#and it came and sucker punched me out of nowhere

[princesseevee06]

so this is greenblings, right?

[mrs-bluemarine]

Vasya theme for tha season 😈 pinned is being updated too<3

[braisedhoney]

i was gonna color this whole thing in but it would've made it take wayyy longer, and i'm kinda inching toward burnout as it is. but... man, this is actually incredible.

i had a vision for the little flying bee bear and it gave me INSPO (+ the chance to add the smallest crumb of sona lore, shhh.)

anyway HELLO??? HI?? BEAR WHAT THE HELL HOW MUCH EFFORT DID THIS TAKE—

(screams under the read more instead of tags this time!)

OKAY LET'S TALK DETAILS.

i love how your first thing with your sona seeing the poster (which, yikes omg i gotta redraw that one it's so old) matches the halftones??? that's such a fun addition.

i can't decide what i find funnier, the cursed image of your sona in the normal uniform before she cuts it to pieces or the reaction once she does lmao. that whole sequence is adorable and it actually reminded me of celci's uniform even before i read that explanation! super cute design choice :'D

it took me a minute to realize that literally every single crewmate shown in the honeycomb thing came from actual crewmate reports people have submitted??? and it's adorable??? each one has their own little signifier and that's everything to me. absolutely fantastic.

anyway long story short this entire comic thing slapped me across the face (in the most /pos way possible) and i wasn't expecting it at ALL. every time someone draws something for the HIVE it brings massive serotonin but this is ridiculous. your comics are always so sweet, i'm honored you'd put in so much effort for it ;;

oh oh and also, i love the little bee spin you put on the honey brew scene. the idea that the whole ship has a beehive aesthetic is so dear to my heart.

also the callout for me and my habits when it comes to drawing something and immediately becoming absorbed in it and unreachable is hysterical and especially accurate since that's EXACTLY what happened with the response comic. mustfinishnowartartartmustfinishbeforeilosemotivationaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa—

my favorite part of the response comic to draw was the biblically accurate version of your little bear sona. it's just so small and stuffed animal looking... gah.

i'm exhausted and probably won't be online much for the rest of the day, but i had to get this up asap. o7, this has made my whole week.

let's go on a space adventure and explore the stars!! what could possibly go wrong?

[writersblockiskillingme]

The Great War | Finnick Odair

Pairing/s: Finnick Odair x fem!reader

Summary: After everything that you've been through during the rebellion you finally found the peace with Finnick.

Warning/s: angst with happy ending, hurt/comfort, war, weapons (reader has a knife), bow and arrows, trident, axe, syringe, violence, fighting, Katniss gets struck by lightning, blood, trust issues, attempted suicide (not graphical, but it's talked about), wounds, pills, trauma, Finnick ALMOST dying, Snow's execution and Coin's death, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: Once again, a fic inspired by Taylor Swift's song (are we really surprised?)

My knuckles were bruised like violets

Sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep-talked

Spineless in my tomb of silence

Tore your banners down, took the battle underground

And maybe it was ego swinging

Maybe it was her

Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur

The heat was getting to your head, it was staring to be too much. It already was.

The holes in your bodysuit that were the consequence of the poisonous fog were everywhere it seemed like. Your hair was sticking to your face because of the sweat from the intense heat and exhaustion. You gripped your knife that seemed to fit you a little too perfectly. The golden earing that Haymitch gifted you so that Katniss could recognize you as one of her allies was hitting the side of your face as you ran to the lightning tree.

You were terrified. You were in on the plan to get Katniss out, of course. Everyone except Katniss and Peeta was.

You did your part. You joined Johanna and cut out the tracker inside of Katniss' arm. But that's when things went wrong. One of the carriers attempted to attack you. It was dark, tropical trees were everywhere, you couldn't see anything. You didn't know who attacked you. All you knew was that you pushed Katniss away to keep her hidden and Johanna ordered you to run while she distracted the person who tried to attack. For a moment you stood there frozen, hesitant. Johanna Mason then swinged her axe at you and you had no choice but to bolt away as fast as you could.

Your mind was racing too fast. Finnick. Katniss. You had to get to that tree to make sure that they are there. That they are okay because you were one hundred percent sure that if they weren't you would lose your mind. You would become the madness itself.

You didn't hear anything but two pairs of footsteps running somewhere north from you. You kept running, trying to ignore the intense dehydration, heat and exhaustion. But as you didn't hear nor see Johanna after a while you started to seriously regret your decision.

You pushed your was through to the lightning tree. You didn't have time to catch your breath because it was immediately knocked out of you as you saw Katniss pointing her arrow at Finnick. He was still holding his trident, but you know that he wouldn't use it even if she did shoot him.

"Katniss!" Your raspy voice yelled out, Finnick immediately turned to you. A look of relief washing over him as he saw you.

"Remember who the real enemy is." Finnick reminded the girl on fire and at that moment realization washed over her. You could see it.

She looked at Beetee who was unconscious behind her. The coil was still there. She quickly picked it up, wrapping it around her arrow before pointing it at the sky.

At that moment both fear and adrenaline washed over you. She was going to blow up the arena once the lightning strikes the tree.

"Katniss!" Finnick's voice rang out. "Get away from that tree!"

You started to panic. You were getting out of time. Finnick, Katniss, Beetee and you were the only ones who came. Johanna was nowhere to be found. Peeta didn't return yet. Your ever racing mind pushed you to run towards Finnick as fast as you could.

"Katniss, get away from that tree!" Finnick's voice rang out once more before you saw it.

Katniss pointed at the sky, the lightning striked the tree and she let the arrow fly.

The last thing that you saw was the bright light from the lightning, a bloody screams that left Katniss' and your mouths and a painful grunt from the love of your life before the mere force of the lightnings hit sent you flying into the trees behind you before the darkness overtook you.

°

Once you woke up everything was hurting you. You felt so numb. You felt so numb yet you somehow felt everything. It was truly horrific.

The oxygen mask was planted onto your face as your eyes scanned the unknown territory. Everything was white and so clean. You turned your head to the side and spotted Katniss Everdeen, still knocked out beside you, and Beetee, not that far away from you. He was still unconscious, too. At that moment, you felt panic arise in your chest, consuming you. Where was Finnick?

You violently ripped the oxygen mask from your face as you stood up, ignoring the sharp pain that traveled across your body. What were you going to do? You patted your thigh, but your knife was gone. You knew that you weren't thinking rationally, but you never did when it came to him.

You spotted a see-through box a few feet away from you. A syringe was in there. It was filled with an unknown liquid, but you guessed that someone knocked you unconscious with this so you took the risk as you placed the syringe in the palm of your hand.

You strolled silently towards the door. You jumped a bit as the door suddenly opened. You raised the syringe in the air, ready to attack anyone who stood behind the door if you needed to.

You felt yourself slowly lowering the syringe in your hand as you saw who stood in front of you. Haymitch and Plutarch Heavensbee. You made it. You were relatively safe. But not seeing Finnick didn't calm your nerves. If anything it just fueled the fire in your veins.

"Where is Finnick?" You hissed out, your voice dangerously lowered that you scared yourself for a brief moment. You knew that you probably looked like a mad woman, but you didn't really find it in yourself to care.

"Y/N." Haymitch slowly approached you, he raised his hands in the air in front of him as an attempt to both calm you down and show you that he won't hurt you. "He's here. On the chair, he's still unconscious."

You turned to look at the side that Haymitch was pointing at and there he was. In a blue shirt that was too big for him. You threw the syringe onto the desk in the middle of the room as you stared at him. Relief washing over you like the waves back at your District.

"What happened while I was out?" You asked Haymitch waiting for an explanation as you didn't take your eyes off of Finnick.

"We couldn't rescue Johanna and Peeta." Haymitch sighed, he was obviously afraid that you would try to attack again and this time succeed after you hear the news that he had for you. "They still have trackers in their arms. We cut Finnick's, Beetee's and yours out after we rescued you."

He stopped here and you waited. You waited for his words to finally hit you.

"The Capitol took Peeta and Johanna."

Out of nowhere, the darkness overtook you once again. The last thing you remember was Haymitch catching you in his arms and Finnick yelling out your name.

All that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, sweet dream was over

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, tears on the letter

I vowed not to cry anymore

If we survived the Great War

The room of the hospital wing at District 13 was dimly lit. The cold metal walls of one of the hospital rooms felt like they were closing in on you, cutting the space for you to breath. Perhaps that was one of the reasons as to why your breaths came in ragged gasps as you suddenly woke up from your state. You sat up in your bed, sweat-soaked and still trembling. Another nightmare. The same one that haunted your every dream, every night, since the first night that you left the arena from your games. The arena, the blood, the faces of those you had to kill. Everything came back to haunt you once again.

Suddenly the door slid open with a harsh, quick movement.

Finnick slept in the room next door. You knew he was there, even before you heard the footsteps approaching. Pretty soon your suspicions were proven to be correct. There he was, shirtless and disheveled, concern etched on his face.

"Y/N." He whispered, crossing the room in a few strides. His arms enveloped you, pulling your crying, shaking form close to him providing the protection that you needed. "Another nightmare?"

You felt yourself nod, burying your face in his chest as you tried your hardest to just dissappear. His skin was warm against your cold, tear stained cheek, a stark contrast to the icy memories that plagued you.

"I can't escape them, Finnick." Your voice shook, a sob at the tip of your lips. "Their screams, the blood... everything. I relive it each and every night since that year."

He held you tighter, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back.

"You're safe here now, darling." He murmured. "We're in 13. The Capitol can't touch us here." He talked, as if he tried to remind you where you are right now, trying to pull you away from the horrific nightmare that he was oh so familiar with himself.

"The guilt is eating me alive." Your voice cracked, a silent tear sliding down your cheek. "I killed them. How can I possibly live with that?"

Finnick tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His sea-green eyes bore into yours, fierce and unwavering.

"My love, listen to me." His soft voice spoke to you. "We all did what we had to do. The Games were a nightmare, but we made it out. We're alive."

"But at what cost?" Tears welled up, threatening to spill. "I can't forget their faces. The ones I killed. The ones that I left behind..."

"You promised me something, remember?" He wiped a lost tear away with his thumb. "Back before I was forced to send you into that arena alone. You promised me that you will survive and come back to me. You did."

"I know, but-"

"No buts." His voice was firm, it reminded you of the time that he trained you before you went into the arena for the first time. Back when you two were just a mentor and a tribute, nothing more. "You're so much stronger than you think you are, love. We all carry scars, but they don't define us. I want you to promise me something now."

"And that is?" You asked him as you kept your eyes on him.

"Promise me that you won't cry anymore. Not because of the Capitol or the nightmares. We survived, Y/N. And we'll keep surviving."

You hesitated, but then you nodded. "I promise."

"Good. Now get some rest. I'll be right here when you wake up." Finnick pressed his lips to your forehead, a gentle kiss that sent warmth through your veins.

As you settled back against the pillows, his arms were still wrapped around you, giving you sense of protection you came to a realization that maybe you could find comfort in the darkness that seemed to constantly try to consume you. With Finnick by your side, the nightmares seemed less terrifying, and the promise that you made him that night felt like it will last a lifetime.

And so, in the quiet of that hospital room in District 13, underground, you closed your eyes, vowing to keep your promise. No more fear, you knew that you would be all right as long as your love was next to you.

You drew up some good faith treaties

I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone

You said I have to trust more freely

But diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire

And maybe it's the past that's talkin'

Screamin' from the crypt

Tellin' me to punish you for things you never did

So I justified it

The sterile white walls of District 13's hospital pressed in on you, suffocating you, stripping you of fresh air that your lungs needed right now. You sat at the edge of your hospital bed, your fingers tracing the material of the purple medical bracelet around your waist that said that you were "Mentally disoriented". The label of the chaos that boiled within you.

The doctors came and went, you heard their voices, but they didn't reach your brain, your messed up mind. They offered so many pills, you didn't even know what pill was for what anymore. They offered therapy sessions and worst of all, sympathetic glances. They looked at you like you were broken and you were, but you hated it with burning passion. Yet after all of that, you couldn't trust them. Not after everything that you went through. The arena, the cruelty of the Capitol, the loss of your friends. The nightmares that still clung to you like shadows, following your every step, and the darkness that constantly threatened to swallow you whole.

Finnick sat beside you. His hand brushed against yours, a silent reassurance. His eyes held a depth of understanding. The kind of understanding that came only from someone who survived the horrors too immense to name.

"You don't have to face this alone." He said softly. His voice was your lifeline, pulling you back from the endless abyss. "Y/N, let them help you."

"They don't understand, Finnick." You whispered in the quietness of the room. "They can't understand."

"Maybe not, but I do." His thumb traced circles on your palm.

"Finnick, I-" You met his gaze, the weight of your pain reflected in his sea-green eyes.

Before you could finish, though, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. It was a desperate kiss, fueled by fear and longing. His mouth tasted of salt and the sea.

"Don't shut me out." He murmured against your lips, his voice sweater then honey. "I can't lose you, too."

"I'm broken, Finnick." Tears welled up blurring your vision.

"No." He said fiercely. "You're not broken. You're a survivor. And you're mine."

Finnick pulled you into his arms, holding you as if you were fragile glass. His heartbeat echoed against your chest, a rhythm of hope.

"Promise me." He whispered. "Promise me that you won't try to leave me behind again."

The memory of the razor blade, the cold metal against your skin, haunted you. You'd wanted an escape, a way to silence the screams of your fellow tributes that echoed in your mind. But the doctors had intervened, wrestling the blade from your trembling hand.

"I promise." You choked out. "But what if I can't keep it?"

"Then I'll be here." He vowed, his grip on your hands tightened. "Every step of the way. We'll fight this darkness together."

And so, in the sterile hospital room that you were forced to stay in, Finnick and you clung to each other. The fragile threads of two broken souls entwined. Finnick's love was a lifeline, pulling you back from the blink. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to believe that survival was possible. Even when the nightmares threatened to consume you.

All that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, the bombs were close and

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, the burning embers

I vowed not to fight anymore

If we survived the Great War

Uh-huh

Uh-huh

The air was thick with tension, the walls of District 13 trembling as the Capitol’s bombs rained down upon them. Finnick now stood alongside you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. His sea-green eyes were filled with worry, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest once again.

The lockdown sirens blared, drowning out the screams of panic echoing through the corridors. People rushed past you, seeking shelter, but you and Finnick remained rooted to the spot. The world outside seemed to blur as you clung to each other, seeking solace in the midst of chaos.

“Y/N.” Finnick whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “We’ll get through this. Somehow we always do.”

You nodded, your fingers tracing the contours of his face. His stubble scratched against your skin, a familiar sensation that grounded you. The Capitol had taken so much from both of you—the Games, the torture, the loss—but here, in this moment, you had each other.

The bombs continued to fall, shaking the ground beneath your feet. You pressed your cheek against Finnick’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. His hand slid down to your lower back, holding you close as if he could shield you from the destruction outside.

“I love you.” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the chaos everywhere around you. “After all this is over, I promise I won’t fight anymore. No more battles, no more bloodshed.”

Finnick’s grip tightened. “Y/N, you don’t have to—”

“No.” You interrupted. “I mean it. We’ve both seen enough violence, lost enough people. If we survive this war, I want a different life. A peaceful one. With you.”

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning.

“A peaceful life...” he repeated, as if testing the words. “Together.”

“Together.” You nodded, your heart swelling with determination.

And so, as the bombs continued to fall, you made a silent vow. You would survive this war, not for the rebellion or for justice, but for the chance to hold Finnick Odair in your arms without fear. To build a future where love could flourish, where scars could heal, and where promises were kept.

In the chaos of District 13’s lockdown, you clung to each other, two souls battered by the storm. But love was your anchor, and as long as you had that, you knew you could weather anything—even the wrath of the Capitol.

It turned into something bigger

Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

Your finger on my hair pin triggers

Soldier down on that icy ground

Looked up at me with honor and truth

Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

I really thought I lost you

The hallway was dimly lit, the flickering fluorescent bulbs casting eerie shadows on the cold metal walls. You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, waiting for Finnick. The room where the victors were supposed to meet felt like a prison. A place where memories of the Games and the Capitol’s cruelty still lingered.

The rebellion had succeeded. The Capitol was in chaos, its once-mighty regime crumbling. But victory came at a cost. The mutts, the twisted, genetically engineered creatures, had nearly taken Finnick from you. Katniss had told you about it, her voice raw with emotion. How he’d fought tooth and nail, how he’d almost been torn apart.

And now, as you waited, your fingers trembling, you couldn’t shake the image of his bloodied form from your mind. The way he’d looked at you before leaving for that final mission, the promise in his eyes, the unspoken words that he will return to you alive, in one piece. You’d clung to that promise, held it close like a fragile flame in the darkest of nights.

The door creaked open, and there he was, Finnick Odair, the boy with the sea-green eyes and the tragic past. His hair was disheveled, his skin pale, but he was alive. He stepped into the hallway, and you rushed to him, throwing your arms around his neck. His scent, the salt of the sea that carried itself back from your home, the tang of sweat, filled your senses, and you buried your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“Finnick.” you whispered, your voice breaking. “You’re here. You’re alive.”

His arms tightened around you, and for a moment, you forgot about the war, the mutts, the bloodshed. It was just the two of you, clinging to each other like shipwreck survivors in a stormy sea.

“I promised, didn’t I?” His voice was hoarse, but there was a hint of a smile. “I always keep my promises.”

You pulled away, your hands delicately framing his face. His cheek was bruised, a gash running along his jawline. But his eyes, they held a fierce determination, a fire that refused to be extinguished.

“You idiot!” you said, your voice trembling. “You almost died.”

“But I didn’t. And I won’t. Not as long as you’re here.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you kissed him, desperate, hungry, as if you could swallow away the pain, the fear, the memories. His lips were warm, tasting of salt and survival. And in that kiss, you made a silent vow, a promise of your own.

“After this war...” you whispered against his mouth, “we’ll find a place where the sea meets the sky. Somewhere far from the Capitol, far from the Games. We’ll heal, Finnick. Together.”

He kissed you again, and this time, it was slow, tender. “Together.” he murmured. “Always.”

And so, in the hallway of broken dreams, you held each other, two fractured souls seeking solace. The victors’ meeting could wait. For now, all that mattered was this fragile moment, the taste of salt, the warmth of love, and the promise of a future beyond the horrors of Panem.

We can plant a memory garden

Say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair

There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair

And we will never go back

The air in District 13 was thick with tension as the rebels gathered to witness the execution of President Snow. The Capitol had fallen, and the weight of years of suffering and loss hung heavily on everyone's shoulders. Finnick, like always, stood beside you. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining as you both faced the president.

The crowd murmured, their collective breaths held. The noose tightened around Snow's neck, and the man who had orchestrated so much pain and death finally met his end. You didn't feel relief; instead, a hollow emptiness settled within you. The cycle of violence had consumed too many lives, and you wondered if it would ever truly end.

After the execution, you and Finnick retreated to your small quarter that was given to you at the presidential palace. You packed the few belongings you had left, folding clothes and tucking away mementos. Finnick watched you, his eyes shadowed by the ghosts of the arena.

"Y/N." he said softly, breaking the silence. "We've survived so much. But now… maybe it's time for something different."

You turned to face him, your heart aching. "Different how?"

He stepped closer, cupping your cheek. "Peace, Y/N. We've fought, bled, and lost. Maybe it's time we find our own peace."

His words resonated within you. You thought of the horrors you'd witnessed—the Hunger Games, the rebellion, the deaths of friends. The scars ran deep, and you wondered if healing was even possible.

As if sensing your turmoil, Finnick pulled you into his arms. His embrace was both tender and desperate.

"We finally get to leave." he murmured against your hair. "Find a quiet place in 4, away from the chaos. Somewhere we can heal."

"But Katniss…" you began, thinking of the broken girl who had become the Mockingjay.

Finnick kissed your forehead. "Katniss will find her way. She's strong. And she has Peeta."

°

The next morning, you stood with Finnick on the platform in front of the train that would take you to District 4. Katniss approached, her eyes red-rimmed from grief and exhaustion. You took her hands, feeling the weight of her pain.

"Katniss, don't do this to yourself anymore, I beg you." Your soft voice reached her ears. "After everything… we'll try to find the peace we all deserve. I hope you find it too."

"Also, there is something that Finnick and I wanted to let you know before we leave the Capitol." you said gently.

She looked at you, her expression wary.

"I'm pregnant." you announced and Finnick's grip on your waist tightened.

Katniss blinked, surprise flickering across her face. "Pregnant?"

"Yes." you confirmed. "And Finnick and I… we've had enough bloodshed. It's time for us to find peace. Back at 4. Because we both know that we can't do it here at the Capitol."

Katniss's lips trembled. "Take care of each other." she whispered. "And write to me. Tell me whatever you need."

"We will." Finnick promised, placing a hand on her shoulder as he spoke. "And Katniss, find your own peace too. You deserve it the most."

As the train pulled away, you glanced back at Katniss. She stood there, a lone figure, watching you both leave. The world outside blurred, and you clung to Finnick's hand, knowing that this journey was about more than survival, it was about reclaiming life, love, and hope.

Together, you and Finnick leaned against the window, watching the landscape rush by. The Capitol, the districts, and the scars of war faded into the distance. Ahead lay an uncertain future, but for the first time, it felt like freedom.

And as the train carried you away, you whispered to the wind.

"Peace, Katniss. May you find it too."

To that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, the worst was over

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, we're burned for better

I vowed I would always be yours

'Cause we survived the Great War

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the coast. You sat on the weathered driftwood, your sundress billowing in the breeze. The waves crashed against the shore, a rhythmic lullaby that matched the beat of your heart.

Finnick was out there, his laughter carried by the wind. He chased their little daughter, her giggles like music. She had his sea-green eyes and your stubborn spirit. Her tiny feet left imprints in the wet sand, and you watched them both, the man you loved and the child you'd brought into this world.

His white shirt clung to his chest, the fabric darkened by saltwater. His light brown pants were soaked, but he didn't care. Finnick had always been at home in the sea, a merman with secrets hidden beneath his skin.

You traced the delicate band on your finger, the wedding ring. The day you'd vowed to be one with Finnick forever played in your mind. The sun had been just as golden then, and the waves had whispered promises. You'd said "I do" with the ocean as your witness, and it felt like the universe itself had blessed your union.

Beside you layed Katniss' letter. Her words echoed in your head, a mix of sorrow and hope. She'd lost so much, fought so hard. But now, finally, there was peace. Peeta was by her side, both of them were healing together. The Mockingjay had found her song and it was a bittersweet melody.

You closed your eyes, feeling the salt spray on your skin. The sea had witnessed your love, your pain, and your victories. It had taken so much from you, the Games, the rebellion, the scars etched into your soul. But it had also given you Finnick, your anchor in this tumultuous world.

As if sensing your thoughts, Finnick approached. His hair was tousled, his smile soft. He sat beside you, your daughter nestled in his arms. She clutched a seashell, her eyes wide with wonder.

"She's growing up so fast." you murmured, leaning into Finnick's warmth.

"Too fast." He kissed your temple.

You glanced at the horizon. The sun was a fiery ball, sinking into the water. "Katniss wrote that Peeta and her found peace."

"It's about time." Finnick nodded.

"We've all shed enough blood for an eternity, perhaps even more than that." You rested your head on his shoulder.

He intertwined his fingers with yours. "Maybe now we can heal."

The waves whispered their agreement. You looked at your daughter, at the man who'd become your heart.

"We'll find our peace too, won't we?"

Finnick pressed his lips to your forehead. "After everything… we deserve it."

And as the sea sang its ancient song, you knew that love, like the tides, would flow. But here, by the coast, with Finnick and your daughter, you found solace. The wedding ring glinted in the fading light, a promise etched in metal.

Katniss's words echoed once more:

"May you find peace."

And you believed that you finally had.

Uh-huh

Uh-huh

I would always be yours

'Cause we survived the Great War

Uh-huh

I vowed I would always be yours

->

->

->

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[haza1ll]

animation for THE NEON VOIDD BABYYYY

this post is for @sugarpasteltmnt

‼️‼️MEGA YAPPING AHEAD PLEASE BEWARE‼️‼️

this might end up being really long and rambly and sappy but maybe not who knows.( it was) (and also featuring numerous spelling errors i am way too tired to fix and i am not re reading what i just wrote) SO. yknow how when chap idek..25(?) came out and i was all like “yeah so i made this animation for TNV and ill drop it when the fic ends” in your ask box? so. I FINISHED IT RAHHH. technically it has been finished since i sent that ask but ohhh my goodness did it need polishing. i haven’t animated in 4 years before that and omg it felt so good getting back into it but IDFK SOMETHING IS STILL NOT UP TO MY STANDARDS. i feel like i could have done so much more with it and i deffo wanted to but as soon as i told myself “oh yeah this is basically done” art block literally sucker punched me in the gut out of NOWHERE. I COULD NOT PICK UP MY I PAD. I COULD NOT DRAW. I WOULD STARE AT THE WIP ANIMATION AND BE UPSET BC I DDINT WANNA WORK ON IT AHH. that goes with saying. i kept having this thought in the back of my head “you need to finish it. you have a wip sitting. finish it. go do it. what are you doing are you STARTING ANOTHER PROJECT??? anddd yeah i got super distracted with other stuff and other projects and then i started spending my free time rewatching 2012 turtles and omg this summer has been a mess. i have all the free time in the world and i choose to be the least productive as possible with it even though i have a job that lets me literally sit on my phone and do whatever i want if no one is there. (i’ve brought my switch to work numerous times ☠️) what i was trying to get at is the fact that TNV has inspired a lot of the old me to come back and i lowk missed her. i really missed the point in all those words up there but im here now so whatever. BUT. TNV made me make a tumblr account, i got back in to animation AND digital art in general, got back into longfics that are ongoing, AND it also helped kickstart ideas for writing. i’ve got so many stories now!! you are such an inspirational person pastels i just- every time i read a new chapter of yours it made me wanna go get up and do something. i wanted to create something. because at the end of each chapter, i would think- “woah. a person out there just wrote this. they just sat down one day and committed. i wanna do that” so i did that. just huge thank you and shoutout to you pastel. like damn. idk no words from me here. just a bunch of platonic hugs and kisses and thankyouthankyouthsnkuou for this lovely heart wrenching but also sweet story. i love this fandom (tmnt) so SO much and i think it’s so awesome how interactive you are with your own personal NV fans. crazy how we’re all here because of a bunch of turtles. 

STUFF ABOUT THE ANIMATION:

okay i really like to talk and if you let me, i will run my mouth. this is the internet so im gonna do just that. so more words for you to read 😁. AHEM. so like i stated before in the genuinely scary mess of words up there, i haven’t touched animation in a while, like, 4 years a while. yes i’ve done digital art here and there along the years, i haven’t been doing it nearly as much as i need to to use some programs to their full potential. layers are still confusing, and don’t even get me started on multiply and all that jazz. shading never comes out right on digital for me, i gotta work that one out. so, for this animation, i decided to go with a very rough style. nothing needed to be perfect, i just wanted to live my little life of trying to experiment with a bunch of different things all at once in one short animatic. I wanted to do that little ball bounce thing all animation artists start with (i kinda included that with the key). i also wanted to have a go at lip sync (no hate it was my first time) and also timing the animation with the music. i wanted to see how smoothly i could move a figure in and out of and out of the screen as well, which honestly, i think that part might be my favorite. i think i did a good job, and thats what matters. the animation itself lost a bunch of quality on importing it- no clue how it happened but now the ending is grainy af. ignore that pls lol- but it was sitting in my flipaclip for god, i dont even know, 3 months now? i kept going back and forth on if i wanted to share it or not, so im throwing it to the wolves and i guess whatrver happrns happens and im good with that. yay. im actually rrwlly tired now sooo *leaves this absolute pile of words with a video attached at your feet and stumbles away quickly*

also i’ve genuinely never posted anything so i’m learning how to use tumblr too ☠️

[milliesfishes]

i just read your blurb about reader thinking billy cheated and it’s sooo good but i’m a sucker for angst soooo what if reader doesn’t let billy explain at first and immediately just loses her shit like punches mrs. riley in the face type shit

link to the other one :)

౨ৎ꣑ৎyou think billy is cheating and you get in a fight౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x billy the kid

Forty minutes. You had been waiting for him for forty minutes.

"I'll be right back," Billy had promised, lifting your hand clasped in his and kissing it once. You gave him a sweet smile, shoving away the tense feeling that struck your chest like lightning. He was leaving you alone in a house full of strangers, mostly men with wandering eyes.

You could see on his face that it was the last thing he wanted to do, but one of the men pulling him off was the host and the other was his employer, so he had no choice.

One of them clapped a hand to Billy's shoulder, tugging him off, and you reluctantly let go of his hand. Off he went, the throng of people absorbing him like a stone thrown into a lake. You followed him with your eyes until the top of his hat was indiscernible from the darkness, candles not providing a clear view.

Now you were standing close to where he'd left you, remembering his words from earlier before you came inside. Stay by me, sweetheart. You figured the next best thing was remaining where he knew you had been.

What were they having him do? You stood on tiptoes, craning your head to try and see him through the crowd. People were clustered in different groups and scattered throughout- by the stairs, the tables, in the living room. It was impossible to see anything, the earth's current darkness swallowing the details of the shadows within this place.

Every time you thought you saw a glimpse of his hat, his shoulder, his belt, it turned out to be something else. Your body was growing tense the longer you were left alone, the premonition that something bad would happen growing like a sapling in your chest.

Finally you called it quits and began to wander. Turning sideways to slip past partygoers, you looked around curiously. Had he been pulled into a private room? Outside, maybe? But a glance through the window showed only an empty porch and a sky full of stars.

You stopped at one point, now growing worried. Was something wrong? The air felt ominous as if a storm cloud had settled into the room. Billy wouldn't have wanted to leave you for so long- you were sure of it. And yet here it was, nearly an hour since he'd departed. You were growing vastly uncomfortable the more you waited.

An older gentleman staggered up to you, offering a drink in words almost too pushed together to recognize. You shook your head absentmindedly, deciding to retrace your steps. Several pardon me's were exchanged as you wove your way through the crowd once more. He was nowhere to be found.

Just as you were about to start asking people if they'd seen him, you lifted your eyes and saw him standing right where he'd left you previously, talking to a woman in a pretty dress. All worries flew out the window and you smiled, moving forward. Of course he wouldn't have left you, there was no chance. Your Billy was too loyal, too-

She was kissing him. You stopped cold in your tracks, horror beginning to seep into your veins like poison. It felt as though time stopped for a moment, cruelly extending this moment. Billy gently pushed her off and you took in a sharp breath. Maybe he would have heard it if the room was silent.

You stared at the woman, her eyes wide and desperate as she stared at Billy. Then it clicked in your head. Mrs. Riley. The wife of the host.

A hot, prickly anger crashed into you like the ocean's waves during a storm. You couldn't gather your thoughts as they spun out of control in a cyclone. Mrs. Riley knew about you and Billy. You'd met her earlier tonight as she greeted guests, holding onto Billy's arm as he introduced you as his girl. And here she was kissing him.

Voices in the back of your head told you to be calm as you approached. You tried to imagine what to say to them. Be calm. Be collected. It's okay. It's likely a misunderstanding.

But the second you were within reach and caught her stunned expression when she noticed you, your fist was balling up and flying forward before you could realize it.

The smack of your knuckles hitting her cheek hardly made a sound over the chatter, but a few people nearby saw. Everything was suddenly a whirlwind, with Billy tugging you away and two men rushing to Mrs. Riley, whose hand was covering her cheek, her eyes wide. You struggled a bit against Billy, but he kept a firm grip, ushering you outside into the cool air of the night. Anger was still burning inside you as your hand throbbed, flames licking at your insides.

It was a new sensation. You had never thrown a punch like that or felt such a stirring breath of a strong emotion. But something about Billy ignited a passion in you, something nearly untamable. Before now you had only ever known it to be fuel to the fire of things like love and joy. Guilt overwhelmed you as you thought of Mrs. Riley, and the mark she might have gained as a result of your actions.

You didn't realize you were crying until he pulled you into his chest, murmuring, "Shh...baby, 'm so sorry. 'M so sorry you had to see that."

Knuckles on your left hand aching, you reached up and clung to his shirt, as if the motion could pull him closer into you. Billy's palm settled at your crown, keeping your face to his shoulder as your tears turned it a darker shade of blue. Dipping his head, he buried his nose in your hair. "How's your hand?"

"Hurts," you sniffled, tears in your voice. He raised his head and lifted your afflicted hand gently, running his thumb over the bruising area. You winced, and he breathed in once.

"'S okay. We'll get you somethin' for that." Lifting your head, you saw the sincerity pooling in his blue eyes, practically glowing though there was hardly a breath of light nearby. You burrowed into his chest, feeling your anger drift out to sea and dissolve.

"I'm sorry," you choked, voice miniscule.

He rubbed your back, kissing your hand the same way he'd done earlier tonight, a little more urgency lacing the motion. "I'm sorry. This is on me, sweetheart."

"Do you think she's going to be okay?"

Billy's lips turned up just a bit at your question. "She'll be okay. Think you got hurt worse than she did." Arm around your waist, he lifted your hand closer to his eyes to study. Turning it slightly, he murmured, "You threw a tough punch, darlin'."

A tiny laugh bubbled out of you, and you brushed another tear away. "I don't wanna do that ever again."

"You won't have to." Just like all of Billy's promises, this one was sincere in every corner of it. He tilted your chin up, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

The way he held you felt like a vow. A gift from him to you, although he would maintain that it was something you'd deserved all along. And when he kissed your forehead you felt like you were home.

He'd watched you do something brash and seen right through it, the root of your pain already dug up. Sometimes it amazed you how well Billy knew what you needed. How fluent he was in a language you couldn't read though it was supposedly your tongue. He saw the flowers growing in the space between your bones and didn't deem them weeds. You were nourished by him.

You breathed in, nearly melting into him. Billy smoothed a hand over your hair, arm around your waist drawing calming circles into your side. It was as if he'd sucked the anger out of you with a straw.

"You're safe," he murmured into your head, nose smushing your part. You didn't know you wanted to hear it until he said it.

"You're safe."

[petite-phthora]

Can I kiss you?

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first... murder? - part 1]

Next >>

Ao3

---

“—so sorry! I swear I didn’t mean to kill him! It was an accident! He just jumped me out of nowhere and I have had bad experiences with clowns in the past so when I saw it was a clown trying to kidnap me I kinda just panicked and punched him! I swear, dude, I didn’t mean to hit him so hard—“

Jason, much too calmly, likely in some form of shock, rises from the crouched-down position he had been in to check the clown corpse’s pulse.

He had seen the poor, still rambling, twink getting grabbed from a distance and was about to step in as Red Hood, not even having been aware it was the Joker who —shouldn’t he have been in Arkham? There has been no announcement of him breaking out yet— had grabbed the guy until he had run close enough to the scene.

Which was after the guy had already been startled so badly by the Joker trying to kidnap him that he sucker punched the Joker into the wall of the alley so hard the clown died.

Said twink then realized what he had done and that he had a witness, that witness being Red Hood himself, and had started his frenzied speech on how it was an accident and to please don’t take him to jail he’s only just started his scholarship at Gotham U. and he can’t have murder on his track record yet.

Breathless, Jason looks at the nervous twink in front of him, who's still trying to plead his case, and who just obliterated the Joker with a punch.

Before his brain can catch up to his mouth, he’s already cutting the distressed monologuing off.

“Can I kiss you?” He blurts out.

Danny, taken off guard, breaks out of his panicked—oh, Ancients, I just killed someone— stupor and lets out a startled laugh.

“Take me out to dinner first” came the automatic joking reply, Danny still largely in shock of what he did.

Jason, either not picking up on the joking tone or ignoring it, nods seriously, already trying to come up with the best place for a dinner date with the cute twink to thank him for his service to the city.

Danny, who has calmed down slightly by now, glances between the red-helmed vigilante and the clown corpse. His gaze lands on Red Hood and he hesitantly speaks up again.

“So, uh, what happens now? Do I need to go to the station to make a statement orrrr?” He pauses awkwardly.

Jason, who’s still trying to figure out whether the Bat Burger would be a good place for a first date or not, doesn’t reply.

“I’ve got school in the morning and I only have like,” he pauses to check his phone for the time, “3 more hours before I have to be up for my first lesson. Soooo, I’m just gonna go. That cool?”

Again, he waits for a reply. But it doesn’t come.

“Right. Cool cool. Uh, see you later? Mr. Red Hood dude sir?” Danny gives a clumsy and awkward salute before turning tail and speed-walking away.

It’s not until 30 minutes later, once Jason has finally decided on the perfect place to take the guy to dinner to, that he realizes the twink is gone.

Fuck, he forgot to ask for the guy’s name.

…

And number.

[bat-mom-writer]

Bat Baby: Part 4

Pregnant Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne(husband)

Summery: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, and Tim Drake, find their pregnant non-biological mother missing, how would they react?

(I do not own any DC characters)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

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

"Hey, mom, I got your ice cream," Dick called out as he pushed open the bedroom door, the ice cream in his hand. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the moon, the curtains fluttering gently in the cool night breeze. He paused, the sight before him not at all what he had expected. The bed was empty, the covers thrown haphazardly aside, and the room was eerily still.

His heart skipped a beat as he scanned the room, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. "Mom?" he whispered into the quiet, his voice tentative. The only answer was the muffled sound of the television from the living room.

With a frown, he stepped into the hallway, calling out for her again. The house felt too still, the silence a stark contrast to the usual hum of activity that filled the Wayne Manor. He made his way through the corridors, his footsteps echoing through the empty halls. He checked the bathroom, the nursery, the kitchen, the study, the library, and even the fucking batcave, but she was nowhere to be found. His heart was racing now, fear blooming in his chest. Something was wrong; he could feel it in his bones.

The ice cream slipped from his grip, the containers of mint chocolate chip ice cream spilling out onto the floor. They landed with a soft thud, the lid popping off one of them, the cool sweetness immediately making a spill on the floor. Dick barely registered the mess as he sprinted down the hallway, the urgency in his steps echoing off the high ceilings.

Entering the living room, he found Tim and Jason still engrossed in their show, their backs to the door. "Guys," he said, his voice tight with anxiety. "Where's mom?"

They both swiveled around, their expressions mirroring his own concern. "What do you mean?" Tim asked, his eyes looking to Jason, and back to Dick.

Jason leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Didn't she go to bed?"

"Yes! But then Bruce sent me to get ice cream and when I come back she was gone!" Dick exclaimed, his voice laced with panic.

"Did you look anywhere else?" Tim asked, his brow furrowed.

"Everywhere!" Dick said, frantically. "The whole house! She's not here!"

"She's a fucking pregnant woman, she couldn't have gotten far," Jason murmured, his voice a mix of annoyance and concern. "Maybe she just went for a walk or something."

"At one in the morning?" Tim echoed. "It's not like her to just wander off, especially in her condition."

Jason stood up, his posture rigid. "Bruce should know where she is," he said, his voice laced with accusation. "Where is he?"

Dick's mind raced as he thought back. "He said he had to check something in the garage," he recalled, the memory feeling distant and fuzzy. "That was when I came into the house the ice cream."

"Go find him, Dick!" Jason barked, his eyes flashing with urgency. "Tim and I will look outside."

"Don't bother," Damian said, his voice cutting through the tension as he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes heavy with a knowing that didn’t quite suit his age. "They're already gone."

The words hit Dick like a sledgehammer, knocking the wind from his lungs. "What?" he choked out, his eyes wide with shock.

"They left," Damian confirmed, his voice eerily calm. "I saw them drive off."

"What the hell?" Dick says, his mind racing. "Why wouldn't they tell us?"

"Is she okay?" Tim's voice was strained with worry as he stared at Damian.

Damian's expression doesn't waver. "They're on their way to the hospital," he says, his voice as calm as a lake on a still night. "Her water broke."

The words hit the others like a sucker punch. Tim's eyes widen, and he takes a stumbling step back. "What?" he gasps, his hand flying to his mouth. "We need to get to the hospital."

"Father told me to not let you go until he calls," he says, his voice devoid of its usual smugness.

The realization hits Dick like a truck. "Wait, you know the whole time?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Spill the beans you little shit," Jason grabs Damian by his shirt and pulls him up, his eyes blazing with a mix of fear and anger.

Damian shrugs, his eyes meeting Jason's. "They didn't want to alarm us," he says, his voice a little too calm for the situation. "They thought we'd make a scene."

"Make a scene?!" Jason's voice rises, his grip on Damian's shirt tightening. "Make a fucking scene?! I'll show you a scene!" He shoves Damian away from him, the force enough to send the younger boy stumbling backward.

Dick moves quickly, pulling Jason back before he can do any more damage. "Jason, stop!" he snaps, his voice filled with a command that he rarely uses. "We need to focus on finding them, not fighting with each other."

Tim nods, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and fear. "He's right," he says, his voice shaking slightly.

Jason's eyes narrow, and his jaw clenches. "I don't care what this little boy says, I'm going," he says, his voice a low growl.

Dick grabs his arm, his eyes pleading. "Jason, please," he begs. "It's what mom wanted."

Jason's gaze darts to Damian, then back to Dick, his anger slowly morphing into understanding. "Fine," he says, his voice gruff.

"Good," Dick says, letting out a sigh of relief. "We'll wait for Bruce's call. And when he does, we're going to be calm. No panicking, no shoving," He glances from Damian and Jason. "We need to be there for her, not cause more stress."

They all nod, and sit on the couch, the leather cool against their skin. The room feels suffocatingly quiet, the air thick with unspoken anxiety. The only sounds are the distant wail of a siren and the occasional beep from the security monitors. Each one of them stares straight ahead, lost in their own thoughts.

Hours later, the Dick's phone rang.

Next

Writer's note: Gonna be honest I see a lot of other wristers naming the daughter of Reader X Bruce, Martha, and I'm sorry, but I don't really love the name. Can I PLEASE have some other girl names idea? Then I'll make a Part 5.

[norbezjones]

Bez Reviews Independent Books 1: Memory Leak

Hey everyone!  I wanna do little reviews/writeups for the independently-published books I find on itch.io, and so, here I am.  I want to review one book every month or two (or quicker, if I’m lucky); it’ll get me reading more, and get authors who often go without feedback some thoughts on their work!  I think it’ll be cool for everyone!

If you want your book reviewed, the only requirement I have is that it’s hosted on itch.io.  Even if itch is just one of many places you can get the book, I want to review books that have a home there at least.  Feel free to get in touch with me with your books—I’m @NaomiNorbez on Twitter (I refuse to call it X), Pillowfort, Threads, and Instagram; I’m @norbezjones on Tumblr; I’m norbez2.0 on Discord.

Looking forward to seeing your books! <3

__________

The first book I’m reviewing Is Memory Leak by @maxkirin !  M. Kirin is a streamer who I happened to follow not long before their book release.  That’s how I heard about it.  Some light spoilers below, but nothing too big is revealed.  Most of the major stuff discussed you can read about right on the book’s itch page.

The plot is basically this: a trouple made a controversial game that won many awards, and also got lots of hate.  Now, they’re trying to make a new project to follow up such a release, but spooky things are happening.  Will they find out why strange events are occurring, or succumb to the haunting?

Everyone’s trans, and I love it.  Adrian’s trans.  Eva’s trans.  Casey’s . . . idk, very queer at least.  She’s also missing for a while, which has turned the game making trio into a duo as they’re trying to finish their new game based on Twelfth Night by Shakespeare.

Most of the book is about blackouts & memory loss, which occur as development goes on.  Reading about those things hurt.  Especially the part where Adrian says, “It didn’t matter if he didn’t remember. He was making something. Something that mattered.” (pg 17-18).  That hit hard, as someone who’s experienced intense periods of memory loss in the past—that was during my pseudo-dementia era (more on that here if you wanna hear the full story).  I had a similar thought to Adrian when I was making A Single Ouroboros Scale while I had pseudo-dementia.  I was desperate to make an impact because I was convinced I would soon forget everything I knew, including how to make games, and everyone would forget me in turn.  It came out as well as you can expect from a very sick, depressed person (which is to say, not good), as I talked about in the postmortem.  I imagine that for our game development trio, the same result occurs.

The hauntings in Memory Leak are rooted in real-life problems in the game development industry, mainly crunch and overworking yourself in order to meet a deadline.  Though in the case of Adrian, Eva, & Casey . . . was a deadline ever specified?  It’s strongly implied, but not overtly stated, as I recall.  Regardless, as a creator in the internet/social media age, you do have to act quickly to release new works, or the public will forget you.  Perhaps that’s why they feel like they need to work as quickly as possible.  There’s some irony in that—the characters’ rush to be remembered, all while they forget more & more.  It’s sad sometimes, the things we sacrifice to be known.

Also, it turns out the famous game the trio made, King Leer, possibly indirectly caused the death of multiple people, and that isn’t mentioned until about halfway through the book?  It’s surprising how that information flies out of nowhere, like a sucker punch.  If one of my games indirectly caused a person to die, I would be haunted by that for the rest of my life.  But the trio seem to have gotten over it, somehow.

My main little nitpick about the writing is that Adrian is referred to as “the young man” quite a bit, and I didn’t like that.  It felt too impersonal, distant.  That’s also something I do in my own writing, referring to the character as anything but their name to avoid saying their name too many times in a row (I blame my OCD [which I literally do have, that is not a figure of speech]).  So maybe it irks me because I see myself in that repeated action. 

As much as I like the writing style, I do have to acknowledge that it keeps us as a distance from the characters.  They’re young men, young women, lost souls.  It’s like we’re also haunting them, a ghost from beyond getting a peek into their lives from the top-down.  The chapter openers reinforce this: in those, you, the reader, are brought into the story, from a second person perspective, and given information about Starling games from YouTube videos, forum posts, messages, etc.  We see them win Game Of The Year, watch as fans deride & praise them, stuff like that.  It’s definitely an interesting way to give us information.

A big issue is that we’re told a lot that these characters love each other, but that bond isn’t quite shown to me. One can argue that it is between Adrian & Eva at least, but Casey?  In the beginning, it seems like she dislikes Adrian & Eva, but then there’s still a scene where she cries while apologizing to Adrian for yelling at him, saying how much she loves him.  I got the sense that she clings to Adrian & Eva because she used to love them, for a long time, and she doesn’t want to let that go.  Because to let that go would be venturing into unknown & very awkward territory.  How do you break up your polycule if you rely on them to earn a living and make games?  Short answer: you don’t, so you pretend instead.  And when you pretend enough, it can become real again.

This is a problem because the love these characters have for each other is a core tenant of the book, especially in the climax.  I wish we could’ve spent more time seeing how they fell in love with each other, back when Starling Games was new.  At least Casey’s love for the others becomes clearer as the book goes on; that’s a good thing.

As for the big twist, I saw the first part of it coming from a mile away.  That’s not a bad thing—a good twist should fit the plot & themes, not be 100% unpredictable, and this twist did.  The second part of the twist is mentioned on the book’s page, but the execution is so interesting you can almost forget that fact.

Last note: I was hoping the book would tell us why the works the trio make are so fucked up, if they’re a reflection of the soul, or just dark spurts of creativity.  The reason is revealed, and it’s fascinating—after all, if we’ve learned anything from The Beginner’s Guide, it’s that art doesn’t always reflect the author.

Overall, I really enjoyed this book.  It was a very interesting story about the struggle of game development, and how our search for a legacy can haunt us.  The characters are interesting, and the story is very well told.  I would recommend it.

If you want to read Memory Leak, you can do so FOR FREE right here!  Give it a look!  Please!  I’m begging you!

Thanks for reading!  The next review will be of To Wield The Darkest Night by Beau Van Dalen.  But I don’t know what I’m doing after that, so please send me your lovely books!

[writingplotbunnies]

Best Served Cold (5/?)

Pairing: Jax Teller x OFC

Summary: Sophie shows up to her first SAMCRO party complete with fighting and a conversation with Gemma.

Word Count: ~4400

Warnings: angst, illegal activity, possessive behavior, sexual content, canon typical violence

A/N: This is my first SOA fic, so let me know what you think. This is a multipart fic, so let me know if you want added to the taglist.

Later, Sophie stood in front of her bed, hands on her hips, glaring down at the rather small pile of clothes scattered across the mattress. She’d never been good at picking an outfit, doing her hair, finding out if her complexion allowed for warm or cool tones in her makeup. That had been Olivia's job. Over the years, she’d simply do whatever it was her sister had told her. Like adding layers to her hair, and texturizing the ends - whatever the hell that meant. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to look good because she did, especially tonight, it was that the Corps didn’t care, and anytime she’d been forced to dress up, well they provided a uniform for that, too. Raking her hands through her hair, Sophie wished she knew someone in this town she could call for help. Jax would likely make some suggestion about not wearing anything, which, while flattering, wouldn’t exactly be a practical solution to her current dilemma. 

“Maybe if I close my eyes and point…” 

She needed a dog. At least then talking to herself wouldn’t make her feel quite as crazy. But, she talked to herself a lot. Wasn’t anything else to do when she was staked out in the middle of nowhere waiting for her target to finally decide to show up. 

Growling in frustration, she snagged a pair of skinny jeans Olivia had given her for Christmas a couple of years ago, and a burgundy racerback tank top with a screen-printed dandelion on it. Once dressed, she slid on her well-worn black, low-heel ankle boots. Glancing at herself in the bathroom mirror, she figured it looked good enough. Never quite the smoky eye her sister always managed to paint on her face with perfection, but she didn’t look like she’d just been sucker punched either, so she took the win. 

Stopping at the couch, Sophie pulled her ankle holster from her duffel before lifting her foot onto the arm of the couch and attaching it. She didn’t want a repeat of earlier if one of the other Sons or whoever else she met at the party hugged the wrong side of her body. Tucking her phone and ID into her back pocket, she grabbed her keys and locked up behind her. 

Sliding into her car, Sophie took a deep breath. She wanted to make a good impression. After Jax had dropped her back at the station, she’d done a lot of thinking. Maybe it wasn’t forever, this thing with Jax, but she wanted to do her part to make it last - see what it could be. Just because she’d never had roots, at least, not as an adult, didn’t mean she didn’t want some. 

Pulling into the TM lot, Sophie took a moment to take in the whole scene. A far cry from the quiet, but busy auto shop, the place had transformed into a veritable den of debauchery. It kinda reminded her of a few mid-deployment parties she and the teams had set up when they needed to blow off some steam. Excitement thrummed through her veins at the prospect of letting off some steam and having a good time. It had been this part of the MC life that she found most surprising when it came to Olivia. They’d done their share of partying together, but her sister had always been the more reserved of the two. Not a wallflower, but not the cannonball into the swimming pool with a Roman candle in her hand type either. Hers had been a quieter chaos. Maybe that’s why Olivia had been drawn to Drifter - the balance. 

Shaking herself from thoughts of the past, she slid from the car, tucked her keys into her front pocket and walked towards the madness. Fire-filled drum barrels were scattered around outside. Women half naked stood, or sat, with a court of men around them. One leggy blonde had her arms wrapped around a young man who seemed content to do nothing more than suck her tits while she ground herself against him. Off to the left, shirtless men threw punches at each other inside a boxing ring while some of the others, beer bottles dangling from their fingers cheered them on from the sidelines. She noticed some money exchanging hands. 

Glancing around, she tried to locate Jax. She spied who she thought were Tig and Chibs sitting over at some picnic tables. Since they were the only other two faces she recognized, she moved towards them, careful to weave through the small packs of bodies. 

“Hiya, love,” Chibs called when he caught sight of her. 

Tig grinned up at her. “Hello, beautiful.” 

Sophie smiled, but looked behind her. “I kept my car parked far away from your perv eyes, Tig. No more flirting with my baby. She’s too young for you.” 

Chibs laughed and knocked his shoulder against Tig’s. “Got you by the balls.” 

“I wish,” Tig mumbled under his breath. 

She sat on the table next to Tig and gave a friendly pat on his shoulder. “Sorry to disappoint you.” 

He gave her a flirty look. “I’m sure you can find a way to make it up to me.” 

Sophie laughed. “Keep dreaming, man.” 

“Aye,” Chibs said, voice a bit sharp as he glanced down at Tig. “You know how this works.” 

Tig nodded. “Yeah, man. I got it.” 

Chibs shook his head before necking his beer and taking a long swallow. “Not me you’ve gotta be worrying about now is it?” 

Clearly looking for a way to change the mood, Tig looked at a young blond man sitting near them. “Prospect, get the lady a drink and be quick about it.” 

The blond looked at her shyly and offered her a smile. “What’s your poison?” 

“Rum and coke, or a beer.” 

“Go on,” Chibs called as the prospect stood from the table. “Be quick about it.” 

She laughed as he scurried into the clubhouse. “I’d say be nice to the poor boy, but something tells me he’s used to a little hazing around here.” 

“It’s good for them.” 

They all turned to watch the fight, and the kid brought her a drink more quickly than she expected. Taking a sip, she nearly coughed. Sophie had expected a strong drink, but it was like they’d filled the Dixie cup with rum and walked a can of Coke next to it. Rum with an essence of Coke. Now that she knew, she took a smaller sip from her cup as she continued to watch the two in the ring duke it out. The bald one had decent form. He had a wildness in his eyes that commanded her attention. 

Sophie slid from the table, and wandered through the crowd to get a closer look at the fight. She’d always enjoyed the boxing matches the Navy boys engaged in during cruising days. For a few moments, she stood among the other spectators sipping her rum with a splash of Coke and watching the exchange of punches. Both men had grins on their faces. 

“Hey, sexy,” a voice slurred in her ear. His hand wrapped around her waist, fingers inching up her torso, just shy of her breast. “Run inside and get me another beer.” 

Ignoring him, Sophie moved out of his grip, figuring he’d wander off to easier, more willing entertainment. She continued to watch the fight. Not taking the hint, the drunk guy behind her reached out, grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. 

“Listen, bitch, go get me another beer or get lost.” 

Looking him over, she noticed the kutte, but there weren’t any patches on it. He had dark hair and a stupid-looking face, or maybe that was just the expression on it. The kutte looked the same as the one the blond guy, the prospect, who’d been sent off to get her a drink wore. Seemed prospects were lower in the chain than guys like Chibs and Tig. Not that it would make any difference for her personally, but she wanted to avoid making Jax’s life more difficult if it could be avoided. 

Shaking his grip loose, she moved through the crowd back towards the table. Just as it came within view, the majority of the crowd behind them, the idiot grabbed Sophie’s ass.

“Don’t walk away from me, sweetheart. I wanna have a good time tonight.” 

Eyes at her hairline, Sophie spun around to face him. “The fuck did you just say to me, asshole?” 

“You heard me. Croweaters do as they’re fucking told around here.” 

Sophie rolled her shoulders. “Look, go find someone willing. No isn’t exactly a complicated word - means no.” 

When he reached forward again, Sophie’s patience was shot. She landed a right hook across his cheek, feeling her knuckle split on one of his teeth. Sucking a breath in through her teeth, she cursed. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but seeing the way the idiot’s face snapped to the side made it worth it.

“Go find Jax,” she heard Chibs tell someone. 

Her moment of distraction cost her. The guy backhanded her with enough force for her head to whip to the side. 

“Bastard!” 

Sophie spat on the ground. What kind of an idiot slapped someone in the middle of a fistfight?

Before she could return the favor, arms wrapped around her torso, pulling her back. Across from her, a lumberjack-looking guy with a beanie on his head had his arms wrapped around the idiot who thought no meant please touch me more. 

“Alright, lass, leave him be.” 

Thrashing in his hold, Sophie wanted nothing more than to cover her hands in his blood. “Let me go. Bastard needs to be taught a fucking lesson about respecting boundaries.” 

“Aye,” Chibs agreed. “That he does, but not by you. You got your shot.” 

She stopped struggling only to whirl around and poke her finger into his chest.

“That love tap I gave him?” 

Sophie knew she was screaming, knew she was likely making a scene, but she couldn’t stop herself. 

“Bastard grabbed my arm, then my ass, and took a grab at my breast all without my permission. He’s lucky I haven’t ripped his fucking balls off and shoved them up his ass.” 

She watched Chibs’ face darken the more she spoke, but before either of them could say anything else Jax, closely followed by Tig, came jogging up to the group.

“What the fuck?” Jax asked, eyes moving between Sophie and the guy. 

“Don’t know exactly what happened, man,” the lumberjack-looking man spoke. “But, your girl landed one hell of a punch on Shepard’s face before he backhanded her.” 

She watched Jax’s jaw work as he closed in on the guy who’d slapped her. “That right? You do that to her face?” 

“Never seen her around here before. Wanted a new piece of ass tonight.” 

Sophie started struggling in Chib’s arms again, and managed to slip his grip. Faster than Jax could stop her, she’d lunged forward and punched Shepard in the face and then the kidney. 

“Sophie!” Jax pulled her back. “Come on, stop.” 

He pulled her a few feet from the group, pressed her back against the wall and glared at her. 

“I’m not apologizing for beating the shit out of that fucking creep.” 

Jax shook his head, small grin on his face. “No one’s asking you to.” 

Sophie opened her mouth, but closed it. It hadn’t been the response she expected. 

Jax grabbed her chin and tilted her head to the side, noting the red mark on her cheek. 

“He do that to your face?” 

She nodded. “Asshole didn’t even have the decency to punch me. Little bitch slaps like a fucking girl.” 

Jax pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. 

Sophie released a deep breath. “Look, I know there are rules or whatever for the girls at these things, and I tried to get him to stop. If he’d just been drunk and handsy and left when I said no, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. But he followed me. I moved away, walked back to where Chibs and Tig were sitting, but he kept following me. No one touches me without my permission, Jax. No one.” 

He nodded. “No one should be touching you. I’m gonna go deal with that, and you’re going to stay with Chibs and Opie while I deal with it.” 

“Jax - ”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m gonna deal with it, Sophie.” 

Searching his face, she saw the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw ticked. She nodded. “Make him bleed.” 

With a smile, Jax pulled back from where he’d crowded Sophie into the wall. “As you wish, darlin’.” 

Taking her hand, Jax led them back over to the table. By now, the boxers in the ring had stopped, and a large crowd gathered to where Opie still had Shepard restrained. 

“Jax?” Tig asked, a hopeful expression on his face.

Jax pulled Sophie closer to him, arm wrapped around her in a clearly possessive gesture. 

“He’s gonna pay for that bruise on my girl’s face.” 

“You’re choosing some croweater over me?” Shepard asked, voice incredulous. 

Jax tightened his grip on Sophie in warning. She forced herself to relax knowing he needed to handle this himself. Later, she’d have him explain the hierarchy of this whole thing to her. 

“She look like a croweater to you?” Tig asked, sounding actually curious. “Does she act like one? Use your brain, man.” 

Shaking his head, Jax glanced up at Opie. “Tape him up.” Turning to Tig, he grinned. “Take bets, boys.” 

Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Tig placed a hand on his chest. “Love you, man.” 

Chibs handed Sophie a roll of tape. “Get him ready, lass.” 

Nodding, she turned to Jax and pointed to the picnic table. “Sit.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

She swatted at his arm. “I’m not an officer, but I might let you salute me later.” 

As Jax tugged his shirt over his head, she swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. He caught her watching and winked. 

“What the hell’s going on?”

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw an older man with a gray beard and a cigar in his mouth walking over to them. “I’m teaching the prospect a lesson about touching things that don’t belong to him.”  

Sophie wanted to snort because honestly, who the fuck said shit like that? Still, she enjoyed the way Jax’s voice went low and deep. She focused on wrapping his hands, making sure the tape would do its job to protect his hands. 

“Clay, this is Sophie, Sophie, this is Clay.” 

She smiled over her shoulder at him. “I’d shake your hand, but they’re a bit busy at the moment, but it’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

She heard Clay’s deep chuckle behind her. “Likewise.” 

“What’s going on?”

Sophie recognized Gemma’s voice. 

“Jax is gonna teach the prospects a little bit of a lesson tonight.” 

Even with her back to the woman, Sophie could feel the deep frown on Gemma’s face. Sophie finished wrapping Jax’s hands. Pulling back a bit she motioned for him to hold his hands out. 

“Test it.” 

She watched the way his hands moved as he flexed his hands. Nodding, she smoothed her fingers across the edges of the tape. 

“Looks good.” 

“You’ve done this before.” 

Sophie winked. “Once or twice.” 

Standing from the table, he walked over to the ring, Sophie on his heels. Before entering the ring, he turned and wrapped Sophie into his arms and kissed her like it was his dying wish. When he released her, she staggered back a couple of steps before she felt a gentle hand against her back. 

Glazing over her shoulder she smiled at Opie as he steadied her. 

“He likes you.” 

Sophie nodded. “You got that impression, too?”

“Yeah, it’s good to see him happy.”

The bald guy who’d been fighting earlier in the night entered the ring and gestured for both fighters to approach. 

“Let the ass-kicking begin.” 

He’d barely moved out of the way before Jax lunged at Shepard. She wanted to wince at the sound his fist made against the man’s face, but she couldn’t muster enough sympathy for it. Jax fought like a man possessed. Unlike the earlier fight, this was clearly not for entertainment. Seemed as though Jax decided to work out a few of his demons on Shepard. After a brutal combination of hits, Shepard managed to knock Jax back with a lucky southpaw. Sophie saw the grin on Jax’s face. Watched the sweat slide down his torso, noted the small cut on his eyebrow. Most of Shepard’s face was littered with bruising, and small cuts. Both men had blood on the tape on their hands. When Jax had Shepard on the mats, she grew concerned. He’d clearly won the fight, but if he kept going - 

“He’s gonna kill him.” 

“Happy won’t let that happen,” Opie responded. 

Sophie startled, not realizing she’d spoken out loud. Instead, she nodded dumbly, eyes fixed on the fight. It wasn’t that she held Shepard’s life as sacred or anything, but she didn't want Jax to commit murder in front of this many witnesses. Just when she was going to step in and put an end to it, she saw Happy pull Jax off the now unmoving body beneath him. She couldn't make out what he said, but he whispered something in Jax’s ear that had him relaxing. 

Around her, the crowd went wild with cheers, and many slapped Jax on the back as he left the ring, swagger in his step. She grinned as he closed in on her. 

“Hey, champ.” 

He smiled at her before turning to Clay, face serious. “He’s out. I’ll never vote that piece of shit into my club.” 

Clay took a puff from the cigar in his mouth before nodding, a pleased sort of pride in his eyes as he looked at Jax. “Whatever you say, VP.” 

Jax nodded. 

Clay looked at Sophie, something unreadable in his eyes. “Get him cleaned up.” 

Sophie nodded, knowing something important had just transpired, but without understanding the rules, she didn’t know exactly what. Whatever it was, she thought it was good. Jax swung his arm across Sophie’s shoulders and led them into the clubhouse. They maneuvered around couples in various states of sex before moving down a hallway in the back. He led her into a room that smelled like him, and looked as though no one had ever taught him how to clean. 

“Sit.” 

“You like giving me orders.” 

Sophie grinned. “Occupational habit.” 

She walked into the adjoining bathroom and soaked a washcloth in warm water before coming back into the room. As she’d asked, Jax sat on the bed, eyes hooded as he watched her move towards him. He spread his knees in invitation. Grinning, she moved to stand in front of him, and he brought his hands to rest on her hips. Letting him enjoy the feel of her body beneath his hands, she began to wipe the blood from his face. He hissed when she pressed against the cut at his eyebrow, but didn’t make a move to stop her. Quickly clearing the rest of the blood and the sweat from his face, she threw the towel to the ground before sinking her hands into his hair and tilting his head back. Unsure who moved first, their lips crashed together as his hands moved to lift her onto his lap. 

Sophie moaned into his mouth, loving the way his arms felt wrapped around her. Again, she thought this was all too fast, but when his fingers snuck under the hem of her shirt and began to lift it from her body, she quickly pushed the thought from her mind. Even if it was too fast, too soon - it was also too late. Might as well enjoy it before the other shoe dropped. Breaking apart so Jax could pull her shirt over her head, Sophie looked down at him, loved knowing she’d put that look on his face - the one that told her she was the only thing in the world that mattered to him in that moment. Before he could pull her bra off, she took his hands in hers. 

Kissing his tape-covered knuckles, she met his eyes. “Let me.” 

He nodded. Keeping her eyes on his, she slid from the bed onto the floor to kneel in front of him. She saw the way Jax’s throat worked as he swallowed, eyes dark with desire. Carefully, Sophie began to unwind the tape from his left hand. When it was free of tape, Jax moved to touch her, but she held a hand out, mock frown on her face. He pouted but offered her his right hand. She removed the tape more quickly this time. 

“You should ice them. Tape did a good job, but you really went to town on his face. Nothing’s gonna keep you from swelling and being sore tomorrow.” 

“Later.” 

“Jax - ”

“Later.” 

He hauled her up onto the bed and moved them towards the headboard, settling her against his body. Jax’s fingers teased up the exposed skin of her spine.

“Not packing?”

Sophie chuckled. “Always. Ankle holster. I was kinda hoping this blonde biker would want to wrap his arms around me. Didn’t want anything getting in the way.” 

Jax kissed her. She reveled in the feel of his skin against hers. The sweat on his torso cool between their bodies as she writhed on top of him. As his fingers once more reached for the clasp on her bra, a knock at the door drew them apart. 

“Zip it up,” Opie called through the door. “Bobby’s here. Clay wants you outside.” 

She felt Jax’s sigh as he threw his head back against the pillow. She muffled a laugh against his chest before pressing a kiss to his skin. 

“Gotta do what the boss says.” 

“Clay can fuck off.” 

Sophie laughed. “Come on. You and I both know they’ll just send someone else, and Tig doesn’t seem like the knock politely type.” 

Jax groaned. “Picked up on that?” 

Sophie slanted him a look. “Yeah, he’s real subtle.” 

Figuring he’d not get up on his own, she rolled from the bed and looked around for her shirt. Glancing over at Jax, he stood from the bed and ran a hand through his hair as he walked into the bathroom. She realized he didn’t have a shirt with him. 

“You keep spare clothes here?” 

“Yeah. Should be a clean shirt in the dresser.” 

She opened the drawers until she found the right one; she pulled out a white shirt with SAMCRO screen printed on it. Pulling it to her nose, she sniffed it just to be sure. It smelled like him, and, thankfully, it also smelled clean. When he came out, she tossed it at him and ignored how domestic the whole moment felt. Too much. Too soon. Too easy. 

“You coming?” Jax asked as he stood at the door. 

Sophie picked up her shirt. “I’ll meet you out there.” She paused and pointed at him. “Someone got blood on my shirt.” 

“Just grab one of mine, babe.” 

“Thanks. I’m still gonna see if I can get the blood out of this one. Go on. I’ll be fine.” 

Jax nodded. He stepped to her and kissed her gently before leaving the room. Sophie sighed and shook her head. Had Olivia felt like this? In the early days with Michael, had she been this overwhelmed? They’d met while Sophie had been deployed, and when she made it home, they were already pretty established. Even though Michael understood Olivia had been holding back, waiting for Sophie to meet him. He’d joked about being more nervous meeting her than he had been their parents. She’d just grinned because while her parents could be intimidating, Sophie could’ve killed him and he’d never have heard the bullet. 

Making her way into the bathroom, she glanced down at the shirt. It was a lost cause, and she hated washing blood out of things. Better just to burn it and move on, but she also hated shopping for clothes - especially without Olivia here to go with her, or more specifically to make her go at all. 

“Fuck it.” 

Sophie tossed the shirt in the trash can she saw under the sink before walking back to the dresser. She pulled another one of Jax’s shirts from the drawer. This one was dark blue with SONS screen printed across the front. Sliding it over her head, she sucked in a deep breath, loving the way the shirt smelled. After all the posturing outside, she should feel something she thought. Some sort of feminist bullshit about belonging to a man, but she didn’t because the feeling didn’t suck. 

Closing the door behind her, she walked down the hallway towards the main room of the clubhouse. She saw Gemma at the bar. Sophie watched her eyes widen ever so slightly before her lips pursed into a thin line. Maybe wearing Jax’s shirt wasn’t such a good idea. It wouldn't have been the first time she’d wandered around with someone else’s blood staining her clothes.

“Still haven’t worked out what you’re doing here,” Gemma began as she pulled the tops off of two beers. 

Sophie took the hint and moved to the counter. Taking the offered beer, she saluted with the neck before taking a swallow. 

“You’re clearly not one of them - ” Gemma gestured to the various women scattered around the room having what appeared to be a good time with the available men. “Even without his crow you act like his Old Lady and you don’t even know it.” 

Setting the beer down, Sophie met Gemma’s gaze. “I’m not gonna sit here and insult you by pretending I understood the details of what you just told me, but I know a hierarchy when I see one. Regardless of what position I do or don’t hold on it - no one has a free pass to my body unless I want them to. That’s not what I came here for.”

“Seemed just fine with my son having a free pass to your body.” 

Sophie smirked. “He’s got good hands.” 

Gemma smirked. “I think you’ll be just fine, but you might want to avoid punching any more guys in kuttes.”

Sophie held her hands out. “So long as they keep their hands to themselves, we have no problems.” 

“This club,” Gemma said. “It’s Jackson’s life. It’s in his blood.” 

Sophie frowned. “I know. But, it’s been like a week. Don’t be picking out China patterns just yet. What I feel for him it’s intense, but it’s also new.”

Gemma lit a cigarette. “Does it scare you?” 

“Of course it does. Scares the shit out of me,” Sophie answered. “It’s real.”

Part 6

Master List

[ragnarokhound]

“Tell me to stay and I will be here for as long as you’ll have me.” for the h/c prompts? 💞

Thank you for the prompts!!! I was going to respond to both of them today but uh. This one got a little out of hand lmao

I hope you enjoy!!

9. “Tell me to stay and I will be here for as long as you’ll have me.”

Jaytim, warnings for: Thoughts of self-harm, canon-typical violence, panic attacks/triggers w/heavy emphasis on breath, Jason being a defensive, self-deprecating asshole <3

---

Jason doesn’t like to think of himself as a couple cards short of a full deck, but some nights? Are harder than others.

It’s so stupid. It’s always so stupid. Half the time it’s not even a trigger— and Jason knows his triggers, intimately. Has them filed away in a corner of his mind so that when the glass descends and his hands stop feeling like they belong to him, he can think to himself, oh, it was the beep of that guy’s wristwatch that set him off. That’s why he needs to be outside right now. That’s why he wants to punch brick until his knuckles are red and white and mangled.

Take tonight for instance.

He was doing his rounds. In between cases and expecting a slow night, when he found some guy getting worked over by a couple of mobsters. This would be easy, he thought. I eat chumps like these for breakfast, he thought. They aren’t even packing.

But a few meaty thwacks in the exact wrong rhythm, followed up by the poor sucker screaming in the exact wrong tone, and he’s left playing fifty-two-card pickup with only jokers to substitute. 

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Bloody shins aren’t as satisfying as busted braincaps no matter what Tim and the other bats say, but relationships are about compromise. He puts the guys in cheap suits on the ground and calls them an ambulance.

Their hapless victim gets a talking to about when it’s smart to borrow from loan sharks (never), directions to Leslie’s clinic (yeah, no, you’re gonna wanna take 15th—), what to say when the Red Hood personally intervenes on your behalf (thank you, strange man, bye), and Jason makes it to a safehouse without once giving in to the burn of the goading green fire in his blood.

See? Compromise.

Now he’s on the couch with blood on his bare knuckles, and the shards of glass in the bathroom are all that remain of his mirror. He sits and tries to breathe, but his brain is full of static; shuffling and shuffling and shuffling the deck but there’s no one to tell him when to stop. He’s not really sure how much time has passed when he hears the quiet whir of his security system shutting down.

There’s a gun in his hand with the safety off, pointed at Tim before the window��s even open.

Tim’s voice is loud in the quiet room, casual and light like the liar he is, but to Jason it still sounds muffled. Boxed up. Buried.

He takes another breath.

“Bad time?”

“Fuck off,” Jason says, just as faux-casual, because that’s what they do.

Only it wheezes out of him instead, thready and weak. The gun shakes in his hand. Tim pauses on the window ledge.

Jason can practically hear the gears whirring as he reassesses the scene: Jason’s bloody knuckles and the distant sound of water still running in the bathroom sink. Haphazard parts of his uniform shucked off almost at random, the helmet nowhere in sight, but his top missing and the holster straps hanging off his waist. 

Air whistles in and out of his tight chest in shallow, streaking streams that get closer and closer together the longer he looks at Red Robin’s expressionless white eye sockets. He knows what Tim sees. 

The silence weighs on him. It pisses him off.

The only thing worse than being a scattered mess is having a witness. The only thing worse than having a witness is if that witness is Tim. They haven’t been fucking that long, but it’s been long enough that Tim probably came over tonight with more than one item on his to-do list.

“Not tonight, princess,” Jason bites out when Tim still hasn’t said anything. “Daddy’s tired.”

Tim steps inside.

The gunshot rings sharp and stinging in the air before he even realizes he’s pulled the trigger. The smoking hole on the floor by Tim’s foot is the only warning Jason feels capable of giving right now.

“Did I—did I fucking stutter?” He tries to say, but black spots bloom at the scattered edges of his vision, and he wavers.

One second Tim is frozen with his palms out, showing that they’re empty, and the next he’s easing the gun out of Jason’s hand and letting Jason twist a fist in the front of his costume. He helps Jason sit back down, and Jason doesn’t want to look at his face, to see the pity there. 

He gasps, muscles tensing, and under his fingers he catalogs the new mesh Tim is trying out with his suit. It’s probably something with a stupid, long name and the word “polymer” thrown in for added pretension. It sounds like something Tim would do.

“...something happen tonight?” Tim is asking quietly.

It’s not Robin-steady, because he knows Jason well enough to know how bad an idea that would be, but it’s not the levity they fake with each other either. Whatever it is, it’s making Jason itch.

Then he catches Tim taking his pulse and peering into one of his eyes with intense scrutiny, and what he’s said catches up to him. 

Jason laughs. It’s an ugly sound.

“Oh, quit it. I wasn’t gassed,” he snaps. “There’s no toxin, there’s nothing wrong with me.”

“That’s not what I—” Tim tries to backtrack but it’s way too late for that weak shit.

“Except for the everything that’s fucking wrong with me,” he snarls. He didn’t know he was going to say that until he'd already said it, bubbling and burning out of his mouth like melting plastic, acrid and noxious— but he feels afloat, drifting; like he’s watching himself from the other room. So it doesn’t matter.

“It’s not going to be fixed, there isn’t any antidote for you to cook up in your cute little lab for this—” he whirls a sharp-fingered hand around his temple, “fucking garbage.”

“Jason,” Tim says, fingers tight and prying at Jason’s grip.

“There’s no cure for being beaten to death, no little step-by-step handbook for kids who don’t fucking stay dead, so you can take your shitty costume and your knock-off batarangs and fake-ass fucking concern—”

“Jason, take a breath for me.”

“You—”

Take a breath? Oh, he’ll take a fucking breath, alright—

He’ll take a breath and then he’ll—

He’ll take a breath and—

He’ll take a—

He takes a fucking breath.

Tim’s face is bare.

His eyes are very blue. It takes Jason approximately three years to realize that the heavy weight on his shoulders is Tim’s cape, unclipped and pooling in their laps.

It takes another five to realize that the heavy weight in his lap is Tim himself, straddling his thighs and breathing steadily under their joined hands. Tim’s heart beats an alternate rhythm, almost three beats for every breath in, almost four for every breath out, and Jason closes his eyes.

“Fuck.”

“Hey,” Tim says.

Jason doesn’t say anything more.

What else is there to say when your kind-of-colleague, kind-of-booty-call, complete-pain-in-the-ass comes over when you’re in the middle of some kind-of-mental break? Fucking ‘sorry’ ?

“Sorry,” he says. “Not exactly fit for company right now.”

Tim smirks. “I noticed.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“You gonna shoot at me again?”

Jason scowls.

“I fucking might.”

Tim only rolls his eyes. Jason finds it oddly settling. He finds all of it oddly settling; bickering with Tim is normal. Easy. It reminds him of what he’s like now. The full fifty-two.

His fingers are still trembling, but Tim is stroking absent-mindedly over the skin on the back of his hand. He might not be aware he’s still doing it. Tim exudes an air of total comfort, like the only place he wants to be right now is literally babysitting Jason; but Jason knows better. He sighs.

“Listen,” he says, staring at a point past Tim’s ear. “I could have picked a better way to say it, but I’m— I’m really not up for anything tonight—”

Tim stiffens.

“Jason, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Sex, obviously.”

He watches in real-time as Tim processes that. It’s honestly kind of fascinating, in a terrible, gut-stabbing kind of way. Tim takes a deep breath.

“Dude. I get that you are in an emotionally vulnerable place right now—”

“Hey—”

“—but I’m not that much of an asshole,” Tim says flatly. “You really think I’m gonna bail the second I see that you’re having a bad night? Or that I’m only gonna stick around if you put out after you’re done having a panic attack? Very sexy. Fuck you very much,” he finishes, hissing and affronted. 

Jason stares at him.

“You can’t tell me this is how you wanted to be spending your night,” he says, but his hands creak convulsively around Tim’s, as if to hold him in place. The traitors.

“You don’t know how I want to spend my night,” Tim retorts.

“Oh, come on. I’m not gonna ask you to babysit me and check the closet for monsters before I go to sleep so I don’t have wittle nightmares—” Jason scoffs.

“So don’t ask,” Tim says, eyes burning; Jason’s breath catches. “Tell me to stay. I’ll be here.”

“You’ll be here,” he says skeptically. But Tim’s hands squeeze around his, so hard and fast it hurts. The pain is grounding.

“As long as you’ll have me.”

He wants to scoff again. It’s the kind of saccharine after-school-special corny bullshit that he always hated coming from Bruce.

But his grip is just as tight on Tim, their bones rubbing together through the barrier of their skin. The thought of letting go makes his stomach swoop, like the moments just after stepping off a plane with no chute. That window between stepping and being caught; when his heart still needs convincing that someone else will save him.

(It’s the kind of earnest, rock-solid sincerity he always craved from Bruce; the kind he always ate up, hook, line, and sinker.)

He swallows his pride. His dry throat clicks.

Fine. Stay. If you’re so fucking eager, is what he tries to say. 

But all that comes out is, “Stay.”

Tim leans forward, and drops his forehead onto Jason’s bare shoulder. Jason’s shaky breath stirs the fine black hairs beneath his nose, the mild scent of his shampoo wafting gently into Jason’s nose. After an uncertain beat, he lets his cheek fall. Then the rest of him. They stack against each other, two cards forming the foundations of a house. 

When Jason shakes apart, Tim holds steady.

[freesia-writes]

Howzer + Aurelia Ch. 4

Beginning with his shiny days, this story follows Howzer's character arc through some heartwarming romance, action, adventure, yearning, angst, and growth.

Content/Trigger Warnings for Entire Work (individual chapters not labeled): wartime peril, injury, and death; sexual assault up to kissing; relationship passion up to making out and heavy petting; sexual relationship alluded to (smut is posted separately); pregnancy, birthing trauma, and stillbirth (chapters 30-39, can be skipped and still keep up with the story).

Master List of Chapters

Word Count: 1.4k

4. Good Intentions

"I can't believe you get to be out there doing all that, and I'm stuck waddling around after Mister Diplofat here."

Sprint had been filling Howzer in on his latest mission, recounting the details with just enough enthusiasm to make it a thoroughly riveting story and further fueling the simmering desire for some "real action". They walked along the food line, filling their trays with a basic assortment of the options.

"You can find the dignity in any assignment if you choose to," Sprint answered, grabbing a spoon before heading to a table.

"Maybe you can. But once they make me a Captain, it's gonna be a turning point in the war," Howzer insisted.

"Great. I can't wait! Now eat your soup."

***

An impossibly long week of repetitive and seemingly pointless tasks found Howzer back at 79s, accompanied by a few squad mates he had found a conversation with. They were reclined in a booth on the upper level, swapping stories and jokes, when some voices rose above the others downstairs.

"Get back to work, sweetie. Here, take my glass. I could use a refill."

"Did you hear me? I said it's time to go," came a female voice with a sharp edge to it. Howzer peered over the balcony, eyes drawn to a table with a few Weequay pirates huddled over a game of sabacc. A handful of clones were standing around them, arms crossed and brows furrowed, and in the center of the group was Aurelia, pointing toward the door.

One of the pirates stood up, leering at her with just enough impairment to his movements to bely his condition. "We're not done making money off of these chumps!" he said, beckoning toward the clones nearby, who stiffened and appeared to be readying for a fight.

Aurelia sighed, cursing herself inwardly for agreeing to cover a shift by herself. She opened her mouth for one last attempt when a loud clone voice came over her shoulder.

"You're done if she says you're done."

She turned, spotting a familiar clone approaching from the stairs, striding confidently toward the group. She couldn't quite remember his name, but she recognized his messy hair and the way he tried to swagger. Howzer pushed past a couple angry clones to stand beside her, folding his arms over his tensed chest.

"Oh look boys, she's got a little guard dog," the Weequay taunted, turning to poke Howzer in the chest plate, "A nice fresh one all raring to go."

"Come on," a clone beside Howzer said, "Let's not turn this into a big mess. Just call it a night. You've wiped us clean. Take your winnings and go."

"He's got a point," said one of the pirates from the table, rising to his feet to scoop up the variety of credits and cards scattered across it. "Besides, I'm still tired from the last troopers I beat up."

They stood, gathering their things, as Howzer watched sternly. The crowd of clones dissipated, eager to return to their leisure, and the closest Weequay leaned into Aurelia's face, hissing something foul under his breath. She grimaced at the hot blast of stinky air as well as the content of his words.

Smack! Howzer's hand flew out of nowhere, whacking the pirate upside the back of his head. A confused squawk flew from the Weequay's mouth, and one of his cronies was on Howzer in an instant, delivering a tragically accurate sucker punch straight to his gut. He doubled over in pain, quickly followed by terror as his stomach lurched and he felt his dinner come flying back up, out of his mouth, and all over the feet of the pirate in front of him.

A chorus of disgusted sounds rose around him, and the pirates left in revulsion, throwing a litany of insults over their shoulders as they left. Howzer slowly stood back up, hand pressed to his mouth, horrified that one well-placed shot had turned his attempt at courage into a mortifying embarrassment. Aurelia was still next to him, having jumped back a few feet when the pirate charged him, looking at the mess on the floor with a resigned disappointment before turning to fetch a mop from the utility closet.

"Wait, I'll get it," Howzer said, reaching for her elbow. "Or a service droid can?"

"Our droid is perpetually broken. Wait here so no one steps in it," she answered, not looking back. She disappeared around a corner behind the bar, and he stood there for a moment, arms at his sides, ignoring the few judgmental looks from the patrons around him. Aurelia returned with the cleaning supplies, which he promptly took from her arms.

"Please. This was my fault. And it's disgusting," Howzer insisted, and she acquiesced with a mumbled sentence of gratitude. There were a few orders waiting for her at the bar, so she returned to wash her hands and take care of those while he cleaned up the mess.

"I'll put these back," he said, bringing the supplies to the edge of the bar and pausing for a moment, affirmed by Aurelia motioning with her head toward the utility closet. After tucking it all away and washing his hands in the hallway, he slumped on a stool at the very end of the counter. It was getting close to closing time, and the crowd was dwindling. The music was starting to feel like more of an annoyance than anything else, as the desire for sleep began to outweigh the jovial nature of the remaining guests.

A few stragglers were finishing their drinks and conversations, and Aurelia had things mostly tidied up when she noticed Howzer still sitting dejectedly. She was struck by the change in his composure; she had become accustomed to seeing him jaunt around the place, chatting up a variety of females and acting like a general big shot. His friend was noticeably missing tonight, and she felt a sudden intrigue at his complete deflation.

"Thanks for taking care of that earlier," she said, ambling to the end of the bar to chat while she waited for the clock to signal her freedom. "And sorry you got sucker punched."

"That was definitely not how I envisioned that going," he replied, eyes looking up at her from a downcast face.

"Yeah, well... Things often take unexpected turns around here," she offered, studying his face as if it could offer a clue to the name he had shared before giving up. "I'm sorry... What was your name again?"

"Howzer," he muttered, "CT-2420."

"That's right," she said, still mystified by the drastic change in his behavior. She felt oddly moved by it, and it somehow reminded of her older brother when he was disappointed in himself. She glanced at the few remaining patrons, who didn't look close to being done, then back to Howzer. "Don't beat yourself up," she said gently.

"I know. It's just hard to envision my future as a Captain when I can't even handle a few obnoxious spike heads," Howzer answered. "Maybe the cushy life of following politicians around is all I'm suited for after all."

Aurelia smiled, relating to the youthful tendency to overreact to perceived failures. She placed a hand over his, and his head jerked up to look at her, shocked out of his despondency as she spoke, "Sometimes the steps that get us to where we need to be aren't what we think we need. But they can shape and prepare us in unexpected ways."

He regarded her thoughtfully, touched by her compassion and inexplicably drawn in by her dark eyes. "Sounds pretty wise," he mumbled. He was uncharacteristically lost for words; he usually had a whole variety of slick phrases and comebacks, but he felt empty somehow.

"That's why I work here," Aurelia quipped, offering a playful smile in an attempt to encourage him out of his discouraged state. He returned her smile with a small one of his own, and she pulled her hand back from his, checking the time. Thank the Maker, it was finally the end of her shift. She ventured into the room to shoo out the last few stragglers, and Howzer rose to his feet, helmet at his hip, waiting until just the two of them remained. He paused in the doorway, turning his head to Aurelia at a nearby table.

"Hey," he said softly, catching her attention, "Thank you."

Next Chapter

[mx-sinisters]

pairing; cat noir/ladybug, adrien agreste/marinette dupain-cheng

word count; 5.1k

rating; t

tags; canon universe, alternate universe, time travel, implied/referenced character death

notes; saw that shadybug & claw noir is gonna be about alternate universes and wanted to have some fun with it.

summary; cat noir is getting nowhere with ladybug romantically and doesn't know what to do next. his soul-searching is interrupted when his future self drops in needing help returning to his time. cat noir is happy to help, especially if that means getting a peek at how his and ladybug's relationship turns out. the only problem is that his future self isn't who he says he is.

“another purrfect job, m’lady. pound it!”

cat noir waited for the familiar brush of ladybug’s knuckles against his, but it never came. he looked over to see her leaning against a nearby railing. instead of taking in the dazzling city lights that illuminated the streets below, she seemed distracted.

“are you alright?”

ladybug jumped, spinning to face him a bit too quickly. “oh, yes, i’m alright. it’s just been a long day.”

“c’mon, bugaboo. you know this cat’s got sharper eyes than that,” he said, moving to stand beside her. “what’s on your mind? you can tell me anything.”

pushing like this always resulted in cat noir getting scolded. ‘keeping their identities secret’ and all that. but he couldn’t help himself. if there was even the smallest chance of getting a glimpse of who was under that spotted mask, he’d take it every single time.

to his surprise, he wasn’t immediately shut down. silence hung between them as ladybug wrung her hands. eventually, she spoke.

“when i’m ladybug, i feel like i can see everything clearly. i have a mission. i have a plan for my lucky charm. i have you. because of that, i can be confident, brave. i wish that translated to my everyday life.”

cat noir was too busy processing the fact that ladybug had willingly shared information about her secret identity to register what she was saying. once the realization set in, it hit him like a sucker punch.

“this is about the guy you like, isn’t it?”

read more on ao3

[groofz]

PART I: "Midlife Crisis for Dummies"

How would I describe a midlife crisis, in a nutshell? Complacency seeps in, slow and silent. Before you know it, you hate your job, your wife, yourself, and your life. The everyday routine that once brought you peace has turned on you. It sneaks into your home, screws your wife, and burns down the house with the kids inside—all in slow motion, right in front of you. And somehow, you've forgotten how to even find words for the feeling—not even to yourself. It's not like anyone would listen, anyway; you don't speak their language anymore, and they can't see you at all.

Halloween just passed, but that's not why I sketched the Invisible Man. I sketched him because I'm living through a three-year midlife crisis that started back in 2021 and hasn't let up. I used to think the "midlife crisis" was a myth. I mean, what could possibly top puberty? Many of us barely survived that as it is! But this feels a lot like puberty, minus the zits and hormone spikes (though there's still confusion, the feeling of being an outsider, and plenty of horniness and depression). After one of the most productive phases of my life, I lost touch with everything | ever believed in.

I drifted away, forgot how to connect with other people, lost my sense of self, my identity, my sense of belonging. Just like that, I was gone.

The first sign? An onslaught of angst and the overpowering urge to reread The Catcher in the Rye for what must have been the 25th time. At first, I wondered if this was puberty all over again-maybe thanks to the COVID vaccine. Once I started becoming aware of it, though, there was still nothing I could do. I got more depressed and suicidal than l'd ever been. Like so many creatives, I left art and comics behind years ago, focusing on a responsible, modest lifestyle, building a career and a family. By 29, I was an ordinary guy-content, or at least settling. Then life came along and sucker-punched me in the balls, stole my powers, and burned it all down. Out of nowhere, though, I felt the spark of something new. It was time to go on a quest.

PART II: "There and Back Again"

I wanted to draw the Invisible Man because that's exactly how I feel. I feel like Gregor Samsa, trying to murmur an "I love you" through my own twisted exoskeleton, only to terrify anyone who matters. I feel like Frankenstein, Godzilla, or Toru Okada in a surreal, postmodern search for meaning, lost in a dark hole. I am body horror-aging itself is body horror. It reminds me of that Cronenberg film Shivers, where an old man opens his trench coat to expose his shriveled body, croaking, "Even old flesh... is erotic flesh." It's grotesque, yet somehow, it's all part of this journey.

PART III: "How to Survive a Midlife Crisis (Or Any Crisis) "

How do you survive a midlife crisis—or any crisis? By diving into the toxic wreckage of this post-apocalyptic, dystopian nightmare we call life and finding the art buried inside. Let it in; let it take over like radiation or cancer. Become someone new-reborn, inspired, creating art and comics, and vomiting pop culture.

During the worst of it, I went back to my old survival strategy. I gorged on every piece of media I could get my hands on-comics, manga, art books, classics, film noir, vintage BDSM movies and magazines. I started drawing again, and fast. Now it's all coming together, fusing into something new. This is what I wanted. More to come?

P.S. Did I mention I might've jerked off 40 times a day and visited a few escorts in all this? Guess that should've been in here too, since I'm drawing hentai late at night.

Feels like this is going somewhere. I'll just have to follow my heart and see where it

[yuheartss]

Alright, here goes.

May I please request Gwen Black with a delinquent s/o?

Scenario: When they first met, Gwen was scared of him/her. S/o is a delinquent, gets into lots of fights, smokes cigars, and has a back covered in tattoos. Everyone at school is scared of them.

But for some reason, s/o is very nice towards Gwen and even protects her from bullies daily. They eventually start dating when Gwen gets to know them better and realizes that despite being a delinquent, they are kind-hearted.

SUMMARY — after hanging out a lot gwen starts to learn more about you

౨ৎ Wc : 1059

🍓Warnings: smoking, swearing , violence , unedited, lower case intended

౨ৎ A/n : it took me a little longer to finish sorry abt that! Also if you like this don’t hesitate to send me more rqs! xx

The first time you ever met her was when you were walking to get your own tray Gwen was walking alone with her tray off food one blonde girl tripped her making Gwen land on you causing her food to spill all over your shirt and pants the whole cafeteria went quiet all eyes were on you and Gwen

"Sorry I didn't mean—" she muttered quickly running away and coming back to wipe off the remaining chunks of food stuck to your shirt she kept trying to wipe some of the stains "it's fine." You reassured her gently taking the crumpled up napkins from her hands you looked up and narrowed your eyes at the group of girls laughing loudly but you glared at the girl who laughed the loudest

As you speed walk away from Gwen and towards the girl in the center of it all you pushed girls out the way until you got to the main one you were quick to sucker punch her square in the jaw a fight broke out between the girl you punched and her little lackeys in a crowded circle between you and the girl group of bullies Gwen watched you win the fight after that the next few days Gwen decided to steer clear of you for the sake of your clothes and to avoid getting on your bad side

Even though Gwen avoided you you never stopped protecting her from that same group of bullies who didn’t learn the first few times no matter how many times Gwen avoided you you never stopped being nice to her one day in gym she finally came through and started talking to you “thanks for always helping me” she said running next you your heart raced a little faster “don’t mention it” you replied not even looking at her

“But why do you help me? She questioned you narrowing her eyes in suspicion when the laps finished you huffed out a sigh and put our hands on your head to expand your lungs “I do it because one I can’t stand those girls and I love seeing them angry two I have an excuse to fight in school and three your cool and cool people shouldn’t be treated that way” you explained

Gwen’s shocked stare didn’t phase you at all “you think I’m cool?” She beamed holding her hands in-front of her smile “yeah I like your energy” you told her stretching your back “really?” Gwen asked hopefully you nodded yes and she gave you a genuine smile

-

After that you both began to hang out inside and outside of school as more than friends l that’s when she found out you smoked it was a sunny afternoon and Gwen found you in an alley way smoking a cigarette and holding a bag of strawberries “what are you doing?” Gwen asked spawning out of nowhere startling you and making almost drop your cigarette “shit you scared me..” you sighed puffing smoke out of your system

“Sorry but you shouldn’t be smoking you’ll hurt your lungs” she apologized taking the cigarette out of your mouth and onto the ground as she crushed it you couldn’t help but wince “that was my last cig..” you muttered your gaze fixated on the crushed cig Gwen patted your shoulder reassuringly and noticed the bag in your other hand “what’s that“she pointed

“Oh this? Just some strawberries for these kids I know” you lifted up the bag to chin level she nodded as you kept going “do you want some?” You offered opening the plastic box enough for Gwen to get a few “yeah thanks!” She smiles and took three “well since you found me wanna tag along?” You asked her pushing yourself off the wall and standing up straight

“Yeah sure” Gwen replied taking her hand in yours as you both walked out the alley and into the bustling streets of the town the two of you chatted away enjoying each other’s company the sun started to tilt when you got to the kid’s neighborhood you and Gwen made it to this small house with a bunch of toys sprawled out on the lawn “are you related to these kids?” Gwen asked as you rung the doorbell

“Yeah there my cousins, the only good ones” you answered the door creaked open, a little girl peaking inside “hey” you said softly to the girl “what’s the password?” She asked in a silly sketchy tone you rolled your eyes playfully and shifted your weight on one foot onto the other while a smile you answered the kid’s little riddle

The little girl let you in and two others came running to your side trying to grab the bag that you held oh so high “calm down! I didn’t even get to introduce you yet!” You chuckled still holding onto Gwen’s hand as she smiles and waved at the kids “who is this?” An older boy asked putting his hand on his chin rubbing it slightly he circled around her suspiciously

“This is Gwen my girlfriend” you proudly call explained kissing her cheek as she giggled and the kids wailed dramatically at the ongoing pda “can we just have the strawberries??” A younger boy whined as the other two nodded “okay okay, cmon Gwen” you ushered her to the kitchen where you both started washing and cutting strawberries sneaking in a few in another bag for later

You gave the kids the strawberries shrugging off your leather jacket you revealed your tank top that showed parts of your tattoo “I never knew you had a tattoo” Gwen stared at the noticeable markings “yeah I do I’ll show you the full thing sometime” you smiled at Gwen who smiled right back

She scooted closer to you and leaned on your shoulder eating a few strawberries “you know…dispute your appearance your really just a good person” Gwen acknowledged you snickered at her conclusion “is that so?” She nodded “you’re always helping out your super nice I don’t know why you don’t show more people this side of you” Gwen kept going “people are ruthless” you turn your head to look up at the orange sky

“It’s hurt or be hurt out here” you told her “that won’t happen to you though” you kiss her forehead “I’ll be there to protect you”

[asleep-in-the-keep-sideblog]

Asleep In The Keep: A DP x BNHA fic

Summary: Danny fights Stain

Word count: 3179

Chapter 6: I Need a Hero!

An officer was talking to the heroes (at least the ones who were still conscious) and one of them pointed at Danny. He knew what came next. This may be a different world, but a cop is a cop. Danny started casually walking away. 

Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious.  

Luck was on his side because Danny was able to sneak away behind some of the debris and disappear. The officer looked confused as she looked for Danny, even asking her fellow officers where he went. 

Suckers.   

Danny flew around the city helping people the same way he did here. Most of it was rescues and making sure they were safe before other heroes or help arrived. He didn’t run into any more of those creatures from before. He didn’t know how many there were or if it was a common thing, but he knew the one with wings was somewhere.  

Danny scanned the city from above looking for any more sudden explosions, when he caught sight of bursts of light swelling in an alley and people yelling.  

It could be one of those creatures, the one with wings was still loose.  

He kept himself intangible as he descended. It wasn’t a creature like before, but a monster. A grown man with bloody blades was attacking children . One of them was on the ground while the other two were attacking him with all they had. The peppermint one had gouges cut into his arm but was still shooting balls of fire at the man as he bounced from wall to wall, evading it.  

The man slashed the green one when he tried to attack from behind and then he fucking Licked the blade. Danny cringed. The boy went down.  

Down.   

Went down.   

Children.   

All alone.   

A monster of a man leaning over them.   

P̴̯͙̙̊ ̵̙͊̂͜ ̶̰͔̇ ̸͔͔͍̋Ř̶̳̂ ̶͚̽͊̓͜ ̷̀͜ ̶̢͐̚Ớ̴̼̳͜ ̵̫͛̌̉ ̸̰̗̀ ̶̦̅T̷̠͝ͅ ̷̳͇̙̊ ̸͎͇̘́̕ ̶̢̨͉͐E̸͕̐ ̴͚̼̅͂̎ ̷̡͎́̿ ̷̣̙̗̈̑C̵̤̬̬̉̉͝ ̵͚̌̾ ̵̧̧̛͒͝ ̸̲̩́Ṭ̶̏͒͆  

He shot the man as he was about to behead the kid in the heavy suit on the ground. It stunned him, but he recovered quickly. He jumped back and looked around for the attacker. Danny didn’t give him a chance to see him. From the shadows behind him, Danny punched the man in his back. Danny, while not used to fighting humans, learned a thing or two from the cruelty of the GIW. The man while falling pivoted on his foot and swiped at Danny. It went through him.  

“Who’s there? Another wanna-be a hero?!” He sneered at the direction of the attack. Danny revealed himself, standing far enough for the man to not be able to attack. Although they were close to the same height (with Danny being slightly taller), he looked down at him with hatred in his eyes. Danny understood the look, it was reflected in his eyes too. 

“You have to run away” begged the green haired boy on the ground. He looked sick and was the worst out of all of them, “He’s the Hero Killer. His quirk paralyzes you if he ingests your blood.”  

Quirk? Oh right, that's what they call powers here. They were staring each other down, like two animals sizing up the other. The Hero Killer (really great naming skills there) readied his swords and settled into a stance.  

“That just means I can’t let him cut me,” Danny mirrored the man’s actions, his eyes burning with ectoplasm and excitement. He hated people who went after children. “Easy peasy” and the two lunged for the other.  

🥦~🥦 

Izuku couldn’t believe what he was seeing. After the hero came out of nowhere, he thought it was only gonna be another person sharing the same fate. But this guy had the Hero Killer on the defense!  

The pro-heroes Todoroki sent for still haven't arrived yet. Maybe he was sent in before because of his versatile quirk? But this hero wasn’t one he recognized, and he didn’t seem much older than the 3 of them. Maybe it was a student intern? But why would they send a kid to an unknown situation?  

The fight was raging on around him. It wasn’t just on the ground, Izuku could hear the impacts on the walls. It was hard to see what was happening around him, he was still paralyzed, and he was getting dizzy trying to follow them in the corner of his eye. 

“What crypt did you crawl out of? Or are all those bandages to keep you together?” 

The hero kept making fun of Stain. Stain never responded to them other than a frustrated growl. 

“As if the likes of you will ever defeat me! You’re no better than these kids who aim to be heroes!” Every word the killer spoke was dripping venom like the blood from his knives. Izuku felt a chill go up his spine. “You’re not a true hero! Admit it. You only want the glory of catching me! There’s only one person who I will allow to take me down!”  

“Maybe you’re right.” The kid sounded firm, “maybe I’m not a ‘true hero’, maybe I made a few mistakes, or hurt the people close to me…But I try my best to help people! And I have! Even if I’m not a hero, I still choose to save people!”  

“Oh, so a vigilante then?” His tone changed. Instead of venom, his words were dripping with familiarity, but still sounded unnerving, “I have more respect for them than your average hero” he sneered at the word hero, “I even consider myself a vigilante of sorts.”  

“I don’t think I fit into your definition of vigilante, nor do I want to”  

“And you don’t. You tirelessly mock me instead of saving these people” Stain snapped back.  

“Geez I can’t do anything right in your eyes, mom ” Izuku could feel the teenager's eye roll, “besides,” The alley lit up in a neon green glow, “I can do both.” 

★~★ 

Danny really didn’t want to drag this fight out longer than it needed to be. Honestly, He should’ve just knocked him out from the start. Something told him not to, that he could be more dangerous if he was knocked out. He was too unknown, and therefore dangerous. Danny could feel the corruption this man was made of, it rolled in waves of disgust and hatred every time the man swung at him.  

The man lunged at Danny, his sword in a motion to slash. The man was fast, far faster than any person he had fought in Amity. But not any ghost . Just like all the others, Danny evaded it. That's just what the HK (Hero Killer, and really, he was such a kid, that name is so edgy ) wanted. When Danny went closer to strike him, a hidden blade from his boot swiped up into Danny's chin, missing his neck.  

Danny jumped back, surprised that he was able to get hit so easily. The wound (if it could even be called that) stuck itself back together like slime. But the damage had been done.  

A thick glowing bead of ectoplasm coagulated on the sword. Rust was starting to spread from under it. The man raised it to his tongue and licked it.  

A scream filled the alley, but it was soon overtaken by sounds of gurgling and sizzling. A strange smell filled the air, and all eyes were captured by the crumpled form of the man, who moments ago, seemed to have the upper hand.  

His mouth was melting.   

He frantically clawed at his mouth, which looked like a snail dissolving in salt. His tongue was thrashing around as if trying to escape from himself, like a snake with no head. Everyone was watching. The Blue boy, being able to move again, just lifted himself up onto his forearms, as if to get a better view. Only horror was written on his face. He didn’t have the strength to move anymore than that.   

 The noises started bubbling down. Heaves and harsh rasps replaced them, but not undoing the spell that had overtaken them all. He looked at Danny. His eyes lacked focus and a part of his lips were gone, exposing his teeth and limp tongue.  

His blood must have washed the ectoplasm away.   

This had all happened in under a minute. That was all it took for the battle to be decided.  

The Hero Killer walked towards Danny. It was only a few steps at a time, like one would see from a zombie, but Danny didn’t move. He felt he owed it to the man somehow. 

Guilt.  

By now all the kids were able to move, and they took up fighting stances. They didn’t move any closer. None of them knew what to do, still frozen from before. 

The man stopped just before Danny. He only had one sword left. He raised it slowly and pointed it at him as a challenge. Danny continued to stand there. The man took that as a cue and with a pained yell, started slashing him.  

Danny continued to stand there. He let the man slash through him over and over again. Since the blade wasn’t made with ghosts in mind, Danny let it slash through his body as if it were cutting through slime. The blade was getting more and more corroded as it came out of him.  

After fighting him, Danny was able to understand him, not sympathize, but understand . He had fought with a franticness, but it was calculated. Now however, he was slashing on pure instinct.  

The man was no longer a threat.  

The sword, which was dark brown now, fell to the ground. The Hero Killer’s raspy grunts and cries had softened. He collapsed, but before he hit the ground, Danny caught him.  

He laid him down on his back. Although Danny knew he was only unconscious, He looked like he had just died a very painful death. His eyes were only the whites, and with his mouth eaten up by Danny’s ectoplasm, his face was contorted in a horrified scream.  

Danny just stared. A swirling feeling thrashed around him. Danny had felt this before. It ached at the back of his brain, but it didn’t come out. He just continued to stare at him, trying to figure out what it meant. How does he feel? How does he feel about how much he hurt him? What part of him feels nothing? What part of him feels regret? What part of him feels vindicated?   

“Should we tie him up?” A voice pulled Danny out of his thoughts like icy water. His eyes, maybe with more intensity than he expected, looked at the boy. He was the green one. He stood over Danny with his hand hovering over his shoulder, like it was afraid to touch him. 

  ‘He should,’ a small part of Danny whispered (the place where Spectra lived).  

The boy looked at him with concern. His leg was badly injured, and even standing must have been painful for him. But the boy stayed by Danny. Because he was worried about him. Who was the last person to be worried for him? His friends? His sister? It felt so long since then…  

“Yeah. That's a good idea.” Danny floated up so he was no longer on the ground (when did he get there?). The kid seemed taken aback by this and his mouth opened before he bit it closed again. He turned towards his friends who were talking by the mouth of the alley. He was about to walk away before Danny asked, “Do you need help?” the kid looked confused, “With your leg? You put up a good front, but I know it must be painful.” 

The boy looked taken aback but nodded his head a little. With a word, Danny scooped up the boy and carried him on his back. He was heavier than expected, and Danny could feel the tight muscles from where he held onto his legs. The boy had gone through training that had no one that young should endure. He turned his back to the Hero Killer, sure that the man wasn’t going to be up anything soon.  

“So, what's your name kid?” The kid was the one that fought the hardest out of all of them, but from his injuries, he was either not that strong, or too self-sacrificing.  

“Deku” The kid answered. It was a weird name, but maybe all names were like that here.  

“My name’s Phantom”  

“Is that your quirk?” The kid asked. Despite being beaten up all the way to hell, there was a hint of excitement there. 

“My quirk? Oh right…uh yeah” Danny still wasn’t used to that term. 

“So, you can float, turn intangible, and…Turn into slime?” Danny Nodded. The kid took that as permission to talk, “Then what was that blast you shot at him? It was green like your…insides? Were those your insides? Is that a manifestation of your quirk or do you have control over that? If it is a manifestation, is that why your eyes are like that? What exactly does your quirk entail cause the whole float and intangible thing kinda make sense, but not really the other. Can you breathe when you're intangible or is there a time limit? Or does it burn through your energy, so you don’t use it a lot? Your clothes don’t come off so they must be special too. Also, you glow. Is it a mutation type quirk then? I’ve never heard of a mutation giving you anything other than the already obvious physical capabilities?” 

Uhhhhhhhh… What?   

“Yes.” Danny really wasn’t in a state to be paying attention. “Wait, no.”  

The kid started muttering but Danny really didn’t have the energy to listen.  

They had reached the kid’s ( Deku , Danny reminded himself), Friends. They were talking with a few heroes, none that Danny recognized (not that he would). When they came into sight, an old short man flew towards Deku with a kick. Danny, still in an adrenaline high, blocked the attack with a quickly raised ecto-shield. The old man jumped back, and the other heroes looked at him. The man went lower to the ground, which wasn’t hard because he was very short, and fell into an attack stance like before.  

“Grand Torino it’s OK!” Deku yelled into Danny’s ear. The old man relaxed his stance slightly, but in a way that it was easy to fall back into. 

“Who is this person, Deku?” Grand Torino seems flighty, pun intended . He kept looking between Danny and Deku, suspiciously. Danny, reading the mood, carefully set Deku down and raised his hands in a placating manner. Deku limped over to where the hero’s gathered.  

“He helped us with the villain” At the mention of a threat, the heroes scanned the area. One of them noticed him first. The Hero Killer was still passed out in the alley, without restraints. All of the heroes rushed into action, but honestly, they weren’t sure what to do. One of the heroes starts phoning the police (what was the point of heroes if they were just going to call the cops?) while another hero slowly went towards him with a rope of some kind. When he was securely tied up, the heroes seemed to relax (even if he was just as dangerous before they ‘saved the day’).  

While this was all going down, the kids were in a deep conversion. Danny didn’t listen in, not wanting to be rude. Besides, he had his attention elsewhere.  

Grand Torino kept staring him down. He never moved out of the stance he was in. Danny really didn’t want trouble, he’s just glad that the kids are safe, and the heroes have it covered now. Danny was about to give him the slip when the old man’s eyes darted towards the sky. 

“Get down!” He shouted at Deku as the winged thing from earlier flew over them. With it’s (toes? talons?) toe-lons, it grabbed Deku from the waist. Gusts of wind from its speed blew at the heroes, and some even had to cover their eyes not to be blinded.  

None of the heroes did anything. Even the old man, who seemed so concerned for Deku before, stayed frozen to the spot, just squinting at their shrinking forms as they flew away.  

Danny flew after them, he could hear the surprised gasps from behind him. He was able to catch up in milliseconds. He shot ice at the thing’s wings, not wanting to risk hitting the kid. The thing went down as it screeched in pain, still injured from before. Danny was able to catch Deku before he crashed with it. He held the kid on his back as he stared at the creature below him. Danny stepped on its wing to stop it from getting further away. It was thrashing about still, but it was obvious it could no longer fight.  

The same feeling he had when he defeated the Hero Killer settled into him again. 

Another hero had joined them and was barking orders at them not noticing what was around him.  

“Get ready for a fight,” he heard one of them say.  

Danny really was sick of people assuming the worst of him. In Amity, he could understand. Ghosts were dangerous, and he was probably the worst one of them all (pretending he was still human). He never needed their acceptance, just saving them was enough. He didn’t care that they held city hall meetings to “get rid of the ghost boy”, he didn’t care when they invited the GIW in town to hunt him down, he didn't even care when they called him inviso-bill. But in the world of heroes? In the world where people cheer the heroes on as they defeat the bad guy, where they sell figurines and merch of the heroes, where they have children training to become heroes, was it really so hard for him to be accepted? Maybe humans could just feel he was too different from them. 

Danny turned towards them, and they all froze, he even felt Deku tense up on top of him 

I̶̧̻͑͝ ̸̢̟̞̿͂̚Ă̶̮̹ ̷̖͍̓̂͝M̷̻̉ ̶̰̖̒̑ ̴̯̥̂̔N̷̟̦̰̓̓̄ ̷̞͌͑Ỡ̸͍̖͗ ̷͓̚T̵͖͔̈́͂̄ ̴̼͉̓ ̷̯͉̆A̵̹͖̬̎̂ ̸̺̺͝ ̵̤̆̆V̴̜̉̇̈́ ̷̦͙͛͘I̸̪̖̗͝ ̴̙̫͋̑̕L̶̦̰̽ ̴̙͚̜̓́L̴̜͍͛̐͘ ̴̘͑͘A̷̢̲͔̓ ̴̖̈́̿̓Ì̷̘̏ ̴̖̖̜͗N̴̢̟͔̄ ̸̙͚̎ͅ!̵̼͈͔͝ ̴̮͝!̴͓̎̓͊ ̴͚̝̬͛̆͋ ̴̧͖͒Y̴̥̦̖̿͠͝ ̶̮̥̀Ō̸̡͓̫ ̵̝͙̔Ư̵̢̘̮͂ ̵̮̎̓͆ ̶͎̓D̴͖̰̉̉͐ ̵̗͖̗̏Ö̵̭͓͉́̆̂ ̶̜̔̀Ṅ̴̹̟͆ ̵͌͝͝ͅ’̷͓̩̓̎ ̵̺͛T̵̯̄ ̶̡̗̈́ ̶̰̝́N̴̦͍̫̽̒ ̴̨̅͆̚͜Ȩ̷̳̥̿̔ ̴̩́É̸͈̱̖͝ ̴̢͖͘D̶̻̘̀ ̴̧̠̙̈́͂ ̷̼̭̬̔T̶̟͗̍͐ ̷̻̳̈́Ö̶̺̂͠ ̷̟͐̽ ̴̜̫̈̈W̸̢̅̓͆ ̸̨͙̙͒O̵͙̼͛̔͌ͅ ̵̡̛͒Ŗ̴͉̦͛ ̸̪̫̣̃̈́R̷̢͙̐̂ ̶̖̊͛͜Ÿ̶̥͓́͜ ̸̢͎͋̒!̶͕̈́͛̿ ̶̮̣̳̀̚͝ ̶͕̺͂̒͝I̷̬̘̋ ̴̦̭͋̇’̸̤̭͙̈̉ ̵̱͍̭͆́M̴̛͇̗̌͠ ̵̢̲̋ ̷̧̛̯͚͛͝Ń̷͈͠ ̵̩̽͐͜͜O̶̰͛͋͘ ̶͔̬̀T̴̺̋ ̷̻́̈́̿ ̵̤̼̳̎G̶̨̫̖̉́̾ ̴̧͍̽O̷̧̽͊̒ ̶̫͆̎Ĭ̵̫͇̔ ̶̛̙̑́Ǹ̴̨̙͍ ̴̮̬͖́̎̓G̴̩̦͛ ̷͎͖̅͜ ̶̨̞̣̈́Ţ̷͙͖̓̑ ̴̨̦̮̈͋O̷͉͍̓͠ ̷̱̗͑͑͜ ̶̫̤͔͛Ḫ̷̻̗̈͐͗ ̷͎̯̣̅̈̈Ù̶̡̼ ̷̢͛R̶͎͓̾͝͝ ̶̛̯̣̻̕T̸̼͌̓ ̶͉̲̞̀̐ ̵̫̎̈́Ą̷̩̪͑̓ ̴̞��͐͝N̷͕͌͠ ̸̧̛̠͓Y̶̪̹͉̆̽̈́ ̶̟͆͐Ő̶̲͔̓̀ ̵̧͕͍̏N̶̺̲̯̈́ ̵̞͖̥̾̈́E̵͈͊ ̴̧͗!̵̧͖̈́ 

He set Deku down, careful of his leg, and smiled at him. He had a heart stopping panicked look in his eyes. Danny looked at the heroes, but they all shared the same expressions. One hero even fell down looking at him.  

It was all just too much.  

Danny looked back at Deku. His eyes shifted more towards confusion than fear. Then, without warning, Danny took to the night sky.  

“Phantom Wait!”  

But he was already gone.  

~END~

Translations for Ghost speak: PROTECT I am not a villain!! You don’t need to worry! I’m not going to hurt anyone!