spells are pretty weak and easy to avoid.

Plenty of them also use Concentration, which you're not good at keeping up if you get hit. That means it's a headache to keep your spells straight, and you risk losing a spell entirely.

We dumped strength, so you might have trouble dealing with the odd enemy able to keep up with your nonsense. You're easy to push around and knock prone. If that happens in the air, you fall straight to the ground, and you don't have feather fall. This is supposed to be a Paris build, not Icarus, so be careful about how high you go.

[ratsoh-writes]

Go kart competition for all the skeletons! Let's raise the stakes and say they were dragged to the event regardless. Enemies can be at opposite ends of the starting line. Who is flat out refusing to race. Who wins the top 5. Who gets last place and who creates a pile up? (Or anything similar)

Lol, the only guys who would opt out are the horror papyri. Noir and willow really don’t want to f*ck up their backs from this and unless there’s a go cart out there that can house 7’11 basil, he’s gonna politely decline. They’ll play cheerleader though.

If this ever happened, I bet it’d be at a barrier festival. I can see the guys running into some of each other and declaring a war between skeletons lol

Sans: he’s a big weenie that’s allergic to pain. The second it looks like someone is going to crash into him, he’s shortcutting out of the cart. Abandon ship!

Papyrus: remember how edge doesn’t really like papyrus that much? Well it’s not fair that edge is friends with sans and not him! So papyrus has declared that him and edge are teaming up for this race! You can’t escape friendship edge!!!

Star: he tried to tell lilac you maybe sit this one out. Lilac refused and accused Star of babying him. Now they are mortal enemies for the day. The first race lilac friggin made Star drive into a ditch lol. The second race Star flipped lilacs kart. Now Jupiter is sacrificing his win ti drive between those two

Honey: he’s a big weenie who doesn’t have the blessing of shortcuts. After getting wiped out the first race, honey plays injured and hangs out with the horrors the next races

Red: oak keeps getting lost on the track and red ends up going after him. They take a detour and have a nice country road drive instead lol

Edge: for some reason sans annoying little brother insists that they team up for these races. Naturally edge betrays him the first round. But papyrus’s face made him feel bad so he plays nice the next two. Mission accomplished papyrus

Mal: he nearly fought with cash over the black and silver kart. Mal won naturally, and he uses the high from his victory to secure first place in all three races. Mal is really good at drifting

Cash: he wanted the black and silver one so bad but his stupid brother had the same idea. So cash ends up with the neon orange kart. He has a fun time causing a pile up in every race with bruiser

Oak: he somehow got off track the first race and went down a deserted country road. Red followed him and they decide to dusty and have a nice cruise instead

Charm: when cash and bruiser cause the pile up, he wound up squashed underneath butch, boss, snipe and the undynes. They were super worried about him even though he insisted he was fine and forced a pouting charm to sit the next two races out.

Sugar: he was also in the pile up, but boss saved his butt by pulling him on top of himself before sugar could tumble with his kart. Sugar spends the rest of the day swooning over his hero

Pop: he gets second place in all three races. Pop isn’t as skilled as mal, but he uses his small size to pick up speed

Rhythm: he was smart. Rhythm could see that bloodthirsty look in bruisers eye and decided to linger in the back. He helps clean up the pile up of the first race lol

Pluto: he actually gets third on the first race. Pluto was inherent in the back but when he saw the pile up, he panicked and floated himself above the others along with his kart. Nobody disputed it lol

Jupiter: with Star and lilac at war, Jupiter decides it’s his personal duty to make sure they don’t kill each other. Normally this is papyrus’s job, but he’s hanging off of edge for some weird reason.

Lord: he ends up sharing a kart with wine. Partly because they have an odd number of guys racing with the undynes, and also because wine doesn’t care about the race and takes them off track to go get Starbucks instead lol. They come back an hour late with some frappes

Mutt: he saves coffee from the pile up by pulling him into his kart and rolling off track. But they both killed their karts in the process, so coffee texts his brother to get him some coffee. They wind up chilling with basil and watching the show

Wine: he was already planning on ditching, but coffee wanted Starbucks so now wine has an excuse

Coffee: dude mutt is his knight in shining armor today. Coffee is super pissed at cash and bruiser right now and is already planning his revenge. Maybe a glitter bomb…

G: for once he’s glad his brother is such a snob. Green wanted his help first at the fairs stand. Greens practice had a display for scholarships for monster and half breed medical students but one of the volunteers bailed. G probably would’ve broken an arm in that race. He’s brittle

Green: he’s much to busy at his practices display to join the go kart race. Not that he would want to anyways. He winds up finding boss later and healing the crack in his arm he earned from saving sugar

Peaches: the farm bros are also out of the race. They have their farmers market section to take care of

Rancher: he’s gonna be pissed when he hears he missed the pile up

Snipe: he knew letting butch convince him to join was a bad idea. With all these enemies in one place snipe could just feel that someone will escalate. After his own little brother caused that first pile up, he plays injured like honey and sneaks off to hang out with the farm bros

Bruiser: he’s the villain of today lol. And for once, bruiser isn’t getting revenge on another skeleton. This time he’s targeting tempest. She had him in a thirty minute headlock yesterday and was still gloating. When the race started, bruiser looked her in the eye and promised that he’d make sure she wound even cross half the track. He delivered

Butch: he does get lucky enough to get third in the last race. Technically he tied for third with Star and lilac. But he still had fun. Butch isn’t even mad at being the near bottom of a pile up that first round

Boss: he’s rather protective of sugar so when he saw him about you be dragged under another kart, boss acted out of instinct. He pulls him out of the way but suffers a small crack on his arm for the trouble. He had bayou didn’t even notice till green healed him later. He has a pretty high pain tolerance

Ace: he also saw that look in bruisers eye and feeling generous, ace decides to share a kart with slim. He knows his brother will pop away at the first sign of trouble. Ace doesn’t even have to go through the effort of shortcutting himself! Genius lol

Slim: like sans, the second he sees danger he shortcuts out. And since ace was in the kart with him, he takes his brother along for the ride.

Rust: he hangs back and avoids the destruction of the first race. Then rust spends the rest of the festival wondering where red and oak went

Lilac: he is SICK AND TIRED of Star treating him like he’s brittle. So lilac gives his younger counterpart a hard time during the races. Star forgets, lilac might not be as fast, but he’s a lot bigger. It just takes a tap from him for starts cart to spin off track. After that it’s game on lol

[boycow69]

can i just talk for a minute about this stupid fucking crackship that has me by my SPINAL CORD bc i cant talk to my irls about this cuz they wouldnt get it.

so. the ship is ectoplasm/snipe and like i found it in a chatfic and it somehow??? wormed its way??? into my brain??? and settled down??? (bitch dont even pay rent ://) i literally have not been able to think about anything but Them for literal DAYS now. i don’t have the motivation to write anything about them but mildly coherent rants (like this one) and rn im just trying to get my thoughts in order.

and like if you think about it its actually really fucking sweet? as a ship? like snipe from what we’ve been shown is literally just Southern Charm + Cowboy and ectoplasm is the Actually Very Dangerous Math Nerd and idk about you but cowboy and math nerd is just a wholesome dynamic period and i hc snipe as being older anyway (like 39 MAYBE 38) so like the ship is basically middle-aged men in love? which is literally just my favorite already so. yeah. but also they just seem like domestic people, like they’d bring each other lunch at work if he forgot it at home, they’d go on walks together with snipe’s their dog named after some country singer (my favorite is thomas rhett so in my head the dogs name is rhett but my favorite song is ‘somethin bout a truck’ by kip moore so i like to think they have two goldens one is named moore and the other rhett). but like ecto would give snipe straws so he can drink through the mask in public and snipe would remind ecto to put his glasses on when he forgets or remind him that they’re on his head (cmon, we’ve all done it).

AND. AND. AND. YOU MIGHT ASK, BOYCOW69, HOW DO THEY KISS? ECTOPLASM DOESN’T HAVE LIPS AND THE ANSWER IS THEY BONK. like when a cat pushes its head against your hand ecto will just,,, take snipes face in his hands,,,,, and they jus,, they jus bonk. they put their faces together and just fucking enjoy the moment and FUCK man does the thought RUIN me. like they just HOLD each other and push their faces together because they LOVE EACH OTHER and im SOFT AND GAY AND CANT HANDLE IT.

and you bet your ASS ive got headcanons on their relationship and how long they’ve been together and how they got together in the first place and imma bout to fucking tell you. snipe and ecto are about four years apart, meaning they would’ve just barely missed each other in school unless ecto’s birthday was after the school year ended, which is how i hc it. they met in highschool and became friends instantly despite ecto being a third year and snipe being a first year (no, they arent dating that happens after snipe graduates and turns 18). something about the chaotic cowboy just struck a chord in ectos strict math nerdness and similarly to aizawa and mic they became fast friends (though more willingly on both ends. none of that tsundere shit hes just kinda like iida). they stay friends even after ecto graduates and they slowly start developing feelings over those few years until snipe turns 18 and shows up on ectos apartment door step with beer and a boombox (he’s already drunk, he needed the confidence) and playing ‘save a horse ride a cowboy’ and ecto, to this day, doesn’t understand why he said yes to a date in that moment but he also knew then that by agreeing to that date he was agreeing to so much more (a life with the guy, keep ya minds out the gutter). he agrees to the date (snipe refuses to move until he says yes or no) and pulls him into his apartment to turn off the damn music before he gets noise complaints and help his cowboy sober up so he can tell him yes properly.

snipe ends up telling him later (YEARS later) that he meant to play a different song but forgot when he got drunk and his plastered brain thought that one was better (he was gonna play ‘die a happy man’ by thomas rhett instead (shut up im a country fan and he’s literally a cowboy okay)). and, in turns of when he said yes to a date, ecto proposed on the spot. this led to a happy about 13 year marriage (in my brain they were dating from snipe-18, ecto-21 to snipe-25, ecto-28 when ecto proposed and they get married about a year later (26/28) and they both apply to work at UA two years after that (28/30), then to start of canon events where they are 39/41).

and thats probably about it for my rant but like GOD i love them and the BONK AND THE LOVE AND THE DOMESTIC SHIT AND I LOVE LOVE LOVE PEOPLE JUST BEING IN LOVE THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK

[x-reader-theater]

Hello! Can you do Spencer x gn! reader based on the song Birds by thomas sanders where the reader would be watching birds everyday alone and spencer would notice the reader every time he walked to work. one day the reader would still sit on the park bench in pouring rain and thunder and spencer decide to see whats up and finds the reader crying, beaten and bruised by their own family, so spencer decides to sit next to them and talk about birds. (if you want to write it further it would be a lovely strangers to lovers)

thank you for advance❣

God I love this song so much. I hope you like this! Also, sorry for not posting yesterday. That was my bad. I haven't been writing as much because I'm leaving to go to college in eight days so I'm kinda busy packing all my stuff again, so if I take a break for no reason, that's why loll. Edited by @mystic-writes

Gif by @reidgifs (Happy birthday 🎉)

I don't wanna drive a fancy car today

I don't wanna ride in a red corvette

I don't wanna jog my Saturday away

But I don't wanna go home yet

You're sitting on your favourite bench again when the tall man walks by. He does this every morning and every night, and since you noticed, you've been trying to come out here more and more. You like watching the birds, cataloguing which ones you see, if they're new or returning. A lot of the returning ones come over and you feed them some healthy seeds and bird snacks, sometimes even fruit if you have it. A lot of the birds come over and bring the new or shy ones to get extra treats.

But, you always look for the curious man who watches you watch the birds. You don't feel scared when he watches. In fact, you feel extra safe, like no one can hurt you.

And you need that, because you really don't want to go home.

Today is not the day to jump out of a plane

I don't wanna parasail or play roulette

I don't wanna risk it all or go insane

But I don't wanna go home yet

I just want to watch the birds go by

From my handy fold-able blue canvas throne

I wanna watch them fly and fly

And see them soar up into the unknown

But I'd feel just like a nerd

Watching birds

Watching me here all alone

I don't wanna break dance or learn tae-kwon-do

I don't wanna fish 'til all the fish are gone

I don't wanna roller skate, even if it's slow

I don't wanna pass out in a marathon

You like this park because of how quiet it normally is. But today, there's a triathlon coming through, and your normal bench is constantly disturbed by the runners passing by. You have seen so few of your birds today, and by noon you've decided to give up and go to the little cafe across from the park. You don't like going there because you don't have much money to spend, and you like to save as much as you can, but you can't concentrate on anything.

As you're exiting the park, you see that same tall, skinny man standing at the finish line of the race, and the two of you lock eyes before you leave.

I don't like soccer, baseball track or field

I'm not up for a match of polo

I don't wanna seek or try to stay concealed

I'm also not up for... water polo?

I just wanna watch the birds up there

Track the migratory patterns that they flow

I wanna watch them from my chair

With my binoculars, my latte and my phone

Trying to spot a lark

In the park

Parked in nature all alone

You smile as Grape, a round little sparrow that you see almost every day, flies down towards you. He lands on the other side of your bench and you hold out some seeds for him to eat. He goes to eat them, but startles and flies away. You look behind you and see the man from all those times before standing next to your bench. You scatter the seeds on the ground and smile.

"Can-can I sit down?" he stutters and you smile and nod.

"Of course. Be my guest," you say, moving over a little more so he can sit down without touching you. "What's your name?"

"Uh, Spencer. What's yours?" he asks.

You smile. "[Y/N]."

"So…" he trails off, as if he doesn't know where to start. "You like birds, huh?"

You nod. "I do. I find they're easier than people."

"Really?"

"Yep. I just know what they want. Sometimes they like attention, sometimes it's food, and sometimes they just want to sit next to me and sing," you say as a Blue Jay lands on the ground and starts pecking at the seeds you scattered there.

"Do you want to- uh- know something about the Blue Jay?" Spencer asks, looking sheepish.

You grin at him and nod. "Sure!"

Alone here with the doves

The sparrows, the ospreys

The owlets, the eaglets, and my list

It's just me and Mr. Finch

The robins, the kingfishers, the snipes

Though I heard they don't exist!

Each little species

And it's little way can teach me

What awaits you

If you can get away

I wanna watch the birds do what they will

Sorry if I'm ornithologically prone

I wanna watch from somewhere undisturbing

Quiet, calm, still

Sit right here and gaze at the unknown

I don't wanna fly in the sky, I just wanna be alone

It's not a big deal, or anything

You don't know where your tears end and the rain begins. You've been outside on your bench for so long in the rain that you are completely soaked through, shivering, wailing. No one's come up to you. No one's even walked by.

That is, until someone familiar does.

"[Y/N]?"

You look up and see Spencer standing over you. He has an umbrella out, and he's holding it above himself and you. You feel more tears or rain roll down your cheeks, and you hide your face in your hands, trying to hide the bruises from him.

"[Y/N]? What happened?" he asks, sitting down next to you. You try and tell him not to, that it's really wet, but he sits anyway.

You sigh, your head still in your hands, as you manage to get out, "My-my fath-father."

Spencer doesn't say anything. He just pulls you close and holds you as you sob into his shoulder.

"And-and my mother sh-she didn't- wouldn't- do any-anything!" you wail. Spencer drops the umbrella and hugs you tight around your shoulders.

You're alone with Spencer, and you've never felt more safe.

I just wanna be alone