#anyway back to writing the next chapter

[lohstandfound]

im jumping ahead with the richjake bare au but thinking about the 'you know we're still cool, right?' line during i think two households, and having that line coming from michael to jake

because suddenly michael has realised that he's not the only one, so much happened and their friendships have fractured and jake's perfect life is falling apart and michael realises that he can help, maybe just a little bit

he doesn't know how but he tries to lend a hand out to him

'you know we're still cool, right?'

but jake doesn't say anything, just taking the bottle michael bought him

maybe if michael was a little more observant, maybe if he was a little more open, maybe things would be different

jenna assures him its not his fault, but how can he not blame himself?

[thevioletcaptain]

i make a nickel / boss makes a buck / so at work i write fic / where the characters fuck

idk is this anything?

[human-encounters-diary]

Day 16

As the human and I did not share any duties during this particular cycle, I decided now might be a fitting time to inform the Vitrichl about the aforementioned book, which could possibly grant a further insight into Terrans.

Despite the quite serious circumstances we are currently in, I was able to secure a time frame to initiate a conversation regarding this topic.

I repeated the information V-7 had been able to conjure on this as well as other stories and reports on humans.

"There seems to be one…obstacle, though: The book‘s last documented location is in system Skė-51-33, which does not seem to be even remotely near our current route.", I eludicated.

The Vitrichl seemed to consider the information given, keeping in mind the reason the SIIR Noxos usually avoids this particular system: its unfriendly and occasionally aggressive nature.

Concluding, I was able to convince the Vitrichl through the benefits this book could provide in the task of studying humans, causing the Vitrichl to eludicate that changing the route was currently not possible, but as soon as the chance was offered to us, we would make a short detour through this system to retrieve said book, given that the book was still located there.

In the meantime, I was tasked with retrieving as much possible information on this particular and other sources about humans.

Our arrival on Fendaar is imminent, as we are nearing the planet‘s atmosphere. Further reports will follow.

[johnsbleu]

Hold My Hand: John Wick x Reader Chapter 179

warnings: nsfw moment hmh masterlist

“Momma,” Ronan walks over to you with a flower in her hand, and you smile as you take it. “For you.”

“Well, thank you, baby.” you lean over and laugh when she tucks it behind your ear. “Where is your dad?”

Ronan shrugs before she rushes over and plays in the yard with Bleu. You’re supposed to be going on a walk, but John had something he needed to grab quickly, and he’s taking longer than expected.

After the Peter incident, it’s been…different around the house. John is just quiet and a little disengaged with things. It didn’t happen right away, but about a week after everything happened, John got really quiet. He got into his own head, which makes you worry. He’s been shutting himself in the basement more often than not, which means you and Ronan haven’t been spending as much time with him.

You take the flower out of your hair and set it on the table, then you open the patio door and stick your head in, “John, you still coming with us?”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” he calls from the office. “You two go without me.”

You frown a little, but you let him have his space, “Okay, well, we’ll be back in a bit then.”

Just as you go to shut the door, you see John poke his head around the corner, “I love you.”

“I love you too, John.” you smile softly, “We’ll be back in a bit.”

You watch as John goes back to the office and closes the door, and you try to keep yourself composed as you turn around to look down at Ronan.

“Daddy?”

“He’s busy, so it’s just us girls,” you say, praying she’ll be okay with it. “Is that okay?”

Ronan nods her head and holds up Bleu’s leash, so you take it and clip it to his collar. You lift up Ronan and put her into the stroller, then you fix her hat and make sure she’s bundled up. It’s not really that cold, but there’s a little nip in the air.

“Should we maybe go to the park?” you ask, and she nods. You lean down and kiss her cheek, “Alright, let’s go.”

__

Ronan is playing with some other kids at the park as you watch her, and she waves when she looks at you. You wave back at her and laugh when she giggles loudly. She truly can brighten any gloomy day. Even though it’s not really gloomy today, you feel gloomy. Whenever John isn’t feeling like himself, it hurts you. You just want him to be himself again, but you don’t want to push him. He’s allowed to process his emotions. It just sucks that he’s shutting you out.

“Hello, sister.” Tess says, leaning over the back of the bench you’re sitting on, “Watcha up to?”

You gesture to Ronan, “Just letting her get some energy out. How about you?”

“On a walk. It’s so nice,” Tess says, then she smiles as Jimmy chases Finn to the playground. She sits down next to you and rests her hands on her growing belly, “Where’s Wick?”

“He stayed home,” you say, watching Tess look at you from the corner of her eye.

She shifts a little on the bench to allow Jimmy to sit next to her, “He didn’t want to come with?”

“No, he’s…I don’t know,” you look down at your hands and shrug, “This past week or so, he’s been a little quiet. I know it’s not Helen, like an anniversary or anything, plus we talk about that stuff now. He’s open about it.”

“Think it’s Peter?” Jimmy asks, and you look at him. He inhales deeply and nods, “I worried he’d do this.”

You nod, “Me too.”

“Want me to talk to him?” he asks, and you look at him and shrug.

“It might be good for him to hear from someone else for a change.” you let out a stiff laugh, “I’m sure he’s sick of me.”

Tess shakes her head, “Don’t. This isn’t on you.”

“It’s just when he decides to shut down and shut people out, it’s so fucking lonely for those he shuts out, and I know he’s lonely too. Or maybe he’s not.” you whisper as you tear up, then you look at Jimmy, “Please talk to him.”

“I will,” he nods, reaching over for your hand, “I will.”

Tess smiles as she looks at you, “You up for some ice cream?”

__

Of course you were up for ice cream. You feel like shit and ice cream is obviously the answer. The idea of letting Ronan get energy out at the park ended up being pointless since she’s going crazy over some sugar now, but it’s fine. She’s playing with Finn in the playroom, so hopefully she’ll get the rest of her energy out.

When you got to Tess’ house, Jimmy went to your house to talk to John. You hope it’s going okay. John loves Jimmy and knows he wants the best for him, so hopefully John will be open with him.

“Have you two talked about the whole Peter thing?”

You nod, “We did. I was the one who told John to kill him, well, actually mom said it first.”

“Excuse me, mom said what?”

“Yeah,” you laugh quietly, “When we were in the hospital, she said she wouldn’t blame John if he killed him. She said she doesn’t understand everything about John’s past but she understands enough. Anyway, I told John at the police station that he should do it. I didn’t say it in those words, but it was implied. So, it’s not like I didn’t know John would do it. Hell, I knew he would before I ever even suggested it. I know John. I know he’ll do whatever he can to protect his family.”

Tess nods as she shifts on the couch, “What do you think is going on with him?”

“He’s getting into his head and overthinking everything, which means he shuts down. Gets emotionless. He said something the other day that concerned me, but I just kind of brushed it aside because I was tired of living life with a cloud over my head.”

“What did he say?”

You look at Tess, “He said he’s let his walls down and now he’s weak.”

“But him letting his walls down is actually the opposite. He’s strong and brave for allowing love back into his life. He understands what loss is. He’s incredibly brave for it.”

“And I told him that. I told him that letting his walls down is why I’m here and why we have a daughter. I just feel like maybe it went in one ear and out the other. Or maybe that’s not what is bothering him, or maybe he just needs to talk about something else. I hate feeling like this,” you frown as you look at her, “I hate not knowing what’s going on with him. He’s my best friend. I know him better than anyone, and I hate feeling like I don't know him right now.”

Tess opens her mouth to say something, but the front door opens as Jimmy walks in. You turn around to look at him, and he quickly leans down to kiss Tess before plopping into the chair and exhaling sharply.

“So, how did it go?”

Jimmy rubs his hands over his face--oh, it was that bad then. He sits up and shakes his head, “He has thick fucking walls, Y/N. I couldn’t crack him. I usually can. I have before in the past, you know, that’s my…that’s my fucking best friend, but I couldn’t. Not this time. I’m sorry.”

You sit back and sigh, “It’s fine. Thanks, Jimmy.”

“I can go over tomorrow and try again, but…”

“It’s okay,” you look at him and smile softly, “Thanks.”

Tess reaches for your hand, “So, what’s the plan?”

“He wants to be alone, so I’ll let him be alone.” you say, shrugging. “I mean, I’m always going to be there for him, but he clearly isn’t ready to talk about it, so I’ll give him space until he’s ready. I can wait. I love him more than anything; I can wait.”

“Wanna sleepover?” Tess asks, and you frown as you tear up and nod your head. She wraps her arm around your shoulder and looks at Jimmy, “Sorry, babe, I can’t snuggle with you tonight.”

Jimmy laughs as he gets up and kisses the top of her head, “That’s okay. I understand.”

You smile when Jimmy ruffles your hair, “Thanks, Jimmy.”

“Anything for family, right?” he says, and you nod your head. “No need to thank me.”

__

Since you’re just packing a little bag for the night, you left Ronan with Tess but you brought Bleu back home. He immediately goes to the last place John was--the office--but he quickly comes out and looks at you. You furrow your brow and look to your right at the basement door that is slightly open.

“Hey, you down here?”

“Yeah,” he says, and you make your way down to find him working on a book. He doesn’t even look up at you. “How was your walk?”

You let out a small laugh, “Our walk ended about three hours ago, but it was fine. Thanks for asking. Um, Ro and I are going to stay the night at Tess’.”

That gets his attention. He looks up at you, “Why?”

“The kiddos wanted a sleepover, and you know Tess, she loves them too.” you say, and John nods before looking down. “You’ll be okay here?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

You inhale deeply as you shuffle in place a little, “I’ll miss you.”

“Well, I’ll be here,” he says, which completely shatters you.

You blink a few times to rid your eyes of tears, “I’m gonna go pack a bag for us.”

“Did you send Jimmy over to talk to me?” he asks as you step onto the stairs. You look over your shoulder at him and shake your head. He sets his utensils down, “You did.”

“I just wanted, maybe, ugh…” you turn around and gesture to him, “You’re being quiet, so I thought maybe you didn’t want to talk to me, and if you didn’t want to talk to me, maybe you’d want to talk to your best friend. I guess I was wrong.”

John nods, “I appreciate you looking out for me, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You have to eventually, John. It’ll eat you alive otherwise. Just talk to me.” you say, walking over to him, “Talk to me.”

John rests his hands on your waist and looks up at you, “I can’t. Not right now.”

“Am I asking too much of you? Am I being too much? How can I fix it?”

“This isn’t you.”

“No, this��isn’t you. Being so quiet, shutting me out, it’s not you, John. You’re not that guy anymore.”

John shakes his head, “I’m always going to be that guy.”

“Stop repeating words you’ve heard from enemies.” you say, tilting his chin up, “Listen to me, listen to someone who loves you: you’re not that guy.”

“I appreciate it, I do, but…” he looks down and sighs, “Just not now, okay?”

You frown as you look at him so small and defeated, “Okay. I’ll be at Tess’ if you…need me.”

He won’t call. Maybe he’ll text just to say he loves Ronan or something, but you know you won’t hear from him for the rest of the night.

“I love you,” you whisper to him, and he looks at you as you walk to the stairs. “While you’re busy putting up all those walls again, remember who broke them down last time. I did once, I’ll do it again.”

__

You can’t avoid the house, nor do you want to. It’s your home, and John isn’t some big, scary creature; he’s just having a hard time. Maybe just your presence will make him feel a little better or something. Probably not, but it’s worth a shot.

When you got home, you saw that the kitchen and living room were a little less than tidy, plus you had a big pile of clothes that needed to be washed. Logan has always washed his own clothes, but since he’s been working a lot more than usual, he hasn’t had the time, so his clothes are in a basket in the laundry room as well. You’ll toss them in and get that taken care of first.

As you sift through his clothes, you peek out to the living room and see Ronan playing by herself with her toys. You smile when she makes a little noise, then you load the washer and turn to grab some soap.

“Daddy!” Ronan calls out, and you peek around the corner again, watching as Ronan hugs John tight.

“Hi, baby girl.” John ruffles her hair a little and smiles when she holds up a toy to show him. He sits down on the floor with her and plays for a few minutes, “Are you being good for momma?”

You watch as Ronan nods her head and points to where you’re standing. You quickly move so John can’t see you, then you put the soap in the washer and start it. Since there’s nothing left for you to do in the laundry room, you head to the kitchen and start cleaning up in there. You gather up some papers that have been sitting on the counter for a few days and bring them to the office, tucking them away in a drawer. You’ll deal with them later.

John is, surprisingly, still playing with Ronan when you walk past, and you smile to yourself when you hear the two of them laughing. Even though he’s shutting you out, it’s nice that he’s spending a little time with her. He adores her, and she adores him.

After spraying and wiping down the counters, you start the dishwasher and put away some small items that are around. You really want to mop the kitchen floor, but Ronan isn’t ready for a nap yet. You want to do it once she’s napping so that she won’t walk on the wet floor, plus you can mop and have a little snack afterward while you wait for it to dry.

John clears his throat, “Hey.”

“Hey,” you glance up at him from where you’re cleaning the windows.

“How was your…sleepover?”

You shrug, “It was okay. We crashed in the basement, and it was really cold.”

“Yeah, their basement is freakishly cold.”

“Probably a ghost,” you joke, and John’s lips tip up a little. “Are you busy?”

John nods, “Yeah, just working on some stuff. I heard noise up here, so I just wanted to see Ronan.”

You look over at him and feel your nose burn as you tear up. He looks at you and widens his eyes before shaking his head.

“No, that…that came out wrong. I wanted to see you too--”

“It’s fine,” you put your hand up and wave it off, “She’s cute and can barely talk. I get why you’d just want to see her.”

John steps closer, “It’s not that I didn’t want to see you.”

“You just didn’t want to talk to me,” you say, holding his gaze, “I get it. We don’t have to talk. I’ll go back to doing what I’m doing.”

God, this is killing you! You just want to fucking talk to him. He obviously doesn’t realize that what he’s saying is hurtful and it sucks. You know John, so you know he’ll apologize for acting this way, but until he’s ready to talk, it will be a lonely time.

You look over your shoulder to see John looking around the kitchen for something, “What are--”

“Where was the paper that was here?” he says, tapping the counter, “I had a paper here that I needed. It was important. I need it.”

“I…” you set the cleaner aside and walk around to search the drawers, “I just was cleaning and I put--”

John sighs, “You misplaced it. Or threw it away.”

“I didn’t throw it--”

“I really needed that, Y/N”

You look at him, “And I’ll find it. Calm down.”

“I just needed--”

“You needed it. Yeah, got it,” you roll your eyes and close the drawer, then you head to the office to find the stack of papers you had earlier. You bring them back to John and throw them a little too hard on the counter, and some slide to the floor. “Is it in this pile?”

John looks through them and takes one, nodding his head, “Yes, it’s here.”

“So, no, I did not misplace it or throw it away. You’re welcome.” you say, and John looks at you and opens his mouth, but you stop him. “Don’t. I really do want an apology, but you’re being a true asshole right now. You can shut me out all you want, but I draw the line at being a dick to me. I’m not cool with that. I’ve always stood up for myself, and that won’t stop today. You’re being mean and incredibly unfair to me when all I’m doing is giving you space or just trying to let you know I’m here for you. If you’re going to continue to be mean to me, then you can go back downstairs and continue ignoring me too.”

“Look…”

You turn to him, “John, no! I said I’m not looking for an apology right now. You’ve made me feel like shit. I want to be left alone. I’m respecting you; do the same for me.”

John stands there for a moment before he lets out a sharp sigh, “Fine.”

Looking ahead, you watch John from the corner of your eye as he waits for a moment. You know this man better than anyone, so you know he’s waiting for a moment longer so he can see if he can apologize yet. Not only is this killing you, but deep down, you know in your heart it’s killing him too.

John taps the paper against the counter, “I’ll be downstairs.”

The moment you hear the basement door shut, you put your head down on the counter and cry.

__

You’re ready to talk to John. Whether he’s ready to talk to you or not is still the question. He’s been up and down from the basement all day today. You think he’s trying to work up the courage to talk to you, but you feel like he doesn’t know how to go about it.

After stepping out onto the patio with a cup of coffee, you smile when you see Ronan playing with Bleu. She gives her best attempt at throwing the ball for him, and it only goes a few feet, but Bleu is very enthusiastic about it anyway. He gets it and immediately drops it at her feet.

You look over your shoulder when you hear the door open, and you smile softly at John before looking back at Ronan. John chuckles quietly when he sees her throw the ball for Bleu.

“She can’t throw very far, but he doesn’t care,” you say as John stands next to you. You sip your coffee and offer him some. Surprisingly, he takes a drink of it before handing it back. You take a deep breath and look at him, “Can we talk now?”

John looks down at the ground as he shuffles in place, “I don’t know.”

“I don’t want to force you to talk about it if you’re not ready, but I can’t keep doing this.” you say, turning to face him, “I can’t live my life without talking to you. I can’t live my life without you. I can’t live my life with you shutting me out. I want to talk. I want to listen to you. I just want to fix whatever is broken and move past it. Not because I just want to get past it, but I want you to be okay. I want my husband back.”

John blinks as he looks at Ronan, then he furrows his brow, “What is she doing?”

“She’s playing in a pile of leaves.” you say, deflating and tilting your head back, “John, we need to talk.”

John pushes past you, “No, she’s playing in the flowers. Ronan Charlotte!”

You watch as John walks over to her and grabs the dead flower in her hand, and you immediately follow him.

“Where did you find this?” he asks, and Ronan points at the ground.

Your heart sinks to the ground when you realize she’s been playing on the spot where Daisy is buried. John plants flowers there every spring. They’ve died, but they’re still there and will be until next spring when he plants them again.

“You do not play there, and you do not take these flowers, you understand me?”

Ronan instantly starts crying, because why wouldn’t she when her gentle and sweet dad is scolding her, and you lean down and pick her up, looking at John in horror. He’s never yelled at her. He’s barely even scolded her.

John huffs, “She’s not supposed to play on that spot.”

“She didn’t know.”

John shakes his head, “I’ve told her before. She didn’t listen. You can’t play there!”

“Jonathan!” you turn Ronan away from him, “Stop! She is a toddler. Stop yelling at her!”

“I’ve told her before--”

You put your hand up to stop him, furrowing your brow and looking at him in disgust, “Stop! Who the hell are you right now? Yelling at our daughter for playing in leaves, for picking flowers. I don’t…I don’t know you right now.”

It must be a sobering thing for him to hear because John’s entire demeanor immediately changes. His tense shoulders relax, his cold eyes turn warm but sad.

“I’m…”

You shake your head, holding Ronan tight to your chest as she cries. John steps forward, so you step back and put your hand out.

“Don’t.”

John begins to crumble, “Mouse, I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t hurt you.”

You scoff, “Right now I don’t know who you even are, so I can’t say that I believe you.”

“You think I’d hurt you?”

“Do I think you’d physically hurt me? No, of course not, John. But you have hurt me. You have hurt me all week, Jonathan. You’ve been fucking mean to me and to Ronan. You’ve ignored us.” you say, and he frowns. “Don’t follow me inside. Just…leave us alone for a bit. Now I’m shutting you out.”

John puts his hand over his heart as if it hurts, “Don’t do this. I can’t…I can’t deal with that right now. I need you.”

“You should have thought about that sooner.”

You hoist Ronan up and kiss her cheek as you walk into the house, soothing her along the way. You close the door behind you and look back at John as he watches you, then you head up to Ronan’s room with her in your arms.

__

Who would have guessed that sleeping on your daughter’s tiny bed would cause your back to hurt? You feel stiff as a board as you get up and stretch. You stretch your arms above your head and yawn before looking down to see Ronan isn’t in bed. You open the door and hear a fork scraping against a plate and Ronan giggling, and you put your hand over your heart where it’s hammering away.

“Want more?” John asks, and Ronan nods her head as she looks up at him. He leans down and kisses the top of her head, “Hungry little bug.”

You smile as you watch John looking down at her adoringly. You clear your throat and give him a small wave when he looks at you.

“Hey, I just got her some breakfast. She…crawled into bed with me this morning.”

You pull the sleeves of your sweater down over your hands, “Yeah, I think she was tired of sharing with me. Sorry about that, bug.”

“I had plenty of room to share with her,” he says, and you look at him, “You could have crawled into bed with me too.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug as you lean against the counter, “Me from last night didn’t want that.”

John chuckles, “But you from this morning with a stiff back…”

“Yeah, she, on the other hand, would have loved it.” you say, letting out a small laugh. You look up at John as he watches you, then you take a deep breath and say something just as John does. He gestures for you to start, but you shake your head and gesture to him.

“I made breakfast.” he says quietly, gesturing to the counter, “I haven’t made pancakes for a while, so I thought I would.”

You lean on your elbows on the counter and grab a pancake. You rip a piece off and eat it, “Peace offering?”

“It’d be a rather poor one,” he says, and you look at him as he grimaces, “I can do better.”

“No need to do anything for me.”

John nods, “I already apologized to her. She…stuck her finger up my nose, so I think she’s forgiven me. I can’t tell though. She’s a hard one to read, kind of like her mom.”

“You understand why I’m upset?”

“Absolutely.” he nods, and you set down your half-eaten pancake. “And I want to talk about everything."

“Let’s sit down and have a real conversation,” you suggest, motioning toward the table. John nods in agreement, his expression serious yet open. “Let’s talk about what’s really going on.”

“I know things have been strained between us,” John begins, his voice tinged with sincerity. “I can’t exactly explain everything I’ve been feeling because it doesn’t make sense. It really doesn’t. But I want to apologize. I want to fix this.”

You listen intently, feeling a glimmer of hope. There is so much vulnerability in his eyes. You’re honestly a little surprised he’s having this conversation in front of Ronan, but this is how you know he’s ready to talk. You could be petty and tell him you’ll talk to him when you’re ready and make him wait, but you’re not that person. You’re his wife who loves him more than anything in this world, and you want this weird tension to end.

John reaches across the table for your hand, “I’ve been an asshole to you. I’ve been mean, I’ve been distant. I made our baby cry. Trust me, nothing in this world could make me feel worse than that.”

“Why? Why have you been acting like this? I thought everything was fine,” you hold John’s hand with both of yours, and he leans over more, placing his hand on top of yours. “After Peter, I thought things had gone back to normal.”

“Remember what you said about me putting my walls back up…” he says, and you nod. “I started to put them back up. I quickly realized putting them back up hurts the people I love the most. I was pushing you away.”

You bite your cheek before you squeeze his hand, “Was it a self-preservation thing? Trying to protect yourself like you did before?”

“I think so,” he admits, and you squeeze his hand again, “There was a moment where I thought that if I put those walls up again, I’d be…safe. It was so second nature to me that I didn’t even realize I was doing it at first. I don’t want to lose you, and putting those walls up caused me to lose you.”

“You didn’t lose me.”

John looks down, “Yet.”

You loosen your grip on his hands and pull away, and John furrows his brow and leans over more for your hand.

“What do you mean ‘yet’?” you stare at him as you tear up, “Are…are you breaking up with me?”

“No! Oh my god, no.” he says, pulling your chair as close as he can to him, “Hell would have to freeze over before I ever did that.”

“Then what do you mean by ‘yet’?”

John sighs, “I can’t stop feeling this way. I don’t want to get hurt. I can’t stop feeling like I have to protect myself.”

“Do you remember when we first started dating?” you ask, and John smiles as he nods. “Remember how I would be so weirded out when you’d do nice things for me? I’d immediately assume you just wanted to get laid, but I quickly learned that you were just really nice. You’re just a really nice guy, I still think that now. Remember how you’d try to do something nice for me and I’d immediately try to shut it down because…no one has ever just done nice things for me before. You taught me to let my guard down and allow someone to just be nice to me, and because of that, well, here we are.”

“This is a little different from that.”

You shrug, “Maybe so, but we’ve gone on to have such a great relationship because, while yes, someone hurt me so deeply in my past, I don’t let it define my life now. If I did, John, we wouldn’t even be together still. I would have completely sabotaged our relationship, and sometimes, if I don’t catch myself right away, I still see myself getting ready to do it because despite everything, sometimes I feel like I still don’t deserve this life.”

“But you do,” he whispers, reaching over to cup your face, “You deserve everything, Y/N. You deserve every good thing life has to offer.”

You cock up your brow and smile at him, “Now say that to yourself.”

“That’s different,” he drops his hand and sighs, “I’ve done…bad things.”

“Who the hell cares? Do I look like I care?” you ask, and he laughs quietly. “Is this…because of Peter?”

John looks at you, “I haven’t had to be that person for a long time, and I guess I’m having some sort of conflict over it. Imposter syndrome or whatever.”

“John, you deserve a good and happy life, and guess what?” you whisper, tilting his chin up, “John Wick deserves one too. I don’t just love Jonathan, I also love John Wick. I love every side and every inch of that man, you know that, right? I love every single part of you.”

“If Helen were here and I had to do this,” he shakes his head, “She’d never forgive me.”

You smile softly when he looks at you, “But I’m not Helen.”

“I know,” he nods, reaching for your hand again, “I know you’re not.”

“And John, she loved you. She’d have forgiven you. Despite you thinking you’re some monster who is cursed, you’re not. You’re just a guy.”

John starts to laugh, “Well, thanks.”

“You know what I mean!” you laugh as you get up and sit in his lap, “You don’t ever need to apologize to me for protecting me. I told you what needed to be done. You needed to kill him. I would have done it myself!”

“You don’t ever have to do that stuff. You have me for that.”

A smile spreads on your face as you look at him, “Don’t shut me out. No matter what you’re feeling. I want to know because I want to help, and even if I can’t help, it’ll help you to just get it off your chest. Doesn’t it feel good to just talk to someone?”

“It does.” he nods, then he puts his hand over his face, “I am so sorry.”

“You’re still learning.” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “We’re still learning. Yeah, we’ve been together for a few years now, but we’re constantly learning more about each other. We’re being put into different situations every day, and it helps us learn more about each other. We’re not automatically going to know how to navigate all of it just because we love each other. But because we love each other, we’re always going to want to help the other. I love you more than anything in this world, and all I’ve wanted these past few days was to make you feel better. I wanted to make all the bad feelings you were having go away.”

John touches your cheek gently, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smile at him, “Don’t shut me out.”

“I won’t,” he shakes his head as he leans up to kiss you, “I promise I won’t. God, I completely shut Jimmy out too. He probably…hates me.”

“Stop saying things like that. No one hates you because you’re having an emotion that’s something other than happiness. We get mad, we get sad, we get anxious, we shut down, but no one hates us for it. I do not hate you for it. Jimmy does not hate you for it.”

John’s eyes are so sad as he looks at you, “I shut you out.”

“You did,” you nod. You’re not going to beat around the bush. “You really hurt my feelings. You scared me.”

“I’m sorry, I really am,” he cups your face and rubs his thumb over your cheek, “I’m…so worried that word will get out to people and they’ll think I’m coming back.”

You furrow your brow, “Like last time?”

“I went back in for a reason. Someone wronged me, and I wanted revenge for that. Then suddenly, people were coming out of the woodwork…”

“Santino?” you ask, and John nods, “Yeah, but he’s dead. I think everyone would understand why you did what you did; to protect your family. Peter was…a nobody. He didn’t know you. He didn’t know your past.”

John nods, “I just don’t want anyone to try to pull me back.”

“If they try, they’ll have to deal with me, because if you go, I go. Two minutes in a car with me, and they’d bring you back.” you say as John laughs, “Trust me, if someone were to step foot into this house and try to pull you back in, I would stand in their way and not move. I’m not letting you go back to that life. You deserve to have a good life, John, and I’m going to make sure that you have it.”

“I do have a good life, because of you.”  he says, and you wrap your arm around his shoulder and hug him. He holds you close and rests his head on your chest, “I’m truly so sorry.”

You close your eyes and rest your cheek against the top of his head, “Thank you.”

“You should never feel that way, and I always promised that I’d never make you feel that, but I did.”

Sitting back, you look at him, “It would be so unfair to you if I didn’t allow you to have any emotions. How unfair would it be if someone told you that you’re never allowed to get upset or sad or pissed off about something? I would be beyond upset if that happened to me. I’m allowed to feel every emotion under the sun, and you are too. I will never be the person who tells you how to feel. That’s not fair to the person that I love, and it’s not realistic. It is so unrealistic and, again, unfair to hold you to a standard where you’re not allowed to feel certain things.”

“I hate when we fight.”

“I do too! But not to sound like a broken record, it is genuinely so unrealistic to hold you to some standard where you aren’t allowed to be upset or have emotions. I truly hate the saying ‘love means never having to say sorry’, because it basically just means you get to treat someone like shit and never apologize, but you and I, we apologize. Immediately once the dust has settled.”

John chuckles, “Because I don’t like when we’re not getting along.”

“And I don’t either.” you press a kiss to his lips and hold his gaze. “You’re allowed to feel things, John. You’re allowed to not always be happy. Okay? And when you feel like shutting down, just don’t shut me out. I want to help.”

Letting out a big breath, John reaches up and tucks your hair behind your ear, “I won’t. I promise I won’t shut you out.”

“Okay, good. And no one is coming back to drag you into that world, okay? I’m not kidding when I say I will stand in their way. You’re not going anywhere. We need you,” you say, gesturing to yourself and Ronan, who is covered in maple syrup, “We need our guy. Don’t we, Ro?”

Ronan nods her head, “Yuh!”

You laugh when you see Ronan with maple syrup on her face, “See? We need you here, and you’ve already been gone for too long.”

John smiles, “It was a rough few days.”

“I know, but you’re back, right?” you ask, holding his gaze as he nods. “Good. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” he whispers back, pulling you closer so he can kiss you.

You smile softly, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he nods, sighing a little, “Still worried someone is going to call, but if they do, I have no problem telling them that I’m done. I want to be here.”

“And those walls you were putting up to protect yourself?”

John nods, “They’re gone.”

“Good. I mean…” you get up and flex your arm, “I have no problem busting them down again. I did last time.”

“Effortlessly, to be honest.” John says, and you smile as he stands up in front of you. He pulls you closer and wraps his arms around your waist, “I’m sorry.”

You let out a small laugh, “I appreciate the apology.”

“And you forgive me?”

“Of course I do, babe.” you wrap your arms around his neck and smile at him, “Remember? Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”

John begins to laugh, “Yeah, at face value, that quote is pretty shit.”

“I forgive you, John. I just want you to be able to come to me next time instead of shutting me out.”

“And I will. I didn’t…want to bother you with--”

You gasp, “Bother me? You? Bother me? Do you think you’ve ever bothered me before? I’m your wife! You do not bother me. The only thing that bothers me is that you feel like you bother me.”

John laughs, “Okay. That’s good to know.”

“What didn’t you want to bother me with?”

“I didn’t want to keep talking about him.” he says, and you nod. “I didn’t want to bring it up and upset you. We went through a lot. But I did need someone to talk about it with. I wanted that person to be you.”

You smile softly and whisper, “I am that person. I will always be that person. Do you still want to talk about it?”

John takes a deep breath and nods, “I do.”

“Okay, well--”

Ronan throws a pancake onto the floor and fusses, kicking her legs, “Out!”

“Later?” John says, and you lean up to kiss him.

“I will always make time for you and your emotions, John. I’m always gonna be here.” you cup his face while Ronan continues to cry, and you both start to laugh. “Tonight. You and me. We will talk all night long.”

John nods, “Sounds good.”

“Okay, I’m coming,” you say to Ronan as you get her out of the high chair, “You are filthy! You need a bath.”

“Thank you,” John says as you begin to leave the kitchen, and you turn around to look at him. “For being patient with me.”

You laugh, “I wasn’t exactly patient, and I certainly wasn’t very nice. I am sorry for that.”

“You were better than some people would have been.” he says, and you shrug. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smile at him, then you lift up Ronan and look at him, “I am all yours tonight, John, and I’m all ears. I’ll be there for you.”

John puts his hand over his heart and smiles, “Thank you.”

__

You and John spent about an hour just talking about everything. He opened up to you and shared how he had been feeling. He truly just didn’t want to bother anyone with his feelings, which is crazy to you. You’re his wife, and you thought that he would know he could come to you. He just didn’t want to keep bringing up his past and Peter, which you understood in the end.

John pulls the blanket over your bare shoulder and smiles softly, “I missed you.”

“Oh, no, you mean you missed sex.”

“No!” he laughs, and you smile at him. “I mean, yeah, but that wasn’t what I was concerned with. I hate when we’re fighting or not getting along.”

You scoot closer and feel the warmth radiating from his naked body, “Me too. It’s lonely when you shut me out.”

“You’ve shut me out before, so I know what it feels like too,” he whispers, closing his eyes, “It’s not fun.”

“We should probably never do that again, huh?”

John laughs, “Yeah, I will never do that again.”

“Good,” you lean over and kiss him.

“At first I didn’t even realize I was pushing you away. I just got so focused on some work, and next thing I knew, I hadn’t talked to you all day. You were in bed when I finally came upstairs. Ronan was asleep. I didn’t even get to eat dinner with my girls or watch a movie.” he says, and you nod. He exhales as he shakes his head, “I am so sorry. I am more than sorry. I don’t know how long you want me to keep apologizing, but I’ll do it forever. I will beg and plead for your forgiveness, if I’m even worthy of it.”

You let out a small laugh, “Stop it. I love you, Jonathan. I didn’t ask for you to apologize 17 times. Once is enough for me as long as it’s genuine, which I know it is. I forgive you. And of course you’re worthy of my forgiveness.”

“Should I go check on Ro?” he asks quietly, and you smile at him before you nod.

Ronan is only a toddler, but John is desperate to know if she’s forgiven him--she has! She was clinging to him all night after dinner. She doesn’t even know what was happening, but John still feels awful for having yelled at her.

“I’ll be back,” John whispers, and you watch as he gets up and puts on his pajama pants and a t-shirt before disappearing around the corner to Ronan’s room.

You shift under the blankets a little and freeze when you hear the front door open. Logan is home. You can hear John’s voice, but you can’t make out the words, so you grab the blanket and wrap it around yourself to peek around the corner.

“I wanted to apologize,” John says, and you frown as you look down at him and Logan, “I’ve been a little distant lately.”

“I don’t blame you. What happened was nuts,” Logan says, and John nods. “I know it was hard on Y/N, which meant it was hard on you.”

John nods again, “It was, but we’re good now. I’m…sorry if I ignored you. I hope it didn’t remind you of your dad or anything.”

“Nah,” Logan waves it off, “You two couldn’t be any more different. Trust me, I understand. And hopefully this doesn’t sound rude, but I’ve been working so much that I hadn’t been around for a lot of it. Y/N was really alone then, huh?”

“She was,” John glances up at you, and you smile at him. “I think she’s good now. I hope she is.”

You laugh when they both look at you, “Yeah, I’m good.”

“We have plans tomorrow.” John says as he backs away, “You’re invited. Family day.”

Logan laughs, “Yeah, okay. Cool.”

“Goodnight,” Logan waves, then he heads to the kitchen for a late-night snack.

John smiles as he comes back up the stairs, and you back away and laugh when he shuts the door and locks it behind him. You open up the blanket and close your eyes when he wraps his arms around you and kisses you as you walk backwards toward your bed.

“Lay down, beautiful,” John whispers, and you do as you’re told. He fixes the blankets and holds your gaze as he pulls his shirt off and takes off his pajama pants.

You smile when he crawls back into bed with you, “Might want to turn the TV on. A little extra noise.”

John laughs as he reaches for the remote to turn it on. He turns the volume up just two clicks more than usual. It’s not too loud, but at least no one will be able to hear what’s happening in your bedroom.

“Ready?” you ask, and John scoffs before he playfully rolls his eyes and nods. “I’m just asking. The last one was…intense.”

“I’m always ready.” he says, and you shiver a little when he looks into your eyes.

You hum as he kisses you, “Good.”

After he turns off the light on his nightstand, John leans over and kisses you deeply, and you close your eyes and reach up to cup his face. He moves to hover above you, so you take the invitation and scoot over until you’re beneath his body. Using his legs, he spreads your legs open, and you both let out a breath when he slides between your legs with ease. You whimper into his mouth as he pushes himself in deeper, your nails digging into his back.

You bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from moaning too loudly, but when John thrusts his hips, you can’t help but let it out. You put your hand over your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, then you reach up and grab a fistful of John’s hair, gripping it in your hand; he does the same to you.

Your head involuntarily tilts back as you moan, “Oh, fuck, John.”

“I love you,” John whispers against your forehead as he thrusts his hips, “I love you so much.”

You kiss John desperately as he rolls his hips, “Show me how much you love me.”

Those are the last words from your lips before John sits up and flips you over onto your stomach. He pulls you up by your hips and slides back between your legs, and you instantly dissolve into moans.

He trails kisses up your spine, sending shivers down your body. His hands explore every inch of your skin, finding their way up to your breasts. He cups them in his hands and gently helps you sit up so you’re leaning back against his chest. You roll your hips and moan softly, and John sucks on your neck for a moment before he places his hand over your mouth.

“Fuck me harder,” you demand, and John chuckles softly into your ear before laying you back down on the bed.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

You feel his warm breath against your skin as he trails kisses down your neck, covering your body in goosebumps. His hands explore your body with a gentle and soft touch, igniting a fire within you. All worries and stress melt away as you lose yourself with John, and his whispered words of love.

_

taglist:

@spiderfangirl22  @im--blushing @ruby-octo @sunnythebunny7  @livetosing21  @lilithlinen @ladyren33 @multifandombliss @tnu-ree @scream-queen-25 @beingnerdyissupercool @sakurachan-9

[kyouka-supremacy]

I think we should just bring back Wungo Wednesday and start a fandom collective anime rewatch

[sunfloweraro]

More Pink Bunny AU

It’s finally bath time for Bunny!!

@thatonecrazysidekick and @tiredgaytheatrekid Bunny is finally clean and floofy!! (And smelling very nice!)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Holding Bunny under one arm, Hyrule slathered soap over his hands, then passed the bar back to Wild. Then, he began to scrub at Bunny’s fur. To his credit, the rabbit remained mostly still over his arm, his hind legs occasionally kicking in the water. The soap suds quickly turned brown with mud, and once every inch of Bunny was brown and sudsy and smelling of lavender and swamp, he dipped the rabbit in the water again, washing away the suds. He ran his fingers through Bunny’s fur, easing out clumps of mud and blood, watching as they trailed downstream.

Hyrule frowned as he worked, clearing the soap from Bunny’s head. He applied another layer of soap to the cleaner fur, taking care to scrub right down to the skin, to gently massage it into his ears, but the second wash did nothing to clear the colour.

Bunny’s fur was bright pink.

“I’ve never seen a rabbit with pink fur,” Wild commented, reaching out to pet Bunny’s head, flinching back when Bunny snapped at him. “No touching, got it!”

“We thought all this was blood, buddy,” Hyrule commented, scratching lightly at Bunny’s head, smiling when he leaned into the touch. Bunny let him pet him, and Hyrule felt special for it. “I’m glad it isn’t. You’ve a lovely coat on you.”

Bunny lifted his head and preened at the compliment, to Hyrule’s amusement.

With Bunny clean and beginning to shiver, Hyrule was quick to call Twilight over to the nearest rock and pass the rabbit off to the only other Link he was comfortable with. Twilight was ready with a little fluffy towel and scooped Bunny up into it. As Twilight began to dry Bunny, scrubbing away at clean damp fur, Hyrule rested his arms over the sun-warmed stone, setting his head over them and watching contentedly.

“Pink’s an interestin’ colour,” Twilight commented as he ran the corner of the towel over the space between Bunny’s ears. “I was worried his fur was stained with…”

“Me too,” Hyrule said. “I’ve never seen a rabbit with pink fur.”

“Could be an era-specific thing,” Twilight said with a shrug. “I’ve learnt not to question it.”

Hyrule chuckled, watching fondly as Twilight began to carefully dry Bunny’s ears, one at a time, pressing the towel over them. Bunny’s eyes began to droop, exhausted and relaxed. Twilight finished up with one last run of the towel over Bunny’s back. As he removed the towel, Hyrule couldn’t help the snicker that escaped him when he saw Bunny’s fur. With Twilight’s firm drying, his fur had fluffed up so he looked twice his usual size.

“Awww,” he couldn’t help but comment. “Bunny, you’re all floofy.” He reached out for the rabbit, but Twilight slapped his hand away.

“Absolutely not. Yer all wet and dirty still. Now finish up with yer own bath—ya reek.”

Hyrule stuck his tongue out at Twilight, but acquiesced, sinking back into the cool water. He watched fondly as Twilight scooped Bunny up into his arms, Bunny easily settling his head over Twilight’s shoulders, his front paws beneath his chin. He watched Bunny’s cute little face as it drifted away from him, back over to the fire. And then Wild pounced on him, dragging him underwater and tearing him out of his fond reverie.

“Champion!”

[myokk]

1) the sunrise!!!😇🙏 it’s back to being beautiful now thst it isn’t raining/cloudy every day🫶

2) the only time he was a good boy today🙄👹

3) salpa….weird jelly creatures that fill the beaches now but they’re harmless!!

4) I’m not the best photographer but THERE ARE TWO HUGE JELLYFISH…see if you can spot them🕵️‍♀️ they’re bigger than my head😭😭😭 my bf swam this morning and he said ONE WENT RIGHT PAST HIM 😥😥 (he’s crazy)

5) finally feeling better & starting to teach my art classes again🥹 a student made that necklace for me over the summer so ofc I had to wear it😤💓

[kriskukko]

judgements 1816 // chapter IV // part II (previous parts here)

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

The Winged Servant - 11

content warnings: vague medical care, narrator who does not realize he was a victim of violence, unreliable narrator who believes in the divine right of a monarchy, fantasy discrimination against angels, I swear this is actually much less political than these warnings make it seem

prev chapter | masterlist

The thing about angel wings was that humans didn't know much about them. Prince Ryan had done some research, early on, just in case, he'd said. From the look on this doctor's face, though, I didn't think she had done the same.

The other thing about angel wings was that I didn't know much about them either.

I wasn't an angel angel, of course. Not like the ones from the bible with eyes all over themselves, begging people not to be afraid of them. I was the type of angel that hadn’t been too different from humans, way back in the early days. Back when people paid egregious amounts of money for the ability to fly. Humans and angels were only separated by a surgery worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, still all called humans, until the scientists had learned to change the genetic code of children before they were born.

Wings got a lot less valuable once kids could be born with them. It didn’t help once people couldn’t control if a kid was born with them or not.

“Angels” was a nickname first, and it spread, although I never was sure if it was just the wings or if it was the idea that angels would come to the earth while the world was ending. It didn’t matter. Everyone thought that the world was ending, and maybe it had. But people still ate and slept and laughed and cried, and the world went on.

And once the angels started to show differences from humans, humans stopped caring to know about them.

I knew very little about my wings besides the fact that they weren’t the wings of a bird. Prince Ryan, while in one of his better moods, had explained some of it to me once. Bats were mammals, like humans—easier to attach, easier to maintain. Of course, the prince was human, and I was not, and I would never be able to have his level of understanding with matters like these.

There were humans in this castle, though, that also didn’t seem to have his level of understanding.

The doctor that Kieran had brought me to had taken one look at me, smiled politely, and left me alone to talk to Kieran outside the door. “Just stay put for a minute, sugar,” she’d said, voice strained, a southern accent bleeding through her words as she left me to avoid eye contact with the guard who’d had to help me walk down the hall.

Her voice was less strained when she’d returned, but she still didn’t seem pleased that I was there. I shrunk back onto the cot I’d been left on.

“Onyx, Ma’am.”

“Alright, Onyx, that’s good. Do you mind telling me what happened to your arm?”

“It got hit by a sword, I think, Ma’am.” My memories of the night before were hazy, but it was a sword, right? My arm had been… it’d gotten hurt when we were in a hallway, in an endeavor to get us out of that hallway. And Prince Cardan had pushed me in the way. Maybe.

“Mkay. Looks like you got lucky and it just nicked you, hun. Won’t even need stitches. I’ve just gotta disinfect it and bandage it. Would that be alright?”

I nodded jerkily, not expecting the question. Prince Ryan had told me what he was doing to me, sometimes, but not like this. Dr. Charlotte had been smiling the whole time, soft and kind. Prince Cardan smiled at me sometimes, but it was always due to amusement on his part. Of course, that was his right, because I was a servant, but Dr. Charlotte had been smiling as if it were for my benefit. She’d asked before touching my arm. That wasn’t… how people were supposed to act about angels and servants.

“I’m afraid I can’t do much about your wing, sweetheart,” she said once my arm was bandaged, and I nodded. I’d expected that much. “I haven’t ever worked with angel wings before, and I wouldn’t want to make anything worse because of my lack of experience. But I can find someone who knows more about it, alright?”

I nodded. Dr. Charlotte seemed like the type to tolerate questions, probably. “May I ask a question, ma’am?”

“Sure, hun.”

“Why do you want to fix my wing?”

She blinked, and then laughed lightly. “Well, I’m not quite sure what you mean. I mean, I think everyone should get medical assistance that caters to them. You don’t mean to give up on that wing just because I wouldn’t know where to start with it, right? We’ll find someone else. Do you not want it fixed?”

I frowned. “Good servants don’t have wants, ma’am, other than serving the royal family. Her Majesty has always had my best interests in mind, including when my wing was broken to prevent me from flying. And I don’t have a preference, of course, but I don’t know if she wants it fixed.”

“Her Majes- Are you talking about Lucia?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dr. Charlotte’s willingness to refer to the queen with her first name was dangerous, to say the least, and I tried not to let my heart rate spike.

“Okay, well, I’m not sure if she mentioned this to you, but she hasn’t ruled a country for the better part of the last decade. Last night was a pitiful attempt to get the country back under her control. Bless her heart, she might have actually believed it would work.”

I stared at Dr. Charlotte. I wasn’t supposed to contradict the things said by people who ranked higher than me, which included everyone, but holy shit. Holy shit. Talking about the queen that way was treason of some kind, without a doubt, and also flat out wrong. Sixteen generations—the monarchy had been theirs for sixteen generations. “Are you sure you aren’t misinformed, Ma’am?” I settled on eventually.

“Quite sure. Have you ever actually seen Lucia with any of her subjects?”

No, but I wasn’t a traitor and I knew that I was supposed to take the royal family’s word on things. I was a good servant and I would act accordingly. Except-

Except I had just left a room of the entire royal family, tied up together. Except we had murdered three guards to get into this castle, and we’d lived in a house with three bedrooms. Except that the royal family had a total of two servants working for them, and neither of us had been allowed to leave the house.

“Her Majesty’s family has been ruling the country for sixteen generations,” I said weakly.

“Yeah, well, no one wanted Lucia to rule because she’s a dick and hates everyone. So we did something about it. I can’t get you to start hating her—that’s up to you—but you should probably know the facts, and the facts are that she’s not a queen and she never will be again.”

And that was- not my decision to make. Nothing was ever my decision to make. Of course political affairs like this wouldn’t make sense to me; I was an angel and a servant, and my only job was to do what I was told.

That was what Prince Ryan had said, even. Do what they tell you. Don’t get hurt. Even if this Dr. Charlotte was wrong about things, I was supposed to do what I was told.

“Hey,” Dr. Charlotte said softly, and I glanced back up at her. “I’m sorry for overwhelming you, dear. Now that your arm’s all fixed up, Kieran’s got some questions for you, if that’s okay.”

Do what they tell you. Don’t get hurt.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

~

Taglist: @kaleidoscope-of-thoughts @toyybox @rainydaywhump @risk606

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 758: The senpai's few words

Pag 2

1: Aoyagi-san!!

Pag 3

1: Wha- what happened, Danchiku, you stopped so suddenly

2: Why is he here, in Kyushu!?

What is it, what is it

4: He's probably the person I'd want to see the most right now!!

5: What is it, is there someone in the audience area?

Someone you know? You look so surprised

I wouldn't be so surprised even if someone was there

Pag 4

2: He-hello!! You... you came to... cheer us on!?

3: It's been a while, Danchiku

4: Yes.... yes!!

Thank you so much for coming so far to see us!!

5: You got bigger

Pag 5

2: Thank you so much

3: Uhm, actually

There's something I'd like to talk to you about, is that....

4: Aoyagi-saaaan!!

-okay!?

Pag 6

1: What, for real!?

What, are you really here- amaaazing!!

Oi, Issa, I was....

2: Wait... did you just made Aoyagi-san lose consciousness with your tackle!?

3: Aoyagi-saaan!! Hahahaha!!

You're attacking him when he's already down...!!

4: I'm... o... okay...

No, he keeps pausing while talking!!

Hahaha

5: I'll lead you to our tent!! Carry him, Danchiku!!

'Carry him'....

Pag 7

2: Thank you

2: I wished you had told me you'd come though, Aoyagi!!

You forgot to add “san”, Kabuagi

3: There was something... I wanted to talk to you about but

4: I guess it can't be helped....

(You're ending up yielding again, Danchiku)

5: Ah right

6: Aoyagi-san is

Pag 8

1: A member of last year's team!!

He's the column who supported Sohoku from below last year!!

2: Someone who gained experience through hard work and difficulties and debuted in his third year, ran as a sprinter, pulled the team, and brought back the members so many times

3: Without talking, without refusing, he just did it silently!!

5: Even when he was in a pinch, when he was injured, he moved forward with all his might without ever standing out!!

If he hadn't been there, there's no way Sohoku could have won!!

Pag 9

1: He-he sounds amazing, teh

Right!! I'm really flashy, so his way of running is probably the exact opposite of mine

2: Hearing it again, he really is an amazing person.....

and I also know well what happened with his leg on the third day

4: If I was in the same position and got injured.... would I be able to run the same way?

5: “He'll run away right away”

“He's a chicken”

Pag 10

1: In this Inter High that is about to start

Pag 11

1: Since Aoyagi-san came to see us, I'll smash the starting dash!

There's no need to smash, run calmly

2: Should I get subbed out?

I'm still in time

4: “No one will blame you”

“I can be done in fifteen minutes”

5: I'm at my peak now!!

Save it for the race

6: You're an idiot as usual

I'll forgive everything you say, Aoyagi-san!!

7: What can I do, what......

Nothing....!!

Pag 12

1: The stage event is starting soon

Last year's champions, Sohoku High School, representative of Chiba, please come to the stage

Kakaka, it's our turn!!

2: Teh.... I'm nervous, the

There's gonna be tons of spectators!!

3: Do-do we take a video? I'll do it, Sugimoto-san

I'll leave it to you then. I'll finish up here

4: Su-

Sugimoto-san!!

6: Ao.... yagi-san.....

Pag 13

1: Could you do me one favor?

2: Ah- yes!

Do you want something to eat!! Right away!!

3: The food truck is there... is curry alright?

4: …. no

5: A band-aid!? A nail-clipper!?

Leave it to me, after all I worked a lot behind-the-scene last year

6: Oi, Danchiku, what are you doing. Let's go

8: Ye.... yes

Pag 14

1: Take care of that idiot

Pag 15

3: The Inter High is harsh and long

But he's reckless and can't read the air

5: You, on the other hand

6: You always keep an eye on your surroundings and pay attention to what people say and do

And that means

Pag 16

1: That you can make an accurate judgment of risk in any situation

3: The ability to read small details when you're in a pinch is essential in road racing

4: Earlier in the midst of more than a hundred people in the audience area, you

Pag 17

1: found me at one glance

4: I think you know this too, but he can only look ahead

Please support him, take a step back and, as always

5: be watchful

Pag 18

2: Yessir!! Thank you so much!!

4: “Take a step back”.....!! Taking a step back.... yielding, are my...

5: If this small heart is my ability

Pag 19

2: then I'll be the one running, Issa!!

Together with you!!

At full throttle!!

Pag 20

1: Run, Danchiku

Just like I did last year

2: with Junta

3: I'm sure your feelings will give you strength

These are the members of Sohoku, the Chiba prefecture representative who won the championship last year

Pag 21

1: So far they have won two times in a row

3: What's wrong.... your balloon... shall I get it for you?

Pag 22

2: Thank you, Onii-chan

3: That's surprising, Midosuji-san

You're so kind

4: Puku.... I am kind, though?

To

5: anyone who doesn't wear a number bib, that is!!

[lynzishell]

By the time Winter came, each day was starting to bleed into the next. As they got closer to the holidays, Dawn was putting together multiple events and working late into the night.

Often, she’d crawl into bed long after Phoenix had fallen asleep.

Due to her late nights, she’d start her mornings later, and Phoenix would be up early, doing his best to get ready quietly so as not to wake her.

For him, work had become so busy that he rarely got a day off.

However, they both finally got a break over Winterfest. It felt like it had been months since getting to spend a day together.

And with no obligations aside from their annual dinner at Julian’s, they spent every possible minute in bed, knowing they'd be back to their busy schedules the next day.

Prev // Next

[asthedeathoflight]

A gentle sound (the rolling in the graves)

“Where are you going?”

If Ajax was startled by Cowgirl’s sudden question, she doesn’t show it. Disappointing. Cowgirl had been so sure she hadn’t noticed that she was being followed. Rude, also, to let Cowgirl follow her all the way down to the marina without even saying hi. 

“None of your business,” she says, not looking back at Cowgirl.

Ouch. An uncounterable point. It’s lucky Cowgirl doesn’t really care what is or isn’t her business. Ajax has been disappearing after dinner for a few weeks now, and Cowgirl is going to find out what she’s been up to if it kills her. 

“Mm,” Cowgirl says, “There’s nothing down here. Unless you’re stealing a boat. If you’re stealing a boat you have to let me name it or else I’m telling Cleon.”

Ajax rolls her eyes so hard she has to stop walking for a second, which makes a perfect opportunity for Cowgirl to jog the extra few steps to stand next to her. Ajax gives her an unimpressed look. 

“I’m not stealing a boat,” she says flatly. 

“Great! Then you won’t mind if I come with you.”

“Knock yourself out,” Ajax says. She turns away from the path that goes down to the docks and opens a gate to a stairwell that leads down to the shore. She doesn’t wait to see if Cowgirl is following her. 

“Um,” Cowgirl says, peering down the worn, algae-slick stairs. “Ajax?”

Ajax makes a noise like she’s listening but would rather not be. 

“I didn’t really dress for this.” She had worn her most fashionable boots, which were not her most walking-on-slippery-rocks-down-by-the-water boots. 

“Wow,” says Ajax, who had worn grippy shoes, “What a shame. Guess you’ll have to turn back.”

At this grave insult to her honor, Cowgirl decides to begin picking her way down the stairs to hurry after Ajax. She can’t quite move at top speed, seeing as she has to avoid pools of water and patches of seaweed that Ajax stomps right through. Ajax is walking slightly slower than usual, though, so Cowgirl isn’t too worried that she’ll be left behind. 

She is a little bit more concerned when she looks up and sees that Ajax is headed beneath the pier, where a forest of pilings stretch into an endless gloom. 

“Ajax,” she hisses. “Ajax!”

Ajax pauses a moment just within the shadow of the pier looming over them, turning back to look at her. “You really don’t have to come,” she says, sounding kind of amused at whatever face Cowgirl was surely making.

Like hell she’s turning back now, though. If she tries to ask Ajax about it later she’ll just get all smug and say ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ Which was just unacceptable. Cowgirl will just have to keep going. It’s the only way to preserve her dignity. 

“Just wait up,” Cowgirl grumbles.

The pier stretches on so far that Cowgirl can’t see the light on the other side, thick wooden planks holding up boat chartering offices and marina administrators and fish market stalls. She’d run amok on the top side of the pier plenty as a kid, but it had never occurred to her to try and go under it. She feels a little uneasy being under it now, at the mercy of the tide coming back in, even if she knows they aren't in much danger of being trapped. 

It’s just so unsettling down here, the sound of the waves echoing strangely and the light of the fading sunset reflecting off the water. The further they venture from the edge of the pier the more uneasy Cowgirl becomes. There’s something about the way the echoes of the water fade out into an eerie tuneless humming that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. 

Except. It’s not the water at all. As they walk, the sound grows slowly louder, until Cowgirl can hear that it’s someone singing. They’re not really carrying a melody, but the sound floats over the water, folding back onto itself as it reverberates in the air around them. It’s beautiful. It’s like the time Cowgirl got to go on a school trip to the opera and the soprano’s voice seemed to make the whole room sing, but better again by half. It’s almost like-

Cowgirl stops walking. It’s almost like they’re below the high tide mark, at twilight. And someone is singing. 

Cowgirl is eighty-five percent city girl, but she spent a summer with her cousins in Massachusetts as a kid. She knows the kind of places you’re not supposed to go alone after the sun sets. She knows the kind of things that live in them. 

“Ajax,” Cowgirl says, trying to project an aura of everything-is-fine. 

Ajax pauses and turns back to look at her. She doesn’t look even a little bit afraid. Her eyes are very dark in the dim light. 

“Ajax,” Cowgirl repeats, with what she thinks is an admirable attempt at keeping her voice level. “There’s a siren down here.”

Ajax blinks at her. “Yes,” she says, slowly, as if Cowgirl is the one who’s slow on the uptake. “I know.”

Cowgirl would like to amend her earlier statement about finding out what Ajax is up to even if it kills her. She would actually like very much to live, if anyone is listening. 

“Oh my god,” she says, abandoning her attempts at acting calm. She thinks that advice is actually for bears, anyways. “Oh my god, you’ve been fucking mind-whammied. By a siren. And now you’ve dragged me down here to feed me to it. I can’t fucking believe this.”

Ajax looks deeply unimpressed at this theory. “I actually remember telling you you didn’t have to come. Multiple times.”

“Reverse psychology. You knew I’d get suspicious if you seemed too enthusiastic. Oooh, this is diabolical. I never expected it from you, which is why its the perfect betrayal.”

“...Anyways,” Ajax says, “Sirens don’t eat people. I’m here to feed the siren popcorn, actually.”

At this, she gestures with the bag of popcorn that she has, admittedly, been holding this whole time. Cowgirl hadn’t considered it relevant to their journey. 

“There was just a boat sunk by sirens in Mallorca,” Cowgirl exclaims, “I saw it on the news!”

Ajax frowns. “I never said sirens don’t kill people,” she amends. “But they don’t eat ‘em.”

“Great!” Cowgirl laughs. “That’s so reassuring!”

Ajax’s frown deepens. “Humans kill each other all the time! I don’t see why it matters! You don’t have to come if you’re gonna be weird about it.”

She turns back around and keeps walking. Cowgirl looks back at the entrance, and then at Ajax’s retreating form. It’s. Well. The siren doesn’t have the element of surprise. And she shouldn’t leave Ajax alone with it. And, more importantly, like fucking hell is she going to go back to the others to tell them Ajax has been fucking around with a siren and Cowgirl didn’t even go look at it. 

Cowgirl isn’t really sure what she expected a siren to look like. She’d never really asked questions after the old guys who worked the fishing boats told her to never ever go by the water at dusk, and especially not at low tide. That was how they got you. Something about the land between high- and low-tide being neutral territory. Cowgirl didn’t really care about the details of who they were. She was perfectly happy just not being gotten. Or, well, she had been.

There’s a girl sitting on a rock, kicking her bare feet in the water, staring out at the waves. When Cowgirl sees her, her first thought is that the siren has already found another victim and they’re off the hook. But as girl turns around to look at them, her face breaking into a grin of too-sharp teeth, the humming abruptly stops. 

Cowgirl stops a comfortable distance from the siren, but Ajax - who does not practice proper wildlife safety measures - walks right up to her. Cowgirl just stares at them. The siren looks distressingly normal. She’s wearing an oversized tee shirt and cut-off denim shorts, and only the amount of salt crusted on both looks remotely out of the ordinary. She just looks like any girl their age, with pretty brown eyes and a bob of unruly hair. 

“Yo,” Ajax says, offering her the bag of popcorn, “Got your shit.”

And, well, she had just lit up when she saw Ajax. Cowgirl knows all about girls who light up when they see Ajax. 

“Thank youu,” the siren says, with an odd sort of warbling voice, like a character in a musical who can’t decide if they’re supposed to be singing right now. 

“Cowgirl,” Ajax barks. Ah, shit. “Starin’ is rude.”

Sheepishly, Cowgirl crosses the final couple feet to stand next to them. “Hi,” she says. What’s the protocol here? Sirens aren’t fey, right? She won’t get dragged into the water forever if she’s rude, or anything. 

“Helloo,” the siren says. There’s a quality to her voice like a parrot, like she’s copying a sound she’s heard. The timing is just a little bit wrong. “I’m Rembrandt.”

And Cowgirl can hear in the way she shapes those vowels, the little bit of Brooklyn lilt she puts on just that one word, that it’s a name Ajax gave her. 

[tracle0]

Snippet Sunday II

Hi! Welcome to Sunday! Here is my snippet for this week.

(Confused as to what this is? Check this post out for details!)

There was a brief pause and a ripple of delight before it answered. Heroes need quests, it said. They need prophets to tell them what to do. If this Hero didn’t find your prophet, they wouldn’t be able to find me.

That sounded vaguely familiar like he might have heard it in a history class many years ago. Once the words processed, confusion dripped against his ribs. “Wait, so – wait, Theo’s… against us?”

Of course, the Blight said. He’s a prophet. He belongs to your gods.

“They’re not…” his protest trailed off. That didn’t make sense. Theo had never been against him – even as children, the rare few times they were pitted against each other, he always cracked first and resigned to defeat, allowing Cain to claim a victory rather than be on opposing sides.

Was that what was happening this time? Fate itself twisting to put them on opposing sides, but routine coming through like always to grant him – and, as a result, the Blight – victory? Theo had seemed so earnest on the coach, so concerned, but he just didn’t understand. When he eventually did, he’d bow to Cain’s success like usual, and it would all be alright, wouldn’t it?

Before his thoughts could race and swell too much, they were cut off neatly, the concern severed from his head. He’ll bow, the Blight told him. We’ll succeed.

“Right,” Cain agreed, unsteadily at first, which wasn’t right, so he put more force into it. “Right! It’ll – it’ll be fine. It doesn’t matter.”

They sent Heroes after me last time, it remarked. They couldn’t stop me then, and they won’t now.

[pokimoko]

The Effigy and the Inferno - A Gravity Falls Fic

Written by pokimoko

Chapters: 3/3

Word Count: ~29K

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Filbrick Pines & Stan Pines, Stan Pines & Caryn Romanoff Pines

Characters: Stan Pines, Ford Pines, Filbrick Pines, Caryn Romanoff Pines, Crampelter (Gravity Falls), Original Characters

Tags: Pre-Canon, Childhood, Young Stan Pines, Young Ford Pines, Young Ford Pines and Stan Pines, Kid Stan Pines, Kid Ford Pines, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Broken Bones, Ford Pines Has Issues, Mental Health Issues, Stan Pines Needs A Hug, (A Mental Health Hug), Autumn, Horror Elements, Mimicry, Fae & Fairies, Changelings, Bugs & Insects, Moths, Fire, Extended Metaphors, Magical Realism, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Autistic Ford Pines, Ableism, Internalised ableism, Self-Worth Issues, Depression, implied/referenced suicidal ideation, Rescue Missions, Brotherly Love, and its twin, Brotherly Angst, POV Stan Pines, Bittersweet Ending, partially because of the terrible thing that is:, Canon Compliant, (and boy do we all know what canon has in store for these two poor kids)

Summary:

mimicry (noun):

a biological phenomenon marked by the close external resemblance of an organism to another animal, plant, or inanimate object

the art of pretending to be someone you're not, someone you can never be

(or: in the last weeks of Fall, Stanley does his best to look out for Ford, but he soon finds his efforts hindered by a leaf that is not a leaf, a moth that is not a moth, and a brother that is not a brother.)

[ageless-aislynn]

"15 Minutes - a John x Reader mini playlist"

(for my fic of the same name)

"Someone To You" - Banners I just want to be somebody to someone I never had nobody and no road home I wanna be somebody to someone

"Love Me Like You Do" - Tanner Patrick Yeah, I'll let you set the pace 'Cause I'm not thinking straight My head's spinning around, I can't see clear no more What are you waiting for?

"Silhouette" - Aquilo The devil's on your shoulder, the stranger's in your head As if you don't remember, as if you can forget It's only been a moment, it's only been a lifetime But tonight you're a stranger Some silhouette

"Don't Give Up On Me" - Andy Grammer I'll reach my hands out in the dark And wait for yours to interlock I'll wait for you

"Here With Me" - Robot Koch ft Susie Suh Caught in the riptide I was searching for the truth There was a reason I collided into you

~💖~

[whumble-beeee]

The Man in the Sweater Vest

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 7

Content: attempted noncon, threatened mouth whump, disabled whumpee, trans whumpee, scissors, tied up/handcuffs, noncon unshirtening, noncon touch, past captivity references, graphic threats, blood, crapton of whump. As a treat :)

* * * * * * * *

Excerpt from: The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping; a self-help guide for villains and bounty-hunters

[Inevitably, there will be disagreements on how you should treat your captured hero. One villain might want to just hold the hero hostage long enough to finish their dastardly plans. Another will want to break the hero’s will entirely! Or anything else in between! 

But when working together with other villains, bounty hunters, henchmen, etc, it is crucial that everyone is on the same page about how your captured hero is to be treated, lest your hero end up with a few less limbs than you meant them too, or your months of breaking down the hero's fragile mind is undone by a single nice gesture.

Always communicate effectively, your hero will thank you for it (or curse the day you were born)!]

* * * * * * * *

Sweater-vest stumbled back, reeling from the punch and clutching his face before pulling his hands down and gawking at the blood staining his hands.

“STAY AWAY FROM ME!!” Stan screamed. 

An intense elation washed through his chest despite the surprisingly sharp exploding pain that crackled up the very bones of his arm when he punched the man, and the now freshly ripped open scabs and bruises from where he’d forgotten to account for the handcuffs and yanked on them violently, streaming new ruby red over dried light brown that already carved down his arms; 

Because he'd got him. He'd got him! Punched him, made him back off! Stan did that! He'd finally managed to actually do something about the atrocities being committed against him and it was so, so sweet. 

Relatively short-lived, though. 

Vaughn, the sweater vest man, started to giggle to himself as he wiped the blood streaming from his nose onto his sleeve. Elation gave way to tentative confusion. Then a sinister seed started to take root in Stan's gut, the roots already reaching out and tightening around his body.

“You-...” Vaughn giggled some more. “You– you think–?...”

He started fully laughing, speech overtaken by an apparent hilarity that Stan must’ve just been too shocked by the sudden mood change to understand. He was cackling. Then practically shrieking, crazy, loud, heaving laughs.

He must be crazy. 

Insane. 

Well and truly insane, the way he was shriek laughing into his shining red-stained hands.

His gaze snapped up to Stan, and Stan could practically hear the horror movie crackling effect with how fast it snapped up, crazy maniacal shudders still overtaking his body, piercing gaze turned wide, animalistic.

“You think you can HURT ME?! HURT ME?! AHAHAHAHA!!”

Suddenly Stan slammed into the wall, cuffed wrists pinned above his head, chest to chest with the crazy man and staring up into his crazy bloodshot eyes.

“You can't hurt me,” he growled into Stan’s ear through gritted teeth. ”I don't feel pain. I carved that weakness out a long time ago, my brain doesn’t register it anymore! And I did it so I could deal with horrible little brats like you–” he slammed Stan's wrists into the wall, “--however I see fit! So I could do whatever I wanted to them. So that even if they fight back, they always, always, always lose.”

He pulled back and leaned into Stan's face, staring the captive directly in his glaringly defiant, wide and shining eyes. Hot shaking breaths misted surprisingly minty breath onto Stan’s cheeks, nearly overpowered by the metallic tang of blood that still poured down his face.

“Always submit. Just like you're going to.”

Stan pulled down hard against Vaughn's grasp, struggling and wiggling and tugging and screaming and kicking and doing every single little thing he could to, if not escape, at least make this as difficult as possible.

“Get away from me!" He cried. "GET AWAY FROM ME, get OFF of me, I’m not gonna let you do this you sadist, you can’t do this to me!! LET GO–!”

A punch to the gut. Stan tried to double over and wheezed as much as he could with his arms pinned up, which delivered him right into another punch to the face.

 Then something cool and sharp stabbed into the soft underside of his chin, straining his neck with how far his head pushed back into the wall.

“This is why I like to keep my victims gagged,” Vaughn gritted. “That bounty hunter of yours never does it, no matter how I tell him to. Always has to do stuff his own way, never listens. All he does is talk talk talk, always has a retort for everything. So defiant, and so is every single subject he brings in.”

A dull aching throb emanated from where Stan’s head pressed into the wall. Black spots dotted his vision. 

“You–... y-you can't–”

The scissors pulled back and dove toward Stan's mouth, eliciting a loud cut-off scream of revolt as he cowered and squeezed his eyes shut from some vain, animalistic instinct to protect himself. 

Then he pried open his eyes again, confused when no cutting metallic pain ripped through the fragile flesh of his face.

The handle of the scissors were fuzzy, too close for his eyes to focus.

They weren’t that far into his mouth.

Just enough that if Stan tried to close it, his teeth would clip on the tip of the metal blades instead. 

The scissors lifted slowly, tapping on his top teeth, tilting his head up until he stared into Vaughn’s metallic blue eyes once more.

“I could always prep your throat with these if you like,” he drawled softly, letting go of Stan’s cuff chain and instead lightly grasping his thumb and forefinger under Stan’s chin, forcing his mouth open further. A small sob crackled out from Stan’s throat. 

“It would be so easy… I could just–” 

The scissors lurched further into Stan’s mouth, and Stan let out another involuntary squeak and an open-mouthed, unintelligible pleading of “no, no, no, no…” as tears started to sting at his eyes.

But he let him do it. 

He even still held his arms up, because surely if he tried to fight back now, with the scissors in his mouth quite literally pinning him to the wall… He didn’t even want to think of the consequences.

“Careful, dropje. Wouldn’t want to cut yourself. Be quiet, be still, be good for me, right? You can be good for me? You can finally shut the hell up. No more fighting.”

He let go of Stan's chin and let his hands wander lower, caressing Stan’s sides, the curve of his waist, making his entire body tense and shudder. His breathing turning loud and shallow as he cringed away. 

Vaughn just giggled.

“See? Isn’t this better? You’re not getting hurt, you’re doing what I say…” His fingers slipped under the waistband of Stan’s pants again. Slower this time. More deliberate. 

It took all of Stan's willpower to not start hyperventilating at what he knew was about to happen. He knew. It was always this, wasn’t it?

Vaughn’s voice lowered as he leaned closer, pressing his body into Stan’s. He could feel the fibers of the stupid damn sweater vest against his stomach, deceptively soft, almost pleasant. The hard blade of the scissors tapped on the tip of his nose. “Because you physically have no other–”

BANG!!

Stan screamed. 

Vaughn screamed. 

The ghost of the gunshot echoed off the cinderblock walls. 

Vaughn also nearly fell backward, pushing off of Stan just in time for Stan to fall to the floor in a duck-and-cover position and pray to whatever gods would listen that his last day on earth wouldn't have been spent dealing with two of the worst people he'd ever had the displeasure of being kidnapped by.

Wait, scratch that, his knee reminded him. He'd had worse.

His heart threatened to jump out of his chest completely, but he finally realized that in fact, he was still alive. So he opened his eyes to what he never thought to be one of the most beautiful sights in the world;

Deeby. 

Gun pointed to the sky and streaming a light grey smoke into a small puff of explosion that hadn't had time yet to dissipate. 

“What in the ever-loving SHIT are you doing?!” he shouted.

He was completely maskless, face now on full display, fiery eyes matching his equally fiery sneer. The sudden absence of the mask almost scared Stan more than the gunshot, the sight making his heart beat in his throat.

Then, for just a split second, Deeby's enraged eyes met Stan's stare. His eyes scanned down his body, looking him up and down, his face changing ever so slightly when his gaze caught in Stan’s chest. A slight crinkle of the eyebrows, a small tilt of the head. Then his eyes widened in some sort of realization, and Stan felt his heart turn to ice. 

Recognition.

No. 

He couldn't have realized who he was. 

Just because of the binder?!

Stan choked on his own throat as the collar suddenly constricted once more and he was dragged violently forward to his knees.

“Your fucking dog punched me in the face!” Vaughn shouted, jangling Stan around enough that he had to grab the collar just to gain back his breath.

“Just because–!” 

Vaughn jolted Stan's collar back hard and cut him off with a violent gag.

“I was disciplining him.” Vaughn narrowed his eyes at the mercenary. “Like we're supposed to.” 

Deeby’s jaw set. And still, he managed to find a slight smug smile within his fury. “That why your face is gushing blood, then? Disciplined him too hard?”

Stan didn't even realize when they started, but tears were practically streaming down his cheeks now, chest heaving in panic. “Deeby, Deeby, he was gonna–”

“Shut up!”

A kick this time, straight to the back of his spine, and Stan's throat strained hard into the collar before breaking free of Vaughn's grasp and nearly face-planting into cold concrete. He scrambled to get up, but the same foot planted on his back and slammed his chest right back to the floor, grinding the heel of its shoe into the captive’s spine. Stan clutched at the ground, screams barely bit back by force of sheer willpower.

“Christ, man! Stop it, get off!” Deeby yelled with uncharacteristic urgency.

The force pinning him down suddenly released, followed by the scattered footfalls of someone catching themself from nearly falling over. 

Stan just lay there limp. Heaving and shivering. He couldn't move. His limbs felt like heavyweights, the world tilted on it’s axis, and he was sure that if he lifted his head up, he would lose every last morsel of that protein bar he'd shoved down earlier.

But at least now no one was methodically turning him into a fine red mist anymore. 

Deeby stood between the two of them like an impenetrable stone wall, hand resting on the unlatched holster of his gun and pointedly ignoring Vaughn’s stuttering disbelief as he patted at the pockets of his jacket, pulling various probably very sharp things out and shoving them into his pants pockets.

Protecting him.

“You– You just–...” Vaughn finally composed himself. “You pushed me off! You're saving him? He needs to be taught a lesson!”

Stan tried to push up despite the dizziness. “Only–... D-Deeby, he was trying–”

“Shut up, Stan, I know, let me handle it! Here.” Deeby slid his jacket off and dropped it practically on top of his captive’s head, never once letting his gaze slip from Vaughn. Stan shakily pulled the brown leather of the jacket over his shoulders before he had time to think better of it, doing his best to just enjoy the show and not think about the implications of what was currently happening.

 “Because he wouldn't let you put your dick in him without a fight, right?” The bounty hunter said sarcastically. “Or– or– or because he wasn’t gonna let you mouth-gore him without complaint? Let you ‘teach him a lesson?’ Yeah, I am stopping you. Piece of shit.” The bounty hunter grabbed the scissors off the floor where they landed when Vaughn dropped them after the gunshot. Then he used them to point sharply at the door. 

“Get out.”

Vaughn scoffed and melodramatically rolled his eyes.

“You got the message from Lana then? Is that why you're acting like such a belligerent wittle babeee?” Vaughn posited in his most obnoxious baby voice.

Deeby bristled. Stan could've sworn for a moment he could see the man shaking. 

“Yes,” he said, slowly. “I talked to Lana. Your useless job is done. You can go back to being an even more useless sidepiece now.”

Vaughn’s shoulders tensed, and he laughed.

“Good! And I’ll make sure to tell Lana all about you taking the side of the disobedient dog of a test subject–”

“Yeah, go cry to your girlfriend about it, he's under my jurisdiction and I'm not gonna let you fuck that up because you feel the need to live out your perverse power fantasy with the helpless people you kidnap and torture. As if it isn’t torture enough to have to be in the same room with you at all.”

Vaughn clenched his fists at his side and forced on the worst imitation of a smile Stan had ever borne witness to.

“You better watch your tone, Deathberry,” he said, sickly sweet voice doing nothing to mask the hissing rage. “I could have you in the same spot as him in ten seconds. Don't ever–” he jabbed Deeby in the chest. “–forget that. You're only allowed to be out here roaming around with your fancy gun and your fancy cowboy boots because you're useful, otherwise you'd be locked up with the rest–”

Vaughn had just started to reach for the holster on Deeby's belt when, faster than Stan could perceive, a flurry of movement between the two men, a cry of surprised fear, the shuffling of feet and spinning of bodies and suddenly Vaughn was pinned back first to Deeby's chest, a wire that Deeby pulled from somewhere stretched taut between his fists and pressing a hard line directly under into the skin of Vaughn's throat.

Vaughn's hands quickly flew up to the wire to try and pull it off his throat, then just as quickly let go when he realized the wire would sooner cut through his hands before it would be pried off.

Stan couldn't help but stare.

“You're just about at the end of my rope, Verhulst,” Deeby growled, accent fully presiding now as he stepped backward and pulled Vaughn toward the door. “Don't you ever put your filthy hands on my gun.”

A slight rasp to Vaughn's voice was the only thing that denoted anything was amiss. “You sure this is about the gun, Deebs? Sure you're not taking your frustrations at Lana out on me?” 

“Trust me, if I was takin’ my frustrations at Lana out on you, bud, you'd be dead.”

Vaughn's eyes shot to Stan, and his smile broadened. 

“Ohhhh, I see. So what then, you are falling for the captive? I'm sure Lana would love to hear about how you're going soft, how you miss her, and how spectacularly you're failing at finding someone better so you have to–”

A small gurk finding its way from Vaughn's throat as he was pulled to a sudden stop.

“You know what, maybe I am. And maybe you should use your mouth to do something not completely useless for once.” He spun the both of them around to face Stan again. 

“Apologize to ‘im.”

What?

Vaughn stared at Stan, apparently more stunned by the notion of apologizing than the motion of having a garot wire to his throat. Stan… honestly had to agree.

“Come again?”

“Apologize to Stan. For tryin’ to rape him. It's the least you could do.”

“You want me to… apologize?? To the test subject? You really are losing it, Deathberry, let me go.”

The wire dug into his throat more. “Say sorry, doctor.”

Vaughn glared at Stan. Stan glared back as well as he could.

“I can't feel the pain of this, you know,” Vaughn's voice came, even raspier. “You're not doing anything.”

“You can still bleed out from a slit throat. Still drown to death in your own blood as it slowly fills your lungs,” Deeby dismissed lightly. “Still bleed out. Very quickly. I wonder what would happen if I hit your carotid–

“And I wonder how Lana would feel about you slitting her head scientist and boyfriend’s throat.”

“Probably call you a little bitch boy for invoking her name every time you need to defend yourself like a spoiled toddler ‘steada bein’ a man about it and defending yourself. Or maybe not. You’d never know, you’d be dead.”

“You wouldn't–”

Deeby twitched the wire across Vaughn's throat and a line of red bloomed across the light tan of his neck. Vaughn's face grew just a little bit paler. He brought his hands up to graze across the wire and felt the warm wetness smear across his fingertips.

“Apologize.” Deeby growled. “Now.”

Vaughn's eyes flitted back to Stan, fully appraising the wonderfully wide-eyed mess he'd had pinned against the wall only moments before. 

He narrowed his eyes. 

Took a deep breath. 

Stared daggers directly into Stan's soul.

“Sorry.”

Oh you bastard.

“Go jump off a cliff!” Stan yelled, erratically reaching into the jacket pocket he'd seen Deeby pull the protein bar out of earlier and luckily finding many more, one of which was immediately thrown directly at Vaughn. He couldn't even attempt to dodge it, and it hit him directly in the chest. 

The mercenary let out a singular loud laugh and spun Vaughn back around, letting the wire retract into what Stan now realized was a little housing box on his weird arm sleeve thing and shoving Vaughn at the door as hard as he could.

“Guess he doesn't forgive you. Better luck next time!” he laughed. Stan genuinely thought (and hoped) Sweater-vest would fall flat on his face, but he managed to grab the door and right himself before that happened. Shame.

“Now get out.” Deeby said.

Vaughn glared with a literal snarl, jaw half a second away from cracking in two. Right before he took a slow, deep breath and reset his features to a forced neutral. Then an easy smile. “As you wish, my liege.” 

He bowed exaggeratedly low in a show of mock respect, retrieving his scissors from the ground in a surprisingly graceful sweeping motion as he went. Deeby just rolled his eyes.

“Oh, and Stanny?” He drawled, peeking back from the door as he left and pointing his scissors directly at Stan's face with a flourish. “I look forward to seeing you soon~.” 

“Get outta here!” Deeby yelled with a threatening stomp toward the door, at the same time Stan stuttered out a very surprised and agitated “In hell!”

The door slammed shut. 

Stan could swear he could still hear Vaughn's deranged laugh echoing through the room even as an eerie silence fell over them.

He was finally gone. Finally.

See you soon.

He didn't completely understand why his breath continued to quicken. He'd won that encounter, right? Or… well, Deeby had. But still.

I look forward to seeing you soon.

He felt dizzy. More than the concussion could have caused. This was different, made him feel like he was suffocating, even though Vaughn was no longer here to strain the collar against his throat. Yet he could still feel the knuckles digging into the back of his neck.

I look forward to seeing you soon. In hell.

* * * * * * * *

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