#and partially because of being infected with the Virus That Makes You Fucked Up And Evil

[moderndaymadscientist]

ooooooo you want to ask me questions about my new oc so baaaaadddd ooooooooo

[op-sys-chaos]

Inspired by a post by @snakeredbirdbatkatana

Tim couldn’t believe it. He’d been left behind. AGAIN.

His siblings really should’ve learned their lesson at this point. But no, they were too busy paying attention to themselves to think about Tim.

Dick had been exposed to the Morality Virus first. It removed your morality, leaving nothing but emptiness behind. He wouldn’t be held back anymore - now, he could do things like kill the Joker and avenge his brother without guilt. (It also gave you a general disdain for human life, which was a problem, but Dick could manage it. It would be fine. Right?) He was quick to infect Jason, thinking he’d enjoy the freedom. He infected Damian after, knowing Damian would enjoy being able to give into his more feral instincts.

Dick didn’t go after Cass, Duke, or Steph. Cass chose not to kill because she couldn’t stand watching people die, not with her ability. It had nothing to do with morals for her, so there was no point. Duke was too new for the family to know how he’d react to something like this. And Steph had actively chosen to reject her villain father and become a vigilante, partially because of a grudge and partially because of the adrenaline rush of vigilantism. She’s probably just pick being a hero anyway.

So obviously, Dick would go for Tim next, right?

No!

No, he started branching out to heroes outside of Gotham!

Unbelievable.

Tim hacked Dick’s computer, only to see his analysis:

Tim looks up to Bruce too much and would keep following him. Besides, he has a strong sense of morality, and would likely keep operating under it out of habit.

Did Dick really not know Tim that well? How little did his brother care about him to not notice?

Tim followed Bruce’s moral code because he didn’t have one of his own originally. He was very detached from normalcy and therefore morality as a kid. He took up Bruce’s code, following his example (not his words, mind you) down to the last detail, including being willing to leave bad people for dead if needed. But it wasn’t because he looked up to Bruce. It was because Bruce had a strong moral code and therefore was a good person to model his own after. It was convenient and reliable. Not some stupid hero worship bullshit.

Tim was so incredibly offended that his brothers cared so little that they couldn’t even tell this basic thing.

Cass noticed, of course. She read Dick’s note over Tim’s shoulder and gave him a hug.

“He doesn’t get it,” she said. “He can’t imagine why you would do be like this otherwise. He won’t consider other options.”

“He’s just… excluding me. Because he doesn’t understand me. How stupid. Everyone else had thought out reasons for exclusion, and he only wants to turn people who will kill because the virus is driving him to turn as many people as possible to create lots of killers, so those exclusions had valid reasonings. But me? Hero worship?”

“Honestly, I feel like this is a good thing to be excluded from,” Steph commented as she walked in.

“You don’t get it, Steph. It’s not that I want to be dosed-“

“You want to be seen. I get it, Tim. And I see you, but I know you want your whole family to be able to see you.”

Tim nodded.

“So how do you get them to see you, and how do you save them?” she prompted.

“…I get myself infected,” he whispered. “Act like I’m on his side. And deliver the antidote when I’m close.”

“Exactly. Can you do it?”

“Of course,” he replied.

“He will,” Cass chimed in confidently.

And that’s how, a week later, Tim ended up breaking into Dick’s apartment, alone and unarmed.

“Dick.”

“Tim? What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to prove a fucking point.”

“And that is?” Dick asked with a frown.

“That you don’t know me half as well as you think,” Tim replied, grabbing a syringe of the virus and jabbing himself with it before Dick could stop him.

“What?” Dick asked in a whisper.

It felt strange, being hit with the virus. All it really did was make him feel cold for a moment, and give him the slight nagging sense that he should start killing people. But he easily shook the feeling off by reminding himself of the code.

“Pay better attention to your siblings, asshole.”

“I… Tim, I don’t understand.”

“I don’t have hero worship for Bruce. And I certainly don’t have a strong sense of morality. I never had morals, Dick. You think I would’ve stalked Batman if I did?”

“Well well well,” Jason said, walking into the room. “Pay up, Dick. Told you you were wrong about him.”

Tim almost jumped in surprise. Of his brothers he was definitely closest with Jason, but he hadn’t realized Jason would know him well enough to bet on this.

“But he…”

“Was raised without morals. It’s obvious. He doesn’t think about moral implications until he’s already 50 clones into trying to bring his clone bestie back.”

Dick choked out a cough. “What?”

“Yeah, not my finest moment,” Tim admitted. “I was not thinking about the ethical implications of cloning, I just missed my friend. Bruce’s code is a strong and simple road map. That’s all.”

“Amazingly, I actually respect you more for that,” Damian told Tim as he entered the room. “It takes a lot of willpower to follow a code that’s not your own.”

Perfect. All of them were here.

“Thanks, Damian.”

“You are welcome. I assume your presence here means you are on our side? We have planned our first escapade.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Lure all of the currently free rogues into one spot, then blow up the building. Immediately after, blow up Arkham. Civilian casualties will be a factor, of course, but a necessary one to rid the city of evil.”

Huh. Even with no morals, they were still heroic. Interesting.

“I can help with that,” Tim said, pulling a device out of his pocket.

“What’s that?” Jason asked.

All three came closer, and Tim pushed the small red button on top. Gas instantly exploded outwards, enveloping the room.

The sounds of coughing surrounded him, and he felt the curse of the virus wash off. He didn’t suddenly gain morals, of course, but his drive to kill was gone, which was a relief.

As the smoke cleared, Tim saw his brothers sitting on the floor.

“What the…” Dick started, before clapping a hand over his mouth in horror. “Oh god, was I really planning to…”

“Yeah,” Tim replied, standing up and leaving the apartment. “Next time, pay better attention to your siblings, asshat. You would’ve known that because I don’t have morality to follow, I would stick to saving you all and saving the city. I thought we were brothers, Dick. But you proved today that I’m just another face in the crowd to you.”

With those words, Tim left. Cass, who had been waiting outside in case it went wrong, gave him a quick hug, and the pair grappled off together.

“That was AWESOME,” Steph said over comms. “You kicked so much ass, Tim. They’ll think twice before dismissing you again.”

“I hope so,” Tim whispered. “I was honestly surprised that Jason at least partially knew that I would act that way.”

“Yeah, well, Dick will think twice about underestimating you again.”

And he did. When Dick came back to the cave that night, he sat down and had a conversation with Tim, telling him about his impressions of Tim and asking him to correct anything he got wrong. To Tim’s surprise, Dick actually saw a lot more than he expected. He even picked up on the fact that Tim’s first male crush had been Kon, even if Tim hadn’t admitted it even to himself. And Dick was the only person who’d ever told Tim that they had figured out that Tim had originally modeled his personality after a book character. Dick wasn’t wrong; Tim had no idea how to act normal as a kid, and modeled himself after his favorite character. His actions changed over time, becoming more natural and more his own, but they’d still originally been based on someone else. Dick had picked up on that, to Tim’s amazement.

It turned out, Dick actually knew Tim better than he ever realized his brother did. Dick just missed the morality piece because Tim had never wavered from the code and had always been so devoted to following Bruce’s code that Dick assumed it was hero worship of the first hero Tim knew.

They vowed to be more open about things in the future and to work on knowing each other better. And Dick vowed never to exclude Tim again unless someone else gave him a very, very good reason to do so (such as the “it’ll make him want to get involved if he knows and his involvement will make this worse” type of stuff typical in their line of duty).

[crushedsweets]

Do you have and hcs of how Toby and Ben would act together? - Hoodie

YES SORT OF . u know the drill this is my au and bens story is one that i changed a lot so here we go :9

ok toby younger brother family trauma issues lonely grew up isolated etc. ben only child got killed by neighbor for absurd vr theory now inhabits a virus-ghost-form that he partially shares with several other dead kids.

toby and ben wouldnt have gotten along before ben died. only because ben was just. a 13 yr old boy addicted to video games ... those kids r mean, and toby was heavily bullied in his childhood. the ONLY reason bens not a huge dick anymore is bc his 'form' itself is fucked up (he glitches, he has an electronic vocal fry and occasional stutter from glitches, he has a weird glow to him, sickly drowned boy skin, veins look like those green code lines, red/black eyes, HE'S LITERALLY DRESSED LIKE LINK). bens not exactly insecure about any of this, but he knows damn well he cannot make fun of a tic without toby shooting back 10x harder.

which ok yeah kinda sad that ben has to look weird for him to not be mean but .. . like . . yeah. it is what it is.

they met mmm... maybe when toby was around 21? jeff would be 16, and ben wouldve been 14. SOOO toby doesnt really TRY to befriend ben. he's too old for him and has no interest in being besties w some kid. but he has a job to stop ben from tormenting people online and drawing attention to weird ghost sites and whatnot, so he started talking to all sorts of ai- cleverbot being the main, of course.

of all the proxies, tobys the only one ben likes. tobys a dick, but he has his moments where he's funny and gets distracted during a mission, so he's sat and rambled and bickered with the ai on slow nights. ben immediately knew everything about toby, because he has access to every single file on tobys computer, phone, etc.

ben SCARED THE SHIT out of toby upon their first meeting. he crawled out of tobys janky ass computer one day and toby nearly threw up from being so freaked out. yeah, he's killed people and whatever, BUT GHOSTS R FUCKING SCARY (and he has .trauma with ghosts and hallucinations of them (lyra)). ben already knew exactly who toby worked for, what toby was doing, and thought it was beyond funny. ben was the first being who already knew all the slenderman lore because he spends literally. every. second. on the internet. he is basically the internet. and he watches them, listens through their phones, watches, etc. he doesnt know the details perfectly tho cuz technology gets weird around slednerman/the operator. so toby thought that was helpful, in a sense.

so pretty quickly ben was fond of toby. thought he was like, that cool older brother of your friend. the main issue was the proxies at this time were trying to find and kill jeff because he was infected by the operator and slenderman deemed him 'too far gone.'

ben was actually the one who proposed the whole 'okay. so you want me to stop terrorizing kids online. fair. now ive noticed you keep trying to kill my friend(jeff). stop that and we can be cool :3'.

eventually they all came to some weird agreement where. ben will stop haunting people, the proxies will stop trying to kill jeff, jeff has to stop doing his 'full course' murders, and eventually, ben just likes them enough to start helping them with cctv, police files, etc. it was a complicated agreement that eventually ended in friendship, sort of?

they play video games together. eventually toby does see him as a little brother. it's kinda unsettling because the proxies realize just how much power ben has when it comes to just...... leaking everything. toby thinks that 'ok well, if ben leaks stuff about us, we leak stuff about jeff, and now he has no friends and is lonely, so he can't.' but tim and brian are legitimately freaked out at the thought of their lives being ruined anymore than they already are, so theyre pretty courteous to ben

ben will really just hang around. toby can just be eating breakfast and ben will pop up and ask whats up. he's annoying and clingy, and he can tell toby is biting his tongue half the time. . but toby is grateful sometimes. bens laid back and funny, and toby could use some laughs, so its a decent time for them both

again, overall, toby is just kinda too old for ben(although ben wouldve been a year older than toby if he was alive), but ben is really funny, he's nice to toby, he plays video games with him, he comes and checks in on him randomly. so toby appreciates having a freaky ghost little brother thing hanging around. bens one of his fave people (which is only saying so much when the other people he talks to are like . . jeff)

[omoriboii]

Does DreamScape have a news-channel and/or is it connected to the internet, or is it a separate internet that's completely cut off from the main one?

I ask because now I'm imagining Mari infecting a cell tower and gaining information on what the world was like for the years that she missed.

(Or her possessing a pylon and turning it into a large dress for her virus-body as she sings/plays a cover of "toxic love" from "FernGully: The Last Rainforest").

The game runs on an isolated server using a unique connection between all the headsets, meaning nothing really goes in or out from them. The way updates are received are through a router build into the system itself, able to connect to the servers and update that way. Early 2000's internet was still fairly slow at the time, so the VHS had to make up for it by being both a console, and partially a super computer in of itself.

Chapter 6 spoilers ahead

So even though the game experience is heavily immersive and lifelike, nothing can really truly be 'taken out' from them, though in the case with Basil and future mishaps, you can definitely get 'injured' by the device. That's because the device connects itself up to the user's neurons, so experiencing something traumatic in the game is bound to shock you in real life too.

Otherwise, in the end Mari's just a horribly fucked up mod that Sunny made. She doesn't really understand what 'outside world' is. The pathological memories imbued in her neuron data only runs so deep.

[unnerving-presence]

Omg I kinda wish Waugh voiced the new Wesker. Craig isn’t that bad. I Just don’t like how Wesker gets upset now. Like in the separate ways cutscenes he’s pissed at Ada.

i completely understand that complaint! i feel like we’re all very used to old suit wesker (uc and og re4) where he’s the typical mastermind behind the scenes. wesker still shows that very much in separate ways, showing that he’s had other plans up his sleeves getting ada’s blood sample and krauser’s body in case she isn’t loyal to him.

even i felt the same at first. i still have my first impressions post up to show how much i’ve changed about my stance about him.

wesker very much does get upset. in like.. every game pretty much. re1 wesker gets irritated in pretty much all of the runs you pick, even if it’s subtle. re4 wesker shows his irritation with a tap of his fingers and constantly asking ada to take leon out. about the last time he tells her that he sounds quite impatient. uc wesker gets irritated at red queen and punches the computer screen. re5 wesker is just.. him also getting irritated. i mean.. look at him in code veronica. he literally beats the shit out of claire because of his hatred for chris.

he is very much an angry/irritated guy. i will keep bringing this up where in uc he says himself “hatred became my master”. he is by no means angry all the time nor does he get irritated very easily, but we do need to acknowledge that he does get irritated and that it’s a human emotion people feel. just because it’s wesker doesn’t mean he should never feel angry yk? we need to see that in his situation his motives are all very risky and both something he wants to accomplish.

yes, wesker’s first cutscene he already does seem a bit irritated with ada. i myself still don’t understand it as her mission had just started and all she had done was pass out because of the virus, but we could also state that where she passed out wasn’t the place he exactly expected her to be. she passed out at the factory. in that situation wesker would’ve expected her to be at the village chief’s house finding answers. wesker even takes her BACK to the house and tells her to stop wasting his time. she had not contacted him to tell him where she was going. i would assume to him she was off doing her own shit. not much context is specifically given for why he reacts the way he does, but wesker was already untrusting of ada. and from his knowledge the way to getting infected likely made him believe she did some stupid shit to end up in that situation.

in the other cutscenes we can also see from wesker’s pov that the amber is pretty much getting passed around from one to another. luis had the amber and was going to give it to her. i doubt wesker knew her infection would make it hard for her to hold the amber either.

ada is also very skilled. she’s not stupid and is very skilled in combat. i feel like knowing what wesker knows about her and the situation at hand he would likely expect more. his soldiers do anything he asks at will. in sw wesker constantly tests her loyalty to him. i assume before wesker had any other plans to retrieve krauser’s body that he was solely relying on the amber. a blood sample is good, but the amber likely provides more of what he needs. just like krauser being fully infected and being able to mutate at will.

anybody is free to have any opinions they want about sw wesker but i think they did him really well. he’s not supposed to be a goofy chair man sitting back and letting everything happen. he does partially do that, but he’s clearly doing shit himself as well. the one of the re games are changing a lot. giving wesker a far more intimidating voice and personality while showing his motives and massive ego through his lines and tone of his deliveries makes him a far scarier wesker than the others imo. this guy means business. he’s not gonna fuck around and find out and he’s most definitely not gonna let anybody else fuck it up for him either.

anyways feel however you want about him i think he’s a super good character that was well written for fitting the tone of future re games :]

i love all the wesker voices but now re4r wesker’s is super up there. i don’t think we really need his goofy little trans-atlantic accent for that to be wesker. re1 strayed far from the original voice. i like to think re4r wesker’s voice is a more older and mature version of 1r wesker’s voice :)

[nokingsonlyfooles]

I hate to say it, but in the spirit of preventing people from thinking, "I have one simple thing I do and if you don't do it, it's your own fault if you get hurt," here comes the nuance. If it doesn't apply to you, OK, but it will apply to someone.

First, there are reasons for people to cough that have nothing to do with a respiratory infection or difficulty and will not be improved by a mask. I happen to have pretty severe acid reflux. Sometimes, I will cough because stomach acid has gone into my lungs. And, during the pandemic, I had to deal with people telling me, "PEOPLE WHO ARE COUGHING SHOULDN'T EVEN GO OUTSIDE!!" Mask or no mask, as if acid reflux means I shouldn't be allowed to buy food. Coughing doesn't mean sick and spraying viruses around, and not coughing doesn't mean well.

And, if you're able to afford the N95 and wear it all the time, that'll work for you. What works way better for herd immunity is everyone wearing something - but they won't. They just won't do it anymore. They're tired, they can't afford a good one, they've been lied to, and the majority won't put up with the inconvenience to help the immunocompromised people who'd be safer. (Even my goddamn doctor is refusing to mask, and I can't make him.) We're also beginning to see that keeping all the viruses away from your immune system might frig up your immune response for certain viruses. RSV is kinda having a field day. Masking and then stopping could be a part of that (we don't know yet!), and RSV can kill you too. Again, if you can afford to stay in a new, legit, working N95 all the time, that'll work for you, but we really need a solution that scales.

If you're in a standard, non-fitted, 500-in-a-box medical mask, or a cloth one, and that helps your allergies (like mine!) that's one thing. If you're telling yourself, "Haha, secretly, I am being more responsible about covid than everyone around me! Because I am being safe, it's cool for me to do [x risky behaviour], and I don't need to worry about OTHER people deciding not to be safe" slow down and check your situation. Allergens are fuck-huge compared to a virus, they are not the same. Even a cloth mask helps a little, but in a risky situation it will not make you safe. And those other people who aren't being safe? They're a reservoir, and they may at any time kick out a mutation that gets around everything you're doing to be safer.

Either we all mask, or we all do something else that works better (advanced ventilation systems that can deal with smoke and pollution too? please? also vaccines!!), or we're just messing around with stuff that kinda works and will fail spectacularly, without warning. Partial solutions only work partially. They're pretty much offering only partial solutions now, and that's scary to think about. But it's not going to help anything to sink into denial. Get out there and bother a politician, they're in charge of this. It sucks, but they are.

Nobody fucking believes me that putting on a mask helps the wearer stop coughing and sneezing.

Coughing and sneezing are generally caused by the body trying to clear irritants. And very frequently, this irritation is exacerbated by dusts and pollens in the air. So by wearing a mask, you can cut down on the thing that is further triggering your cough and sneeze. Further, masks also condition the air and make the air you're breathing in moister, which reduces further irritation of the lungs.

If you were dusting, and the dust was making you sneeze, you could put on a mask and make the sneezing stop. (Note: a startling number of people also refuse to believe this, even though it's really obvious that "keep the dust out of your face" reduces "sneezing because there is dust in your face".) If you're already irritated, you can end up getting triggered by a lower threshold of dust.

When I have a cough, one of the first things I do is mask up, even when I'm entirely alone. Because if I'm not actually sick, the mask will often cut the coughing to zero (especially if my cough is asthma-based). And if I am sick, it'll cut it dramatically (and reduce post-nasal drip, which causes more coughing).

I have convinced exactly one person of this. Yes, masking is uncomfortable. (It helps a lot if you have a comfortable mask, though.) But also, so is coughing a lot, which also happens to spray gross stuff into the air.

For your own sake, put on a mask and stop complaining about how uncomfortable you are because you keep coughing.

I promise, it really works.

[jet-bradley]

hey splatoon fans, while you're waiting for side order i highly recommend playing TRON 2.0

it's a FPS sequel to TRON that came out in 2003. it's about the now-adult son of two of the main human characters from the original TRON movie getting sucked into a virus-infected computer, and in the process of trying to disinfect the computer, he uncovers a plot from the company taking over his parents' company to use their laser technology to digitize armies of humans and take over the world.

do i have you hooked yet?

if i don't, consider this: i'm recommending it in huge part because it's largely a story about jet, the protagonist, learning to reconnect with his dad after they both lost his mom, who died in a workplace laser accident and was most likely partially digitized. the digitization laser was her own life's work. the digitization AI, MA3A, takes on lora's voice after her death (and is voiced by lora's actress from the original film), and there are workplace rumors that it's because alan incorporated the digitized portions of her remains into MA3A's code. jet spends a lot of the game defending his mom's digital/digitized ghost from external threats.

what i'm getting at is that if you're excited for side order because of how it's hinted at dealing with themes of grief in a y2k digital landscape... they're mostly subtext in TRON 2.0 but i still think the game is seriously up your alley.

if you're a splatoon fan who hasn't played many other shooter games before, TRON 2.0 is a great introduction to the PC shooter world imo. if you're squeamish about blood/gore/giblets flying everywhere, there's none of that in TRON 2.0. if you're a splatoon fan because you like shooters but you've never given TRON 2.0 a chance, this is your sign!

some pros of TRON 2.0:

it looks fucking awesome

TRON 2.0 has a very turn-of-the-century take on the aesthetics of the original TRON. it predates tron legacy by seven years and it doesn't have any of that apple-store aesthetic. it's got all the juicy colors of the original film, with lots of crisp details that the original animation hardware couldn't handle. the digital world of TRON 2.0 only gets better every year with age. meanwhile it's got a (for its time) state-of-the-art glow mechanic that gives the game a very comforting soft feel.

and these are just the ones i've got on my own PC! (the last one i dont know if it's my, screenshot but the rest are from my own screenshots folder).

it can run on basically any PC

no, fr, this required some pretty good hardware when it came out... but the game turned 20 this year. i managed to run TRON on my old laptop after it very nearly split in half like a 2ds and took half an hour to boot by using my parents' TV as a monitor. it didn't even drop that many frames! this was in 2020. it didnt even have a graphics card.

yeah i was a grown adult when that photo was taken. no i dont care that i look 13. my car had just burst an engine rod in the middle of the desert about 48 hours before this was taken, so my fit wasn't really at the top of my priorities. (don't ask.)

you can get it DRM-free

don't get the steam version y'all, i can vouch for it being super glitchy. i can basically only run it while using mods to launch it without contacting steam. get it from gog.com.

ethics note: pirate the TRON movies as much as you want but im pretty sure the original company still gets some bucks when you buy 2.0 legally, and disney fucked them over pretty bad when it comes to the rights to TRON 2.0's characters and story, and they ripped off half the plot of the game to make the movie (and the movie is worse). if you don't wanna drop $10 wait for a gog sale and drop $3. (and honestly, if you're paying $20/year to get disconnected every 15 matches in splatoon, even paying $10 for a good retro game isn't the worst financial decision you've ever made.)

[burnedbyshoto]

I wanted to make myself like the ravine

— There are plenty of things that Hawks knows about, but there are few he knows none about. A journey of how Hawks navigates the meaning of the word love. 

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pairing: hawks (takami keigo) x fem!reader

warnings: recent manga spoilers, future!au, alcohol consumption, fem!reader

word count: 6,819

a/n: this is for the pocuties valentines day collab! rhank you for letting me join! inspired by the poem to the title of this fic!

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A G A P E

—

Hawks is one of the fastest men in the world.

It’s not a brag; it’s the truth.

A cold, hard, damning truth.

Hawks is a Pro Hero with the power, skill, and finesse required to take the fall for the entire country. He is someone who is loved by all, who thrives off of the appreciation and the cheers, but he knows — he understands — he’s expendable. He’s a tool—an object seconds from being put to rest.

There are many things that Hawks knows; he’s been training to be a hero since he was in his very childhood. Blindfolded, tested and conditioned to be the ideal hero, the perfect pawn.

Hawks is no idiot, and he will never deny that often times that he isn’t sure what he is feeling.

Emotions are weird for him. Feelings are oversimplified in everything he was taught, yet disgustingly really and oddly interfering the second he had set foot into the spotlight. He was used to the cold, the people who would view him as a specimen, experiment 20493, codenamed: Fierce Winged Hawks. The only emotions he understood was apathy, seriousness, anger, resentment, bitterness, disappointment, and relief. When finally, finally, the Hero Commission broke his wings, his spine, and his mind, the small boy so eager to be a Hero ultimately nothing but a soldier, ready to follow commands to the T.

Hawks has only heard of love from the blurry, unclear memories of his childhood. His mother muttering how she had no love for him to be taking care of him as he did, or his father saying he could never love him. Love was foreign, strange, alien to him. Even when he was eighteen and finally given a bit of freedom from the chains the Hero Commission bound him in was expressed out of love. But he was put into the cage that granted him the ability to spread his stiff wings; love made no sense.

He saw lovers making out in alleyways, and he furrowed his eyebrows, wondering just why anyone would want to kiss in the smelly, dark, virus-infected areas. He saw his colleagues come in looking dazed, refreshed, reborn, yelling loudly, and singing poetry about their love for some other person they met just yesterday. He also couldn’t ignore the days, weeks, months later when they would rearrive with red-rimmed eyes, swollen eyes, and a tremor to their voice.

Love seemed… awful to Hawks.

Love was a deception of brain chemicals. Nothing more than your mind bending, flipping, and twisting to make something that made absolutely no sense make sense. 

Hawks had expressed that one day to a sidekick of his, his barriers and walls crumbling away because he had been on a stakeout for five days straight now. The world that could never keep up with him was numbing his brain.

“Well, that’s romantic and flirtatious love for ya,” his sidekick explained with a halfhearted shrug. It seemed that he both agreed and disagreed with what Hawks had to say. “They’re amazing loves, don’t get it wrong, and they definitely don’t make sense, but they’re loves not meant to last.”

Hawks blinked.

“What?”

His sidekick chuckled, hands rubbing at his eyes as he peered out the window again, his sullen eyes looking even more tired.

“Have you never learned the different types of love before, Hawks?” the sidekick teased as much as he was curious. “I figured a pro as popular and smart as you are would know the different types of love.”

Hawks feathers fluttered in his inability to keep his lack of knowledge to himself.

“I don’t.”

“Wow, finally something Hawks isn’t aware of!” the sidekick laughed, and his hand opened his phone, fingers hitting the screen before shoving the device into Hawks’ chest. “I’m sure you’ll find that you can understand at least one love.”

Hawks grabbed the phone, head cocking to the side in his curiosity as he scrolled down through the phone.

There were eight different types.

Eight different ones that he could have experienced within his then twenty-one years, and he found himself unable to look away from one.

Agape: universal, selfless love

“Hawks, they’re moving!” the sidekick squawked, and Hawks handed over the phone, and with nothing on his mind, burst out the window, ready to take down this organization.

Hawks had to admit that later that night, when he was finally able to sleep in his own bed, he felt selfless love. It was for the people of Japan. The many citizens who needed his help and the heroes of the country who rose to the demands of the job. Maybe it wasn’t the type of love depicted in anything he’s ever read or watched before, but that was okay. It was love.

The love he has for the citizens is enough to keep his head afloat.

This is the only love he needs in his life right now, the only love that matters.

But he’s no longer twenty-one, he’s twenty-five, and the wings on his back that feel practically invisible to him, are hurting. His back is in pain, his quirk almost gone, save for the smallest, insignificant feathers perching from the stumps of what was his beginnings of a wingspan. It still burns, phantom singes and phantom heat whenever he thinks about his nearly gone, never to be grown again, wings.

“Well, Hawks, you already know that this is going to happen,” comes the cold voice of one of the board members of the Hero Commission. A man who had practically raised (see managed) him. 

Today was the end of Hawks life, more or less.

“AFO, Shigaraki Tomura, and the well-known former members of the League of Villains were finally stopped,” Hawks speaks with a nod. He knows, even though he could not be a soldier, he had been around to see the young UA students, Endeavors Interns, bring them to justice.

The biggest names of evil were dead, and Hawks already knew he was over.

To be fair, he was glad it was over.

But still, it hurt to hear the indifference in his voice, the apathy, the tedium.

“Operation: Fierce Wings - Hawks is officially over.”

“I could’ve figured that one out pretty easily,” Hawks jests, unable to show the way his heart twisted and withered under the knowledge that he was no longer a hero. His love, his agape, for the people were still there. Still, just as he recognized in his colleagues who were experiencing the different forms of love, it didn’t matter how much love you held for someone, something, for the innocent, helpless people…

Life takes, it destroys, and love doesn’t seem to have a chance.

“Thank you for your twenty years of service. I hope you find the freedom you had been looking for.”

P H I L A U T I A

It’s been a week.

Seven days, twenty-one hours, sixteen minutes, and thirty-four seconds since Hawks was fired (see Honorably Discharged) as a Pro Hero.

Hawks has always felt that the world moved oh so slowly behind him. It had been his wish that heroes be able to relax, laze around because society had evolved enough that criminals knew better, were treated better, and could integrate into a truly peaceful society.

It had been his dream.

But right now, he was bored.

B o r e d.

“Fuck, I don’t care,” Hawks grumbled, face smooshing into a pillow as he watched the Netflix Series Bridgerton drone on the screen. “Dump his ass.”

His apartment, it was safe to say, was a mess. There were cups, bowls, plates, and chopsticks everywhere. His hair was ruffled, stringy, held back by a hair clip he had stolen from Miruko. His beard was nearly fully grown in, and there were bags under his eyes despite the fact he was sleeping for more hours of the day than staying awake. He was sore, tired, bored.

So bored.

He didn’t think being bored was going to suck this much, going to hurt him like this.

Fuck.

“Open the damn door, bird boy!” came a sharp scream and powerful kick from the front door.

Hawks glared at the door, the tiniest of feathers he had been able to regrow, trying to pathetically open the lock on the door. A sheen layer of sweat pushed against his forehead, and Hawks grunted, trying to lift the heavy lock.

BAM.

The door swung open, forcefully kicked open by none other than Pro Hero Miruko.

“Yo!” Miruko waved, lips pulled in a fierce grin as she entered through the broken doorway with nothing but a bag of unknown items. “I figured you were here!”

“...you broke my door,” Hawks pointed out, eyes narrowed as dust and destruction danced within the air.

“You took too long,” Miruko breezed, slamming her plastic bag on the kitchen island. “It’s a fucking rats nest in here, birdbrain; I thought you were somewhat organized?”

Hawks groaned loudly, sinking further into his couch as Miruko began reorganizing his kitchen area — dumping the dirty dishes into the sink and throwing things away in fast, practiced skill. “Life is too boring, and I’m too bored to do anything about all of the mess,” Hawks exaggerates partially, hand twisting and dancing as he speaks. “Thanks for cleaning up the mess.”

“I’m not cleaning up your damn mess, birdbrain,” Miruko barks out a laugh, her hands slamming against the now, somehow, clean surface. “I’m just making my life easier!”

Hawks looked over the top of the couch with a semi impressed, semi uncaring look and shrugged.

“You seem to have a great handle over those robot limbs now,” he points out.

Sure enough, Miruko had two bionic limbs, limbs that she had finally managed to work into a fighting career. After spending two years on the sideline, relearning how to walk and then fight, she was back on the field.

She was a hero again, despite it all, unlike him.

“Damn right, I’m amazing!” Miruko preened, chest puffed, and bunny tail wagging excitedly. “But anyway, I figured your dumbass would be depressed, so I brought you some shit.”

Hawks watched with a curious gaze as Miruko quickly hopped once from where she was in the kitchen to a place on his couch, landing on Hawks' legs unintentionally.

“OW!”

“Look at what Rumi brought you,” Miruko laughed, slapping Hawks on the back as he cradled his legs. “And yes, I just referred to myself in the third person, so shush.”

Hawks grumbled, lips in a half pout, half frown.

Taking the opaque bag from Miruko, Hawks pulled out the many items in the bag.

Carrots, a KFC gift card, Korean skincare products, a movie about Miruko’s recovery process, and a 1001 Things to Do (A Book on Finding Self Love).

Hawks stares at the book.

“The perfect items for a self-care, self-love spa day,” Miruko nods, once again slapping Hawks on the back. “Some old sidekick of yours told me that you don’t know what love is, so I figured that I would help teach you the most important one! Self-love! Truly the hardest one to master, in my opinion, but damn if it isn’t a good one.”

Hawks feels transfixed almost, unable to look away from the book as Miruko slaps him on the back yet again as she moves to leave. He hears her yelling about forwarding the bill to fix his door to her, her agency would pay for the damage, and how she’s off to train with some bunny hopping boy from UA.

Opening the book, Hawks looked at the number one thing to do on the book and sighed.

#1: Look in a mirror and name five things you LOVE about yourself.

Well, it’s not like he has anything better to do.

-

Hawks is on number thirteen (Stand at a bridge and scream into the void about the things you love at dusk) when he realizes that maybe… he doesn’t love himself. 

It is without saying that he loves people; agape, after all, is the only love type that made sense to him, but philautia, self-love, was way lost on him. Objectives 2 - 12 on the book were entertaining to do! They had Hawks going outside of his house much more than his week trapped indoors, and for the first time since the day his wings had been burnt off, his house was spotless.

But it was clear to Hawks that he didn’t feel love for himself.

Whenever he tried to convince himself that he should love himself, that there were terrific qualities in himself, he thought back to the dirty, burnt room. 

“I still gotta protect their happiness!” the phantom in his mind screamed, the broken sob collected in his throat.

Hawks shivered, unable to let himself recognize the pain and hurt in the phantom's eyes, or the way that he now wished he had never done that… why had he done that?

What a mess…

The small chirping of Hawks phone interrupts his morose thoughts. He looks at the screen, eyebrows raising in slight mirth and caution as none other than his former intern was currently calling him.

“Tsukuyomi-kun!” Hawks laughs into the receiver, the weight of his past for a moment forgotten. “How are ya?!”

“Hello, Hawks-sensei,” Tokoyami’s calm tone fills Hawks' ears. “I was calling because I have a request to make.”

“Name it,” Hawks spoke immediately, slouching against the cold bars of the bridge, eyes closing as he tried to relax. “You need a letter of rec or something?”

“Nothing of the sort, actually,” Tokoyami says. “We third-year students are graduating in a few days; I was inquiring if you would attend on my behalf.”

“Wow, Tsukuyomi-kun, no need to be so formal with me!” Hawks laughed delightedly, his hands carting through his feather-like hair, “I’d love to come and watch you guys graduate! Is it true that the finger-smashing boy is the valedictorian?”

“That would be false, Midoriya-kun has nothing on Yaoyorozu-san.”

“What a bummer, you’d think he’d be first after how he helped win the war for us, huh?”

“You’ll find that Yaoyorozu-san is highly gifted and undeterred by most things,” Tokoyami sighed. For a moment, Hawks chuckled at the melancholy tone to his old intern's voice. It sounded as if he had been striving with great difficulty to reach the highest marks as well. 

Hawks began speaking to his rather odd ex-intern with great curiosity with the blanket of the night surrounding him. His defenses and thoughts whittling away the more they spoke, the later it got in the morning.

“Ne, Tokoyami-kun, I have a question?”

“Concerning what?”

Hawks pauses, his brows furrowing as he looks up into the still dark sky, “Do you know how to love yourself?”

Silence.

Had it been anyone else, Hawks would have panicked at the lack of noise. Still, his already less than chatty intern typically took to not speaking much to begin with.

“Self-love is difficult,” Tokoyami finally spoke, his words slow, carefully chosen. “We humans are flawed; we all have demons. Most of the time, we only recognize and see our demons, oftentimes forgetting that being human also means being weak and at times immoral. Loving oneself is a hard task because we know ourselves better than any other. It’s a work in progress for everyone to love oneself, it's a type of love by the Ancient Greeks, but it’s not always everpresent. One must accept all flaws to love oneself, and remember that flaws don’t make you less, even if you believe otherwise.”

“...wow, I asked for a sentence answer, and you gave me a speech. Who would’ve known you were so in check with your emotions, Tokoyami!”

“You knew, I’ve already revealed this side of me before. You laughed last time too.”

Hawks finds himself home thirty minutes later, and he stares up at the ceiling, fingers drumming against his chest.

Self-love… it seems like an ever-evolving type of love, but it’s there. He knows that even if he has regrets and hardships and things he hates about himself, deep down, self-love exists and that it will exist. 

Patience.

Even the fastest man in the world could demonstrate patience.

L U D U S

“What can I get for ya?”

“I have no idea honestly, do you have any recommendations?”

Hawks could say with complete honesty that he felt entirely out of place.

He was at a local bar. The bar was semi-busy today. Most young adults dressed in an arrangement of clothes, each on a different level of soberness as they cheered to this and that. 

Why was he at a bar even though he was slightly uncomfortable? Well, you can blame #73 in the book for that.

(#73: Enter the first bar you find, order a drink, and flirt!)

“What type of liquor do you like? Hard or soft?”

Hawks blinked; he didn’t know.

“Hard?”

The bartender looked a bit unsure of him for a bit before nodding and turning his back to him.

Did hard liquor mean he was going to get an iced drink? He’s never consumed alcohol before.

“Here you go!” the bartender sang, slamming two shot glasses before him. “Two shots of Bacardi.”

“Oh, thank you?” Hawks tilted his head as a small cup of OJ was placed in front of him (“That’s your chaser,” the bartender had laughed). Bringing the small glass shot glass up, Hawks looked around at the throngs of people surrounding the bar and looked at you. You were cheering loudly as you raised your own shot glass in the air with a whoop and, in a fast, fluid motion, brought the shot glass to your mouth and took the liquid down easily. Hawks was definitely unimpressed now; that looked entirely too easy. “Here we go, cheers to me.”

Imitating your own actions, Hawks shot back the liquid in his shot glass, and immediately his entire body tensed.

EW.

NO.

EW.

OH GOD, NO!

Spitting out the sour, bitter, disgusting — dear god, how do you even describe this taste?! — liquid, Hawks, chugged the OJ, his lungs and throat and tongue burning from the shot.

“That was disgusting!” Hawks spat to absolutely no one, his hands covering his mouth as he stared at the other awaiting shot of ‘Bacardi.’ “Why would anyone drink that?!”

“Only madmen drink Bacardi while sober,” a voice joined in on Hawks' one-sided conversation. “Or bitches who are self-sabotagers. Never trust a hoe who says Bacardi is their favorite drink.”

Hawks turned around to see you, the girl he had regrettably underestimated for taking the shot, smiling at him with a not entirely sober look to your face. 

“You look like neither. That and the way you took the shot obviously means that you had no idea what you were drinking.” Hawks continued to stare at you, completely perplexed by your casual conversation, the dress on your body that was twisted a bit, screaming wonders about your level of sobriety. You took to the empty barstool beside him with a grin and a calculating look, “You’re Hawks, right?”

“Yeah, Hawks,” he spoke, his tongue feeling weird in his mouth as he bowed stiffly in his chair. You were beautiful, fuck.

“I’m y/l/n, nice to meet you!” you speak easily, fingers grabbing at his other filled shot glass with a concerned look. “I have a feeling you shouldn’t try to take this other shot.”

“Dying of alcohol definitely isn’t in my vision of ways to go out,” Hawks grins. Pushing through his haze of awkwardness as you shift in the barstool so that you’re now facing him entirely, knees pressed to his thigh. “I’ve never actually drunk before?”

You inhale sharply, your eyes going wide as you break all levels of personal contact that’s acceptable of strangers in Japan and grab his cheeks.

“Alcohol virgin?!” you gasp, the sweet smell of some liquid drafting from your breath. “I’ll teach you everything that I know, don’t worry!”

You let go of his face, neck turning away from him, looking for the bartender to flag him down.

“Don’t you have—?”

“They can wait,” you wave at the bartender before turning back to Hawks with a confident grin on your face. “I have my favorite Pro Hero right beside me; I think they’ll understand.”

“Alright, what is it that I need to know?”

“My full name,” you breeze with a wink. “Y/l/n y/n.”

“A beautiful name.”

“I am a beautiful woman.”

Hawks chuckled good-naturedly, his head nodding in agreement, “I think we were talking about the alcohol, though, not your attraction as a female.”

“All in good time, all in good time,” you laugh, taking to the bartender and ordering two drinks, both of which were entirely foreign to Hawks.

Hawks would not consider himself to be an expert at flirting. He was attractive, a great conversationalist, and did have a type of edge to his words that often seemed playful or a warning, depending on how you looked at it. But it appeared that his natural way of speaking was more than enough to make him flirtatious enough to match the way you spoke to him.

You had introduced him to a single mixed drink, telling him that getting drunk by yourself at a bar typically wasn’t a smart thing, so keep to something with a low alcohol percentage. Just enough to make you loosen up, but not enough that you were incapable of getting home. Hawks liked the way your hand rested on his forearm. How you smiled and laughed at something to show your interest but not at everything to show that you weren’t faking your amusement at what he was saying.

You matched his every word, not backing down from his bluffs. Soon enough, Hawks felt his cheeks warm when he finally looked directly at your smiling face (he wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or not). 

Eventually, though, the night ended, and you shimmied off the bar stool as your friends had come to collect you to leave.

“Can I get your number?” you ask, eyes mostly entirely sober as you handed him your phone. “I know you were the man who was just a bit too fast, but I think I can handle that.”

Hawks snorts, his eyes rolling in his amusement, “That was horrible.”

“I’m drunk, I have an excuse!” you exclaim with a pout that quickly turns into a giddy smile as Hawks enters his number to your phone. “Don’t worry though, once I’m sober, I’ll flirt your eyebrows clean off!”

“That sounds painful!” Hawks yells as you wave goodbye, your arms linked with a line of other girls as you leave the bar with teasing laughter and undecipherable words.

It was with you that Hawks realized that he had come to find a new type of love.

Ludus, the love of flirtation and playfulness.

Damn, who would’ve known.

P H I L I A

Hawks was having a pretty bad day.

It wasn’t anything super terrible happening, all things considered. It was a lovely day out; the sun was warm, the sky so blue, and the birds chirping. Nothing on the news to be concerned about and all his precious people were safe.

But it was still a bad day because instead of being out and about with you, his now borderline best friend/girlfriend, who he was stupidly having a crush on, he was stuck at home.

Hawks was sick.

Deliriously, stuffy nose, goopy eyed, chapped lips, and feverish sick.

You: Are you sure you’re fine????

Hawks: Im perfectly okay. Ill go with you to the park next time sorry

You: Thats not what im concerned about stupid!!!!!

Hawks: Bye have fun!

You: I knoW YOURE SICK ASSHOLE

Hawks chuckled, rereading his messages with you.

Blowing his nose for what felt like the umpteenth time, Hawks resumed the movie on the screen that you had recommended him to watch — Disney’s Chicken Little — because it reminded you of him, or something like that. The TV droned on with the movie, and Hawks found it hard to keep focused as the Sandman danced on his head and whispered in his ear.

He hadn’t noticed he had fallen asleep until a loud banging was heard on his door.

Shuffling towards the door, Hawks opened the still slightly broken door with bleary eyes and a stuffy nose.

In front of him was none other than you.

You… with a basket full of things.

“Hi!” you greeted him, pushing past Hawks easily and walking into his apartment. “You look worse than I thought you would be!”

“That's hurtful,” Hawks pouted, closing the door behind you, sneezing, then following after you. “Why are you here? I thought you w-were — achoo — going to the park?”

“I was, but we were supposed to go together to check off number 184, and I wasn’t about to go alone to complete a list meant for you!” you exclaimed, dumping the overfilled basket on the kitchen counter.

“Mm,” Hawks hummed, his voice dry and cracking as he pulled the blanket closer around him. “What’s this?”

“A get well care basket,” you say in an unmistakable like tone; you glance at him, smiling widely, and gesture dramatically to the basket. “Follow along, if you can.”

“Pfft.”

“So first, I have some sleepytime tea; I swear to the gods and back that this tea will cure you and knock you the fuck out,” you say, pulling out the thing on top of the basket and putting it to the side. “Next, we have some tissues because you obviously need them.”

“Hey!”

Hawks watched through red-rimmed eyes as you carefully and thoroughly explained what and why you had brought him. Fuzzy socks, a blanket, his favorite snacks and drinks, medicine, DVD’s to more movies you told him he had to watch, an embarrassing childhood picture of you that he had been wanting and swore he would never expose least he wants to die, more oils for his diffuser, and a signed Endeavor poster he had been wanting.

Safe to say that after he had been drugged up, eating some soup and drinking some tea on the couch, wrapped up in the blanket you had bought him, laying between your legs, Hawks was feeling much, much better. It had been hours since Hawks had coughed or sneezed, and he was talking with you about how Disney movies were being produced less and getting sort of worse with each one. The movie titan slowly losing its ground.

“Okay, it’s almost eleven pm; I have work tomorrow, you are still sick, let's pack it up!” you eventually say during a moment of comfortable silence.

“I can’t believe you have to work,” Hawks sniffled, standing up off the couch so that you could get up. “Seems like a crime.”

“It’s not so bad! Being a celebrity PR manager is a million times easier than a hero PR manager. At least we can help decide what's seen!” you laugh, helping to clean up his living room of the bags of chips and drinks.

“Sure, sure,” Hawks grins, keeping the trashcan open for you so that you could place the trash in. “Thank you.”

Walking you towards the front door, Hawks comes to the sudden and almost alarming realization that he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants you to stay. He thought this was a friendship, and it was one, a good one at that! For about a month now, he had known that there was a type of love he had for you, one of friendship.

It was called philia. 

So why did he want to keep you wrapped up in a hug, to pull you close and press a gentle kiss to your forehead, to your cheek, to your lips?

“—I’ll be back tomorrow to check up on you during my lunch break,” you say, slipping on your shoes as you pull on your jacket. “If you need anything at all, call or text—”

The words on your tongue die immediately when Hawks still slightly chapped lips press against yours. The sick must that was present earlier on the day is no longer there, and you can feel heat and fire bursting from your cells as Hawks pulls away from you.

“I’m sorry,” Hawks breathes out, a small smile on his face, a daze in his eyes that tells you he definitely was not completely sorry. “I couldn’t resist anymore?”

“W-We will talk about that later!” your voice squeaks, your heart hammering in your throat because fucking Hawks kissed you. “If I-I get sick, I’ll rip out your eyebrows!”

“Will you go out with me? On a date?” Hawks continues on, leaning on the doorframe you’ve yet to pass.

“...I hate you, yes,” you warble, hands pressing against your burning face as Hawks grin grows.

“Perfect, I’ll text you,” he allows you to pass through the doorway where you feel both entirely light and giddy yet awkward and mechanical.

“Hawks, I swear, if your stupid kiss got me sick!”

“You’ll rip out my eyebrows,” Hawks laughs, waving a hand. “If you rip out my eyebrows, I demand a kiss for every hair you pluck out.”

He laughs at how he can basically see the heat rising from your ears as you squawk and run away.

Looking at #184 of his book, Hawks smiles as he crosses it out (#184: Ask out your crush!) and sighs. Philia was love between friends, but it was also, if he remembered correctly, one of affection. And it was without saying that he held a deep affection for you.

E R O S

As much as Hawks claimed he knew about the world, he was as clueless as a newborn baby when it came to the topic of love. Reasoning? Well, today marked a year of being together. It had been a year since Hawks had kissed you when he was snot-nosed kissed (you did get sick, by the way, and while you didn’t rip out his eyebrows, Hawks had kissed you plenty in apology), and then took you on a date where you went to a trampoline palace.

He was clumsily romantic. More often than not, he wasn’t actually romantic. Still, the sincere thought and emotions he put into it made his actions seem so thoughtful and sweet.

You’re not sure why you actually believed that on your year anniversary, he was going to plan something for the two of you. So the reaction he had when you showed up on the year anniversary, armed with a bouquet of flowers and a small personal gift for him, Hawks looked deeply confused.

“This is still not bad!” you exclaim, watching as Hawks attempts to redecorate his apartment from the messy bachelor vibe into something of romance. It was easier said than done, especially as your boyfriend had no decorations in his house that wasn’t fanboy or bird material.

“I didn’t realize that one year anniversaries were meant to be out and about!” Hawks yelled back, failing to nail the fairy lights onto the ceilings. “I knew you wanted to do something, but I thought it was going to be like ‘let’s go get some KFC!’ sort of thing!”

“Definitely not,” you laugh, sitting on his couch with the take out food sitting on the table. It had just arrived, and Hawks was still not accepting the lack of romance in his apartment. “But it’s okay, really Hawks! I didn’t tell you, which is entirely my fault! Come on, let's watch something together, eat, and relax!”

Hawks sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

He should have known that one year anniversaries were a big thing in dating too. They sure were in businesses; what a rookie mistake. Not satisfied with the lack of romance in his apartment but also unable to do anything more to it, Hawks sulked over to the couch and sat beside you, grabbing his dinner plate.

“Thanks, dove.”

“You’re most welcome, baby vulture. Thank you for the food!” you grin, breaking the chopsticks and digging in.

The food is eaten with a mirthful conversation, the TV playing the 100 Funniest Hero Fails playing on Youtube. Eventually, the purples and pinks of the sky became dark.

Night is here.

Hawks went from sitting right beside you to lying on the couch and having you snuggled into his stomach at some point in the night. YouTube is no longer playing Hero Compilation videos. Still, it is now instead showing a chef with a giraffe quirk demonstrating how to make your very own pancake treehouse, no clickbait!

Hawks is transfixed on you, watching the way your eyes sparkle and shine as you stare up at the screen, your lips moving as you give your side commentary, but he can’t hear a thing.

Five weeks ago, on this day, was the day that Hawks realized that the philia love he had for you had evolved once again. It had become one of eros. Romantic, passionate love. He loved you; he loves you. Anything you wanted or needed in the world, Hawks would do anything to give it to you. He had yet to tell you said realization; after all, he needed to make sure it wasn’t some fluke but found himself chickening out each time he wanted to confess.

Gliding his thumb against your cheekbone, Hawks stared adoringly at you, head tilted as you laughed at the video before glancing up at him. It was evident that you hadn’t been expecting him to be staring at you so intensely. As soon as you glanced back at the TV, you snapped right back, curiosity blazing off your gaze.

“What’s up?” you asked, hands pressing to his chest as you lift up a bit. “Do I have something on my face?”

“I love you,” Hawks whispered, the words coming out so much easier than he thought it would. “Y/l/n y/n, I love you.”

Your eyes widen significantly, your jaw dropping as your eyes grow just a bit watery.

Hawks smiles softly, knowing that for so long you had told him you loved him without a single moment where he returned the affection. It hadn’t bothered you. Obviously, you knew why he didn’t say it, but finally hearing him say it seemed to break you just a bit in the best of ways. He kisses you softly, fingers wiping away the single tear that fell.

“I love you,” he repeats.

“I love you too, Hawks,” you blubber, your smile so bright yet wobbling with your heartfelt emotions.

“Takami Keigo,” Hawks corrects. “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Hawks watches as you process his name, and a wet laugh bubbles from your throat as you nod your head, hands reaching behind his neck to pull him close for the first soul-consuming, fiery kiss of the night.

“I love you, Keigo.”

If this wasn’t eros, well, then, Hawks didn’t know what it was.

P R A G M A

two years later, valentines day

Keigo sits on the bed, fingers adjusting the tie around his neck as he stares at you doing your makeup in the bathroom. Your eyes intensely concentrated on your reflection as you painted dark red lips on yourself.

To sum up the last two years in a single, simple phrase, Keigo would say that love now made even less sense to him.

It wasn’t precisely that it made perfect sense before. Some days he still argued and wondered about how love could exist in specific scenarios. Or why, after you stole his final KFC chicken leg he was saving, he could always love you after such betrayal. It made no sense to him, but also made perfect sense, hence the complete confusion.

But it was without saying that as you twirled in your outfit in front of him, a grin plastered so large and lovingly on your features, that it made sense.

How could he not love when he had someone like you.

The walk to the restaurant was perfect; he had even taken a moment to slow dance with you when you came across some performers. Your sweet smile meant just for him made Keigo hum contently as he kissed you gently.

Dinner was amazing. The food rich and luscious, entirely to die for that had the both of you moaning about how great it was before laughing because the waitress definitely heard that. After dinner was over, you and Keigo were now waiting on desserts when he simply grabbed your left hand and slid a simple ring over a very important finger before placing a kiss on your palm.

“I know I was at one point too fast, and maybe I think I was too slow to ask this, but would you like to wake up and have chicken with me every day?” Keigo asked, watching as your face went through a million stages of understanding, processing, internalizing, accepting, and pure emotions.

The kiss was sloppy and wet, the tears streaming down your face beautifully, like diamonds in the dark sky.

It was today that Keigo unlocked the last love he ever thought he would have.

Pragma: committed, enduring love.

[stardancerluv]

Gotham Lockdown 2020

Part 5

Summary: You are a few months into the lock down...there has been an intesting turn of events.

Warning: Sadness, Frustration over being in a lockdown because of the virus, Drunkness, Jealousy, Implied Smut

Side Story to Creative Fervor

Stretching, it was another day where Roman slept in his office. He had been drinking more heavily in the last month. He had stopped shaving, which you never thought Roman would do. It was heavy on your heart that he had very little to do with the two of you. You knew he could go through moods or out bursts. Now there was no way to get Roman out of the funk he had settled into because of this invisible enemy. In the last month, you two had barely spoke much less spend time together.

You brushed out your hair, then braiding it, your heart twisted painfully as you glanced that the two framed pictures of you two that sat on your night stand.

One was when he was feeling quite cheeky and took a shot of the two of you on a hot summer day naked at the end of the bed. You had managed to grab a blanket in time. The other was of the two of you celebrating your first Halloween together. You had stolen his top hat and you were wearing some magnificently shiny dress.

Happy with the loose braid, you got up shaking your head, shaking away the tears that wanted to come. You slipped on some comfy shorts and oversized t-shirt.

You padded over to kitchen you smelled something good. Fresh coffee and toasted cinnamon bread you believed. That meant Victor had come up and was joining you for some mindless tv watching. Leaning on the counter and going on your tip toes, you grabbed a bowl. You filled it with some fruit and yogurt. You smiled when you saw the back of Victor’s head as he sat there, flipping through the channels.

“Hi Victor!” You said sweetly as you plopped down beside him on the sofa. You knee grazed his as you did so.

“Hi little bird.”

He gestured with his shoulder to the back of the penthouse and spoke in a low voice. “Anything different?”

You pressed your lips together and silently shook your head.

“Damn this fucking virus.” He muttered. He drew his attention back to the tv. Then he found something. “Hey have you seen this?”

You shook your head.

“It’s funny.” He shrugged. “We need a good laugh.”

“Ok!” You settled in and happily enjoyed your breakfast.

*****

He looked at the beard and sneered. Ruffling his hair he went over to the bar. Finding, a bottle of Bowmore he took a hearty gulp, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

A peel of light laughter floated to his ear. He had always enjoyed making you laugh. It had been awhile since he had done that. He took another hearty gulp. What the fuck could you possibly be laughing about. He took another gulp. “Fuck this.” He mumbled and began to go where he heard your laughter coming from.

*****

“Oh Victor...” You were breathless from laughing so hard. “This is fantastic.” You grabbed his arm and laughed again into his arm at the next scene.

This time he joined you in laughing. This was one of his favorite movies.

“What the fuck is so funny?”

You turned surprise filling you, he barely spoken a word to either of you in a week, maybe closer to a week in a half.

“Roman,” You said softly.

“I asked,” He took a sip. “What is so fucking funny?”

“It’s this movie.” You pointed to the tv. “Victor suggested we watch it. It‘s hilarious. Join us, Roman!”

*****

Your laughter brought him right up behind you and Victor. A hot knot formed in the pit of his stomach as he watched you move with your laughter. His fingertips tingled as he took in the sight of your naked back as your shirt had drifted off your shoulder.

You laughed again, grabbing Victor’s arm he watched as you buried your face into his arm. His blood began to boil. What the fuck was going on? You were his.

He came closer to the two of you, and rested his bottle on the back of the sofa.

“What the fuck is so funny?”

Seeing the surprise splashed across your face did not sit well with him.

“Roman,” The sound of your voice pulled on him.

“I asked,” He brought the bottle to his lips and took some gulps. “What is so fucking funny?”

“It’s this movie.” Looking at the TV, he didn’t see anything funny. He looked back at you. “Victor suggested we watch. It’s hilarious. Join us, Roman!”

He looked at Victor. He saw how you sat with him. You two quite close. He was certain that he had never seen the two of you sit so close before. Heat rose in his face. His desire to be with you, to make you his again consumed every fiber of his being.

“Get up.”

Your brow wrinkled. “Roman, I’m watching a movie with Victor.”

He came around the sofa, he was not going to take no for an answer.

“Get the fuck up, I want to spend sometime with you. We can play a game of pool.”

He saw the two of you exchange a look. “Come the fuck with us,” He looked at Victor then at you. “Victor can stay with us, If that fucking helps you to come with me.”

“I..Roman..” You voice trailed off...then he saw you swallow. “Alright...alright we can go and play some pool.” You get up.

Hearing that you would come, made him feel a touch better. “That’s my baby.”

“Can I have some?” You held a hand out to the bottle.

“Sure.” He more then happily gave it to you. About a quarter of the bottle was left.

“Y/N, I’m not sure you...” Victor held up a hand.

“Why the fuck do you care all of a sudden?” His anger was back.

Victor shrugged.

He watched you, perhaps how your lips rested on the bottle or how without needing a breath you drank what was left in the bottle; a knot of desire for you grew. It was something that had been hiding in the shadows and he didn’t know why.

*****

“Oooooo...” you exhaled as the liquor kicked you hard in the stomach. “We need another bottle, if we’re gonna play pool. “Looking at Roman, his jaw was sharp in his eyes, you could see anger and something you could not put your finger on, it clicked something off in you. Despite seeing the anger, you grew excited, breathless something you had not felt in a while.

“There is probably one in the bar by pool table.” Victor suggested.

You had become grown numb! The invisible killer was stalking the globe. Infecting whomever it chose. You suppressed everything. You tried to be bright and cheery. You didn’t want Roman or Victor to know how scared you were.

You nodded. “Great!” You exclaimed. “I want the first drink!”

Victor had become such a great friend, like a brother. Roman, was the turbulent storm that own your heart and body. In order to survive these last few months, you distanced yourself from him Yet, you grew closer to Victor.

“Wooooooo!” Roman hollered, his arm wrapped around your waist.

You felt another arm, it was Victor’s. “Victor?”

“I’m not sure about this but I’m coming to play pool.”

“Alright!” You exclaimed. Upon reaching the room, you playfully wiggled free from both. You leaned against the table, your shirt drifted down your arm. “Someone has to rack those balls.”

You heard the mumbled voice of Roman and Victor, you were relieved neither was screaming.

Going behind the bar you scanned the bottles. You spotted only a partially drank bottle of the Bowmore.

“I found one!” You exclaimed holding it up like it was a trophy. You came around from behind the bar.

You twisted off the cap and giving them a smirk. “To help me win!” You took a gulp. “So who’s racking and who’s gonna be on my team.”

“I’m racking.” Victor began collecting the balls.

“You’re are gonna be on my team baby.” Roman came over and took the bottle from your hands and took a swig. He kissed your bare shoulder. His beard, which is something you never thought you’d see grow on Roman’s face tickled.

You giggled, meeting his eyes. “Can I break?” You grabbed your cue-stick.

Roman, nodded. “Go ahead baby girl.”

As you lined up your shot he came over and smacked you on the ass. You squeaked, jumping up, you looked at him as you rubbed the cheek he smacked. “If you can sit that close to Victor, I can smack you on the ass.”

“Ok.” You said demurely. The scotch was beginning to make itself be known in your body. You eyed him and then went back to lining up your shot. You inhaled and took your shot to break.

The balls, spread like a starburst which made you smiled and then you cheered as a solid was sunk! “I guess we’re solids!”

“Here take another drink baby.” Roman held out the bottle toward you. You came over to grab it and he continued to hold it but he kissed you. You closed your eyes and kissed him back, but you broke it. “You wanted us to play. We are gonna play.” Though you were now breathless and he could tell. You took the bottle and had a few swigs, then put the bottle down.

The kiss had rattled you, you missed your shot.

You looked at Victor and smirked. “Your turn, good luck.”

You grabbed the bottle, turning you saw where Roman sat. “Come ‘ere baby.” He patted his thigh.

As you went over to him, you could feel the fuzziness of the alcohol moving through your system. You offered him the bottle but instead saw on the arm rest of his chair. He gave you a look. Months ago, you would have never dreamed of doing that but with the alcohol and you had this strong desire to play with him.

Victor stopped and considered a couple of shots.

“Victor, don’t take all day now” Roman barked.

You felt as his warm hand sneak under your shirt. “You feel so good.” You moved gently with his hand. It made your excitement grow.

Victor missed his shot. “Damn.” He muttered.

Roman got up then and only wavered a little on his feet. He bent down to you. “Give me a kiss for good luck, baby.” He said in a loud voice. As you moved in to do so, what he said soft enough for only you hear made you bite back a moan. “Do you think Victor would mind if I fucked you in front of him?”

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obession @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @starwarsprequelfangirl @nebulastarr @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @itsknife2meetu

[goldmanguyperson]

first off: Soul encapsulates the ability to create and destroy. It is not life, it is not a measure of worth, it is not a measure of morality or conviction. This is vital to understand.

Creepers used to be like, sapient humanoid people. They are part of the “ancient builders” alongside humans

Villagers are technically also human; same genus different species. Like Homo neanderthalensis, who were just as human as extant humanity. When I say human it includes villagers unless otherwise specified.

Humans and creepermen came together a long long time ago to create an uber mega enchantment and general magic and power generating thang. A mishmash of nuclear power, magic, and soul, made to learn more about the world. But a large amount of soul is very difficult to keep stable and contained, and the dominant culture in (primarily non-villager) humanity at the time encouraged greed and selfishness. The culturally borne inability in large sects of humans to work with each other eventually led to the project blowing the fuck up. The power of this was so insanely strong that it created new “dimensions” (the nether and the end) and led to a huge kerfuffle with the balance of soul.

a few other things that are direct results of this explosion:

Ancient debris (degraded reinforced deepslate that was used in the project)

Geiger crackle ambience in the basalt deltas

Soul sand/soil, skulk, and most non-animal hostile mobs (silverfish are normal)

All the life that originates in the other dimensions

Wardens are fucked up creepermen, descended from the tiny population of creepermen that ripped out pieces of their soul to escape the explosion

Creepers are, as you might be able to guess, also fucked up creepermen, rearranged by the explosion. They have more soul than the undead, but only enough to explode.

Soul sand/soil and skulk are two sides of the same coin, with skulk being much more potent and active, and soul sand being more reliant on time. Skulk is partially airborne in spores, but the spores can’t root into the ground, only in mobs

Skulk in high concentrations hungers for soul so bad that Wardens will kill everything with even a little bit of it, even its own ambulatory vectors. The end goal of the skulk is soul, not flesh, after all.

Undead mobs are a result of skulk. Overworld inhabitants have resistance to the airborne part, but typically will succumb to direct infection from a zombie, the main vectors of its spread. Nether and (easy to infect) End inhabitants aren’t easy to come by of course, but the spores also function as communication for the already infected, so they stay as a feature of the skulk virus. Skulk (and for that matter soul sand) is hard to see in the undead because it primarily inhabits the insides of bones

Ghasts and withers (not skeleton) actually have too much soul, too much for them to control fully. Withers can coordinate a little easier as a result of the three heads; the extra coordination is why they come to life at all.

The End has no soul virus because it has an insanely high ambient soul leeching factor. This is why it’s so barren, basically everywhere.

The initial explosion actually made many dragons in the End, and really more life in general. But the soul leeching made most unable to even reproduce and rendered the world barren, eventually leaving only the immortal queen, who subsists on the last remnants of the End’s life. She is not the reason the portal is closed, it was like that from the beginning, but her death releases enough soul to open it.

Endermen are fucked up humans, much like wardens and creepers are fucked up creepermen. Endermen are less hostile due to the lack of an endemic End virus, but looking them in the eyes lets them see your soul, and it makes them freak out over what they lost. They can’t take it from you, however, because of their lack of a soul virus. They do have normal viruses though! endermites

Experience is not souls; rather it is knowledge and memories, congealed into a physical form. It’s hard for the player to use any magic without very specific rituals, because the ambient loss of soul made wielding magic much more difficult.

Magic is able to bring to life electronics. Redstone is often enough, but when redstone can’t be used, magic can function as a substitute. This is why jukeboxes work lol.

Lightning is a mix of electricity and concentrated soul, which is why it does some weird shit

Illagers are OBSESSED with bringing the dimensions together, attempting to bring back the ancient builders, curing soul viruses, and creating new life. They want the world to be in their image, so they want to be at the forefront of every effort concerned with such things.

Lapis can work as a “fake soul”. Illagers are obsessed with it; they use it to control hostile mobs and think it’s the way they’ll be able to make new life and bring back the ancient builders. They are able to build their effigies because of lapis. Wandering traders also use lapis, though of course they use it for considerably less hostile means

Pretty much all structures are pre-explosion. Even villages, mansions, and watchtowers. They are able to be upkept by their current inhabitants, but they can’t build more. The only exceptions are ancient cities, strongholds, and ruined portals (if you consider those structures, i guess)

Ancient cities were part of the immediate response to the explosion; an attempt to use the Warden precursors, skulk, and portals to fix what had been broken. But the disorganization in society made it basically impossible to get much of anywhere with it

Strongholds were created primarily to avoid the skulk. Unfortunately all it really did was introduce it to the underground, where it was almost impossible to fight off the undead, which couldn’t burn down there. Skulk spores also seemed to really fuckin like the underground, and rooted. no end portal was ever finished

The only way to replenish the soul and bring the viruses under control was to bring in a third party—a player. The world called for you, and you answered. Resemblance to current or past inhabitants is more of a coincidence than anything (also i consider customizable player models as canon here lol)

i should minecraft lorepost (insane headcanons)

[countessrivers]

Lee thompkins

(Getting more controversial with this one)

Why I like them:

She wants to help people, and will throw herself into it, doing whatever it takes. It got a bit messy at times, but I liked all the Lee in the Narrows stuff, setting up not just her place there from the comics, but that she wants to help, and is willing to do so outside the normal channels.

Why I don’t:

She can be selfish, manipulative, possessive, and controlling (uh, see below for some expansion on that when it comes to Jim). And I can never really forget how she gave exactly 0 fucks that Galavan had Bruce. All she cared about was that Jim was staying.

Favorite episode (scene if movie):

It’s spread over a couple of eps, but her early days in the Narrows.

Favorite season/movie:

Season 1

Favorite line:

“I may have a virus making me freakishly strong and mildly insane, but even I know that you were a sidekick to your brother and you’re a sidekick to Barbara.”

Favorite outfit:

Pretty much anything from S4.

OTP:

Jim/Lee, but only for season 1 and the second half of season 5. I am, controversially, somewhat partial to Ed/Lee too.

Brotp:

Lee and Alfred. Or even Lee and Ed as partners in crime.

Head Canon:

Works out Bruce is Batman before Jim can tell her.

Unpopular opinion:

Okay. Lee treated Jim terribly for much of the show. Like sure, Jim has his issues, the breakdown of their relationship had a lot to do with him (but really mostly to do with Ed, because of the whole framing for murder and Jim then being a cop in prison surrounded by people he put away thing), but even before that, and certainly after, Lee pulls some shit.

She can be controlling and selfish. She blames Jim for things that aren’t his fault, or aren’t by his choice. She criticises and even lashes out when Jim chooses anything over her, whether it’s his job, or even saving Bruce’s life. She tells a suicidal Jim, who is her patient at the time, that he's full of anger and regret and that he made her miserable (with no acknowledgement of what it was like for him to loose their child as well). She spends most of that season still chasing after Jim, circling around his life, pushing for confirmation that he still wants her, while engaged to Mario, which would be fine (in a characterisation/plot sense) but she also lashes out at Jim for it, even as Jim is the one keeping his distance. She throws Jim under the bus with Sofia in season 4 without prompting (and in fact spends most of that season strangely cold and cruel towards him, for no clear reason), she hits him when Barbara gets pregnant, even though they were very much not together, and the last time they saw each other before that, she was still giving the impression that she was with Ed.

Lee, while infected with the virus, is very much “love me Jim, and be exactly what I want you to be, or I’ll kill you” and while that is certainly twisted and heightened by the virus, and she’s not in control, hints of those specific ideas can absolutely be found in her prior treatment of Jim. Little things like twisting the blame in situations onto him, pressuring him into things and ignoring his boundaries and wants, ignoring him when he’s looking for comfort or reassurance, calling him sick, belittling his strive to make a difference, things like that.

Season 1 Lee is quite different from seasons 2-4 Lee. Early Lee was open in her interest in the dark and macabre. She loved and admired Jim for his dedication not just to his job, but to helping people. End of that season she encourages Jim to pursue the Ogre, because it’s what’s right. But after that, all those things she said she loved, she now hates, she now criticises Jim for. End of season 5 Lee/future Lee seems closer to early Lee, and their dynamic seems much healthier, which reminds me of how much I liked them to begin with, which is why I enjoy them there. Everything that came in between was a mess though.

A wish:

I wouldn’t mind her and Jim getting amicably divorced at some point after the finale. Alternatively, if the writers had wanted to get Jim and Lee back together, Babs should have been her daughter, rather than dragging Barbara back into it and then wasting most of the season on pointless ‘running away with the baby’ drama.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen:

Again, death.

5 words to best describe them:

Driven, ambitious, cunning, loving, clever.

My nickname for them:

Season 4 Lee is my Goth Wife

[she-meets-devil]

The update I didn’t want to write but I think I had to

THIS IS A LONG POST!!! DON’T CARE? DON’T READ!

April 2nd, 2020. 1:40AM

I think I owe an explanation to some of you. Most of you, actually. Because besides 2-3 people I think, I haven’t talked to anyone here for a while now. This will be the post that will try to address as much as I can think of.

First, the thing that most of my followers probably have in mind:

1. Why my replies have disappeared

I'm a roleplay account. Of course this is the first thing.

Honestly, I think that the events around me have taken over my mind too much. There are some things that I've already talked about which I won't really mention again (ex. the deaths), but yes, they still play a huge part in it. And slowly, as life progressed and more came to light, I think I shut down.

It's not that I never wanted to reply, I still have some of the partially written replies in my notes. It's like... I lost control, I couldn't come up with a reply that had decent content and lenght. If it had to be more than a paragraph I couldn't do it. And seeing how most of my roleplays are way longer than that, shit hit the fan.

Most of you can probably tell that I'm bad at communicating. Or expressing my feelings, to be more specific. I was scared of saying something, scared of disappointing people, making others mad. I probably did both anyway. Staying silent and avoiding it all has probably made things worse, actually. For some reason I thought that I could just let it be, but the guilt has always been there, no matter how I looked at it.

I still feel so fucking guilty. I know that I've let so many people down, so that's why I deserve it. Yes, I have my own reasons but that in no way makes it any better. I let my personal life and problems interfere with roleplaying and I fucked up.

2. Life (+Covid-19) (you can skip this part if you wish)

Nothing has gotten better, which is quite obvious. Health, surroundings, in a way it got worse.

My physical health ruined my mental health, and it was never that good in the first place. I'm not sure if I want to elaborate more on this part or not.

But you know, my surroundings began to SLIGHTLY get better. University became more tolerable, less stress, stuff like that.

And then the virus decided to join the party.

It ruined everything.

The country is almost on complete lockdown, 2700 infected and 100 deceased, people are going insane. You can only leave your home with a declaration, and even then only if it's absolutely necessary. Most people, including myself, have been locked away for weeks now and it's getting worse and worse. Depression is hitting it's peak once again.

But isn't this supposed to help me out here? I have more time to focus on myself and roleplaying, right?

I wish.

I don't think I've had this much work ever in my life. My uni obviously holds online classes, but jesus christ we've never had this much work. And this isn't just my university, same thing goes for any other uni, even high school and middle school.

And the worst thing is, I don't have any meds left.

Long story short, I have Hashimoto's. I need meds for it, otherwise I can barely even get out of bed. Obviously during such events, many people tend to stack up on food and medicine. There was barely ever any levothyroxine in my town to begin with, and now? None. Around 15 fucking pharmacies in town and none of them have it. Not even a smaller dose, or anything. I think I have lost all hope at this point. My mind is a fog, I feel like shit.

I just hate it all.

3. What now?

Remember the control I was talking about? It's time to regain as much of it as I can.

With that being said, I will take roleplaying more seriously. Replies and all, I should work hard. Because it's an escape for me, in a way.

I'm willing to restart/continue with anyone that I have roleplayed with before. That is, if anyone wants to because I'm a dumbfuck.

My preferences have changed, in a way. That will be discussed when I update the rules, which will be soon.

And for anyone that I will roleplay with. Please, p l e a s e spam me as much as you wish if I don't respond in 2-3 days without any notice. It might actually keep me motivated.

If anyone has questions, I am willing to answer. Asks, pm, anywhere, really.

Again, I'm sorry. I mistreated many of you and I really shouldn't have.

That is all.

[oh-my-god-maurice-the-ladybug]

GUys

So I wrote this fan theory in class a couple days ago, for MHA.

It’s a ligit (?) essay, and also my first one. As it is my first, I might not have worded or phrased or sentenced it correctly, so if it doesn’t make sense I apalogise.

Also, it’s just a theory, so please don’t claim it’s cannon unless it’s a headcannon or something 

Tagging @imasleepdeprivedtransboy because yeah. If you want to be tagged in the future (?) for things like this please ask, I won’t know unless you do.

(pssst, it’s under the blue line)

In the universe of MHA, quirks are theorized to have been caused by a virus caused by mice, causing some sort of reaction within human DNA to cause a mutation, leading to superpower-like abilities. This, while an entirely fictional event for a fictional universe, is strikingly similar to the 1350 even known as the Black Plague, which was spread by ship rats, who carried fleas that held the deadly virus, which could have likely caused a similar event earlier in the MHA timeline. While this is a completely pointless and unproductive endeavor, in this essay I will prove to you that the event that kickstarted quirks was not the first of its kind in the MHA universe.

First, we must establish the timeline of events that I am working off of to establish my theory, the timeline starting in 1348, at the start of the Black Plague’s outbreak. The Plague is known to have spread along trade routes from China, ending up in southern England, reaching northern England in 1350. During the rapid spread of this plague, 4 million people died. The plague also resurfaced again, the dates being 1361 through 1363, 1369 (nice) through 1371, 1374 through 1375, 1390, and 1400. This gives enough time for a gene to develop, or perhaps resurface, which could contribute to superhuman powers. However, in 1450, we have the start of the “witch hunts” (which lasted through 1750 with quite a bit of buildup before this), caused by a number of factors, including poverty, a lack of education, social crisis of the time, and various epidemics. During this time, around 40,000-50,000 people died, although the actual number was probably never documented. Many gruesome practices emerged during these witch hunts, including, but not at all limited too, Sleep Deprivation, Water Torture, Pricking and Scratching, and Pressing. There were also people who profited off the witch hunts, doing things like charging for exorcisms and selling the body parts of the deceased (gross, I know). Then we go on, with a couple more outbreaks of the plague documented in various places, spanning until the start of the series, of which the exact date is not disclosed.

Now, it’s known that humans do have the ability to mutate, and there are two major types of mutations, Hereditary, or mutations that are received from the parent and are present throughout the entirety of a person’s life and body, and Acquired, or mutations that appear some time during a person’s lifetime and are only present in certain cells of the body. Although there will be some focus on Acquired mutations, we will mostly be focusing on Hereditary, as it is more relevant to my point here today. Hereditary mutations, also known as germline mutations, are created when a mutation occurs while both the parent’s DNA are mixing, causing a mutation in the unborn child, which remains present in each of their cells. Examples of this include hemochromatosis, a hereditary disorder in which iron salts are deposited in the tissues, leading to liver damage, severe diabetes, and bronze discoloration of the skin, and cystic fibrosis, a disease caused by viscous mucus clogging up pancreatic ducts and bronchi. While these may not seem like really great examples of this type of mutation, please remember that these are only two examples and that they were at the top of my google search page, so there could be good ones out there if I had bothered to do ten more minutes of research.

So, if we take this into consideration, a Hereditary gene mutation that passes down from parent to child doesn’t seem that far off, because it’s already a reality for those of us who live in the real, actual world. Since MHA is very science fictional with how it goes about it’s hero-ing and plot in general, I am going to safely assume right here and now that it would be very, very easy to apply this real, actual layer of fact to an otherwise fictional universe.

Anyway, the rest of this theory will revolve on the idea that quirks are a type of hereditary mutation, which matches up with the in-text context clues given, being that quirks apparently are passed down in a family, that quirks are different from person to person (like genes, with a few exceptions), and that they seem to mix under certain circumstances. They can act like Acquired genes, for sure, but they still count as hereditary because, even if they pop up later in life, they are still inherited by the parents as dormant genes.

So, going back to the Black Plague, we can see the parallels between it and the unnamed illness that is credited with kickstarting quirks in MHA. First off, the two were both spread by a member of the Rodentia order, as both mice and rats are classified in this category, and, although we don’t know what the illness was or how it spread, we can probably assume the order in MHA started out with fleas or ticks and was spread by some form of bite, as we see in the Plague, which was spread by the fleas on the infected rats. They also, even though this is a stretch, probably killed a lot of people, and in the case of the Black Plague actually killed a lot of people, because no one would really notice a “plague” or “new illness” or even try and research it unless there was some danger involved. (Even if the danger is somewhat small-- See: Coronavirus.)

Now, believe that, in the MHA universe at least, that, while very rare and probably not well understood, that there is a possibility of developing a quirk later in life. I say this because I believe Midoriya said something about “suddenly mutating a quirk” to his mother at some point, although I couldn’t find it on the wiki so I could be wrong about that. Even so, it would be impossible to deny the lack of suspicion placed on Midoriya at the beginning (except by Bakugou, but that was more of a “that bastard lied to me” sort of reaction), and even when he does get suspicion placed on him, it’s not because he was quirkless, but because his quirk is very similar to All Might’s. It’s not even touched on by any higher ups, even in the hero coalition (I believe that’s what they’re called), so there has to be some probability of this happening for this to be ignored throughout the series, especially once Midoriya starts doing things that could potentially cause people to look at him with more scrutiny.

Using this information, it can be very easily understood that there is some sort of gene that controls if you get a quirk or not, separate from the actual quirk gene, which could potentially be activated under extreme circumstances and/or stress.

Now, having established all the background information, we can safely say that, while probably not as pronounced as a fucking glowing baby would be, the stress of the plague could have probably caused some babies and adults to have an active “quirk gene”, causing them to have what, at the time, would have been called magical abilities. People wouldn’t have really noticed or cared at first, because things like necromancy and paganism had been around for centuries at this point and had been integrated into the culture. It was the norm, after all, before people started going ham with cristianity, because a lot of Europe had been at least partially touched by Rome at some point, and even before that there were still paganistic beliefs dating back very, very far into human history. People would not really have cared back when there were, you know, bigger problems to attend to. Like illness, and death, and other things like that.

Over time, however, just as those with power grew alongside those without, the church got more involved, it got more controlling, and thus just a little, just a smidge, just a teensy bit biased towards those members of the population that had powers. They were never directly the cause of anything, but they sure as hell influenced it. Religion has always been a big player in culture, and culture a big part of religion, after all, this goes back far, far into the past, especially around the 1400s, where clergymen, nobility, and the children of the rich were the mostly only ones getting an education. There were even laws banning serfs from getting an education in some places. Once the witch hysteria took hold, and publications such as the Summis Desiderantes Affectibus (1484) and the Malleus Maleficarum (1487) were circulated around, it was basically inevitable that those who had developed powers over the past 4 and a half generations (about as many generations as the amount that had passed in MHA, if you remember, although the population of “quirk-having” people wouldn’t be nearly as big due to lots of factors such as child and infant mortality, illness, lack of food, the amount of people dying young before they had any kids, and medical practices at the time, and also because I see most of the people who had “quirks” as being among the lower class at the time) would be the first ones to take the hit. They were, after all, different from the “normal”, non-power-having humans, so, in the minds of a medieval person, they were obviously up to some shady shit and were in cahoots with the devil, which was seen as a bad and terrible thing at the time, a common thing to be accused of.

This decimated the population of empowered people, due to the 300 years of continuous hunting by people who just didn’t understand what was going on. Most of the people who would have otherwise not done any harm were hung, burned, and drowned, and those few families who did survive must have hid what they were, mostly out of fear for what would happen if the authorities found out. Hell, even people who were “quirkless” could have been wrongfully accused, but no one would have seen the difference. Genetics wasn’t a thing back then, so it really wouldn’t have mattered to anyone at the time, not that they would have checked people even if it did.

Afterward, those families would have passed down fear throughout the generations, from parent to child, even as witch hunts faded into history. It’s part of their history, the reason they don’t share their power with anyone, the reason they hide. After all, fear is one of the best motivators, anyone could tell you that. Some families do inevitably die out over time, that fact is inevitable, but there will be some that persevere, through normal, healthy means or otherwise. Even when “quirks” finally surface as the MHA characters know it in universe, they are still so scared to come out, so scared to admit what they are due to both the immediate fallout of such a thing coming out and what they were most likely told all their lives. Even years later this fear is felt, because it would still be fresh 4 generations later, that’s not that long a time when you’re comparing to the time they would have spent in hiding.

It just makes sense, and all the reasoning provided above gives reasons as to why this wouldn’t have been stated in cannon. If your family has lived in and passed down fear over the generations, probably getting worse as the years went by if it was straight word-of-mouth, you would be less likely to share what they were afraid of with the world, even years after others had come out with the very thing your family was afraid of. It’s not like all that fear, built up over years and years, would evaporate instantaneously.

Even so, we can take this idea a bit further. We know that there were plagues before this (not really even all the Black Plague in particular). Going back farther, to my good old fallback Ancient Greece, we see that there was a plague in Athens at around 429-426 BC, and that’s just one example of the probable thousands of illnesses that were most likely running around at that period of history. And you know what else those Ancient Greeks had? Demigods. Oracles. Demigods who were stronger than everyone else, Demigods who had cool and unique abilities, Demigods who were nearly impervious, Oracles and people who divinated one’s future. Move forward a bit to the Romans, and what did they have? Stories of people with very proto-quirk-esque powers, doing very, very superhuman feats, much like we see in MHA. These, however are just two examples of the thousands of stories of humans with superhuman abilities, used throughout history. Hell, even supernatural entities could be explained within the 

MHA universe by using this “proto-quirk” theory, because it’s stated in cannon that sometimes quirks can affect you physically. I have no way to prove this part though.

Anyways, this is just a theory (an ANIME theory) so please don’t take it too seriously, and thanks for coming to my TEDTalk. If you have any questions, ask them, I guess. Remember to Like and Subscribe, and to Ring That Bell for notifications.

Peace out.

Sources (In No Particular Order):

https://ghr.nlm.nih.gov/primer/mutationsanddisorders/genemutation

https://www.google.com/search?q=how+many+died+in+England+between+1348+and+1350&safe=active&ssui=on

https://www.britannica.com/event/Black-Death

http://www.theoccultmuseum.com/fire-5-real-torture-methods-tell-witch/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_people_executed_for_witchcraft

https://bokunoheroacademia.fandom.com/wiki/Quirk

https://www.medicinenet.com/genetic_disease/article.htm

https://www.dictionary.com/browse/hemochromatosis?s=t

https://www.dictionary.com/browse/cystic-fibrosis#

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rodent

https://bokunoheroacademia.fandom.com/wiki/Izuku_Midoriya/Synopsis

https://study.com/academy/lesson/how-religion-contributes-to-cultural-change.html

https://spartacus-educational.com/YALDeducation.htm

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Summis_desiderantes_affectibus

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malleus_Maleficarum

https://www.bl.uk/the-middle-ages/articles/medicine-diagnosis-and-treatment-in-the-middle-ages

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Medieval_medicine_of_Western_Europe

https://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/medm/hd_medm.htm

https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/323533

https://www.thoughtco.com/medieval-child-surviving-infancy-1789124

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_epidemics 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #263

laptop is still broken, nvm. :’)

Do you have a favorite song by The Cure? "Sweet Soul Sister." (': Are there things you've never told for fear that others would judge you? Yep. Can sex ever be casual? I personally don't support it, but ultimately, so long it's consensual, protected, and both parties understand what's going on, you do you. Would you like to go on television to receive a make-over? Not on TV, no. It'd be awesome to see myself after a professional makeup, but I ain't going on TV to show my ugly face. What will no one ever see you do? Smoking. Are you quick to anger? Rarely. Are you slow to forgive? Not really. Usually. What do you need help with? Being an adult, lmao. Do you take the easy way out of things? More often than I'd like... What is your favorite fabric to wear? *shrugs* I don't pay attention to the fabric I wear, really. Do you still make a wish when you blow out your birthday candles? C'mon dude, you've got to! I don't believe in wishes increasing your odds of anything, but it's a must anyway! Do you look for four leaf clovers? Just casually when I'm walking or sitting outside. What are you the guardian of? My pets! Are you for or against censoring child pornography? I've seen many stupid questions in surveys. But this is the absolute dumbest. What the fuck is wrong with you. Are naked child images in paintings more acceptable than photographs of naked children? GENERALLY, yes, but it really depends on the artistic portrayal. None should be sexualized. Now that we can create such lifelike digital images, do you think it should be allowed for digital child pornography to exist (as in there were no children involved in the porn, it is all digitally made, the kids aren't real, they just look real)? Absofuckinglutely not. The concept is absolutely repulsive. Enough with these fucking questions. Do you like Wheel of Fortune or Jeopardy better? Wheel of Fortune, ig. Jeopardy is pretty boring to me. What is your favorite tarot deck? I don’t know enough about tarots to comment. How do you feel about Wicca and Paganism? IT'S SUPER SUPER INTERESTING AND COOL AND I LOVE LEARNING ABOUT IT!!!! I relate most to Neo-Paganism anyway, so I obviously don't mind them. Wicca especially is a very, very misconstrued religion that has just been horribly abused by the media. Do you believe that people who practise the above religions are able to accomplish magic? No, I don't. If you were given the opportunity to lead a creative writing program for a small group of students in a high school with a low budget in generally poor neighborhood, would you do it? No, but only because I could never been a teacher. Sounds fun otherwise. Should high school cafeterias stop serving twinkies and other fatty foods? BIIIIITCH whose HS sells Twinkies????? I need to know?????? Anyway, no, but I believe there must be mostly actually nutritional options. Let kids have the chance to have a little snack during a boring 'ole school day. What band is so romantic that anyone who listens to them must be romantic at heart? BOY Josh Groban. Have your gods and idols let you down? The Christian god did. What do you waste? Whew... time... time. When was the last time that you were neither going to school or working for a month or more? Currently. Ugh. What is your light at the end of the tunnel? The potential of a beautiful future. Speaking of the light, is the light that people see when they die the random firing of electrons or is it something more? Good question. I lean towards it being a natural phenomenon as everything shuts down, BUT I find the reincarnation/birth canal theory to be quite interesting. I don't really believe it, but hey, who the hell am I to decide if it is or not. If you were going to have a mural painted in your bed room what would you want it to be of? A scene of meerkats probably. Is sex more about fulfilling a need or giving yourself? Giving yourself. Do you like your belly? FUCK NO. Do you think more or act more? Think, sadly. Should there be a mandatory retirement age? Of course not. You work all you want boo. What's the craziest thing you've ever done on impulse that worked out well? This is gonna sound... very bad, but my suicide attempt. It made things abundantly clear I needed serious help. It led to my partial hospitalization program. Do you have any exercise tapes or DVDs? No but OH MY GOD this made me remember my lil sister used to a Barbie one that we followed lmaoooo. Does the sound of crickets bother you? No, I quite enjoy it actually. Is the sound of a fan on at night soothing? Yessss. How do you feel you will likely die? I really don't know, but probably cancer-related. Recent events have made it abundantly clear it does in fact run in our family, and genetic testing because of Mom's cancer revealed that at least through her, my sisters and I are susceptible to pancreatic, breast, and ovarian cancer. Once this virus passes over, we're all getting tested for free to get an understanding of what hell Dad gave us lmao. Have you ever been slapped in the face? No. How about punched? Yeesh, no. That was something unique about you as a child? I was CRAZY about dinos for the average little girl. Have you ever come up with a memorable quote? Not really. What is something interesting about where you live? The town is like, really, really old. Downtown looks right out of an old movie. Were you breastfed as a baby? Yeah. If you’ve lost your virginity, what was your first time like? I don't remember it because it didn't really register what we were doing was sex. I still don't know today if you could call it sex since it was really dry humping through thin clothes, but it sounds close enough. What do you think about masturbation? You do you boo. Is it sometimes better than the real thing? I don't think so, though I only had a brief episode where I did it when I was put on a new birth control that made my hormones like so, so far beyond control. I stopped that shit sooo fast. I got almost nothing out of it, honestly. Intimacy is a two-person job for me. Who do you think about most? Jason, whether I want to or not. Favorite way to pamper yourself? Go to bed early lol. What's your most expensive piece of clothing? I don't have a clue. I don't really have expensive stuff. What was your last big achievement? Ugh... I'm not the person to ask. I haven't made any big ones even semi-recently. Have you ever had a "false alarm" moment, what was it about? Oh sure. The first time that comes to mind was when I thought Venus was dying once when she had a series of horrible coughing/gagging fits a long time ago. We took her to the vet with the risk of a respiratory infection, but she was clear, thankfully. I think she had early signs, though. Do you know how to ride a bike? Ye. If you were in the hospital who are the two people you'd want by your side? Mom of course, and it'd be nice if Sara was there if she was at all capable of that, but I'm fine w/ just Mom. If you could ever take a street sign, what sign do you want? Well, I wouldn't, but probably "stop" bc that applies to a lot in my life, lmao. Have you ever not returned something you borrowed and if so what was it? I don't think so? When you pack your lunch, what's your favorite packed lunch? Usually just a good 'ole pb&j. :') What was the one most important thing you learned from your parents? Take care of your goddamn relationship. Talk shit out instead of yelling. Work together. Never neglect the reason you're with each other. Have you done something you worry could come back to haunt you, what? No, because I don't believe in karma. If you had to build a small ark, what 7 animals would you save? Those with the biggest ecological impact, like bees and spiders, for example. I wouldn't be very happy with all my choices while all other animals perished, but you've gotta think of what comes next. Out of just selfishness I'd obviously have to spare a spot for meerkats, aha. They'd help with the bug control, though! I don't know about the other four, though; I'd have to think real hard on 'em. What is something your parents love that you actually love too? Classic rock and metal. Has anyone ever said "I love you" and you couldn't say it back? I firmly remember this is how I ended that childish shit with Joel. He said it and I couldn't. Have you ever ridden a camel? No. What's been the hardest loss you've had to take? Jason. What emotion is your least favorite and the one you are not in touch with? Fear, of course. No one likes being afraid. I'm not all that in touch with greed at all. Do you think facial moles or freckles are cute? I don’t mind 'em. Sometimes they're super-duper cute. Would you ever pick up a hitchhiker? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO I don't trust strangers for shit. If you're searching for a relationship, where is your go-to place to look? I don't really "look" anywhere. What book have you read multiple times? I lost count of how many times I've read Meerkat Manor: Flower of the Kalahari. Granted, in subsequent reads, I would skip over the HUGE tangent chunks that were entirely unrelated to meerkats. I seriously remember one long-ass section was like a goddamn essay on why smaller animals tend to have unnaturally large testicles like I don't fucking care talk about Flower again. I think I only decided to read it in full two times, but maybe not even that. Do you keep a budget? I don't have the income to do so. Have you ever test driven a car you knew you weren't going to buy? No, never test-drove anything. What do you have a hard time visualizing? There's a number of things, but this one thing is weird shit: I can't picture my old therapist. Even when I saw her every month, I could almost NEVER visualize her in my head. She's a fucking cryptid or something, paranormal shenanigans is going on here. She's the only person I know where I have that problem. What makes you feel uncomfortable in group settings? I worry I'll make myself look stupid in front of everyone. What was your worst date ever? I don't feel like I've really had a bad one. I've had one that did nooooot go according to plan and I know the average girl would've been annoyed, but I'm actually an understanding human being who found the adventure fun in the end. Basically a flat tire, a sketchy tire place, and a lot of walking happened lmao. Tyler felt fucking awful, felt bad for him. Have you ever gotten in a bidding war on Ebay, if so for what item? HAHA yeah, though it was technically Mom, but she had me keep an eye on it. I remember Parasite Eve took some battling to get. I think maybe a Legend of Spyro game, too? Are you supportive of your friends even if you don't agree with them? So long it's not literally insane or stupid, usually. It really does depend. What did you think was stupid until you tried it? Hm. I'm not sure. What subject do you and your parents never see eye to eye on? Religion. I keep most of my beliefs to myself now. Where do you see yourself in 1 year's time? Honestly, I don't want to ponder and picture this. What is your favorite type of seafood? I only like shrimp. What triggers your inner shopaholic? HA, do tattoos count? See cool ones, and then I'm planning (more than only always...) tons of new ones I want and will just be DYING (ALSO more than always lakdjfwe) to go to the parlor. What public figure do you disagree with the most? I really can't say considering I'm just not educated enough here. What is your opinion on rats as pets? They are absolutely wonderful! Smart, sweet, and very clean despite their stigma. I've had quite a few. What is something you're afraid to try? Sky diving, the Tower of Terror ride. ;___; That kinda stuff. What song makes you dance uncontrollably? None. Do you like nachos, if so what topping is a MUST have? Cheese is all I really need for nachos. Do you have any subscriptions? Yes, to Adobe Creative Cloud. Which is better, Mario or Sonic? Mario games are cute, Sonic's make me cringe - I've watched enough Game Grumps to know lmao. I hate hate hate cringe culture, like let people enjoy whatever, but I absolutely cannot stop my cringe reaction to some shit. I don't judge the people that enjoy whatever it is, though. THAT pisses me off. Who is the most creative person you know? I've known Sara and Connie much too long to not say them. They have such vast imaginations. Besides a pickle, what is your favorite thing pickled? I've actually never tried anything pickled, I think... no wait. Aren't jalapenos? Well there, jalapenos. What did you do for your 21st birthday? If not, 21 what are your plans? I had my normal therapy sessions in the mental hospital lmfao. It's unfortunate, but I do have fond memories of the day. Everyone was so damn sweet, and the friend I made there even got in touch with one of the lunch ladies, who literally went to go buy me a slice of cake. She and the other employees in the kitchen brought it out at dinner, and everyone sang happy birthday. I think I remember tearing up just because it was so goddamn sweet, but also bittersweet in that I was in a fucking mental institution for my BIGGEST birthday. When I got out, Colleen bought me a red velvet cake to "make up for it," ha ha. I miss her every now and then alsdkjf;wae. Are you a role model for anyone in your life? Oh, I doubt it. Do you think you need to slow down and enjoy life more? I don't need to go any fucking slower in my life. Can you impersonate anyone famous? I don't believe so. Never really tried anyone. What is your favorite salty snack? Spicy Cheetos mmmmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM What is your favorite restaurant? Olive Garden for sit-down, Sonic for fast food. Have you ever been in a play for school? In elementary school. I never had a big roll, though. Do you wish you had more friends? Very much. What is the main character’s name in the book you’re reading? Aunt Lydia. Which famous author would you like to meet? I'm not particularly interested in any. Which artist would you like to meet? Hey hey hey. Mark's brother is a comic artist. Meet him, one step closer to meeting God Himself. (ง ͡ʘ ͜ʖ ͡ʘ)ง Which singer would you like to meet? OZZY sobs What celebrity do you have a crush on? Anyone who's even heard about a hint of my Markiplier obsession knows I would fuck him into oblivion. When you were in middle school, were you in love with someone you never talked to? No, I didn't romantically love anyone. Do you believe that there is an unseen spirit realm? I do. Martini, margarita, or sangria? YO STOP I'm weak with these things. I can't pick. Do you feel you are extremely gifted but no one appreciates you? No. I honestly feel like people have more faith in what I'm capable of than deserved. What Lisa Frank character is your favourite? The angel cat, probably. Or tiger. Do you know how to use Braille? No. When you use stairs, do you usually hold the rail? Currently, I have to because of my muscle atrophy. I need help to stay steady. Have you ever worn a veil? No. Have you ever planted a tree? We actually did plant an apple tree in our front yard at my childhood home. Never grew much. Have you ever made anything with clay? A number of things from art classes. Has today been a good day? No, honestly. Have you ever fed a horse hay? Yes. Are you more likely to text "Okay", "OK" or just "K"? "'Okay.' The other two are restricted for when I am in a mood and want someone to know I am in a mood." <<<< HA HA SAME. Do you like the taste of lime? Sure. Have you ever seen a mime (in real life)? Not to my recollection. Have you ever seen a deer (in real life)? Plenty of times; whitetails are common here. Right now, what can you hear? "Game Over" by Falling In Reverse. Have you ever seen a bear (in real life)? In the zoo, yes. I think there's a possibility I have in the wild, but only from a distance? Have you ever eaten glue? No. Do you tend to buy clothes used or new? New. If you have Netflix, how many items are in your queue? N/A

[funkylilso-n-so]

Croat-Ville Chapter 1

(Read on AO3)

When the battered boy stumbled into camp, no one knew what to do with him.

Dean felt his eyebrows knit further together as Chuck continued wring his dirty hands over the wizened oak table, cracking each knuckle, a nervous habit he had picked up around the start of the Apocalypse, and had only grown worse as time ticked on.

“I can hear you thinking from over here. Tell me what you’re thinking, or get out,” Dean grumbled, startling his advisor.

“I, uh, well, I just don’t know. Sure there have been rescue missions, but never has someone actually managed to walk into camp uninfected. This has just never happened before,” Chuck rambled on, his hands flying ecstatically.

“Well, the apocalypse never happened before either, and you’re one of the idiots I've entrusted to actually advise me through the unprecedented,” Dean bit out, his tolerance for the former prophet severely diminished by the lack of alcohol in his system.

“Well, uh, we could wait for the others to come back,” Chuck managed to stutter out, before Dean lost his patience, and dismissed him with a single gesture.

Chuck got up, and scurried away, silently shutting the wood cabin door behind him. Dean sighed, rubbing his calloused hands over his face, noting in the back of his mind that he needed a shave. His eyes darted over to the window that allowed a partially-obscured view of the cabin, the ‘hot box’, which housed the newest mystery to pop out of Croat-Ville.

After the founding of their little haven two years ago, not once, not even on the fruitless rescue missions they launched during the first month of the last wave of infection, had Dean ever found someone untouched by the Croatoan virus outside of the safe camp walls. All the men they lost in that first month, just trying to rescue their loved ones back. They all soon learned to forget the ones they left behind.

One word, ‘Croatoan’, heralded what was now commonly thought to be the end of days. Croats, fast, strong, and bloodthirsty zombies now shambled across the Earth, picking off humans with ease.

Humanity was fighting a losing battle, because every lost man became another Croat. The infestation took about a year, and according to Chuck, as of yesterday there were Croats on every fucking continent, save Antarctica.

The idea that a kid, who must be, what, twelve? Thirteen? Dean had no idea how old the boy was, and the idea that any kid could survive out of these walls, alone, was sheer lunacy. Which accounts for the slight overreaction at his arrival.

Dean felt a twinge of regret-- the poor kid must be fucking terrified. Standard protocol stated that all unexpected visitors are greeted by half the available guns at camp, but this is the only time a ‘guest’ had actually still been human. It didn’t help that the kid seemed to be covered in literal shit, and smelled like death itself. Thank god the kid cried out when he did-- Croats didn’t speak any English, and his terror saved his life. They stuffed the kid in the lockdown cabin that normally stored returning scouts for twelve hours to make sure they were still clean.

It had been over 24 hours, and the boy’s only outside contact had been a bottle of water, toilet paper roll, and some smoked meat being frantically launched through the cabin window.

Dean sighed again, and pushed himself up, pacing, his heavy boots causing the boards to creak with every step. Chuck would have him fretting over this until the boy went crazy in isolation. If he wasn’t crazy already. Who knows what kind of psychological damage had he suffered? Unfortunately, his other two advisors, Sam and Charlie, were out looking for a bigger food source, far out of Croat-Ville. They weren’t due back for another three days. Dean couldn’t wait that long. He needed answers.

Dean paced over to the window, and picked up his binoculars, to take one last look over at the hot box. The kid showed no sign of croating out over the past day, just exhaustion, and probably more than his fair share of trauma.

That settled it for him. Dean strode carefully out of the cabin, his boots splashing the mud puddle at the base of the flimsy stairs, and made his way across the worn out dirt path that separated the hot box from the rest of the camp. He nodded to the two men on guard, stationed in case the kid Croated out and tried to make a break for it.

One hand on the pistol in his belt, Dean set about undoing the many latches on the cabin, and then raised up his shoulder, ready to burst in, before reconsidering. He sharply knocked on the door, and heard the boy start towards the noise. The door slowly opened, and Dean wasn't fully prepared for the ice blue eyes boring into him. He was taller than he remembered, or maybe he was just standing up straight instead of cowering beneath their guns. Same difference.

“Hi,” Dean grunted, and was almost startled when the boy stuck out his hand, before Dean realized he was supposed to shake it.

“Castiel,” The boy's voice was surprisingly rough, no doubt from lack of water in the midst of puberty.

“Dean Winchester,” He said, grasping the kid’s hand, shaking seriously.

“Are you going to kill me?” Castiel asked, jutting his chin out, his eyes more weary than scared.

Dean sighed. Even if this kid’s body was left untouched by the Croats, his poor mind was done for.

“Now that we know you’re human? No way kid,” Dean said slowly, and saw the tension melt away from the kid in front of him, his chin dropping, shoulders slumping.

“We aren’t the monsters here,” Dean spoke gravely, his tone instantly bringing the boy back to attention.

“Now how about you tell me how you made it out here?” Dean sat down in the one stool occupying the corner of the dank cabin.

“I need your help,” Cas said seriously.

Castiel retreated to the ancient mattress, and he began rambling, the nonlinear babble that floods from one who has been unable to speak for a long, long time.

Dean managed to catch that Castiel had traveled with his family, a big one, Luke, Gabriel, Anna, Michael, and finally Claire. All gone, except Claire, his older sister.

By the time the kid finished, his story, tears had begun to well in his eyes.

“Please, I know it- it’s probably too late, and dangerous, and an unnecessary risk, but please,” Cas looked up at Dean, the floodgates opened as tears streamed from his pale blue eyes,

“She’s all I have left.”

Dean had hardened himself long ago, maybe even before Croat-Ville, but Castiel’s plea could have melted stone.

“C’mon Cas,” Dean said as he strode out of the hot box, the kid stumbling out after him.

Dean signaled for the two men, Adam and Garth, to follow him to the center of camp. There was no need for a signal, the whole camp was out and on edge ever since Castiel had shown up. Every man and woman was poised for action, and so Dean hardly needed to shout for everyone to gather around him.

“I need ten able guns, we’re going on a rescue,” Dean called.

He saw, more than heard, the ripple of confusion through the assembled, but he ignored it, and hoped he got enough volunteers for the mission. He just focused on Castiel, his face brimming with a potent mixture of hope and fear.

Dean hadn’t prayed, well, ever. But watching Cas’s face, as the fate of his sister rested on his shoulders, made Dean want to pray to every deity that they find her. And goddamnit, maybe Dean finds himself, against all reason, hoping, that she’s still human. God help him. God save them all.

They left in the early morning, hoping for as much daylight as possible on the wintery morning.

"Why?"

Dean looked to his left, the light from the four other cars in the makeshift caravan serving as the only light source to illuminate the sullen boy next to him. Power plants began to shut down a couple months after the outbreak, plunging city by city into darkness, until the entire country, the entire world, was blackened.

"Why what?" Dean grunted, keeping his eyes on the dirt road that led behind the city walls, on the lookout for any unwelcome guests.

Dean heard Cas swallow, audibly, before continuing,"I must say I am eternally grateful for your service, but, this is, is, a fool's errand. Why are you helping me?"

Cas flinched as Dean's laugh echoed through the truck, the only sound save for the soft crunch of rubber on dirt.

"What kid talks like that?" Dean mused aloud.

"How old are you anyway,?" Dean spared Castiel a glance, his grin widening at how the boy looked downright affronted.

"Fifteen," Castiel said, with all the self assurance that accompanied the age.

"Fifteen," Dean repeated, "So you were only twelve when the world went to shit,"

"Yes."

"And you've been fighting tooth and nail since, your family forming a tight band,"

"Yes."

"And one by one, this godforsaken life has taken your family, the only tether you have in this godforsaken world."

Dean glanced to the right once more, and suddenly noticed the tears making clean streaks down Castiel's dirty face.

Dean locked his eyes upon the road once more

He continued, albeit in a much softer voice, "And now, the last of your family, is hiding-where did you say?"

"In the old radio station, the 'KROQ' building," Castiel managed to warble out, his eyes glued to the 50 foot high fences that were approaching quickly.

Fat load of good those fences did, shoddily built in the peak of infection. It seemed like every city in America had a partial chain link fence, 25, 50, even one hundred feet high. It only took one person, one bite, to send an entire city into the red within a few days. Soon, instead of marking safe zones, the fences attempted to pen in the infected zone, trapping the uninfected inside, sealing their fate. Consolidating losses, is what the president called it, when there still was a president.

"Claire, you said her name was, is all you have left. So we're going to get her back."

Dean pulled over, signaling the caravan to follow suit, before turning to face Castiel head on.

“Ever fire a gun before?” Dean asked, and felt his stomach turn as the teen nodded solemnly. He tried to find solace in the fact that at least the kid wouldn’t be too much of a liability.

Dean hopped out of the cab quickly, grabbing the two large semis out of the back, priming both, before climbing back in. He handed Cas the smaller of the two, before carefully laying his own out of the way. He knew his team behind him followed the same procedure.

Dean started the flatbed again, heading straight for the hole in the fence, the light of the dawn touching their destination as if it were some sort of profound symbol, though Dean had learned to ignore these long ago.

[sick-raven]

Aftermath - Jill/Female OC

Inspired by RE3 Demo and Jill’s note.

After Spencer mansion incident, Jill has trouble sleeping and she has nightmares about being infected. She just wants to rest for one night and get away from the all Umbrella problems.

Situated between the incident and Raccon city outbreak.

Warnings: It’s porn, as always.

You can also read on AO3

Aftermath

The streets of Raccoon city smelled of decay, smoke and gasoline. Jill Valentine ran through, dodging zombies and other monsters, looking for her way out of this hellhole. She was on another fetch quest to progress in breaking out of this concrete prison. Escape routes were blocked by barricades or monsters, changing once living city into undead one.

Streets she walked every day became unrecognizable. Places she shopped at now looked eerie with blinking lights, mannequins in the windows, glass broken as monsters broke in to eat whoever was hiding among the shelves. What she once knew has become just a ghost.

So did people.

God so did people.

Brad dying in front of her brought back memories of Spencer mansion. She could take those. But others – civilians, friends, people she met once – those hurt her more. Officers went into their jobs knowing the dangers, but these people? She hated Umbrella for what they’ve done. She needs to survive only to make them pay.

But seeing them rotting, decaying…

She entered some building. Just few days ago it was bakery, today it was smelling mess of blood and moaning. Normally she wouldn’t risk getting into tight spaces with zombies waiting behind doors and in dark corners, but she could cut most of the way going through. Plus, she still had that giant stalking her, it’s better to get out of plain sight.

The smell in the backroom was terrible. Just few months ago she would joked: “Something died here or what?” She knew better since the mansion incident. She knew better since the virus spread through the city. Her heart was racing, but her movements were precise and calm. She was glad – she didn’t want to get used to this. She felt like she would lose part of her humanity if she did. She can be professional and still hate this and be sick to the bones.

Shuffling. Jill turned her light to see in the darkness. Back there, behind table with moulding bread, dead lady was walking. Jill aimed. She learned to not hesitate – there was no help for these people. Only thing she could do was either avoid them or shoot them. If she had the means, she would kill this whole city just so the people stopped suffering, their bodies stopped doing this!

But this time, she hesitated.

It hurt her when she saw friends walking dead.

“I’m sorry, Rachel.”

***

Being in Raccoon city after the incident was hell. Not only did nobody listen to the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members, they did everything to shut them up. And to all what was happening, Jill still had trouble sleeping, waking up several times every night drained in sweat, heart beating and the fear that this is it. She is turning. She will look in the mirror and see her face, decaying. Her skin always itched like crazy and she regretted the minute she read the diary of one of the mansion workers. The itching was just her brain playing tricks on her.

Unless it wasn’t. And she will scratch her meat off and go wandering to the city in search for snack.

She needed break. Leaving her apartment now when they suspended her felt like playing with fire. They never approached her, but she saw them – people watching her closely, checking whether she is causing trouble for Umbrella again. She and Brad investigated what they could, but since the start of the August she was never alone for a minute. If her flat was wired, she would just shrug and say: “Oh, I thought so. They are following me all the time and they think they are being subtle.”

No investigation today. No care for people on her back. She was on the case daily, worked hard to the point of regretting being so thorough. No, she needed to ease up, get few drinks, meet new people. Free evening. She just wanted to forget everything for at least few moments. And if the jerks Umbrella set on her want to stop her, she will get mean.

She got to the bar without interruption, however, she saw two men watching her suspiciously. Normally she would think they were checking her out, but at this moment, the world had zero perverts just many stalkers. She sat at the bar and ordered beer. Getting out of her apartment felt good, even though her brain kept going back in loops to the incident.

She didn’t know how long she was sitting there contemplating, but it took her one and half beer when a woman sat next to her. “You know, hon, if you plan to drink for sadness you need something better than beer.”

“It’s that visible?” she asked.

“If your face was any longer, it would touch the floor.”

Jill laughed shortly. The woman dressed in short dress was nice, with long hair slightly darker than her face. She had a cute smile. “And to think I came here to have fun. I’m doing terrible job.”

“The pool table is empty right now.”

“Is that invitation?”

“Sure thing. I’m Rachel.”

“Jill.”

When was the last time she just went out to play pool? She realized it was too long. Since July she was on her feet dealing with Umbrella’s shit, she didn’t even consider just having fun. So now, playing with Rachel, finally made her stop thinking about all of that and she just relaxed.

“See, that’s better, now you are smiling,” Rachel noted after few rounds.

“Yeah, I had few rough weeks,” Jill smiled.

“Drinking your problems away here?”

“Never,” Jill scoffed. “That’s what men do when they can’t deal with their shit.”

“And what do we do?” asked Rachel curiously, while focusing on her next strike.

“We deal with the problems; we think them through and then we need to just turn off for one night. Like a weekend, except it’s one day in very long time. Drink, fuck, wake up with regrets.”

“Amen to that. Aaaand that’s three for me. You suck at this game.”

“I’m rusty.” That was a lie. She was the worst pool player from S.T.A.R.S. Even Rebecca kicked her ass. When they went out to play, she played one round to make everyone happy and then just drank at the bar or danced. Jukeboxes all over the Raccoon city knew her name.

“Well, Rusty, you are buying the drinks. Again.”

“Are you going to bars kicking peoples’ asses just to get free drinks?”

“All the time.”

Rachel drank gin so Jill joined her. It wasn’t her favourite, but currently, she didn’t care. She forgot all about her trouble for a minute, was already a bit tipsy. When the bartender gave them the glasses he winked at Rachel. “You behave, young lady.”

“You come here often?” asked Jill.

“My parents used to bring me here for lunches when I was a kid. We have a bakery just two streets away. This old geezer works here whole life and loves to make fun of me,” Rachel explained looking into the glass. “And his gin still sucks!” she added louder, and bartender answered with laughter while attending to other customers. “What about you?” Rachel asked.

“I don’t. I am a bar traveller; I just enter whatever building strikes my interests while on a walk. But I think I came here before.” Jill looked around. Most of the bars looked the same in the long run. Tables, menus, pin-up girls on the walls. “Maybe, I really don’t know.”

“Sad and mysterious,” Rachel joked.

“No, I am not. I just don’t have favourite bar,” Jill smiled. “I just go where my co-workers go, and when alone, I avoid those places like plague. I don’t need them to know what I am doing when drunk.”

“Oooh? What do you do?” Rachel leaned bit closer.

“You really want to know?” teased Jill.

“I am all ears.”

Jill leaned to her. “I cry a lot,” she whispered.

Rachel burst out laughing and Jill joined her. It felt good to just joke around, no care in the world. When the laugh stopped, she opened her eyes. Rachel was still there, leaning so close, and closer, Jill’s heart almost stopped.

“No, wait,” she drew back away just a second before a kiss. Rachel straightened up now looking surprised and maybe a bit hurt.

“Ah, sorry, I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

“No, no, it’s, uh…”

“I get it, there is someone waiting for you at home, that’s fine.”

“No, no,” Jill breathed in and waved her hand. “It’s just that… I think I am sick.”

Rachel raised her eyebrows. “So, you have germs down there or what?” she asked silently.

“No,” Jill smirked partially amused. Germs from what? The last guy she fucked tried to kill her by sending goddamn monster on her. Oh, she hoped Wesker is roasting in hell. “No, I think… I think I have a cold; I don’t want to spread it, you know.”

Rachel drank her gin looking suspiciously at her. “You don’t look ill. Maybe except those bags under your eyes.”

“I don’t sleep well.”

“I can tell when someone has a cold, you are lying,” Rachel smirked and asked for another glass. “I am a doctor you know.”

“I thought you worked in bakery.”

“I am a bread doctor.”

Jill laughed again, running hand through her hair desperate. “I think I am sick; I don’t know. It’s uncommon cold.” She couldn’t say anything. Rachel would call her crazy and then, as she would leave this bar, Umbrella employees would catch her and take her away because she knows too much.

“So what? Your head hurts?”

“Yeah. May be the lack of sleep though.”

“Do you cough or have fever?”

“No.”

“Runny nose? Sore throat?”

“Neither.”

“So how can you tell you are sick?”

Jill shrugged. She couldn’t. She just had that feeling, the fear that soon, very soon, she will wake up destroyed. She will shuffle around, meat barely holding on her bones, muscles so shortened she won’t be able to walk stairs without falling. And for the worst of it, she will be aware – aware of everything, her behaviour, her helplessness, taste of the blood in her mouth as she kills.

“When did you catch this uncommon cold?”

“Like a month ago.”

“A month!” Rachel said louder than necessary. “You are a hypochondriac.”

“I just…” Just what, Jill? “I am cautious.”

Rachel had to notice the tone of her voice, or maybe her face again showed how horrible she feels about everything that happened. Her friends died. The survivors left. She was alone in this, sure, she had Brad, but let’s face it. He was worried too much, afraid of everything. In Raccoon city she was the one with target on her back, she was the one fighting, and the constant fear on her shoulders didn’t help anything. How many times has she woken up in the middle of the night from the dream where she ate Kenneth alive? Where she tore the meat from Forest’s bones? How many times was the blood actually Chris’?

“Hey, you know what helps against germs?” Rachel asked.

“No?”

“Vodka. Hey, Timothy, can you give us two?” she finished the new glass of gin in one swing and then slid vodka in front of Jill. “This shit kills everything. Trust me.”

“Trust you as a bread doctor?”

“Trust me as a germ killer, once you drink this, you are healthy. Not even those herbs people chew here are so potent.”

Jill smiled a little. “Sorry if I made this weird. It’s all getting to me.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Yeah. But I can’t. Let’s just say I had rough month at work and with friends and all. It’s all horribly shitty, I hate my life and if I continue, I will actually cry, and we don’t want that.”

“I’ll drink to that. I hate seeing beautiful ladies cry.”

Jill emptied the glass and gasped. “God, I hate this, that’s strong. How many of these do I have to drink to take back control of my life?”

“For germs? One. For control? At least three,” Rachel grinned.

The simple joked made her realize a lot. Yeah, she felt her life spun out of control. She could deal with stress, tons of cases, paperwork… but this time around, things got destroyed, world turned against her and she felt she is losing the firm ground under her feet. She was not in control. And that stressed her more than anything.

“Three would kill me,” Jill shook her head. “I know better ways to take back control.”

Rachel rested her head on her hand looking curious. “Care to tell me?”

Jill knew she shouldn’t do this. She is supposed to be the responsible one. The cautions one. But maybe she really is just stressed. There was no evidence of her being infected, just the horrible dreams and fear. She was fine! That’s why she is here, right? To fight that fear for one day and then regret. She is not sick! She will think different tomorrow, but right now, she is good old Jill Valentine, ass-kicker, officer and good-looking at that!

She leaned right next to Rachel’s ear. She didn’t even have time to become nervous, she was too drunk and too self-loathing for that. “You will now go to a toilet; you will take down your panties and you will come back here, and we will just continue our talk.”

Rachel was taken aback by this request. She didn’t say anything, just tapped the glass slightly. “Excuse me,” she mumbled and got up. Now there were only two choices and Jill watched her. Either she will go out of the bar and they will never see each other again and Jill will become weird story for Rachel’s friends, or…

Rachel went to the bathrooms.

Jill smiled shortly and ordered new drinks. She also moved her stool closer to Rachel’s. Now she just waited, smiling to herself, because this felt good. This is what she was looking for when she left her apartment today.

Rachel came back after a while. She sat at the stool, uncomfortably tucking her short dress. She shuffled a bit and looked around in fear someone watches her. Jill loved to watch her suffer like this. It was adorable.

“This is…” Rachel said and grabbed her glass. “Weird.”

“This is hot,” Jill said still looking at Rachel. The dress hid everything just fine, but the knowledge, the little secret between them, made it that much more fun.

Rachel gave her sheepish look. “You do this to all people you’ve just met?”

“To be honest, it’s very hard to pull this on guys,” Jill grinned. Then she lay hand on Rachel’s tight. The skin was soft and warm. “You often go around just kissing strangers?”

Rachel shuffled again but leaned closer. Jill felt the hem of the dress and fought the urge to slide her fingers under. “They call me the best kisser around here.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You lost your chance,” Rachel grinned teasingly.

“Is that so?” Jill moved her hand to caress the inner thigh. Rachel shivered a bit and looked at the bar quickly. Nobody was watching them. Timothy was dealing with drunk guy talking about his divorce. Everyone else cared about their own conversations. Jill used this hesitation and moved her hand deeper under the skirt.

Rachel caught her wrist with both hands, looking around nervously. “Stop,” she whispered. Her voice sounded serious. Jill backed off, back to her drink, still amused by all this. Rachel next to her tucked her dress again and straightened her back.

Jill felt Rachel’s hand as she took her chin and pulled her in. Then they kissed. Jill felt the little fear inside her, but it was too late anyways. She shunned it and enjoyed the moment. Rachel was hungry, she tasted of alcohol. She didn’t hesitate to use her tongue and Jill appreciated the force. She ran her fingers through Rachel’s hair, so soft and nice smelling.

Rachel pulled away, but stayed close, Jill felt her breathe on her face. “You know, I have keys to the bakery, it’s just five-minute-walk.”

“I don’t know I can wait five minutes,” Jill grinned.

“Hey, I want to come back to this bar,” Rachel stood up, carefully, so her dress doesn’t roll up. Jill loved every careful movement she made. “You coming?”

Jill paid Timothy extra and walked after Rachel. She was standing out, enjoying August warm weather. Once Jill got out, Rachel welcomed her with another kiss, this time deeper and more passionate than before.

“You will make that walk much harder,” Jill said.

“We better hurry then.” Rachel took her hand and lead the way. Just by corner of her eye, Jill saw a shadow watching her. Well, have a good show, assholes, she thought.

They got to the bakery in less than five minutes. Rachel opened the glass door and locked firmly behind them. She didn’t even turn on the light, in the dark she walked to another door behind the counter. “This way.” Backroom was the real bakery, with ovens and big tables and fridges. Rachel turned the light here and looked at Jill. “Welcome to my humble kingdom.”

“Is this hygienic?”

“I will clean here tomorrow, don’t worry,” Rachel grinned happily. “So…”

Jill was faster, this time she grabbed Rachel by the chin. “So now, let me see.” She ran her fingers on Rachel’s thigh while keeping eye contact. Up, under the dress, to the sweet spot. Rachel gasped, but this time, she didn’t protest. Jill teased her a bit, caressing her legs and her crotch. “I see, you didn’t want to ruin the stool in the bar, did you?” Jill commented feeling the wetness.

“M-maybe.” Rachel bit her lip, she tried to avoid the eye contact being a bit embarrassed and Jill enjoyed that small hesitation. The purity was always fun to watch. And even more fun to break.

“No, Rachel, look at me,” she said while sliding her finger on Rachel’s clit. “Come on. That’s a good girl.”

Rachel had beautiful brown-green eyes and her gaze said everything. How she loved to be touched, little flickers of eyelashes showed when Jill hit the sweet spot. She moaned only a little, but her expression revealed everything. Her skin was hot and wet. Jill stopped and took a step away from Rachel. Her hand was wet, and she licked the sweet juice, making Rachel more flustered.

“Mmm, you taste great,” she concluded. “I bet you look even better.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Rachel asked and she sounded innocent, but her face showed anticipation.

“You are very pretty,” Jill answered. She found a chair and she sit on it comfortably, watching Rachel.

“How pretty?” Rachel asked running fingers on her cleavage.

“You have beautiful eyes and soft lips. I could kiss you whole night and never have enough. Your skin is flawless and so nice to touch. But…”

Rachel stopped. “But?” she repeated.

“I still can’t praise the body I can’t see.”

“Clever,” Rachel concluded and walked to Jill. “But you have to help me, nice stranger.” She turned around. Jill unzipped her dress slowly as if opening a present. She ran finger on Rachel’s spine, and she shivered.

As the dress was on the floor Jill enjoyed Rachel slowly turning at her. She was beautiful. Small breast, nice hips and wet thighs. “Wow,” Jill commented. “You didn’t tell me you are a queen.”

Rachel chuckled. Jill reached for her and pulled her closer. She kissed the naked skin on her stomach, traced every inch with her tongue. Rachel gasped and this close Jill could hear her heart beat faster. She ran fingers on her back, touching her butt. Then she moved to the front and squeezed Rachel’s breasts.

There is something fascinating about women’s bodies. Jill loved to play with them. With men, the only thing she wanted was to get fucked fast and hard and she enjoyed that too. But with women, it was different. She wanted to touch them, play with them, tease them until they go crazy and beg her for releasing them of their tension.

She rubbed Rachel’s nipples and Rachel sighed silently. Looking up at her, Jill saw her eyes looking down, still biting her lip. Yes, just keep watching. See what I can do.

Jill pulled Rachel down to sit on her lap. Like this he had those beautiful pointy breast right in her face. She traced her tongue between them to Rachel’s collar bone. Then she teasingly licked around her nipple. When shivering of Rachel’s body got stronger, Jill finally took the nipple into her mouth and sucked. Rachel covered her mouth as she moaned. Jill sucked and licked the breast and played with the other, squeezing and rubbing. Rachel moaned some more. “Jill,” she pleaded.

Jill looked at her with smile. “Yes, Rachel?”

Rachel had begging expression on her face, hand still over her mouth. She just whimpered like a puppy.

“What do you want me to do? Tell me,” Jill said running her fingers around the hardened nipple.

“Come on,” Rachel shuffled the wetness on her thighs flowing stronger.

“I don’t understand,” Jill kept smiling and pinched Rachel’s nipple.

“Ah- finish me.”

“I see. What’s the magical word?”

“Y-you…”

“Hm?”

“Please,” Rachel said her voice shivering with embarrassment and need.

“Why didn’t you say so?” Jill said innocently and slid her fingers to the wet pussy without any hesitation. Rachel moaned loudly, biting her fingers. Jill ran her fingers on the inner walls, feeling the warmth, slipping deep, while teasing her clit with her other hand. Rachel was shaking, she bended down for a kiss. Jill obliged, but she felt how hard it is for Rachel to stay still. The need for moans stopped the kiss.

Rachel hugged Jill tight, kissed her neck and rubbed herself on her hand. Jill fastened the tempo as Rachel hungrily moved her hips. With every stroke her hold became firmer, as she was reaching the climax.

“Y-yes, more, please,” Rachel begged moving faster and faster. Jill moved her fingers just slightly adjusting the spot and Rachel screamed and shivered all over her body, clenching her fingers to Jill’s shoulder, biting her neck to silence pleased screams.

Jill froze, teeth clenched. She fought every inch of her body not to shake the woman off. Rachel’s wetness spilled all over her hand, but the bite, ever so small and gentle, awakened the memories, the fear, everything. Jill swallowed, carefully removed her hand and ran her fingers on that perfect skin. Rachel, breathing heavily, let go and slowly straightened up.

“That was amazing,” she gasped and caressed Jill’s face. Then she frowned. “Are you okay?”

Jill forced a smile. “Yeah, of course. I was taken aback about how wild you are.”

Rachel smirked; she obviously didn’t believe a word. But what could Jill say? “It’s fine, I was just worried you will eat me.” Try again, Valentine.

“It’s the same expression you had in the evening. I know how to get that off,” Rachel smiled.

“More alcohol?”

“This is bakery, not liquor store.” Rachel grabbed Jill’s boobs. “See, better.”

Jill sighed, comforting herself again, but it felt hard. Rachel kissed her shortly again, moved to her neck and cleavage, giving her kissed everywhere. Jill started to relax, but then stopped Rachel by touching her face.

“Just no teeth, okay?” she said.

“As you wish, princess.” Rachel focused on her cleavage. She slowly took down her shirt and bra. Jill enjoyed the touches and teasing, she let the soft kisses bring her excitement back slowly.

“That’s better, you know how stiff you were?” Rachel said massaging the boobs. Jill smiled and nodded, she had nothing more to say, she just wished to get away, be washed by pleasure.

Rachel stood up and Jill took the time to get out of her jeans and panties. Rachel got on her knees and slowly, carefully and nicely she licked Jill’s thighs. She caressed her body and skin with soft touches. Jill watched Rachel tasting her skin and wetness off her legs and she smiled. This is what she wanted. Just relax and enjoy pretty lady.

Rachel moved to her crotch and sucked her clit, looking up to see Jill’s reaction. Jill closed her eyes to enjoy most of the sensation. The tongue on her sensitive places, licking, moving up and down teasing every nerve on her body. She sighed pleased, played with her own breasts as Rachel slid inside her vagina and rubbed the walls with her fingers, while still sucking. Rachel was pleasing her slowly, with long strikes and care she hasn’t felt for a long time.

Jill relaxed completely and let the waves of pleasure ran through her, purring, enjoying what was going on. Rachel took that as a sign, she licked the clit harder, started moving faster and sucked like a goddess. Jill moaned ever so slightly as the waves got faster and stronger.

“You are so beautiful and so good,” Jill whispered. “I could look at you whole day.”

Rachel flustered and that was the last drop. Jill moaned loudly as the pleasure caught with her. She felt her crotch get wetter, making Rachel’s face even more beautiful with all her juices. Jill grabbed her breast harder as the tremble went through her body. And then she sighed, released.

Rachel caught her breath and tried to clean her face with just as wet hand. She grinned. “So, what do you say, am I good?” she winked.

Jill laughed. “You are great.”

Rachel stood up, no shame in her naked body, and she leaned in for the last deep kiss. When she straightened up, she looked Jill in the eyes. “Hey, Jill. You will be okay.”

“Thank you, Rachel.”

***

Jill Valentine wasn’t okay.

But Rachel was dead.

What in all hells brought her this way, Jill could only guess. She was too tired to look where she is going. She never forgot their meeting, but it was long in the past by this point. Almost a month and the stress grew only worse.

But she remembered the good lady. She said Jill will be okay.

Jill pulled the trigger. With loud bang body of Rachel fell on the ground, not moving anymore. She released the poor woman from the prison of her own body. Jill felt her hand tremble.

It’s good she will never get used to this.

But once she survives, Umbrella is going down.

And she will be fucking okay.