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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 7 months ago

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The Babysitter (41)

Asgard

MILF Wanda Maximoff X Reader

Summary: In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

A/N- I would just like to say that there will be some sensitive issues in this story such as alcoholism, homophobia, anxiety as well as more mature content such as smut so, if you continue to read this, please consider this warning.

The Babysitter Master list | General Master List

Chapter 41- W/c 7.3k

Asgard

The sound of a whir from the coffee machine knocked you out of your tired and peaceful state, a displeased grumble leaving your lips as you curled up into a ball on the sofa, cradling a cup of coffee you made earlier in an attempt to wake you up, a huff leaving you as you sank further into the cushions behind you. Eventually, the gentle sound stopped, your fingers wrapping around your mug in irritation as you did not want to get up yet, you wished to climb back into bed and fall back asleep to finish off your unusual dream as it was far too early to be up during your holidays.

At your usual reluctance to enjoy the tranquillity of the morning, Wanda couldn’t help but chuckle softly behind you in the kitchen as she made her morning drink, shaking her head at your antics as she effortlessly manoeuvred around the kitchen, green eyes occasionally flickering towards your form on the sofa, admiring the gentle sun rays that peaked through the gaps in the curtain, illuminating the room in a gentle glow as she took in your body, curled up adorably with your eyes closed, clearly daydreaming about your shared bed again.

“Detka,” she hummed out gently, quietly walking over to you before gently moving to sit next to you, her body pressing into your side as you make a sound of acknowledgement, the loose strands of her hair that framed her face perfectly brushing against your cheek as she pressed a delicate kiss to your skin, your cheeks immediately heating up at the domestic action, your heart always beating wildly at the amount of affection she showed you. “Good morning,” she murmured teasingly, laughing softly as you shifted around to be settled in her arms, tired eyes trying to force themselves open, tempted to just stay shut and let sleep take over you once again.

“I hate mornings,” you grumble as you press your head against her shoulder, wanting to go back to bed with your loving girlfriend, a little annoyed at yourself for bringing this early morning upon yourself when you asked the older woman if you could take the twins to the theme park in the bath just over a week ago. The two of you eventually settled on a date and time later that evening, planning to spend a couple days at the park to hopefully explore all nine realms and enjoy the onsite hotel as well meeting all the entertainers and take part in all the activities the boys would love.

“Trust me, I know Detka,” she teases. “All I ever seem to do is drag you out of bed,” she mutters, pressing another kiss to the top of your head as you huff out a laugh, placing your drink down before wrapping your arms around her body and snuggling closer to her warmth despite the temperature outside.

“But the bed is so comfy,” you grumble, arguing your case for never wanting to leave your sheets as you had everything you could ever want there. Her cuddles and soft body were worth spending eternity there.

“The sofa is also comfortable,” she argues back, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she leans her head against the top of yours. “Plus, if we were in bed right now I can guarantee we’d have two boys trying to break our door down,” she jokes as she could picture the boys waking up at their alarms, practically jumping out of bed and rushing to go for showers, wanting to go to the theme park as soon as possible.

As if on cue, the sound of rushed footsteps and giggles could be heard descending down the stairs, a muffled chuckle leaving you as you smile against her body, preparing yourself for the two bundles of energy that were about to invade your peaceful moment.

Moments later, the two boys with bed hair came running into the room, smiles engraved on their faces as they did not hesitate to jump on the furniture with you, a puff of air leaving you as Billy lands at your side and Tommy half on top of you, your expression inevitably morphing into joy at their elated moods.

“Be careful,” Wanda motherly scolds but the boys pay no attention as they're too busy bouncing with energy, Tommy wriggling his way in between you and Wanda and you can’t help but smile at the twins. Your fingers fix Billy's hair while Wanda presses a kiss to Tommy’s head, both of their smiles growing wider as they both excitedly cheer,

“We're going to Asgard today!” Tommy exclaims while throwing his arms up in celebration, his little mind running wild with exciting thoughts about all the rollercoasters and fun fair games to play. Billy lets out a just as elated cheer as you and Wanda both chuckle at them, a playful smile growing on your lips as you plan to tease them.

“We are,” you laugh out innocently before wrapping your arms around Tommy and rolling over briefly with him in your arms, a small squeal leaving him as you position him next to his brother who laughs at the embarrassing noise, your body now next to Wanda’s again, her front flush against your back as she also places her drink down, not wanting to spill any. “After I get my morning cuddle from your mom though,” you tease, Wanda shaking her head at your antics but still wrapping her arm around your body and pulling you impossibly closer for an embrace, Tommy and Billy making a displeased noise.

“That’s not fair,” Billy grumbles whilst moving with his brother, the two of them watching as you and Wanda can’t hide your amused smiles. “I want to cuddle Mom too,” he says, Tommy working with him as they try to climb over your body to steal their mother away from you, laughter spilling from their lips as you tickle them both to keep them away.

“She’s mine,” you dramatically say, shielding her from the two boys, determination creeping onto their faces as you squint playfully at them. “My girlfriend, my cuddles,” you mutter out, smiling as you feel Wanda’s body shake in laughter behind you, her warm body just so comfortable pressed up against you as she props her head on your body, her heart melting at the way her boys mouths part in shock, their bodies swiftly moving away from your poking fingers and over your body, swarming Wanda from the other side with triumphant expressions.

The older woman shifts her position to accommodate all of you, Billy melting into her embrace whilst her fingers go to Tommy’s hair, playing with his messy locks and attempting to fix it, her head shaking at all of your antics as you also snuggle further into her, pressing a kiss to her cheek which makes the boys groan, her softening green meeting yours with an enamoured look.

The gaze prolongs as you let your gaze admire every single delicate swirl of green, mesmerised by how expressive her eyes were as they overflowed with love and affection, the intimate look only being broken by the one of the boys moving to find a more comfortable position, your gaze drifting to the twins’ wide and bright grins.

“I’m sure there are enough cuddles for everyone,” she softly teases, kissing you all on the top of your heads lovingly, earning a chorus of laughter from the three of you. “In fact, if you all want cuddles so much, we could just spend all day in bed cuddling instead of going to Asgar-”

“No!” Both twins quickly rush out, moving partly off their mother, eyes wide and heads shaking, expressing their disagreement with Wanda’s words.

“We want to go to Asgard,” Tommy clarifies, the serious look in his eyes cracking Wanda’s composure, her heart fluttering once again in her chest.

“Ok Dorogoy, don’t worry, we’re going,” she whispers comfortingly, his smile returning as she continues, “But if we want to go soon, you two both need to go get into the showers,” she reminds them, the boys practically jumping off the sofa to go and do as their mother said, two little ‘goodbyes’ sounding around the room as they race each other to their own bathroom, the loser having to use the guest one.

You can’t help but chuckle at their enthusiasm, head tilting to the side to press your lips to Wanda’s briefly, seemingly unable to wipe the smile off your face at the sound of the boys bickering over the showers and the feeling of her soft, addictive lips touching yours. However, it does drop slightly as she pulls away quicker than you would have wanted, your brows furrowing as she climbs of the sofa, looking over her shoulder at you mischievously as she starts to walk towards the stairs, leaning against the banister and chuckling at the way you were watching the sway of her hips.

“Come on Detka, don’t you want to shower with me?” She purrs out, walking up a couple steps whilst gazing at you teasingly, biting her lip seductively at you as you practically throw yourself off the furniture and stumble towards her body as she starts to rush up the stairs to your room, sliding her shirt over her head once the door was locked, her fist finding its way to your shirt and grasping at the material, pulling your body towards hers, lips claiming yours passionately as your hand blindly reaches out for her “We have to be quick,” she mumbles in between heated kisses, your shirt being carelessly discarded somewhere as you both swiftly strip, bodies soon under the warm spray as you bite gently on her lower lip before pulling back.

“Don’t worry, this won’t take long,” you chuckle out, dropping to your knees before her, not wanting to waste any time.

***

A shameless smile toyed at the corner of your lips as you heard the boys complain about their mother being late for getting into the car, your teeth biting down on your lower lip to try and suppress the grin that wanted to take over your face, your head turning to the side to watch the older woman lock the house up, carrying her handbag over to the car as she meets your amused stare, her head shaking slightly.

“Mom,” Tommy whines, opening his window and poking his head out of it to look at his mother, “We’re going to be late,” he complains, his eyes conveying his worry of not getting to spend enough time in the theme park, Wanda letting out a huff as she manages to get her bag into the boot around all of your suitcases, yours and the twins already in as you were in charge of them two and their luggage as Wanda securely locked the house up.

“We’ll be fine Dorogoy,” Wanda says softly, checking a list off in her mind as to what she needed to do, her body soon entering the car at the driver’s seat, her hands pushing her auburn strands out of her face as you look back at the boys with a mischievous and cheeky grin.

“But Wanda,” you say dramatically, her sighing under her breath at the three of you teaming up on her. “We’re only going to have about six hours..” you check the time on the car, noting she was eight minutes late, “and twenty two minutes in the park now,” her head tilts at you, daring you to say anymore making you and the twins chuckle, her semi glare fading at the sound of genuine laughter filling the car.

“Behave or I’ll make you share a bed with one of the twins,” she mutters playfully, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips as you smile into it, her pulling back and starting the engine, looking over her shoulder to reverse out of the driveway, your eyes raking over her angelic features, still amazed by her beauty.

“You love my cuddles too much, you wouldn’t dare,” your tone teasing as the boys groan at the previous display of affection, your gaze focussing on how the corner of her lips tug up into a gentle and tender smile, a hum leaving her in response.

“Is that so?” her voice conveys her amusement at your words as the boys peek around their hands to see if the ‘gross’ kiss had ended. “Dorogorie, who wants to share with Y/n tonight?” Wanda asks, her eyes drifting to the rear view mirror to look at the boys, smiling softly as they both grin with excitement as your face drops, a look of shock taking over your face.

“Woah, wait a minute-”

“I do!”

“Me!”

Laughter spills from Wanda’s lips at the difference in reactions, her head turning to yours with a soft, teasing smile, a groan leaving you as you sink further into the seat, your head shaking at her antics.

“You clearly don’t love my cuddles that much then,” you mutter, earning a soft, barely audible chuckle from her, a sign of her enjoyment as she moves her hand to rest on your thigh, squeezing comfortingly. Your hand reaches down to play with hers, fingers tracing over the smooth pads of her fingertips, dipping lower to her palm before dragging over to the back of her hand, caressing her knuckles repeatedly and occasionally over the ridge her vein created softly, satisfied with the small but intimate moment of physical touch.

“I love your cuddles more than anything Detka,” she whispers with an annoyingly soft voice, your faux annoyance crumbling away immediately at the loving tone, your smile threatening to take over your lips.

“Mhmm,” you hum in response, letting a soft, quiet atmosphere wrap around the two of you in the front as the boys in the back talk, excitement clearly bubbling inside them as they refuse to sit still and quietly, resulting in you being dragged into random questions occasionally.

“Y/n?” Tommy asks, after an entire minute of silence, a sigh of defeat leaving you as you fold the corner of the page you were reading of the book you brought, carefully closing it and giving the twins all of your attention as Wanda continued to drive, her green holding a glint of mirth at the boy’s actions.

“Yes Tommy?” You murmur out, sliding the object back into the backpack you brought before leaning back into the seat, ready to be interrogated about another random question.

“Is the moon actually made of cheese?” He asks, a genuine curiosity lacing his tone as he looks outside, as if thinking hard about the topic, Billy laughing next to him. “Miss Danvers said it was made of rocks but I don’t get it, why do people care about a floating rock? A floating block of cheese sounds more interesting,” he mumbles, further entertaining you as you tilt your head to look at Wanda, noticing the slight annoyance at the mention of Carol.

At the mention of the other woman, a mischievous glint appears in your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as you plan to torment the older woman next to you, Tommy still looking out of the window rather thoughtfully, picturing the moon made of cheese and trying to break a piece off, wondering what kind of cheese it would taste like.

“Well, Miss Danvers is an incredibly smart woman, I’m sure she knows what she’s talking about,” your tone emphasising your praise for their teacher, Billy agreeing with your statement as he loved to listen to the blonde, his attitude towards learning extremely different to his brother who’s mind naturally drifted off towards what the food at Asgard would be like, his little stomach craving cheese now.

You bite your lip to contain your laughter as you look over at Wanda, her jaw visibly clenching as you tease her, your smile breaking out as you hear her mutter something in Sokovian, the words clearly inappropriate.

“What was that Wanda?” Your tone playful as Wanda sends you a mini glare, her hand squeezing yours in warning as she focuses back on the road, her head occasionally turning to look at you, her eyes rolling at the smug expression on your face.

“I asked if you wanted to sleep on the floor tonight instead,” she mumbles, your soft giggle dissipating her mood instantly as she admired the way your smile stretched wider, the way your eyes gleamed with joy at annoying her. You simply flashed her a bright grin, your fingers caressing her hand softly in apology as you chuckled to yourself at how fun it was to rile her up, the two of you leaving the conversation and enjoying a moment's silence when Tommy spoke up again, thinking out loud by mistake.

“Would it taste like Cheddar?” He muttered quietly, genuinely confused over the situation, Wanda’s gaze softening as she looked at him in the rear mirror before tilting her head to meet your gaze, warmth and affection consuming her as you shared a look.

This was going to be a long car ride.

***

Arriving at the hotel Nidavellir, you gave the boys their backpacks, watching with a soft smile as they hurriedly took the item from you, running to catch up with their mother who was going to find out what room you were all in whilst you brought the suitcase in. Eventually, you managed to get the large case out of the boot, grabbing your own backpack for during the days where you’d be roaming the realms before shrugging Wanda’s handbag over your shoulder too, slowly but surely making your way over to the lobby where the three of them waited, room keys in hand.

The kind receptionist Eitri explained to you how to get to your room, wishing you all a nice stay as you entered the elevator, the small boys next to you practically buzzing with excitement, their eyes taking in the brightly decorated walls of the hotel, the space themed onsite hotel something Billy adored.

Twisting the key in the door, Wanda opened it and swiftly moved out of the way, knowing the twins were about to sprint through and admire the room, their little faces engraved with joy and enthusiasm.

A bunk bed with various stars and colourful planets painted along the side of the wooden frame was in the corner of the room, the walls surrounding you a deep blue whilst a large image of a neutron star peeked from behind the doubled bed that was closer to the entrance and the ensuite, the orange, red and yellow hues contrasting the hidden hints of purple and blue in the navy coloured walls. The room was beautiful and vibrant for the children, there was no denying that but it also had a different sense of beauty that you and Wanda admired as the twins bickered about who could have the top bunk, the two of them deciding on playing rock, paper, scissors to determine the winner.

You watched intrigued as Tommy won, swiftly making his way up the ladder and flopping against the mattress, leading you to decide to copy him and dramatically fall against the double bed you and Wanda were sharing, her raising her brow at you as she moved the cases somewhere out of the way before quickly peeking into the ensuite to see what it looked like.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she murmurs, leaning against the wall and taking in the sight of you lifting your head with a large grin plastered on your face, her head shaking at you playfully as she watches the twins play with one another.

“Testing the bed,” you tease, looking at her with mirth in your eyes, enjoying the way she gazes at you lovingly.

“I don’t know if I still want to share with you,” she murmurs as she moves to sit on the edge of the bed, a taunting smirk lifting the corner of her lips. “That looks like a good spot on the floor, don’t you think?” You simply pull her down against your body at her words, chuckling at her blatant tease whilst letting her head rest on your shoulder, her enchanting green flickering across the planet lights hanging from the ceiling, tinting the room in a colourful light.

You feel her relax against you, taking a moment to recover after driving for such a long time, your hand moving to glide comfortingly up and down her arms, fingertips delicately brushing across her skin soothingly as you take advantage of the peace, knowing there wouldn’t be many calm moments like this for the rest of the day.

Sooner than you would have liked, the boys ask to start their adventure around one of the realms, Wanda’s head tilting to look at her boys, asking them where they wanted to go first before reluctantly pushing her body up, leaving your welcoming embrace to start the exploration of one of the realms.

***

Entering Jotunheim, you were stunned by how beautiful and exciting the realm looked, the ice-like structures towering around you all as you walked down the busy path. The stone walkway was filled with adults trying to contain their exhilarated children, entertaining mascots in ice giant costumes and various props related to the ice kingdom, stalls with food and drink emitting a smell that had your taste buds watering, the sweet treats catching yours and the twins attention as you strolled past people, figuring out what to do first.

The feeling of a hand tugging on yours eagerly caused your head to snap down at Tommy, trying to follow his gaze to the ride he desperately wanted to try, your eyes landing on the sign next to the entrance warning about how this ride involved water, your smile tugging upwards as it would be nice to cool off in a little water for a bit, the sun beating down on you all.

“Can we go on the Ancient Winter’s Avalanche?” Tommy asked, his tone showing how hyper he was as he turned to you and his mother, Billy’s eyes widening in a thrilled manner at noticing the ride, his face showing he was just as eager to go on the ride too.

“Of course,” you say, excitement seeping into your voice as, if you were being honest, you were just as happy as the twins were to be here, smiling brightly at them before turning to Wanda, not noticing the hint of anxiety on her face as she looked at the ride, letting a slightly forced smile grow on her lips.

“I think I’ll let you three go on this one,” Wanda murmurs to you, concern and disappointment growing on your face as you wanted to do the first ride all together, still oblivious to the older woman’s fear of rollercoasters. “I don’t want to get wet,” she excuses, pointing to the sign you had read earlier, understanding her and offering her a small smile.

“You seemed to like getting wet earlier,” you tease whilst the twins check they are tall enough for the ride, Wanda smacking your arm lightly in warning, kissing your cheek whilst rolling her eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to come? We can try a different ride first if you want?” your tone soft as you gaze into her green, her features softening at your kindness.

“Go have fun on the ride,” she mutters into a kiss, “I want to watch you three get soaked,” she chuckles out, having caught a glimpse of the ride when you were walking past, knowing you were about to get drenched and deciding to let you three figure that out.

“I knew you loved watching me get wet,” you joke once more before she pushes you softly, encouraging you to go and stand with the twins and get in the queue, not wanting it to build up.

The three of you waited rather impatiently for the queue to move, far too interested in just having fun going on the ride as the family in front of you climbed into the available seats, your eyes observing the shuttle you would be in as it slowly appeared in front of you.

It looked like a glacier that was shaped into a rectangle shape, the twins having to sit in front of you in the single seats, your body at the top of the seating arrangement, reminding you of the log rides you went on when you were younger, a certain realisation dawning upon you as the worker ensured the safety bar was secure. Wanda was right, you were about to get soaked.

Machines started to whir as your shuttle started to move, the three of you being surrounded by an ice cave as a small story played out, your eyes more focussed on the boys in front of you, the overwhelming amount of anticipation in their eyes as they waited for what was to happen next. Brightly coloured lights illuminated the what was once the darker cave, the mechanisms pushing the shuttle sounding a little louder as the three of you started climbing uphill, occasionally taking a sudden turn or feeling a bump, the unexpected movements making you smile at how the twins laughed, part of you unsure whether it was nerves or excitement. Your finger moved to poke Tommy in the back of his neck, earning a small scream from him and a chorus of laughter from you and Billy as the shuttle picked up speed, throwing you around a little more violently as it gradually made it’s ascent, the sight of the end of the tunnel you were in causing your own heart to beat that little bit faster, trying to prepare you for what was to come.

“Put your hands up if you’re not scared,” you instruct the twins, Tommy enthusiastically doing so whilst Billy’s attempt was more cautious, your eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight that you were now exposed to as you teetered on the edge of the drop, the water around the shuttle running down into a pool at the bottom, ready for the three of you to crash through.

The ride stutters, only adding to the anticipation as you are eventually thrown forwards, speeding up significantly as you crashed through the water, waves of the cold liquid smashing down on you, screams leaving the three of you at how cold the water actually was, laughter escaping the three of you as a few more sprays coated you. Your hands pushed back your wet locks as you realised how truly wet you were, your shirt and shorts sticking to you uncomfortably for the moment, your mind noting that you’d dry off extremely quickly in the heat and sun, the cold sensation growing a little more pleasurable as you continued your bumpy journey back to the start of the ride.

The three of you laughed the whole way to the exit, Tommy’s hair a wild mess as he shook it, trying to get rid of as much water as possible, Billy copying and doing the same towards his brother, payback for spraying him with some. You took a more civilised approach of drying your hair by squeezing the water out of it, following the twins as Wanda stood there with an enormous grin in her face, amusement overflowing from the pools of green as she pointed her phone at you, taking a picture of your wet and bedraggled forms.

The twins strook a pose making you laugh, naturally smiling for the picture before you walked over to the older woman, a teasing and playful look in your eyes as you opened your arms, clearly trying to get a hug from her.

“Hi love,” you innocently say, Wanda’s hand moving to your chest and pushing you back, not letting you soak her as you chuckle, her green looking up and down your body and laughing softly at how drenched you were.

“No,” she mutters, knowing what you were trying to do, her gaze warning you to not try and soak her as you put your hands up in surrender, deciding instead to mess Tommy’s damp hair up once more to annoy him, the sun already having dried you off a bit from the walk back.

The four of you wandered around the ice realm for the most part of the day, your attention focussing on how the older woman came up with an excuse for any ride, a confused and disappointed expression on your face as she said no once more to a rollercoaster as you made your way into a new realm, wanting to explore another section of the theme park before retreating to the hotel for the night. You started to walk towards the Dragon’s Lair with the twins, now in Muspelheim, unable to stop yourself from looking back at Wanda, observing how she sat on a small wall near the entrance, waiting once again for the three of you to go and have fun on the ride. You wracked your brain for an answer, the only thing coming up being she had a fear of rollercoasters or heights, part of you doubting the idea though as you thought she would have told you if she did fear the rides instead of keeping it a secret.

The boys chatted amongst themselves as you pondered over Wanda, deciding to ask her about it after the ride as you started to make your way to the front of the queue, your eyes taking in the multiple dragon statues lining the hallway, the vibrant red and orange flickering lights at the mouths when you walked past and triggered the sensors.

The corner of your lips lifted at the amazed ‘wow’ that left Tommy’s lips at the sight of the shuttles, the three of you perfectly aligned with the front carriage where the dragon head was, the impressive scales and detail on the design visible as you climbed into your seats, the twins extremely excited to be at the front.

You listened to the dragon roar and growl that echoed around the room, Billy’s hand reaching to hold onto yours as he did for the previous rides that scared him a little, squeezing reassuringly to calm him down as the ride slowly started to move.

Darkness surrounded you as you slowly crawled through the small story part of the ride, witnessing various dragons hidden around the lair, more fire leaving their mouths as you descended for a bit, picking up speed as the growling got louder, the eyes of the dragon carriage you were in lighting up. An excited giggle left Tommy when you suddenly started to climb up hill, the sight of an opening visible whilst you accelerated up to the opening of the cave, the ride speeding up to help you reach the peak before stuttering at the top, a gust of air tickling the back of your necks whilst fog settled around you, the other ‘dragon’ getting closer.

At a sudden, deep roar, the ride shot forwards, sending you flying out of the tunnel and back outside, fire erupting out of the side of the exit as you whizzed past, twisting and turning and as you sped along the tracks. A scream left the people behind you when you tilted slightly near a dragon's mouth, just avoiding it as you escaped the lair and the fire creatures chasing you, a sudden drop making you scream yourself as it took you by surprise, Billy’s grip on your hand increasing.

Only once the ride slowly returned the start again did Billy let go of you, a smile on your face despite the small pain in your hand from how tightly he held it as you helped him get off, his face however showing nothing but enthusiasm despite his anxiety when on the ride, amusing you as he clearly loved going on them, he was just a little apprehensive. You loved the contrast to Tommy who had his hands in the air the entire ride, giggling at the noises others made as he cheered in delight, ecstatic with how fast you were going.

Eventually, you made your way back to Wanda, watching her with a tender look as she was talking to another couple, the baby in the father’s hands reaching out to play with her hair, trying to wrap their tiny little fingers around her auburn locks before giving up, deciding to try and steal her sunglasses instead as the older woman smiled, clearly enjoying herself playing with the baby.

Swiftly, you took your own phone out and took a picture of her, enamoured by the wide grin on her face as she pulled faces at the baby, eliciting giggle after giggle, their little fingers constantly reaching out for her. The twins approached first, excited by the cute baby and the many toys in its pram as their other young child, probably a few years younger than the twins, played with a stuffed dragon they had clearly gotten from the stall next to the ride you were just on.

“Who’s this little cutie?” you murmur softly as you smile at the baby who was amazed at so many people being near, a bewildered look on their face as Wanda kissed your cheek, wrapping her arm around your middle and leaning her body against yours whilst introducing you to Sue and Reed Richards and their two children, Franklin and Valeria. It entertained you to watch how the family interacted, the way the twins loved to ramble with Franklin over all the rides they’d been on and all the food they’d eaten, yours and Wanda’s attention on the blonde little girl in Richards arm’s as he gently rocked her. You only parted ways when Valeria started to cry, seeming to need changing prompting you to wish them all a good day before finding another ride to go on, your hand clasping Wanda’s as you followed the twins leading you to the Bifrost ride, your head turning to admire the older woman, deciding to ask her about the rides.

“Are you scared of rollercoasters?” you asked softly whilst the boys measured themselves against the height minimum, having to wait in a small queue. At your words, she offered you a sheepish smile, giving you your answer as your features soften, your thumb brushing over the back of her hand soothingly. “Why did you say yes to the theme park then? I feel bad just leaving you to wait for us,” you murmur, Wanda smiling at your care, wanting her to have fun on this trip too.

“You and the twins were so excited to come, I’d rather you all have fun and me be bored for a couple days then us not going at all,” she explains, offering you a reassuring expression to ease your guilt, a small peck also helping grow your smile as your cheeks tint pink at the love in her eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask, confused as to why she was secretive with it.

“I was just embarrassed,” she mutters shyly, “Look how small some of the children are going on the rides,” her gaze encouraging you to look at a family with three young girls, the tiny bundles of joy showing nothing but eagerness to go on the rollercoaster. “I’m a fully grown woman and I can’t even get on one of them,” she grumbles, clearly annoyed at how scared she was, her fingers playing with yours as they always did when she was anxious.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you whisper comfortingly, “Everyone’s scared of something.” She meets your loving and tender gaze, relaxing a bit as she gazes at you, thankful for your support. You were always so supportive of her, it was sometimes odd to her, not used to such a caring partner after Vision. “Plus, people are scared of a lot of weird things,” you mumble playfully, earning a nose scrunch at your next words, “Like chickens.”

At the angelic laugh that escapes her, you can’t help but admire her humoured features, smiling to yourself as she shakes her head at you gently, thinking back to the memory of your first date when you confessed your fear of chickens to her, her heart fluttering in her chest at the way you look at her.

“That is pretty weird,” she teases, making you huff out a laugh.

“It’s justified,” you mumble, earning another genuine smile, “Just like your fear.” The sight of the twins running back, elated expressions on their faces as they were tall enough for the ride, makes you look back to Wanda, an idea entering your mind. “Would you be willing to try a ride?” You ask with no pressure behind your words, her expression dropping to hesitant and apprehensive, fingers fidgeting with yours more as she considers trying to face her fear. “The height minimum is lower on this ride then others, so it’s probably one of the tamer rides,” you explain, giving her the option of trying it out as you think it would be nice for you all to go on one together but if she didn’t want to, you were perfectly fine with that. “I’ll even let you squeeze my hand the whole ride,” you add light-heartedly, offering her a reassuring smile as you can see her considering it.

“Promise me it’s not a scary ride,” she whispers, tone small and clearly nervous.

“I promise,” you murmur back, kissing her softly before the twins finally get back to you, their grins practically reaching their ears when they find out their mother would be joining them on this ride, her hand not letting go of yours as you make your way to the queue.

You let Wanda absentmindedly toy with your hand, letting the pads of her fingertips trace along your knuckles and every little ridge of your hand whilst you listened to the boys ramble about all the rides they’d been on with you to their mother, unable to contain their excitement and unknowingly helping Wanda’s nerves as they kept her mind off the approaching ride.

Slowly but surely, you made your way through the queue and eventually climbed into the shuttle, the twins sitting in front of you and Wanda as she gripped onto your hand, your face remaining calm despite her intense grip.

“It’s going to be ok,” your tone soft and comforting to help her as the worker ensured the safety bar was secure, a deep breath leaving her as she tries to take in the colourful design of the ride. “I’m here,” you murmur, squeezing her hand back as best you could under her hold, her nervous green meeting yours to reassure herself.

Gradually, the ride started to move, her other hand gripping the bar in front of her as you smiled at her being brave and facing her fear, a small wave of pride bubbling inside you whilst the ride continued.

Everything was going well as you gently raced around the simple part of the track, a chuckle leaving you once you realised the colourful scenery and track reminded you of the Mario Kart racetrack rainbow road before you felt a small pain in your hand at the way Wanda clutched onto you, the rollercoaster suddenly starting an uphill climb that she wasn’t enjoying.

Suddenly, to both your surprises, the shuttle sped up before reaching the top, sending you over the medium sized hill and ‘whizzing’ down the slope, a chant of ‘oh god’ leaving the older woman’s lips as her eyes widened, mouth parting in shock and terror at the way the ride twisted around corners and raced back around to the uphill climb as you looped the track. The twins seemed rather disappointed with the ride at how slow it actually was in comparison to others, your attention leaving their forms and drifting to your side where Wanda’s uneasy figure was, guilt washing through you as she didn’t like the experience.

After another loop around the ride, a significant amount of ‘oh gods’ later, you made it to the end of the rollercoaster, Wanda’s heart pounding against her ribcage as she used your hand to climb out of the shuttle she’d forever hate, her body collapsing into yours as your arms wrap around her middle, comforting her as best you could, her hands trembling as they gradually snake around you to make your warm and safe body remain close.

The twins looked in confusion at how sad Wanda looked in your arms, your eyes looking for something to distract them with as you consoled their mother, your hand slipping into your pocket to grab your card and giving it to them, pointing towards the photo area and store where the ride snapped pictures of you all on the Bifrost. They hurriedly took the card, the more mischievous twin planning on sneaking something else onto the bill whilst out of sight, your mind not bothered how much they spent as Wanda’s quiet voice reached your ears.

“You promised it wasn’t going to be scary,” she mutters against your shoulder before pulling back, looking into your eyes with a betrayed expression, your face softening as you cupped her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you coo, “I didn’t think you’d find it that scary,” your tone apologetic as you kiss her forehead, hoping to make her feel that little bit better by giving her the affection she always craved.

“Well it was,” she muttered, the small hint of attitude amusing to you despite the situation, your smile slowly crumbling away the wall of annoyance the older woman felt, the comforting words you whispered as you complimented her causing her mood to dissipate away, inevitably forgiving you like she always did.

Her arm remained securely wrapped around your middle as you waited for the twins to return, both of your expressions morphing into shock at the sight of them, a sigh leaving yours as you looked to the sky, praying that they hadn’t just bankrupt you whilst Wanda tried to muffle her laughter.

Tommy and Billy had to work together to carry the giant dragon stuffed toy towards you two, their smiles almost bigger than the vibrant plush they had bought, a bag on both of their arms with other items they had raided from the merchandise store, along with the photos from the ride, a low, amused chuckle leaving the older woman’s lips as they hobbled over to you, struggling to carry everything.

“That’s karma,” she laughed out to you, smiling brightly at the twins as they finally reached you, their faces barely able to contain the sheer joy bubbling inside them as they handed you the enormous red plush to show their mother what else they had gotten, your eyes squinting at the price tag before deciding not to look anymore when the figure exceeded one hundred pounds, another deep sigh escaping you.

Tommy sheepishly handed you back your card, giving you a peace offering of a large refillable cup that had the Asgard brand printed all along the side and the photos, your head shaking at his antics, deciding not to tell them off as the photo of you and Wanda on the ride was worth all the money they had spent, however much that was. The overwhelming amount of happiness that glistened in her eyes at your payback was also worth every penny, the smile unable to be wiped off your face even when you had to lug around the toy with you for the rest of the day, following the three of them to around the theme park until the sky blue sky slowly darkened into a deep blue, stars painting the night sky as you savoured every last minute of your time together in the magical place of Asgard.

---

This chapter murdered me harder than how 838 Wanda murdered Richard Reeds.

Exciting news! I'm trying to start an etsy shop selling art and my plan is to make some 'The Babysitter' art as well as other marvel prints <3 Would anyone be interested in this or am I wasting my time? 😅

I hope you enjoyed this chapter full of fluff!

Please leave any thoughts/comments/kudos <3

Ao3- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger

Tumblr- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger3000

#wanda maximoff #marvel fanfiction #wanda x reader #eventual smut #wanda fanfic #wanda x you #mommy wanda #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #the babysitter #elizabeth olsen #theme park #billy maximoff #tommy maximoff #the babysitter au

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odinsblog · 1 year ago

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Can we please get something straight here??

Mitch McConnell has supported Donald Trump and will support him again if Trump wins the Republican nomination. I have never supported Trump and I never will.

Mitch McConnell has been a willing tool of the NRA and helped pass countless stand-your-ground laws, he has helped pave the way for laws like permitless carry, and he has helped make guns easier for anyone to get. I have not.

Mitch McConnell has helped pass laws that intentionally suppress the votes of millions and millions Black people. I have not.

Mitch McConnell has helped write or pass laws that deny millions of women access to reproductive health care. I have not.

Mitch McConnell has helped write or pass laws that deny basic healthcare and living wages to millions of poor people. I have not.

I AM NOW AND I WILL ALWAYS BE BETTER than Mitch McConnell and Republicans, because my wishes do not have any material impact on anyone, unlike the myriad of hateful draconian laws that Mitch McConnell has helped to pass.

I could continue, but hopefully I’ve made my point: people sending Mitch McConnell “ill wishes” IS NOT being “just the same” as Mitch McConnell and Republicans, and it doesn’t make anyone “as bad as” McConnell and the GOP.

Are you fucking kidding me??

Saying that my wishes = McConnell’s actions is a false equivalence. It’s false, it’s offensive and it’s gaslighting.

Mitch McConnell is an elected politician who has a very long history of using his political power to actively harm the poor, marginalized communities, women, LGBTQ people, and non-Christian, non-white people. If you cannot differentiate between the words and the unenforceable “wishes” of the oppressed vs. the actions of an oppressor, then you have some serious problems to unpack.

I could ~almost~ see it if there was some chance that a Republican would go, “Oh wow, those progressives are being nice to Mitch McConnell, maybe I’ll stop being a racist and vote for a Democrat now.” But that almost never ever happens, does it??

You are not going to win over a Republican by being kind. Their entire ideology is based on racism, misogyny, homophobia, transphobia, and cruelty.

Look, I’m not tryna write a dissertation here, but please believe me when I say that this neoliberal knee jerk Pollyanna reaction of, “turn the other cheek” and “be kinder to your oppressors” is very much rooted in Christofascism + white supremacy. It’s a weaponization of the “hate breeds hate” trope and the “forgiveness narrative” meant to tame slaves, and I refuse to fall for it.

I absolutely positively do not wish Mitch McConnell well, and HELL NO, I am not being a bad person for hoping that a racist, evil, old white man suffers a fraction of the pain he has inflicted on others for decades and decades.

I am a proud member of the #MitchMcConnellDieChallenge community.

That all said, at the very least, Mitch McConnell has unintentionally provided us with a teachable moment: please learn to spot the warning signs of someone having a stroke

#politics #mitch mcconnell #republicans #stroke prevention #false equivalencies #mitch mcconnell die challenge #hate breeds hate #forgiveness narrative #neoliberalism

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celerydays · 1 year ago

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Hi! I have been following you for some time and I notice you draw more and more Sebastian and Ominis doing stuff that makes me... uncomfortable.....

Sebastian and Ominis are best friends, why people are obsessed with drawing them into weird gay stuff? Seriously.... Why can't be friends.... without all Sebinis... Just stop it...

Normally I would delete messages or simply ignore the things that make me feel uncomfortable–

But, you're on anon and this is my ask inbox, so I can only assume you want an actual, public response. So alright. Fine.

Like I said: normally I would just remove odd, uncomfortable, or even outright rude messages without making a whole thing of it. I curate my own online experience and I try my best to live by that rule.

However, I've now gotten multiple unsolicited DMs over the course of a couple of months expressing the exact same sentiment (and nearly word-for-word as this ask, so I highly suspect I already know who you are). I have duly ignored or glossed over them hoping that the person/people would take the hint to simply stop engaging with the same message over and over again. But an anon ask is my last straw, I guess.

So if you are the same person as in my DMs, I'm finally giving you a response (and if you're not the same person – which I highly doubt – then I'm speaking to both of you).

Firstly, I want to say that I am sorry that your worldview is so limited that this is your stance and feelings on gay/queer ship content for Sebastian and Ominis.

Next, I ask that you please:

Don't make your homophobia anyone else's issue but your own. Don't come into DMs/ask inboxes/comments to make your discomfort with the content I create my problem. I don't know what you hoped to accomplish by sending this message but it's unlikely that you'll find the same feelings or sympathy from the person who is actively creating queer/sebinis content.

Curate your own online experience. Once again, do not make your content consumption anyone else's problem but your own. The "unfollow" button is there. Tumblr has a tag filtering system and I try to tag my art and content as accurately as possible. If you do not like something/it makes you uncomfortable, then do not continue to consume it. And if you still decide to stick around for whatever reason, then please keep your thoughts/opinions on this matter to yourself because I can promise that I don't actually care why you would continue to be here and looking at my art if it makes you unhappy.

Widen your worldview and try to reframe your perspective. Consider that Sebastian x Ominis is just as canon as Sebastian x f!MC or Ominis x f!MC. As much as we like to ship our various MCs with the canon characters, MC never actually amounts to canonically being confirmed as anything but being just friends with everyone. Using the "they are just best friends" / "why can't they just be portrayed only as friends" could literally be applied to just about any other non-canon/non-confirmed ship between friends regardless of gender. If even one of them, Ominis or Sebastian, was portrayed as cis female in canon, I would suspect that you would better "understand" why a ship between these two "friends" may exist. Then also consider a cis male MC; it's possible you may suddenly reframe all the interactions between Ominis x m!MC or Sebastian x m!MC in your head to be "totally platonic/friendly". Your issue is certainly not with their canon relationship vs. fandom portrayal (but I think we both know that).

Educate yourself. Go outside and meet and talk to people, I dunno. It is 2024 my dude. I don't even know how you're on Tumblr – the most queer-friendly social media site – with those kind of narrowed views and stigma.

I would like to finish by saying: I don't wish you the best. What I do wish is for you to learn, grow, and be better than this.

And also please stop sending me messages of this nature, because the next ask or DM I get like this, we're moving on to blocking at this point. And if your purpose was to get me to stop, I can tell you that these messages have only fueled the explicit sebinis smut maker in me. 😤

#I'm sorry for anyone who sees this and did not want a rant on their feed today #ask #anon #sebinis #hl

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killdozerrr · 4 months ago

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hi there! :] i'm lilith, but most just call me lil or lily.

i'm 26, nonbinary and use any pronouns. i'm autistic, aspd, and the head of a system. only 2 or 3 alters use this blog to post (please feel free to ask questions about them if you are curious). 1 of them has his own blog

i am probably on your dni. i empathise with various serial killers and shooters. i post a lot of gore (including animal death) and nsfw, and am into some very fucked up shit (necrophilia, hybristophilia, mechanophilia, noncon, tortureporn, highly detailed guro, kidnapping to name a few). if that isn't what you like, then just block and move on. or feel free to leave a pathetic hate anon for me to laugh at. <3

i do have homicidal thoughts, and i will vent about them on here. this does not mean i will act on them, im simply just an unstable girl thing unable to seek the treatment i need so i cope by spilling my thoughts to random strangers on the web.

i do have a serial killer/cannibalistic alter. no i do not let him front frequently (but if he does he is one of those whom posts on the blog), esp if i am dealing with said homicidal ideation.

my alters are mostly "their own people" so to speak, some are fictive, others simply identify with fictional characters. @reapershi for example, is his own person, but heavily identifies with death the kid from soul eater so often uses his depiction to represent himself. i do have a stein alter, yes he's a fucking lunatic, yes he sometimes posts on the blog as well if i myself am not doing well. he is not harmful, however. lastly, i have a wolf boy alter, who heavily identifies with razor from genshin. he is the last alter who i allow to sometimes post on my blog. he's also his own person, but has the mentality of a feral child. he will usually only reblog photos of wolves when he is active. again, it is not common for these alters to be fronting, it does not happen all the time, only if im severely struggling with something. i have various other alters who have no interest in using tumblr too, but usually it's me at the front. just putting this here as clarification that i am not constantly switching like most did fakers tend to do. these alters are very real, i struggle very much with past trauma and my sense of identity, and i also wish the quirky "trend" of did would stop.

i do not tolerate racism, homophobia, nazism or bigotry. i do not condone these actions from any killers i may reblog or post about.

i do, however, condone the idea of natural selection. :]

likes (things i may reblog/post about frequently);; soul eater (stein my beloved), tcc (mainly serial killers (esp jeff <3), though sometimes i may reblog things about shooters), surrealism, psychology, cats, bunnies, nature, gothic style, halloween, music, gore, guro, nsfw topics, computers & older electronics

please feel free to send me dms or asks. i'm not great at talking, but i'll try to reciprocate regardless. :]

#long post #please read if you care #or dont #i dont really mind either way lolol

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i-live-in-spite · 5 months ago

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Summary: You get a case in your hometown, you haven’t been back for almost 10 years after you left when you were 18 to join the FBI academy. Your brother was not very happy to see your transition.

Pairing: Around season 5 Spencer Reid x Trans Male reader(He/They)

Genre: Angst w/ Comfort

Tw/Cw: Family argument/dysfunctional families, transphobia/homophobia, kinda “gory” with some details, talk of s3lf h@rm, platonic pairing but they are pinning for the other, normal violence of Criminal Minds, the Unsub targets queer people, religious talk/trauma, talk of ending one's life, use of the t slur(If I missed something please tell me)

Word Count: 2.7k

I knew that if I had just asked Hotch or Rossi to stay back or for time away from the case, they would have told me yes. After all, I’m pretty much just a stand-in for Garcia on the ground. Just there in case she got overworked or she was busy on one search I could quickly pick up the task. But the BAU taking me on the field was still pretty rare, I know why I’m here even if all I can think about is leaving again.

I didn’t know even after 10 years of healing, the wounds could still be so fresh. The feeling of blood rushed down my arms as we passed by the stores from my childhood. Some buildings I couldn't recognize but hardly anything changed from the old small town I grew up in.

I’m snapped from my thoughts when I feel Spencer’s hands on my shoulder, “I’m sorry could you repeat the question sir?” I snapped my eyes up to Rossi who was in the passenger seat as Derek drove.

“I was just asking if you knew of any hidden in the wall clubs who may..enjoy the same sex may go?” Rossi sounded as if he was afraid to say the wrong thing, which I could understand. I have always been open about my gender identity and how I have had male lovers, I really didn’t see why it had to be hidden. At least not to them, no the team was like family. Emily and Penelope aren’t as loud about it but they also didn’t hide it.

“Uh yea, if I remember correctly there is this, old salt cave that many would go to for..activities. Whether it’s still operational is another question, I would have to be able to get down there.” Rossi nods and I look away from Spencer’s gaze and the subtle look from Derek in the mirror.

When we got to the police station I hesitated opening the car door, a few quick memories flashing through my eyes. I take a deep breath before pushing the door open and going to the back to grab my computer bag, I feel Spencer’s hand on my shoulder, the other one gently rubbing the nape of my neck. I would typically find comfort in his light touches but my anxiety was running high, all I could do was curl up from his hands.

“I know something is wrong, is it because of the murders? Or the fact that this is a ‘special’ place to you?” I couldn’t stop a choked laugh from escaping and Spencer was quick to recover, “Maybe special didn’t quite express the right emotions. You are tied to this place, and you don’t like it. Why didn’t you ask to stay back?” His voice was soft, full of concern.

“You don’t ask to stay back when we have cases in your hometown.” I look up, my voice having more of an edge than I would like. He sighs and grabs his bag before turning back to me, a serious expression taking over his normal goofy smile.

“Yes but I had an ok childhood. It’s one thing to be an outcast because I’m smart, you were an outcast because-” Hotch calls us over cutting Spencer off, “I’m just saying, we have different memories of childhood, you had more hate than you let on.” I never heard Spencer being tied to emotions in this way. He knew my past and I knew his, we held each other's scars close, refusing to let the past repeat.

Spencer walks over to Hotch but I highly doubt that this conversation was over. I follow closely behind, keeping my head down. The station had the same bleach smell, my nose burned from the smell. Then the world seemed to crash when I heard his voice.

“Welcome in agents, we have a small meeting room y’all can use in the back.” The sound of my brother's voice made all my muscles freeze. Hotch shakes his hand, thanking him for the space and they start to talk a little more about the case. I go to the back and set up in a corner away from the door, this is gonna be the longest case in my life.

As I continue my setup, I hear his whistle. “That’s some mighty fine computers you got there, but I was told y’all had a tech analyst back at Quantico.” I refused to look up from my keyboard as I continued to fidget with my settings to appear busy.

It was Derek who finally spoke up, “Well we do, but the lovely little lady doesn’t always enjoy coming on the field and sometimes her work load is a little too much. So we bring him in and he helps on the ground.” My brother lets out a choked noise and even though he tried to whisper it was clear as day.

“That’s a boy? I mean i’ve seen my fair share of boys with long hair but that’s..damn near to the floor.” Derek sighs and expresses again I was in fact a boy, keeping out the fact I was trans. Which fills me with gratitude. “Damn well.. Okay. Nice to be working with you las.”

His hand appeared in my face and I was slow to grab it. I felt his gaze on my freshly painted nails, it was just a simple black and white look. But I could feel the judgement of his gaze.

“Did you know that a handshake spreads more germs, it would be safer to kiss.” Spencer’s distraction makes me laugh, of course he had no idea that we were actually siblings or the fact my brother would rather live in hell than kiss another boy.

“And who are you?” I was thankful for the attention to be off of me, though I’m very much aware of the attitude that hides behind my brother's voice.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” Spencer waved a little uncomfortable. My brother looks him up and down before nodding.

“Well. Thank you for coming to look at the problem.” Spencer and Derek nod as my brother leaves and I finally let out the air in my lungs. Derek turns to me and sees the look of discomfort not fully leave my face.

“I typically try to keep the past the past, but the history between you and the sheriff?” I shift a little before looking down at the computer.

“Can't you see the family resemblance?” The boys are physically taken aback by this information. I smile awkwardly and get back to the set up of my computer. Neither of my fellow males spoke up after the statement, for once I’ve made the great Spencer Reid silent.

—-

“I need you to go to the cave, you are trusted there correct?” Hotch looks down at me as I gently play with my hands, a nervous habit I picked up from Spencer.

“I’m sure the older ones may remember me, I won't know for sure till I get down there though.” Hotch nods and scratches under his chin some.

“Would you be comfortable going alone or would you like someone to go with you?” I think for a minute, I would refuse to ask anyone from the local p.d. to join, but Emily or Spencer could be candidates. But Spencer is still getting over getting shot that him joining me is a hard no from me, even though he claims he was good to go.

“Emily would be a good fit to join me.” Hotch nods and leaves to tell Emily about joining me. I didn’t hear the door open till my brother spoke.

“You look different now, since when did you turn into a boy?” My brother's voice was a little callous, the same tone he used when I told my family I planned on leaving.

“I have always been a boy, you and the others just refused to see it.” He scoffs and looks around to no one particularly, I still refused to turn to him.

“Oh I’m sorry miss ‘used to love dresses’, it’s kinda hard to think you were a ‘boy’ when you always dressed all pretty like.”

“Because how I dress doesn’t define who I am,” I couldn’t stop my southern twang from coming through, something I fought to hide for a while. “, I’m very much aware that when I dress feminine people may see me as a girl. But also growin up here, if I dress like how I wanted to I would be shot on site. I’m not an idiot.”

My brother crosses his arms and I feel him staring me down. “So what, you put on a pair of pants and suddenly you were a boy? Is that really how easy it is? To erase the life mom gave you? To destroy the bridge you and dad had?”

“I would have died Evan!” I turn to him, rage clear on my face, “I would have killed myself. My only hope was my friends. Friends you belittled. Do you have any idea what that does to someone?” My brother laughs and his face hardens.

“And you do? Do they become the killers you chase down?”

“No Evan. They kill themselves, they do drugs, they hide every part of them because they can’t live any other way. I didn’t kill the little girl I was, I saved the little boy you tried to snuff out like a fire. I protected myself because the same people who were supposed to do it were the ones cutting me deeper than any of my blades do.” I took a step to him, the fire was clear behind his eyes. “Aren’t you proud? I changed my name. You can tell everyone I died in action. You have no connection to the man I am today. I may have to use extra means to make myself who I am but I am more of a man than you'll ever be.”

Before he could say anything Emily walks in and tells me she’s ready. I grab my coat and walk out without another word being said.

—-

The next couple of days went on with my brother ignoring me, if he had anything to say he went to Hotch or Derek. Not that I really cared, but I knew the team could tell the tension between my brother and I was getting very heavy.

Spencer walks up to me with an iced coffee, he looked a little unsure of himself. “I remember one time you told me you preferred iced coffee, I went down to the local cafe and got you one.” I thank him softly and take a sip. “Are you okay with working on the case? I mean with your brother and openly gay people being targeted..”

“I’m okay Dr. Reid, I’m a tough cookie you know this.” He nods, tapping his hand on his arm.

“I’m aware of that but after the case I got shot, you were worried about me, I could hardly go pee without you commenting about how I needed my crutches.” His smile was genuine, I knew he truly loved that I cared enough to keep him up with doctor orders.

“It’s not my fault a certain FBI genius liked to test his limits, someone had to care for him.” I smile and he shuffles steps a little closer.

“And this genius wants to make sure you're not chewing off more than you can handle. You’re just as important to this team as Garcia or Morgan or me.” There was a hidden message behind his words, that I was important to him.

“The best thing I can do is work and stay away from my brother where I can. I’ll be okay pretty boy, I’ll be good. You won't even have to handcuff me.” Spencer’s face bloomed into a nice rose pink colour, he was always so easy to fluster. It was another thing that made him one of the cutest people I have ever met. Can stare at dismembered bodies, but can’t handle a compliment fully.

“I’m here for you, we all are. Don’t go somewhere you don’t think iIcan join. I’ll find you, and I'll bring you back.” His hands slowly grab my face, his eyes searching mine. But before we could do anything the door swung open.

“Garcia thinks we found our unsub.” Spencer nods and grabs his vest before turning back to me as Derek leaves.

“I mean it, I’ll follow you into any river, any ocean, any fires you think you have to handle alone.” And like that he was gone. I stayed by the phone waiting for any information that this person actually was our unsub.

It wasn’t long before Emily was pushing the guy through the station spouting bullshit, saying the kids deserved it. I look at him, he looks back at me.

“You some little tranny aren’t you. You cried over their deaths? They were gonna do it anyway, why not speed up the progress?” I just stare at him. I knew him, but I knew everyone here.

“Sir, all you’re doing is incriminating yourself. The gender of my agents are none of your concern. He doesn’t have to kill to make himself feel good.” Hotch pushes him forward, him having my back makes me tear up. “He’s not weak. He doesn’t push others around to make himself known. He is a man.” Hotch was pushing the UNSUB every time he would call me a he.

Spencer shows up beside me, “We found a hair in his truck bed. It’s being analysed right now.” I nodded, his hand finding its way to the nape of my neck. “Hotch is correct, you aren’t..what he said. You’re strong and you’re the male you always knew you would be. You’re so strong being able to fight your way out of a town like this, with a family who did everything it could to keep you down.” All I could do was nod, I didn’t trust my voice.

By the night Hotch had everything he needed to prove this man did it, I started to pack up my stuff. “I will never understand you. Why did you tear it all down?”

I turn to Evan, annoyance clear on my face. “I tore down broken walls, I tore away the paint that hid the beautiful tile underneath. I am who I was always meant to be.” My brother started to talk but I cut him off, “I will never be your sister again, either accept it or stay out of my life.”

“You weren’t meant to be a boy though. You were born a girl, why can’t you understand?”

I take a step closer to him, “Your mind is one of the smartest things in the world, it’s not always connected to your body. Nerves can be damaged, emotions can be out of place. We live in a world where your next door neighbour murdered innocent kids because their brain didn’t match the way their body was. I bet deep down you wished we never caught him.”

“It’s not my fault.”

“It started being your fault after I left how you continued to fill your brain with the idea that who I am was a choice, that the fact I like guys as a guy was something I just woke up and picked. When in reality it was you who drove me away.”

“You’re unnatural.” His fist was balled up and I knew we would never see eye to eye, not in this lifetime.

“Goodbye. Enjoy the wife, but I hope your kids never have to live in the fear I did.” I grab my bags and walk out the station. I fit my bags snuggle in their place as Emily turns to me.

“You know, the family isn’t just blood. The saying ‘blood runs thicker than water’ isn’t always true.” She offers me a small I’m sorry type of smile.

“Actually one of the earliest sayings of the quote was ‘The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.’, meaning your brother doesn’t have to be the brother you accept. We will always love you.” Spencer has a goofy smile, his knowledge of everything makes me feel better.

“And I will always love you.” Spencer can’t hold my eyes sensing the deeper meaning behind my words. Derek ruffled my hair and we started the long hours home.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #angst #transgender #trans masc #spencer reid x reader #self love #coping mechanism

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esinofsardis · 1 month ago

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AI Is Inherently Counterrevolutionary

You've probably heard some arguments against AI. While there are fields where it has amazing applications (i.e. medicine), the introduction of language generative AI models has sparked a wave of fear and backlash. Much has been said about the ethics, impact on learning, and creative limits of ChatGPT and similar. But I go further: ChatGPT is counterrevolutionary and inherently, inescapably anti-socialist, anti-communist, and incompatible with all types of leftist thought and practice. In this essay I will...

...

Dammit im just going to write the whole essay cause this shit is vital

3 Reasons Leftists Should Not Use AI

1. It is a statistics machine

Imagine you have a friend who only ever tells you what they think you want to hear. How quickly would that be frustrating? And how could you possibly rely on them to tell you the truth?

Now, imagine a machine that uses statistica to predict what someone like you probably wants to hear. That's ChatGPT. It doesnt think, it runs stats on the most likely outcome. This is why it cant really be creative. All it can do is regurgitate the most likely response to your input.

There's a big difference between that statistical prediction and answering a question. For AI, it doesnt matter what's true, only what's likely.

Why does that matter if you're a leftist? Well, a lot of praxis is actually not doing what is most likely. Enacting real change requires imagination and working toward things that havent been done before.

Not only that, but so much of being a communist or anarchist or anti-capitalist relies on being able to get accurate information, especially on topics flooded with propaganda. ChatGPT cannot be relied on to give accurate information in these areas. This only worsens the polarized information divide.

2. It reinforces the status quo

So if ChatGPT tells you what you're most likely to want to hear, that means it's generally pulling from what it has been trained to label as "average". We're seen how AI models can be influenced by the racism and sexism of their training data, but it goes further than that.

AI models are also given a model of what is "normal" that is biased towards their programmers/data sets. ChatGPT is trained to mark neoliberal capitalism as normal. That makes ChatGPT itself at odds with an anti-capitalist perspective. This kind of AI cannot help but incorporate not just racism, sexism, homophobia, etc but its creators' bias towards capitalist imperialism.

3. It's inescapably expoitative

There's no way around it. ChatGPT was trained on and regurgitates the unpaid, uncredited labor of millions. Full stop.

This kind of AI has taken the labor of millions of people without permission or compensation to use in perpetuity.

That's not even to mention how much electricity, water, and other resources are required to run the servers for AI--it requires orders of magnitude more computing power than a typical search engine.

When you use ChatGPT, you are benefitting from the unpaid labor of others. To get a statistical prediction of what you want to hear regardless of truth. A prediction that reinforces capitalism, white supremacy, patriarchy, imperialism, and all the things we are fighting against.

Can you see how this makes using AI incompatible with leftism?

(And please, I am begging you. Do not use ChatGPT to summarize leftist theory for you. Do not use it to learn about activism. Please. There are so many other resources out there and groups of real people to organize with.)

I'm serious. Dont use AI. Not for work or school. Not for fun. Not for creativity. Not for internet clout. If you believe in the ideas I've mentioned here or anything adjacent to such, using AI is a contradiction to everything you stand for.

#ai #chatgpt #anti capitalism #anti ai #socialism #communism #leftism #leftist #praxis #activism #in this essay i will #artificial intelligence #hot take #i hate capitalism #fuck ai

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olderthannetfic · 7 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/753405110589259776/note-spoilers-on-this-ask-for-anyone-who-hasnt

I’m this anon, and using your anon box to reply to a bad take in the reblogs of it lol.

1. aO3 treats the show and book series as separate fandoms for Bridgerton. My friend’s genderbend fic though is based on the books — thought I made that clear here. And yes book fans were being genuinely homophobic in her comments, not just her interpreting them not shipping it as “homophobia.” It was full of “get out of OUR tag” and claiming just writing a female character in a male version or shipping her male love interest with a guy was “misogyny,” exactly as I said. It’s a huge problem in the fandom. The main Reddit sub is so full of homophobia that queer fans had to spin out a separate inclusive sub called r/bridgertonlgbt. I’ve heard of people on TikTok being called “bourgeois degenerate” and “groomer” just for questioning why it’s supposedly such a dramatic and horrible change to make Michael into Michaela in the show.

2. Can we finally fucking retire the really tired, knee jerk “book is always better” attitude that has never been universally true anyway lol. The books Bridgerton are based on are pretty middling het histrom that repeat plots so much between them that that’s one of the big changes the show has had to make — just not have seasons 1 and 2 follow the same plot beats like books 1 and 2 did. The show has had to make a lot of changes just because it has a bigger audience than your average het histrom reader and while I haven’t loved every shift, it is overall better for it. Or just like, focusing on more than just each season’s main couple like the books only do — also better! The subplots are some of the most fun parts of that show, but also, it makes sense that people are going to continue to want to follow their favs from season to season and not just zero in on each couple. Yes I’ve read all the books. They simply are just not that great, TV is a different medium than books anyway and so certain changes are necessary, and frankly most of the loudest parts of the “book fandom” online who complain about the changes are people who read the books because of the show anyway. They’re all wildly inconsistent in what they consider acceptable changes: they’re largely on board with making the universally white books more racially diverse, but not adding queerness and gender diversity. Why is one ok but not another? Especially when a lot of them are ok with sad or bittersweet queer stories in subplots like Brimsley’s but not happy stories for main characters. Why is that, I wonder? A lot of people are pretending to be “book snobs” as a mask for bigotry, or just have bad taste, but regardless I think we need to get over the idea that stalwart defense of some mediocre and overly tropey romance novels is more elevated or intellectual and like the show isn’t an improvement in being less lazy about the cliches of that genre than the original author. (Seriously, I read a lot of romance novels, so this is not a knock on the genre as a whole or its readers — but the Bridgerton books are SO lazy and SO repetitive. Honestly I think a lot of the book defenders need to read more histrom themselves. Then maybe they’d see how weak and lazy those books can be compared to what else is out there.)

Fandom please learn basic things about how adaptation between different mediums works 2k24 also stop assuming that consuming a story in text form over another is an inherently intellectual activity

A pretentious friend of mine who loves Shonda Rhimes was going on at me a while ago about how she ~always reads the book first~ and then waiting for applause as if that's unusual!

She then tried to launch into how shocked she was by the books being... well, lowbrow trash, but she had some complex and boring way of explaining this.

I was like "Honey, you do know what a regency romance novel is, right? Right?!"

I mean, there are adaptations that are nearly exactly like the middle tier of romance novels. They're movie length and they air on Lifetime. This was a change not only of medium but of overall target audience and vibe.

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verdemoun · 7 months ago

Note

Do any of the gang members find out that they have any disorders/mental illnesses/etc. once they get timewarped and if so what are their reactions? Ranging from “oh, I though that was normal” to “NUH UH!”

timewarp was founded on the gang realising they have ptsd and kieran's autism being more obvious and worse in timewarp. but in detail

kieran is autistic

sean might have adhd but he doesn't actually have hyperactivity as a symptom. plot twist he just has that erratic trauma avoiding energy. it is a lot more masking severe c-ptsd and imposter syndrome that is his behind his exaggerated happy personality. see reform school lore

arthur is one of the few diagnosed he definitely had an acquired brain injury which while a physical injury manifests with mostly neurological symptoms. sometimes he gets confused or irritated for seemingly no reason, and this has been a thing since long before timewarp. the gang move on from joking about how dumb he is he does have an intellectual disability as part of his ABI. his response was very "oh I thought that was normal" and "bah i ain't need help".

the gang have subconsciously been aware of this long before they had the medical knowledge to understand it and are all pretty used to quickly explaining things or reminding arthur of stuff he forgets. lowkey consider this canon ever notice how the gang talk to arthur sometimes not entirely condescending but explaining things on his level eg sean being the one to point out the grays will definitely recognise him and he should hide in the wagon, grimshaw almost playfully reminding a grown man to wash because he straight up forgets, gentle reminders of what they're doing through heists even beyond game mechanics a lot of heist cut scenes are super repetitive like charles very much breaking down we're blowing a hole in the bank. take the spool and connect it to the detonator. the detonator is over there. it just feels like they know arthur isn't always entirely there and are v supportive. arthur is so curious and asks so many questions and the gang just roll with it and answer most of the time it feels so kind and positive.

arthur also definitely has adhd. hyper-fixates on new interesting thing for a month and then completely forgets everything he ever learned about it

almost the entire gang acknowledge they have ptsd/c-ptsd and varying levels of trauma as a response their lives/childhoods/relationships with parents/being a VDL. acknowledging it doesn't mean they do anything to move towards recovery because they are still mostly men raised with 19th century values who hang shit on each other for flinching at loud noises or being 'is someone shooting at us' alert

lenny and isaac as the most aware begging their friends/family to take their mental health seriously and are constantly met with 'lmao no' 'that's?? normal?? what do you mean' and 'NUH'. lenny cries 'please this is re-traumatising you are actively upsetting yourselves' while the gang go 'boo grow a pair' despite experiencing varying levels of anxiety attack in response to triggers.

john will only bring up 'hey stop making wolf jokes about me it is Actually a Trigger' to stop the gang bullying him. very genuine trigger and phobia of wolves and wolf-like dogs but still doesn't take it seriously himself

bill has recognized anger management issues and is in therapy. alcoholism is a definite concern. he's also just got a lot of internalised homophobia and complex feelings about the gang and his own childhood to unpack and learn how to articulate and express his feelings in a healthier way. only one of the adult gang who is actively trying to improve his mental health through therapy go king

the d in dsm-5 stands for dutch and he is thriving in in-patient care. not even the doctors know entirely what to diagnose him because he seems to have symptoms of everything but is responding best to medications traditionally used to support bi-polar

special acknowledgement to karen who is very very depressed but is a thriving with anti-depressants because trying to get the gang to go to actual psychologists and therapy is Hell. her and sean send each zoloft memes constantly

#rdr2 timewarp au

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dakaneeee · 25 days ago

Note

Kosovo headcanons please

The gay.......

1. As much as I like to joke about him being gay I'm actually not sure wether he is just full on homosexual, he might just be bisexual with a heavy preference for men. Like he'd see a man naked and start freaking out but if he saw a woman he'd be like "she sure is naked"

2. More Skinny, He's NOT a TWINK God forbid a man is slimmer, he's just average

3. I'm not sure in which time period the hand of God put him in, yes he was there during the medieval times yet I believe he should still be a bit younger than that, let's say very late medieval period he just kinda popped himself into existence

4. I think his relationships with the others are pretty clear, he hates almost everyone around him exception being Albania, but I wanna add a second exception which is Montenegro. Probably because he didn't expect the biggest Serbian nation to suddenly go ahead and recognise him, but silly him as he only later realized Šćepan does not agree with his government

5. Speaking of Šćepan if the economy gets bad enough he takes summer jobs in Montenegro, why not Albania is a question one will never get an answer to, but hey... Euros

6. He gets physically cold so easily, like actually so painfully cold blooded it's almost funny, it could be the slimmer build not really being made for rougher climates but it just means that he's like a cat that migrates to whatever the warmest spot of the house is

7. He does a lot of weed and atp might even be a dealer himself

8. He doesn't share without some monetary gain is what I'm trying to say, you've reached some kind of friend status when he stops asking for you to pay him

9. One time Vuk told him it might be time for a haircut and he made it his life's goal to NOT get that haircut

10. Muslim, who would've guessed, but I guess it's the same thing with Enis where he's a massively flawed believer, though at some point he might've been atheist as he realized with everything that happened there had to be no God

11. I say this with a sense of sarcasm but he's an incel. Not sure wether he'd violently hate women but he doesn't get laid with them that's for sure

12. Rots on discord VC with Srpska for hours on end while playing League of Legends and discussing who fucks who's mom the best

13. Friend or foe? God I don't know, an evil third option that comes from hating and rivaling with someone so bad you create a strange bond. They spend hours in Vuk's basement during his Slava to throw ornaments at each other just to then sit on the floor and eat butter kifle and russian salad while watching porn, they question if this might be a little gay and come to a mutual agreement that men and women look the same if you're enough beers in

14. He does the stupid loser teenager activities which is sneaking out at 3 in the morning to poke a dead body with a stick and then not being able to climb his way back in

15. He might be unsure of his sexuality, has some deeper inner homophobia but he's fully aware of what he's into and he cried about it once

16. Once he got away from Vuk he got a pet Qen sharri that he keeps inside and he doesn't care about the amount of hair getting on him

17. Does not know the difference between Ç and Q

18. Had a phase where he repeatedly killed snakes for some reason, it's very morally gray because they're evil but again who the fuck kills animals

19. He sells their venom to get more weed money

20. He knows his fisionomy ahhahahah heheheh wink wink wink wink wink

21. He never passed his driver's test, and at this rate he probably never will

22. He reeks of smoke and sweat

23. He has yet to kiss... A girl. Again enough beers in bros becomes hoes

24. He'd have a private account with no profile picture where the only thing posted being his thrift haul

25. He speaks pretty fast somewhat

26. He SNOWBOARDS and broke his back a few times

Pretty short cause I'm still exploring his character so idk much yet

27. He cooks in the sun it's almost concerning

28. LATE BLOOMER BTW LATE BLOOMER

#yugotalia

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star-neo-love · 6 months ago

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MOST IMPORTANTLY:

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hate speech or any other sort of derogatory or purposefully offensive behaviour is also completely UNWELCOME here

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other:

requests are currently closed. you can send in requests, that's perfectly fine, but I won't be writing them yet

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please do not make any nasty comments, or send me unsolicited hateful shit, I WILL block you

I'm just a high schooler writing fics for fun, so if you don't like it, don't read. constructive feedback is fine, but don't criticise my work, I do it as a hobby

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that's basically it, so just don't be a shitty person, and I hope you'll all enjoy your experience on my blog!!!

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peskellence · 6 months ago

Text

Rule Of Nines

Retribution

Explicit content, Graphic Violence

(18+)

Pairing: Reed900

Tags: AU, Multi-Chapter, Lovers to Enemies, Kidnapping, Crime and Violence, Oral, Anal, Dom/ Sub, Toxic Relationships

Previous Chapter

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Read on AO3 here:

Summary: In a world where loyalty is currency and compromise is weakness, Gavin Reed, a ruthless mobster, lives by his own rules. When an old enemy resurfaces with a deadly demand, his life is thrown into chaos-as his trusted second-in-command, Nines, is put to the ultimate test of allegiance. Will he stay committed to Gavin, or will the loyal guard dog begin to stray? (Human Mob!AU)

Warnings: Major Character Death (before events of the story), Graphic Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Dubious Consent

Tag List: @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @ladyj-pl @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel @faxaway

If you would like to be added to the tag list for future projects, please let me know♡

The basement door creaked open, rusted hinges groaning under the weight as the rotten wood swung back. Nines slipped through the gap, calmly surveying his surroundings. Motion-activated bulbs flickered, the yellow fluorescents humming incessantly—catching slightly before promptly extinguishing, unable to light.

The room was dark, making it impossible to see what was shrouded within the oppressive walls. It was an area the family rarely frequented, save for general storage, with no one enjoying spending any significant time there. It served no purpose outside that—just a cold, dead space.

Of course, it had adopted a more sinister use in the last 24 hours.

Finally, a charge of electricity succeeded in its pursuit. With another groaning whirr, illumination flooded the mercury tubes. A whine of protest came from below, coming from the bundled mass of flesh curled against the concrete.

A cord of rope bound Gavin's wrists, with a matched coil wrapping his ankles. A rag was shoved haphazardly into his mouth, muffling the bulk of his voice.

This foresight proved invaluable, as the man had spent the hours preceding his unconsciousness screaming through the walls.

Cries that had been less defined by suffering, more than they were angry—vengeful. He had thrashed around like a caged animal, stumbling against walls and crates as he attempted to evade the repeated blows being struck against his body.

They came relentlessly. Dull thuds of merciless impact, never once stopping or slowing—like the incessant drip of a leaky tap. Nines had not seen much, although it was hard to escape the noise. Instead, he had tucked himself away on the floors above, diverting his focus to more pressing matters.

The urgent call to action demanded by an increasingly dire scenario. Devising a plan of attack—determining movements, coordinating forces, and ensuring nothing would go wrong.

Because nothing could go wrong.

If it did, Nines stood to lose everything.

"Did you sleep well?"

Gavin's response was delayed. He blinked through the sudden onslaught of light, lids flickering in line with the unsteady glow. Having spent so much time in darkness, his bleary eyes took time to adjust. When they finally did, they focused on Nines—glaring from beneath his furrowed brow. Flickers of amber mingled with searing hatred as he attempted to form a snarl around the gag.

Nines moved forward, ripping it from his mouth, despairing at the mass of saliva that had wadded its end into a ball. The captive gasped to fill his lungs, a reflexive response after having his breathing constricted for so long. His nose was broken—damaged cartilage crushed against his face, nostrils crusted with blood.

Once the breathing had stabilised, he rasped out his reply, voice rough and defiant:

"Go fuck yourself."

Nines huffed before casting the rag aside, allowing it to flop onto the red-speckled canvas surrounding them.

"I suppose you've never been a morning person," he hummed distantly. "I am sorry it had to come to this, but you really did leave me no choice. I intend on bringing my brother home. I won't have you, nor anyone else, stand in the way."

He awaited the riposte, the kind of superfluous resistance that always came when Gavin was challenged. Anticipated the warmth dripping down his cheek as he realised the futility of using his bound limbs and resorted to spitting instead.

But it didn't happen. Instead, he did something worse. Something he knew would damage Nines more than any other form of protest.

He jutted his chin, attempting to flick the mass of hair clumped on his temple, before flopping his body to one side. Shivering, he tucked his knees to his chest and turned away completely—refusing to look at the other man, presenting instead the procession of welts that littered his back. Raised and raw, discoloured by bruising.

All manner of physical and verbal resistance could be tolerated—was expected—but Nines refused to be ignored. It was an offence that could not be forgiven, demanding swift repercussions.

He was willing to extend a warning first. Clasping Gavin's shoulder with measured firmness before smoothly pulling back. His battered body rolled compliantly, too weak to resist the momentum.

"I am in charge now," Nines reminded, capturing his chin between his thumb and forefinger before forcing his head upward. "The sooner you prove willing to accept that, the sooner this unpleasant arrangement can become more tolerable."

He flitted his thumb possessively against the canvas of stubble, reducing the pressure of his grip. His captive showed no gratitude for this as his eyes remained fixed on the corner of the room. Boring holes into vacant storage containers, refusing to meet his gaze.

The show of mercy did not last long. Nines' hold tightened again—remaining fingers enclosing his face—digging into spongy flesh which yielded obediently to the force. He demanded Gavin's mind to follow. Appealing to any sense of reason that might permeate his haze of rage.

"Is your pride truly worth suffering like this?"

Pressing tightly against his jaw, the smaller man winced in pain—but refused to cooperate, much to Nines' growing frustration.

"You can come with us; I am willing to allow that. To let you assist in the operation. It isn't too late to redeem yourself, to prove that you can do the right thing."

This suggestion finally elicited a response, breaking through the stonewalled stubbornness. Gavin laughed bitterly, barking in the face of his generosity.

"What do you know about doing the 'right thing'?" he accused, casting him a sidelong glower. "If you wanna act all high and mighty? Start preaching fake fucking virtue? Then save it for the choir of traitors waiting around to lick your taint. I'd rather die than listen."

Nines rolled his eyes at the dramatics. The man had always been like this—unapologetically crude and obstinate, even when it created endless problems for him.

It was a surprise that his mouth hadn't landed him in deeper trouble over the years, although it could be rationalised by the fact he'd always had protection. This had undoubtedly given rise to his excessive confidence: a sense of unearned entitlement and superiority.

Something that should have been challenged sooner and a wrong Nines sought to correct. Robbing the man of his safeguards, he aimed to shake the foundations of security with long-overdue repercussions.

He leaned in, pulling Gavin closer until their faces were inches apart. Smothering him with heady puffs, tracing the wounded slits of his lips with his thumb. He drew at the malleable flesh, moving with intrusive touches from which the other man reeled.

But Nines was stronger. He hooked a digit between his lips, pulling them down, forcing his mouth open. He brought his own close, breathing laboriously into the wet cavern. Not to claim it—but to establish he could . A demonstration of how easy it would be, how powerless Gavin would be to stop it.

"I can't understand why you are making this difficult." His words were delivered in a way he knew the man found irresistible. Syllables stretched into long draws. A decadent richness undercut by a not disproportionate amount of menace. "You've never had an issue answering to me in the bedroom. Is this really so different?"

Because if Gavin knew what was good for him, he would concede to temptation. Listen to the undercutting demand, following its instructions.

In contrast, he snarled , growing increasingly defiant. He lunged with what little strength he could muster, attempting to sever the digits pawing him. Snapping at them with sharply bared teeth.

Having exhausted patience with the clumsy flitting between cold snubs and flaring temper, Nines made good on his warning. He drew back his available hand, balling it into a fist before wiping the sneer from his captor's face.

Knuckles embedded mangled cartilage as shattered bone crunched and squelched. Gavin howled as his head flopped back, dangling limply. Dizzied by impact, he gawked at the ceiling—sights unfocused, slipping loose from any grip on reality.

His shoulders slumped as his body attempted to slip laxly to the ground. Nines prevented this. Holding firm, refusing to let go.

"Just think for a moment," he seethed, shaking the increasingly limp weight, urging a response. "This entire situation could have been avoided if you had simply listened to reason. Don't make any more rash decisions."

"... S-Screw —" The words were aborted, gargled in rubied pools rapidly filling his mouth. The strike had reopened a split on his lip, consequences of insolence dribbling in rivulets down his chin.

The droplets glinted like gems in pale casts of light, and Nines felt like a king.

It was a level of control he had never experienced, a power that couldn't be rivalled. His only regret was the delayed ascension of his throne. He drank in the sight of his former master, swilling liberally from the gratification of his crumpled form. Reasoned factions began to desert him as he became lost to intoxication.

"Come on, baby ." The term of endearment was hissed like a slur, mingled with venom pooled on his tongue. "This isn't worth us fighting over. You're smart enough to know that, right?"

Nines' trademark deadpan had adopted a more abrasive quality, exaggerating gruff inflexions to the point of mockery. As the echoes of his own cruel taunts were levied against him, Gavin was knocked from his stupor.

"I said what I said." His brow scrunched together as he sharply hocked the bubbling liquid from his lips. "I'm not going to change my mind. If you don't like that, stop being a coward and finish the job. Or are you gonna let your gaggle of shitheads do your dirty work?"

The numbing high of euphoria fizzled in the wake of this rejection. Sensation returned as Nines was struck by a lingering pang of sentiment. Inconvenient and inescapable—something that refused to let him proceed.

He held all the cards—had claimed all spoils of their twisted game. He could do what he wanted. Snub Gavin out, extinguish his flame, all the while inflicting unspeakable suffering, making him hurt in every measure that he had hurt him.

Nines was in a prime position to claim his victory. All he had to do was instigate the final move…

"I don't want to kill you."

"I don't give two shits what you want. You've already taken everything from me. I'm not letting you take my pride."

He couldn't move, gripped by indecision only Gavin inspired. It made him doubt his initiative, questioning whether or not he could act—knew how to—in the absence of his coercion.

Despite everything, Nines was still losing, and he hated himself for it.

He let go of the other man's chin, removing the anchor holding him upright. His former lover teetered on the unsteady foundation of his knees before dropping back, collapsing against the gnarled concrete.

"I am going to get Connor." The icy detachment in his voice resumed as he briskly stood. Refusing to betray any lingering disappointment or the bitter sting of his longing. "I'll decide what to do with you when I return. Whatever the outcome, make preparations."

"Not like I can do much else." Gavin traced the perimeter of his makeshift cell with a pointed flourish of his head. His mouth contorted, forming into a twisted parody of a grin, as he flashed Nines a set of tobacco-stained teeth.

It was astonishing how apparent his flaws seemed. With rose-tinted glasses removed, leaving only the overhead glow to cast a stark, unforgiving light on what he really was.

"Take your time, sweet pea. Don't rush back."

"I also meant what I said," Nines gravely reminded, plagued by a twisting ache in his gut. It pulled and wrenched, threatening to eviscerate his precariously held resolve. "I don't want to kill you, Gavin—but if it is a life for a life, I will not hesitate."

Ascending the narrow staircase back to the hideout, Floyd was waiting to greet him. His pudgy lips parted curiously, attention darting down the passage towards the sealed door of the basement. Nines offered little answer to his silent query, save a curt shake of his head and equally brusque demand:

"Bring him water in three hours, and make sure he doesn't get out." He stepped around the gawking man, straightening the lapel of his jacket. "Outside of that, do whatever you feel required to keep him in line."

Floyd stuttered a fumbled agreement that Nines did not fully hear. He doubted the simple man grasped the full weight of his permissions, but hoped the crux of the message was understood.

Turning the corner, he rounded his way towards the meeting room. A congregation of men stood huddled around the card table, conversing in tense mumbles as they pocketed supplies. Nines watched from the sidelines, observing the scene through an observation slot. This was until he kicked the door, firmly nudging it open.

Vincenzo was first to look up, clicking a silencer atop his pistol before nodding respectfully to his superior. A message had been sent to DeLuca advising the deal was accepted. The rival gang would know they were coming and, despite the compliance, would undoubtedly be readying their defences. Ensuring they were prepared for tricks, planning required contingencies—

They had no awareness of the almighty storm about to rip through them, casting ruin to every one of their poorly conceived strategies.

Nines gathered his own resources. Goggles and respirator slipped into the back of his tailored suit pants, the resultant bulk concealed by the tail of his overcoat. His pistol was already waiting, tucked dormant in the silky lining of his inner pocket.

Checking the time on his watch, he adjusted the concealed mechanism attached to its case. Ensuring it was securely in place—and accessible when its moment came.

A large duffle bag awaited him, propped against the nearby wall. The men closest, Rooney and Meyer, compliantly passed it over—reassuring their leader the contents had been checked.

Nines pulled back the drawn fastening to peer inside, studying the neatly stacked bills before raising an inquisitive brow at Meyer. "And the rest?"

"Y-Yeah, just like you said—" the lanky man responded, bobbing his head in overzealous insistence. "Promise, boss. Everything's ready."

Satisfied with the fretful testimony, Nines resealed the bag. Slinging its ample mass onto his shoulder, he commanded the charge out of the hideout, his men following suit.

The journey was spent in silence, as he knew that no further instructions were demanded. Everyone understood their roles, aware of what had to be done.

The underground bunker DeLuca had led them to was a compact, windowless space—enclosed by walls of crumbling cinderblock. It had once served as a storage area for a now-defunct company, though the specifics hardly mattered. Basic blueprints of the facility had been recoverable, but without insider intelligence on the 'Snakebite Syndicate', it was impossible to know how accurate they remained.

That said, initial scouting of the compound suggested no significant structural changes. This was fortunate.

Less fortunate was the partition that had been installed through the centre of the room, dividing it. The barricade was fortified with bulletproof panes, with access permitted through a revolving doorway, the controls undoubtedly on the other side of the wall. A drop slot, similar to a mail chute, was also present, awaiting their deposit.

Evidently, Salvatore was making a business of this style of ransomed exchange, the area forming a hotbed for similar dealings.

The mobster in question was sitting in wait, flanked by two of his more imposing goons, a chair positioned across from his station. The foundation of the room appeared to slope, with the Syndicate's leader positioned towards the peak of its incline.

Nines noted the deliberateness of this choice as he sat in his allotted seat. A smaller opponent would have been forced to crane to see through the opened window shutter. Fortunately for the towering figure, this wasn't a concern.

"I must say, Nolan, I was a little surprised when I found out it was you I’d be meetin’ with..." There was an anticipative twinkle in the older man��s eyes, matched by an assured smirk. "What happened to the old ball and chain? Feelin’ under the weather?"

"The family has undergone a restructure," he curtly responded, studying the man scrupulously before slowly arching forward, face inches from the glass. "You will be answering to me now."

His adversary appeared somewhat rattled by the confidence. He edged back in his seat, beady eyes blowing to the largest fraction physically possible…

Until crinkled folds formed in their corners, and his lips twitched with the re-emergence of his grin. It was far more pronounced this time, stretching to each of his prominent ears as he jostled the men on either side, nudging their forearms until they broke into obedient chuckles.

An inferred celebration of their superior's planning, as his scheme had come to fruition.

Precisely as he'd wanted.

The successful dismantling of Gavin's leadership, with Nines and Connor acting as pawns. Unwitting means to an end, their suffering collateral in achieving his goals.

Chuckles built to laughter, fanning in waves across the Syndicate, as Nines imagined propelling a fist through their transparent barricade.

Enclosing DeLuca's throat in his hands, he'd trapped the hideous laugh as he systematically crushed his larynx. Cutting airflow, allowing pressure to build until it sought escape through the swell of his eyes. Vessels would balloon and rupture as the man's ruddy skin turned blue, and he was decisively robbed of his ability to make the sound again—

The fantasy ended with a steadying breath as Nines grounded himself. The morbid images slipped away, allowing for a renewed focus on the task at hand.

"I want to see my brother," he requested evenly, masking all traces of malicious intent. "If you can prove he is alive, I'll give you the money. Fail to do so, and the deal is off."

He hefted the duffle bag, brandishing it towards the glass for added incentive. DeLuca's eyes gleamed with avarice, captivated by the bulging seams. He was practically drooling as he motioned to a pair of his thugs, who vanished beyond the glass.

When they returned, they did so with the audience their 'guest' had requested.

Connor was presented like a hunting trophy, his weakened body propped limply by his armpits, anchored between their grips. Were it not for low, wheezed breaths rattling through his swollen lips, Nines would've assumed they were too late.

The mutilated figure scarcely resembled his brother. Every inch of flesh was covered in bruises, patterned by deep-set gashes dragged and scored in all directions. One of his eyes was pummeled so rigorously it had swollen shut, while the other was hidden beneath a serrated mass of pink.

There were also blisters—clustered in patches that bubbled and wept—like he'd been drenched with scalding water.

As though the depths of brutality weren't enough, they'd had to escalate their torture, inflicting pain so excruciating that Connor undoubtedly pleaded for death.

He could not answer when Nines called, but it wouldn't have mattered. The mobster couldn't hear anything past the roaring rush of blood in his ears.

Rage boiled. Hissing like steam through every available pore, gurgling beneath his skin as it demanded release. He would not let this atrocity go unpunished—yielding an inch to the creatures who had done this to Connor.

They would receive no reward, with the family under strict guidance to give them exactly what they deserved. The only exception was DeLuca, who would be forced to wait until last so that Nines could deliver fitting retribution.

Resisting the impulse to abandon all sense—to charge headfirst into action and snatch his brother from their revolting clutches—he resumed the act of compliance. The ploy developed gradually as he noted the number and positioning of the captors. Determining vulnerabilities and establishing escape routes before identifying a primary candidate:

The fire exit stationed at the crest of the slope.

True to his word, Nines made the deposit. The duffle bag rattled down the chute, echoing through its narrow confines. He then released the handle of the drop box, a spring lock pulley snapping it back. On the other side, Salvatore’s men yanked the opposing lever, eagerly retrieving their spoils.

"I’m glad you could see reason," DeLuca lauded, exuding satisfaction as his men fumbled to raise the bag onto a nearby countertop. "I’ve always liked ya. Connor, too. You’re good kids. That’s hard to come by in this line of work. Ya know what I mean?"

Nines bit down on his tongue, threatening to rupture the muscle, as he forced a cordial nod.

"Really, this ain’t nothin’ personal, it's just—"

His feigned sympathy was interrupted as his lackeys ripped through the bag’s fastenings. The severed drawstring fell to the ground as one of them exclaimed in cackled delight:

"Holy fucking shit! Look at all this!"

Salavotre’s head snapped around, beaming in tandem as he keenly leant toward the counter. The goons had recovered the first stacks of notes, brandishing them like fans. The rest of the layer was excavated, piles carded through with practised thumbs, as they were checked for the number of bills.

As this practice was underway, Nines also began to count. Smoothly and methodically in his head:

Four.

"I understand," came a measured lie as he clasped his hands in his lap, fingers wound tight. "Although I wish circumstances could have been different. With communication, we might have come to a fairer arrangement."

"Ahh, don’t be like that," Salvatore dismissed, waving his stout fingers. "Reed was gonna be a serious problem in expanding my turf. I know he was still sore about what I did to his Pa."

Nines was doing a masterful job of appearing focused on DeLuca while his attention had shifted elsewhere. His sharp eyes stared through him, trained on the men rifling through the duffle bag.

"I would’ve gone for him directly, but ya know how it is..." The older man looked Nines up and down, extending his reach to trace his full stature. A not-insubstantial degree of jealousy was evident in the despondent curl of his lips. "He had protection."

"Had eliminating Gavin been your goal, there would have been other ways to do it." Nines made a concerted effort not to let any anger bleed through the cracks of his stony visage. "It is a shame that you didn’t consider appealing to me directly. I am my own man, with my own autonomy. I believe you will find I am quite reasonable."

Three.

"Yeah, but it’s…different with you two…what with…" Salvatore rolled his wrist, floundering to find the desired words before abandoning at tact. Snorting uncouthly, his shoulders stooped in a dismissive shrug. "Look. Let’s not play dumb here. We all know you were close."

"Yeah, real close."

A rogue snicker emanated from the makeshift workbench. The men assigned to count the money had unceremoniously abandoned their task, opting instead to jostle each other with a series of juvenile shoves. The larger of the two, whom Nines identified as the instigator, began flipping his wrist limply, speaking in a breezy, lisping cadence. Obscene displays soon escalated as the second man bent over the table, his cohort positioned behind him. Together, they mimed unsavoury acts, scored by wanton moans and exaggerated pants. The dominant party repeatedly swatted the air above the other’s backside, adding to the vulgar pantomime.

Salvatore made a show of frowning, although it was clear he was amused by the antics. He then motioned towards the table, demanding they resume their previous task.

"Point being: I knew I had to do something extreme to shake up the waters. You don’t get what you want in this world by keepin’ on as a little fish."

"I wholly agree," Nines drawled, citing a muddled analogy DeLuca favoured during his time with the family. Something he’d frequently spout to Connor during his coaching on finances:

"If you choose to swim with the sharks, you mustn't allow yourself to bleed. Unless you wish to be eaten."

Following his cue, the more overt 'muscle' present in his carefully curated company began to position themselves, ready for an impending charge. Nines continued his efforts to retain DeLuca’s focus, feigning interest in his mundane response, all the while pondering the most gratifying ways to shatter his skull.

"Hey, you got it," the smarmy man winked, clicking his tongue as he did so. "Props for bein’ a strong swimmer, Nole. Better luck next time."

Two.

Unfortunately, Nines would need to step up his efforts, as progress risked being fatally hindered. Salvatore was seeking to wrap things up, signalling to the men holding Connor, ushering them into action with a firm head tilt. They began to advance towards the rotating doorway as their boss to close the metal window shutter. A brusque conclusion to their exchange, having gotten what he wanted.

Nines glanced at Vincenzo, who had been examining the catch on the entrance. Namely, it's flimsy aluminium plating, scarcely secured by loose bolts. He gave his superior a nod, ensuring there would be no issues in claiming access to the room—when the timing was right.

As it stood, they couldn’t allow DeLuca’s men to breach the seal of the door. Not in the absence of a crucial moment yet to pass.

"I can assure you my blood is in no danger of being spilt," Nines began cryptically, seeking to recapture the man’s attention, "but I fear yours is already in the water."

This effectively stalled Salvatore's movements. His grip hung suspended on the handle before gradually loosening. "...Whatchu talkin’ about, kid?"

"I am simply suggesting that with how you currently operate, you are likely to make some enemies." He paused momentarily, watching as he gauged the man's reaction. "Given your reputation for defection and backstabbing, I doubt you’ll find many associates willing to lend you protection, ‘Snakebite.’"

DeLuca was less than appreciative of the advice. His face flushed red, veins pulsing from the crinkled folds of his brow, as his lips pulled into a tense line.

"I don’t know what you’re implyin’, faggot ," Any show of decorum was gone as he spat the hateful rhetoric in response to the slight. Proving his namesake and exposing precisely the calibre of deceptive bastard he was, " but I don't need any protection. I get what I want when I want it—"

To illustrate his point, he levied a pudgy finger at the room behind him, gesticulating wildly to the men counting his money. They were making good progress, moving onto another layer, closer to their penultimate find…

Not that they were aware of this. They would be staying much longer for all they knew, sorting through piles of ill-earned riches. Nines’ own dormant fingers migrated from their neatly held clasp as one of them arched towards his wrist.

One.

Satisfied with the silence, Salvatore reclined in his chair with a grunt. Running a sleeve across his temple, he dabbed at the dense sheen of sweat beginning to form. "Now, don't run this for yourself by gettin’ all sour. I already told ya, ‘better luck next time.’"

Beads of perspiration trickled down, in line with the steady tick of seconds beneath the glass of Nines' watch. His finger deftly traced the mechanism, ready to unleash its cataclysmic reckoning.

"I don't think we'll need to worry about next time."

Now.

As DeLuca's men reached the layers containing decoy notes—and before any suspicion could be drawn—Nines detonated the trigger. The concealed devices in the bag promptly ignited, releasing billows of smoke that rapidly filled the enclosed space. Chaos erupted, with members of the Syndicate stumbling blindly, clutching their throats as they wheezed in panic.

The infiltration began.

Protective equipment was removed from pockets—strapped securely across eyes and mouths. Vincenzo stepped back, guiding his cohorts to do the same, as he retrieved a handgun from his pocket, aiming it towards the doorway. With a targeted shot at the catch, the flimsy metal promptly crumpled, splintering into shrapnel. DeLuca and his men were left exposed as the first of the assailants advanced.

The thugs holding Connor were dealt with first. A decisive shot between their eyes, a bullet embedded in each temple, to which they folded like marionettes onto the ground. Rooney and Meyer moved in fast, catching their captive and holding him upright.

Any further shots were held as they carried him towards the fire exit, hurriedly breaching the seal. They slipped from view, the breeze outside slicing through the blackened clouds, moving Connor to safety.

The door was slammed shut, and in the knowledge no further harm would fall upon him, Nines showed no hesitation. Save for covering exits, coordination and planning became less of a concern. He raised an arm before flinging it forward, a clear signal to proceed.

What ensued was a massacre. The spearing of fish in a concrete tank as they desperately floundered for escape. Puerile tendencies notwithstanding, DeLuca's men were far from amateurs—but they put up little resistance.

The confusion was too great, and the ambush too precise. One by one, they fell.

A man by the door clutched his throat as a bullet pierced through it, eyes wide in disbelief. He gurgled like a brook, mouth spilling blood, as he futilely fought for air. Another man darted away as he fell at his feet. Searching blindly for escape, but turning too late. A silenced shot cut through the mist, catching him in the chest.

The smoke had dispersed slightly due to the previously opened exit, but it hadn’t provided enough reprieve for the men to establish bearings. Most were eliminated before they could comprehend what was happening.

Nines had no consideration for them, retaining focus on his primary target. Barging through the dwindling crowds, callously thrusting aside survivors as they scrambled for cover, he headed straight for DeLuca.

The cover continued to thin, parting in a slow reveal of the immense carnage surrounding them. Bodies lay strewn across the room, lifeless eyes gawking at the crimson streaks which fanned in all directions—traces of life lending vibrancy to a once barren palette of grey.

Salvatore shuddered, mouth agape, as trembling hands fumbled with a gun half-retrieved from his pocket. Nines quickly impeded his efforts with a fierce hook to the jaw and a targeted kick to the abdomen.

The man was propelled into a nearby wall, weapon flinging from his jacket and skidding across the tiles. He wheezed, stunned by the impact, as his hands fell to his sides, fingers twitching involuntarily. Nines surveyed the sea of death, discerning no lingering forces remained to aid him.

He then signalled for Vincenzo to open the exit, permitting the remaining smoke to clear from the space. With the field of vision returning, he ripped off his mask, tossing it to one side before continuing his advance.

The older man snapped from his daze as fear sparked in his eyes. Nines loomed closer, becoming lost in his violent desire to extinguish the light—quashing it with his own hands, watching it fade permanently.

In grim comprehension of what was approaching, Salvatore made a desperate attempt to slither free of his fate. He clambered through the bloodied embers of his empire, crawling on hands and knees, whimpering like an infant. Babbling through the pitiful sounds, he implored Nines to search his conscience, to show him mercy —

He would show every measure of mercy they had shown his brother.

Nines didn't think, couldn't think, as he grabbed DeLuca by the collar and forced him to turn around. Searching the man's horrified gaze, he smoothly adjusted his pistol—grasping it by the barrel, rotating it so the grip was angled towards his cheek.

" Holy shit, please—God— don't —"

He struck it across his face. Repeating the motion again and again, until skin and muscle tore like paper, and rivers of red flowed freely through cool, pitted steel.

DeLuca's face soon lost structure—reduced to a shapeless, pulpy mass. The attached body twitched and spasmed as gurgles rumbled from what remained of his lips. Torn ribbons of flesh that flapped weakly, futilely, until their movement finally ceased.

Then, there was nothing. Just a silent, broken ragdoll collapsing laxly against the tiles.

With the task finished Nines strode from the primary scene, scouting the adjoining rooms until he found an old utility closet fitted with a basin. He washed the blood from his hands, staining porcelain with the filth of the savagery he had just committed.

He then traversed back through the chaos, leaving the hideout through the fire door and stepping out into the sunlight. Breathing deep, he filled his lungs with crisp fall air. Far less oppressive than the acrid stench of copper and gunpowder.

The mollifying ritual was halted by the rumbling of a burner phone concealed in his jacket. Nines reached inside, retrieving the device before surveying its contents.

Rooney and Meyer had done as instructed in securing Connor's help. The correspondence had come from Dr Victor Dagny, the principal of a prestigious local medical centre and established confidant to the family:

┌─────────────────────────────┐

Junius Ward

Room Number 317

Let me know when you're done.

- V.

└─────────────────────────────┘

┌─────────────────────────────┐

I am done.

Ready for transfer.

- N.

└─────────────────────────────┘

The trip to the hospital was gruelling despite the short duration. His mind ran wild with possibilities, ruminating on all manner of news that could be awaiting him on his arrival.

With every rotation of wheels against tarmac, the raging pulse of adrenaline tapered, and the lingering smog of fury dispersed. In this renewed clarity, he was forced to contend with an increasingly bleak outcome. One where his triumph meant nothing, as he was made to endure the loss of his most valuable treasure—

But he couldn’t succumb to despair, the situation demanding greater mental fortitude. As the journey wore on, his mind rebuilt its strongholds. Anxiety turned to disillusionment as Nines blocked his grim introspections. Upon arrival, he mustered the strength to power out of the transfer vehicle, pushing aside the heavy doors of the clinic’s entrance.

Dagny was waiting for him, rolling on his heels, lips pulled into a crestfallen scowl—prepared to recite a briefing on Connor’s condition. Nines neglected to listen, veering towards the Junius Ward, reasoning he could discern the severity of the situation when he saw his brother.

He doubted anything could be said that hadn't already been ascertained from the profound desecration they'd discovered him in. Were the prognosis even worse than that, Nines did not want to hear it. Not now.

He just wanted to be with him. To be close, even if his sibling could not comprehend his presence.

Despite all internal persuasion that he was ready—with cognitive strongholds sufficient to shield him from psychological blows—Nines was woefully mistaken.

Upon entering Room 317, all assurance shattered the moment he saw him.

Connor, the incarnation of strength and vibrancy, wrapped like a corpse in a polyester shroud.

His body was drowned in sterile vacancy, not just from the starched linen but from the oppressive shine of the lights above. A stark illumination that only served to highlight the full extent of his injuries.

Almost every inch of his body was bandaged—binding skin that had been irreparably damaged and preserving what little there was to save. One hand was encased in thick gauze, the folds stopping disquietingly close to his wrist, while the other hand was exposed enough to reveal an embedded cannula.

He was hooked to a complex matrix of tubes and wires, aligned with monitoring devices which buzzed and droned incessantly—a stark testament to the intricate balances keeping him alive.

From what little Nines registered from Dagny, his brother was in a state of deep chemical sedation—aimed at promoting his physical recovery but also to mitigate the depths of suffering he would otherwise endure.

Despite this, the awful, rattling resonance of his breathing persisted. Audible over the monotonous beeps of a nearby heart monitor. Nines could not elude the suspicion that Connor was still in pain, suffering desperately despite all extensive medical intervention.

Assessing his presence wasn't welcome, Dagny left the siblings alone, permitting them some much-needed privacy. Nines sat in the chair beside Connor, feeling decidedly numb against the rigid groove of moulded plastic.

For a moment, he didn’t move or speak. He seldom breathed, as the oxygen in his lungs was held under strict deadlock. Just stared absently across the bed, paralysed by indecision.

Then, slowly, his weight shifted, the teetering legs of his seat groaning. His fingers slipped across the sheets, moving to clasp his brother’s hand. This was until hesitation re-emerged, and he doubted whether or not he should. Not wishing to hurt him more.

"...Connor? Can you hear me?"

Even if he could, he wouldn’t be able to answer. Nines had known that—and was uncertain why he asked—perhaps borne from sheer desperation to hear his voice. To fill the vacancy in the room with something .

It was an absence that ached far more than words could convey. The distance between them felt immense despite their current proximity. It soon became unbearable, compelling him to push past his fear and decisively bridge the gap.

Connor didn’t flinch when their hands met. There were no involuntary spasms, not even as he tentatively brushed a thumb across one of his numerous burns.

Maybe he couldn’t feel anything. Truly detached from the Hell he had been mercilessly dragged through…

It was a comforting thought, far more so than the alternative.

"I wanted to come and get you sooner. As soon as I knew where you were, I just—I couldn't go against him. I was too scared to find out what would—"

He stalled, too disgraced by the shallowness of his excuse to continue—the contemptuous words lodged in his throat, inspiring sickness.

To have permitted such selfish desires—lust and voracity—to take precedence over the things that were most important.

Shrouding his principles, allowing damage to escalate irreparably before finally choosing to act.

"I was weak, and you suffered for that." The confession came with a shuddering breath, clawing past the flimsy sentiment he had abandoned. "I'm sorry, Connor. I promise I'll never be that weak again."

Nines could only hope his slumber was proving restful. Shielding him from the egregious injustice the world had inflicted. Perhaps it was immersing him in simpler times—happier ones.

"...Do you remember when we were small…" The words came idly, without any real intent or direction, "and Dad used to take us on fishing trips? I’m not convinced he even liked fishing. I think he just enjoyed the quiet. Being so far away from everything."

Their father had always valued the comforts of solitude. The pleasantness of a peaceful silence unburdened by pressure or pain. Just being . Nothing else.

Nines laughed, though it hurt to do so, the sound more akin to a terse gasp. He straightened his back correctively, forcing himself to smile. An exhibition of positivity where he tried to appear genuine, as though Connor might sense if he wasn't.

"I suppose it was never that idealistic. We never let it be so calm—

Do you remember when Cole tried to convince us there were monsters at the bottom of the lake? And that if we stuck out our rods too far, they would come up and grab us?"

This was until everything happened.

After that, all Dad knew was pain, and it couldn’t be escaped. No amount of cathartic fishing trips—idle time spent with his children—would ever change that.

Nines had been too young to understand—but looking back, it was as though he didn’t want to. Their father didn't fight his anguish but submerged himself in it. Plunging deep, allowing it to consume every part of him.

"Then he…" Another forced laugh as Nines pressed through derealisation to finish his story. "He pushed you in. Dad was livid because you could barely swim, and he had to jump in with his wallet and phone to scoop you out…"

The descent had started with their mother. Disappearing without a trace, nothing to suggest where she might’ve gone. Dad threw himself into his work at the DPD, investing everything and making endless sacrifices to discern what had happened. To find her.

"...But he didn’t mind. Not really. All he cared about was that you were safe…"

He never did.

Connor and Nolan had been okay. They were young when she vanished—young enough to recover, to ‘forget’—as people always assured. Nolan could scarcely recall her at all. Not even a face, save from glimpses in snapshots stashed in the shoe box beneath his father’s bed.

Cole had been different.

He was older—couldn’t forget, couldn’t move on.

Dad was submerged so deep in the waters that he didn’t notice his eldest son being pulled under. Consumed by grief, exacerbated by the perceived rejection of his remaining guardian. Dragged deeper and deeper until he was lost to a current of choppy waters.

"He just wanted to know you were safe."

It started with Mom, but it ended with Cole.

The night he stole Dad’s car, driving it at 100 down Interstate 96—until he lost control and clipped a telegraph pole. He was sent hurling through the window, whirring through the inky black towards the sky. Air rushed past him, brisk and freeing, although Nines doubted he’d had time to register this.

Then he hit the ground, and it was over. All of his pain was gone, ensuring he never felt lonely again.

"I thought we could go back there one day. I know it wouldn’t be the same, but it could still be nice. There was so much history on that lake, so many memories..."

Something changed in their father. All the resolve, all the drive, was gone. Spidering like a cracked windowpane until the pieces broke apart, scattering across the floor with the splintered fragments of their family.

"I was going to surprise you for your birthday. I wanted to see if I could rent a boat for us. Just you and me, together."

It wasn’t long until sorrow and desperation led him into darker pursuits.

The drink and drugs did not kill Hank Anderson, but rather the bullet to his head. Not delivered by his own hand but the hand of an aggrieved supplier.

Richard James Reed, who had come to collect his debt.

He imagined his father was glad, accepting this fate as a mercy. No doubt he would have done it himself had he possessed the strength to pull the trigger—

"You might act like tough shit, Nolan, but deep down, you're fucking weak. Guess you can't help that; it runs in your blood."

"The lake is gone. They filled it in. Groundwork for a new apartment complex."

Reed had a child the same age as Connor. He must have seen some of his son in the petrified glint of tear-filled eyes. It had inspired some level of remorse in him.

Pity.

The decision was made to take them in, tying loose ends through less bloody means. The man probably thought he was doing a kindness, allowing them to live.

"They can never just let things be, can they?" Nines inhaled sharply, and the breath stalled. Obstructed by unsaid words, trembling against the walls of muscle, desperate to fill his aching chest.

The younger version of himself would have never imagined—searching in curiosity online to discover what actually happened to his eldest brother—that Cole had been the lucky one.

He never had to keep living, to discover the depths of depravity he might have sunk to, discovering what the darkness might’ve made of him…

To risk becoming one of the monsters that lived at the bottom of the lake.

"After everything Dad did for you. After everything I did for you."

One of which was staring back at him, cast in the reflection of the nearby monitor.

Sorrow clouded his vision as Nolan Anderson broke apart. He burrowed himself into Connor's sheets, curling against his chest before he allowed the tears to fall. He released all the burdened pain that had been vying so hard for release—mourning for the children they had been and the adults they might have become had fate dealt a fairer hand.

Don’t go, Connor.

Please.

I need you.

He sobbed, howled , not caring who heard—not caring how weak it might be—allowing what lingering tethers remained of Nolan to slip from his clutches until there was nothing left but Nines.

You’re all I have left.

He stayed in the hospital for some time, neglecting himself almost entirely—seldom eating, drinking or attempting to sleep. All in the pursuit of being there for Connor, even in the knowledge he often couldn't be.

His brother required surgeries, ones that frequently left Nines relegated to the waiting room. Watching as the seconds ticked by on a nearby wall clock. An exercise in mind-numbing repetition.

The longer time persisted, the more he was forced to confront the updates delivered by doctors. Each was a devastating, striking blow—knocking him back and fueling what evolved from crushing guilt into the re-emergence of silent fury.

There was no telling how long it would take for Connor to recover. If he ever did.

His face was destroyed—and with it, the boyish charm that had defined him. His off-kilter smile, delicate freckles, the guise that had instilled so much pride and assisted him in being so skilled at what he did. Carved and mutilated beyond repair.

Physiotherapy would help him adapt to the nerve damage in his right hand and adjust to the absence of fingers that had been lost to necrosis.

Then there was his eye, the one that was gone. He would need to learn how to cope with the loss of depth perception, the permanent knock to his coordination and balance—

All of this because Gavin Reed refused to comply with DeLuca's demands. To act in any small measure of favour for anyone other than himself.

Returning to the hideout was a reluctant journey but one he needed to make. Inaction and passivity were what had brought them to this point.

It was time to make a decision. To resolve matters once and for all.

In the time he had spent in that bleak waiting room, surrounded by grief and boundless suffering, a moment of enlightenment struck.

Blaming himself was difficult. Excruciating. It was easier to place blame elsewhere. To channel his sorrow into hatred.

Nines swung the door of the basement open, allowing the bulbs to charge to life before casting his focus on the loathsome creature huddled against the ground.

As per their instruction, the men had worked to keep him breathing—but this was the extent of their generosity.

Gavin was severely dehydrated, evident in his fissured lips and crumbling skin. His bruised, sallow face was drawn tight across his skull. Sunken and gaunt, a far departure from the healthy plumpness that once defined it.

His former lover was filthy, caked in blood, as well as all manner of filth he didn't care to think about. Green eyes were ashen and lifeless, dulled to the point of near-translucency. They stared at nothing, unable to focus, as Nines was left scarcely convinced they were able to see at all.

He kicked him against the cavernous rut of his belly as a pained bark rattled from the jutting cage of his ribs.

"Get up."

Gavin refused. While weak, there was a definite aspect of willful non-compliance, as there was a stir of recognition in response to his voice. A flicker of awareness across his blighted gaze, understanding who it was inflicting his current beating.

Nines kicked him again. Harder, to which another sharp cough escaped his lips—a sickly cocktail of fluids sputtering out.

"Connor is alive," he informed, watching in sadistic delight as the man wheezed and writhed, desperately grasping for air. "Barely."

Through rasping breaths, Gavin grumbled a response, unwisely defiant, growing more resonant the longer he persisted. "—Don't—give— a — shit —"

He was pulled by the front of the binds and forced to his feet. His legs teetered ineffectually, unable to support his dwindled weight.

"We could have gotten there before If it hadn't been for you. This is all your fault."

"Whatcha gonna do to me, Nines? Huh?" He grinned spitefully, revealing the dense layer of grime accumulated on already unsightly teeth. "What's the end game here? You gonna leave me to die, 'cus you're too much of a pussy to finish the job yourself?"

Nines set him down a moment, allowing Gavin to collapse to his knees. Pausing, he assessed the situation, confirming in himself his next actions before he reached into his inner pocket. Pushing past his firearm, he searched for another instrument. Something more intimate.

He pulled out a knife, brandishing it towards the light, allowing it to glint against its polished surface. Gavin's bravado deflated slightly, fear passing his sneered expression as his muscles subtly slackened. Then, he scoffed, attempting to conceal a shudder.

But he could not conceal the trembling, shaking his entire form.

Despite this, the facade of confidence resumed—and with a defiant jut, he pushed his chin outward. Presenting his neck and goading Nines to commit the final, decisive act.

"Do it, then. Fucking prove to me that you can."

Nines refused to comply. No longer willing to accept Gavin's orders or desiring his empty approval.

"As I said before, you aren't worth the effort it would take to end your miserable life."

He leant down, angling the knife forward. After positioning it between his wrists, he pulled up, slicing through the rope.

"Death would be easy for you. A mercy. I want you to suffer for what you’ve done, to live with the memories of what you experienced here—and to face all the punishment the world still has waiting."

Grabbing the newly unrestrained man, he thrust him forcefully against the door. The movement pushed it open, leaving him sprawled at the foot of the stone passage, bathed in the filtered light from the stairwell.

"You will untie the rest of your binds, and you will leave. I don't care where you go or what you do, just don't come back."

#this chapter is very long #and depressing #youve been warned #dbh #detroit become human #reed900 #dbh nines #dbh gavin #dbh rk900 #dbh fanfiction #dbh fanfic #gavin reed x rk900 #gavin900 #dbh fic #dbh connor

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