#before level 83

[winterdeepelegy]

Home, At Last

Victory was bittersweet, and the work was not yet finished. While a number of Glace's siblings had finally been saved, both from the Empire and from the aether-twisting grasp of the Telophoroi's hideous towers, too many had been lost. They were twisted too far beyond anyone's ability to save them, or their body's were entirely destroyed by time, elements, and neglect in addition to their aether being altered. There were now, perhaps, fewer than half their ilk remaining. The flight away from Yanxia was one of exhausted silence but a lack of tension, except for a few. Terra Shield's life still hung by a thread, and Mother - no, Lillium - hovered close at hand in case his status changed. Maker's Spark and Ceruleum Flower stayed close to a hesitantly dozing Glace, the former as much as from the grief of losing her birth twin as it was from spending so much of her power on helping Terra come back to some inkling of stability. Flower had seen some of the most terrifying things her innocent mind could ever begin to imagine and bravely stood up to help her Siblings recover.

As for the others, they were mixed between hard sleep and staring off into oblivion, trying to process everything that happened. Some were reluctant to sleep, too afraid that this was all a reprieve from a months' long nightmare that they would quickly find themselves immersed back into upon waking. It was a feeling Glace knew all too well, and he couldn't blame them for their restlessness. He only hoped that what awaited them after a few bells worth of flight in Caelric's airship would help to put them more at ease. By the time they were over the Dravanian Hinterlands, the first hues of morning light were rising over the mountain peaks. Their destination, however, was not Idyllshire but somewhere below, partially obscured in the rolling mists of the Orn Wild.

Untouched by many and unclaimed by any jurisdiction, the Orn Wild offered both freedom and security from those who might have survived the Empire and come hunting. The deep valley offered incredible potential and resources: Fresh water and air, fertile earth, sunlight and untainted rain, and plentiful prey for the hunting. There were trees for wood and craft, stone and metal for smithing.

The sanctuary itself was dotted with dwellings which were clearly inspired by those the Sharlayan's left behind in the Hinterlands. Glace found their design to be rather ingenious, and in the case of the sanctuary it was integrated as yet another layer of defense. The round shape allowed water to flow around them in case of flooding, and wind in case the gales became exceptionally strong. The curve meant less resistance against the force of elements where flatter walls could more easily be broken down. Too, if someone did come looking for them, the architecture might bear enough resemblance to the Sharlayans' to cast doubt on their quarry being present. The dwellings were all different sizes to take into account the variety of residents and their needs, but all were uniform in features to start with. Basic furnishings were present, supplies were stocked in each as soon as the Goblins knew the Colossus Project survivors were on their way, and water filtration and heat systems were activated. The occupants could modify their new homes in whatever way best suited them later. In the middle of all of this an empty space yet to be filled by what will eventually be an aetheryte of their own, built from the parts left in the abandoned aetheryte factory, above. Just as soon as the Goblins could find the proper schematics to make it happen... Upon landing, they were greeted by the very Goblins that had helped to build the place so accurately to the specifications they were given. Though a few of the Siblings expressed concern, these were quickly put to rest when their presence was explained and food was offered. This was where their new lives and freedom could finally begin, but their battles were not yet over.

@onidephor @leatherlaceandblades @charm-in-spades @jateshi @cadrenebula

[lenientravesty]

on one of my last wonder trades for pokemon x before the 3ds shutdown someone sent me a level 100 garchomp hatched in 2014

that was someones baby. he's in a luxury ball. he's ev trained. he's had pokerus. they loved this thing. i was traded a level 1 gible named JetPiranha. that's his brother now. i'm going to lose my mind.

[acowardinmordor]

ooh boy. that post about Nancy? Tripped the switch in my head that puts a character into a situation time travel fix it. And. Yep. Barb lives. That's obvious. But as much as we talk about Steve doing dumb things to protect the others, Nancy has him beat. She's too smart, and too organized and too determined. 'save Will' yeah great that took her five minutes. She drops off info with Hopper to handle the feds and help El. She's not going to stop shy of standing over Henry Creel's decapitated corpse. I don't know how you write this. She's been carrying the guilt for too long, she's got planning-brain, she's known since 84 exactly what she would have done different. Each time something happens, she's expanded her plan. Given the chance to do it? Shit. 16yo Nancy Wheeler might not survive and come out the UD at the end of it, but she'd hit all her primary goals, and make sure the others had the info needed to handle anything she missed.

[terramythos]

idk if anything in ffxiv is going to top finally fighting zodiark, the Ultimate Big Bad built up since ARR, as a fucking jump scare in the first act of endwalker. dead-ass level 83 starter boss. the entire experience of '... well NOW what' before shit truly goes nuts is going to stick with me forever probably it was so funny ishikawa did that

[glossysoap]

price is a thigh man (no i’m not projecting again) and loves using your thighs as a stress ball. will squeeze and knead and poke and kiss and bite your thighs mindlessly.

sitting on his lap, he’s kneading your thighs. laying with your legs across him, he’s running his hands up and down just enjoying the smooth skin. sitting in bed with your legs out, he’s flopped beside your legs so he can nip and kiss your thighs. they’re his favourite pillows and he can’t keep himself away from your thighs.

touchy ; john price | o’ captain challenge

OH HE SOOOO FUCKING IS. he cannot keep his hands off you. inspired by both my convos with you and my convos with @loveyhoneydovey <3

note: 18+, afab, some use of fem pet names, face sitting, oral (f receiving and m receiving), 69, this kinda got away from me and became not limited to just thigh worship LMAO it became price being down bad for you in every way possible <3 also my first entry for @glitterypirateduck’s price challenge! using the prompts:

word count: 3k

69. 69ing happens (it’s my first time writing that, so pls be gentle lol. also keep in mind that that isn’t the focus of the piece, so that particular scene isn’t super long.)

83. Face sitting

93. Breast worship

It’s like a magnetic force, honestly. He sees you and he has to touch you. He sees your breasts and his arms are itching to snake around your chest. He sees your hips and the meat of your thighs and he can’t help but reach for them.

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, he will be touching you.

If you’re in the kitchen, standing at the hot stove, he’ll come up behind you and press himself up against you.

His body flush against yours, warm chest pressed against your back and his face nestled in the crook of your neck. His beard scratching at your skin as he leaves open mouthed kisses along the span of your neck, moving down your shoulder. You can feel him grinning against your skin as he hears your breath hitch and gasp. The wooden spoon fell from your hand onto the stove with a clatter.

“Shhh, I got you.”

He even leans down a bit so he’s face level with your back, making it even easier for him to grope and grab at your thighs. Squeezing at the plush flesh that’s so fucking soft, so fucking warm against his rough and calloused hands.

“Love these fuckin’ thighs. Just wanna grab ‘em all day long. Wanna mark em up.”

More often than not, if there were no pressing matters, he would reach around you to turn the stove off. Then he would turn you around so you were facing him, his gaze burning into your face. He used one hand to cup your chin and tilt it up, making you look up at him. He was so close to you, you could feel his breath fanning against your skin. You feel your cheeks burn as you see his mouth quirked up into a grin, his eyes crinkling at the edges. His stormy blues were filled with mirth and mischief as his hands moved to trail down your back.

“Pretty girl.” He murmurs, voice sending shivers down your spine, only intensified by his warm hands on the small of your back. Your hands instinctively found their home on his abdomen, resting against the hard muscle covered in a layer of fat. All warm and soft against your palms.

His eyes flit from your eyes down to your lips, watching as you bite your lip between your teeth. Before you know it, he brings one big hand to cup your cheek as he presses his lips against yours. He holds your face, keeping you close and using his thumb to caress small circles on your skin. While he’s busy kissing you breathless, his other hand has slid under your shirt.

His hand is warm and comforting against your skin as he holds you close to him, so secure. So safe.

Your mouths slot together perfectly, as if they were molded to the other. The way his rough, slightly chapped lips fit perfectly against your soft, plump lips as his tongue dipped inside your mouth. The way your tongues mingled as he tasted every bit of you that he could.

He pours every ounce of love into the kiss, every nip and lick and peck. He wanted, needed you to feel how much he loved you. How determined he is to come back to you every day. How he would crawl back to you if that’s what it took.

As you slipped even further into the kiss, your hands slid up past his abdomen, stopping at his chest. You nipped playfully at his lip, moaning into his mouth as you felt the hand on your back pulling you in further. As you nipped his lip, you felt his heart race even quicker under your hand - a telltale show of how his body was affected by you.

He smiled against your mouth, eyes peeking open briefly to glance at your blissed out expression, before he reluctantly moves his hand from your cheek and down to join his other hand at your back. You gasp into his mouth as his hands trail lower, lower and lower, until his big hands are cupping your ass.

Before you knew it, you’re yelping as he’s lifting you up and setting you on the counter. You lay back on your propped up elbows and watch as he lowers himself down until he’s face level with your legs. You watch as his expression transforms from one of passion to one of pure hunger, his lips curling into a smile smirk. His stormy eyes darting up to your face before darting back between your legs, and with just that single look you felt your legs spread apart on their own.

He laughed at that, a rumble from deep in his chest. With nimble fingers, he tugs on the band of your panties and pulls them down your legs, all the way off of you. He absentmindedly flings the pair of panties to the floor. He gently takes your calf in his hand, hiking it over his broad shoulder. His eyes darken at the sight of your wet cunt all exposed for him, all soaked and begging for his attention.

“So fuckin’ good for me. Y’ don’t even have to think about it, huh? Being obedient just comes naturally, hm?” He murmurs against your calf, his beard scratching your skin. He presses a kiss against your leg while keeping his eyes on you, drinking in your blissed out expression. He loves seeing your brows knit together and your pupils blown wide with lust. Your chest heaved as you panted in anticipation.

“Mm-hmm! Wanna be good for you.” You whine, absentmindedly bucking your hips, desperate for him to touch you.

He chuckles, his other hand finding your other leg and hiking it over his other shoulder.

“Oh, you have,” He croons praise into the crook of your knee, pressing another kiss to your skin. His big hand squeezing the plush skin of your thigh so gently, enjoying how soft it is beneath his calloused skin. His eyes bore into yours as he continued kissing up your knee, slowly trailing to your thigh. He leaves wet, open mouthed kisses on your inner thigh, paying special attention to your stretch marks. His tongue left wet stripes of saliva along those stripes, before sucking the skin with a moan. The closer he got to your cunt, the more you could feel his breath fanning hot against your pussy with every kiss, lick and bite.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’ll take care of you,” Is all he says before devouring you.

His mouth is gentle and slow on your cunt, all languid and planned strokes of his tongue along your folds. Lapping up your juices as his strong hands grip your thighs, holding you impossibly closer to his mouth. He moans into your cunt at your taste, sending vibrations straight to your core.

“Fuck, John,” He hears you moan out his name, and he smiles against your cunt.

He flattens his tongue and leaves wide licks over your entrance, before pressing open mouthed kisses on your slit. He’s teasing in his ministrations, never fully dipping his tongue inside you, just licking along the entrance. You don’t know how long he spent cruelly teasing you with his methodical licking, it could’ve been two minutes or ten — but either way, it was driving you mad.

You whine and buck your hips into his mouth, desperate for him to stop teasing you. Those little licks and kisses made that heat grow in your core but it wasn’t near enough to make that knot come undone.

He grins as he hears moans and whimpers fall from your mouth with every lick and kiss, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needed to feel you absolutely fall apart on mouth, he needed you to drench his tongue and soak his beard. He needed to hear you wail and scream his name.

So he didn’t hesitate to dive in, dipping his tongue inside your hole and lapping at your juices. “Fuck, fuck—,” He heard you cry out. He licked along your warm walls, moaning with every lap of his tongue. He savored your taste with fervor, eating you out sloppily with no care for how loud he was being or how many wet sounds he was making.

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He moans into your pussy, wrapping his arms around your thighs and holding you still. “Want you to soak me, c’mon.”

The wind was knocked out of you as he began paying special attention to your swollen clit. He heard you mewl as he began giving delicate licks to the sensitive bundle of nerves, feeling your hand bury in his hair and hold him between your thighs.

Your hips bucked against his face as you chased your high, feeling that bundle of warmth and tightness in your stomach grow with every passing second. What he did next pushed you even closer to the edge, leaving your legs twitching and your hips jolting. He let his tongue trail around your bud, circling it with a satisfied hum.

“Fuck! That’s it, that’s it—,” You all but shout, feeling yourself teetering just on the edge, so fucking close to gushing all over his tongue.

“Yeah? Like that?” He teases, his voice muffled against your heat. Not even waiting for an answer (as if you could give a coherent response) before he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked.

He watched with a grin as your back arched and your face contorted in pleasure, a wail falling from your lips as your pussy spasmed against his tongue. He growled against your sensitive flesh as you gushed all over his tongue, your delicious juices soaking him.

“Attagirl.”

If you’re just relaxing in bed, you’ll find him laying his head on or between your thighs with a content grin. Most of the time, that cuddling will escalate to skin slapping against skin, moans and panting echoing throughout the room.

Only a few hours after you were devoured in the kitchen, you were laying on your spacious bed (where he would soon have his way with you again).

He started out by climbing into bed and crawling on top of you, nudging your legs apart with his knee so he would have space to lay between. He wastes no time in laying on top of you, nuzzling his face in your stomach and laying his arms next to you. He was all warm and heavy on top of you, a welcome grounding force against you.

You think it’s innocent cuddling, but you’re proven wrong when his hands slide under your thin top and move to cup your tits. He grins into your stomach as he hears you gasp, his thumbs working to tweak your sensitive nipples. He enjoys hearing you whine and feeling your chest heave as he rubs the hardened nubs with his calloused fingers. Every once in a while, he’ll give your breasts a good squeeze, humming against your stomach in approval.

In one hand, he keeps teasing the sensitive bud and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, while the other hand is working on pushing your shirt all the way up, fully exposing your tits to him.

Before you know it, he’s moved up your body so he was face level with those same breasts he was busy teasing.

“Mmm, there you go.” Is all he murmurs before wrapping his lips around your nipple, staring up at you all the while. Your breath hitches as you feel his tongue lap at your sensitive bud, his lips suckling and teasing at the flesh. You watch with lust blown eyes as he licks and sucks at your skin, all while still teasing your other nipple with his hand.

He leaves your nipple alone for a minute in favor of littering bites along your breast, sucking the soft flesh into his mouth with a moan before releasing it. Every bite is followed by his tongue laving over the teeth marks, his beard scratching your skin.

With every bite and lick and suck, you feel yourself grow more aroused and hungry for his touch. He grins against your nipple as he feels you buck against him.

“Y’ needy? Hm?” He asks, all muffled against your breast but you understand him all the same, nodding with furrowed brows.

He takes his time, he doesn’t rush to make you come.

He keeps sucking and pawing at your tits, as if he had all the time in the world. Moaning into your flesh, licking at your skin and savoring the taste. Biting and nibbling at your skin, leaving teeth marks with every suck and nip. Your hand flew up to clutch at his head, tugging at his hair as you held him close. He hummed against your nipple at the slight tingle that he felt as you pulled his hair.

Slowly, you feel a ghosting touch of his free hand (the one that wasn’t busy teasing your other nipple) trailing down past your waistband and into your panties. Your eyes flutter shut and your hips buck into his hand as you feel his fingers trace over your entrance, gathering your juices and spreading it along your folds.

“So fuckin’ wet, doll.”

His mouth goes back to work on your hardened bud, flattening his tongue to lick wide stripes on the sensitive skin. While his tongue is lapping at your flesh and sucking and biting, he’s using two fingers to dip into your folds.

“Oh, look at that. Just.. slides right in for me.” He murmurs muffled praise against your nipple, tongue laving over the hardened bud.

He tries to go slow but they slide right in on their own because of how wet you were, and he can’t help but chuckle. They easily slide in all the way to the knuckle, soaking his digits in your juices and making wet noises every time he pumped his fingers in and out.

“Mmm, fuck,” You whimper at the combined feeling of his fingers pumping in and out, and his mouth worshipping your breast. Your shaky hand fell from his head as he moved to worship your other breast.

His tongue immediately started licking the soft skin of your breast, grazing the flesh and leaving kisses in his wake. As his tongue savored the sweat on your skin, his fingers were savoring the warmth of your cunt, pumping in and out of your tight hole. He smiled against your skin as he heard you moan out his name like a prayer, dripping off your lips like honey.

“Please, please, John. Need more—,” You whined, voice cracking from pure desperation and anticipation. You needed to be full. Full with more fingers, full with his cock. Preferably the latter.

He let go of your nipple with a pop, grinning up at you with his eyes crinkled at the edges.

“Be patient, love.” Is all he croons before he’s reluctantly pulling his fingers out of your pussy, and sitting up from your chest. Your pleading eyes follow him as he moves off of you, lips even pouting a bit as it seems like he’s going to leave you hanging.

You quickly realize that he’s going to do anything but leave you hanging.

He wastes no time in laying down beside you, his head resting comfortably on his pillow.

“Up.” He nods over to himself, gesturing for you to get up with two slick fingers (the same fingers that were just buried in your cunt). “C’mon, get up. On my face. Now, love.”

You crawl out of bed before booking your fingers around the waistband of your panties, then pulling them down until they’re pooling around your ankles. Your legs feel like jelly as you step out of your panties, before turning back to climb into bed once more. You crawled over to him on your hands and knees, still hearing your heartbeat pounding in your ears from how aroused you were.

You gulp once you’ve crawled over to his chest, suddenly feeling antsy to sit on his face with your full weight. He notices your slight hesitation and sits himself up on his elbows to look at you.

“You’re in your head again, doll. Come over here so your Captain can fuck those thoughts right out of your head.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, his promise to fuck those bad thoughts right out of your head. Before you knew it, you were closing that last bit of distance and crawling next to his head.

He beckoned you onto his face with those same two fingers once more, looking up at you with an eager expression.

You swallow as you carefully swing your leg over him so you’re straddling his face. Not yet putting your full weight on him, just barely hovering over his face. You place your hands on his abdomen to hold you steady, enjoying the warmth and hard muscle under your palms.

Almost immediately, John’s big hands are groping at your thighs and squeezing the plush flesh in his calloused grip. His thumbs rub hot circles into your soft skin as he lifts his head up, so he’s able to press soft kisses against your thighs. He wants you to feel every bit of love and appreciation as he leaves wet, open mouthed kisses on your inner thighs, littering small bites every now and then.

He moaned into your skin when he left a particularly hard bite, lapping at your skin afterwards as a balm. He especially focused on your stretch marks, tracing them with his tongue and peppering them with kisses.

Every bit of attention and praise he paid to your thighs and stretch marks slowly helped build your courage to fully sit your weight on him.

But he wasn’t a patient man. You were hovering above his face, keeping your his cunt just out of his reach and he didn’t like that at all. He didn’t like that he couldn’t lick up every drop of wetness that he could see soaking your cunt. He didn’t like that you weren’t letting him suck on your clit, or stick his tongue inside your heat. He wanted you sitting on his fucking face, smothering him with your soaking cunt, and he wanted it now.

“I didn’t say hover, I said fucking sit.” Is all he growls before his arms wrapped around your thighs and pulled you down to sit on his face.

He was so fucking sloppy and messy and passionate that you couldn’t help but immediately let a moan fall from your lips. Your hips started rocking against his mouth, any inhibitions completely melted away as his tongue absolutely devoured you.

He flattens his tongue against your entrance before taking wide, greedy licks of your juices. He moans in approval against your entrance as he savors how fucking perfect you taste.

“Taste so fuckin’ good. Can’t get enough of you.” You hear him all but growl into your cunt, his husky muffled voice sending vibrations to your core.

“Oh, fuck!” You cry out, feeling that bundle of warmth build back up in your stomach. You were already close to your release when John had withdrawn his fingers from your cunt, so it wouldn’t take you long at all to return back to that peak.

As you leaned forward on your hands that were planted on his abdomen, you saw his hips bucking into the air. It seemed like he was doing it unconsciously, like his body was chasing its’ own high as he was determined to yank yours out of you.

Before you knew it, you were leaning forward so your tits were pressed up against his stomach. Then your hands moved on autopilot to slide under the waistband of his boxers and pull out his throbbing cock.

The moment you did, his hips jerked and bucked, and you felt his tongue start worshipping your swollen clit. You moan brokenly, voice cracking as his name falls from your lips. Your hips keep grinding down onto his face as you take his cock in your hands. It’s angry and throbbing, with pearlescent liquid dribbling from the bulbous tip. You were practically drooling at the sight.

You didn’t waste any time in taking him in your mouth, starting with sucking the head of his cock and leaving small licks on the tip. You felt him gasp against you, before his tongue dips and curls into your pussy. You moaned at both the feeling of his tongue penetrating you and the taste of his pre, sending vibrations to his core. Those vibrations made him moan into your cunt and him buck his hips into your mouth.

“Mm-hmm,” You moaned praise around his cock, wanting him to feel just as good as he’s made you feel the entire day.

You wanted him to just let go. You wanted to hear him moan your name unabashedly while his hips bucked into your mouth. You wanted to taste his warm spend and feel him filling your mouth, you wanted everything he could give you.

You started bobbing your head, stroking his cock at the base while your mouth works on the head of his cock. You suckle the head of his cock to focus the stimulation on where he’s most sensitive. If the way he groans and clutches your thighs to pull you impossibly closer was any indication, it worked.

Minutes passed with you laying on top of him, your cunt soaking his beard as he devoured you, and his cock sitting in your throat. It could’ve been five minutes or fifty. (Neither of you would complain if it was even longer.)

With every moan that one of you let out, it pushed the other even closer to their orgasm. It was a never ending cycle, until it wasn’t.

Until his lips wrapped around your swollen clit and sucked, and his tongue curled inside your cunt at the same time. Until you took his cock all the way to the base, where you could feel the tip hitting the back of your throat, and swallowed.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

🏷️: @vgilantee @loveyhoneydovey @divine--serenity @ghastlybirdie @violet-phantoms @lordlydragon @jumbojazzcats93 @warenai @viylikescats @cassiecasluciluce @lilpothoscuttings @krakenbabe @bunnyreaper @blackrose4242 @ansaturn @luvmeijii @luvecarson @kenqki @zittles3000 @theloneshadow24 @moonriseoverkyoto @stargirlrchive @itzzjxlyn @blissful-bunny @damnirina @claymorexpunisher @mandalover2023 @kiroshang @ivymarquis @wolfieisacat

[not-the-cheese]

one sentence(ish) summaries of every magnus archive episode PART 2

(eps 61-110) thank u for the funny comments and tags on the last part i love u guys

the rest of these may take a while as i've caught up to where i am currently in the podcast but i will finish them like in a month i promise

----

61. the thrilling sequel to man does not open coffin: man DOES open coffin.

62. surely this doctor can find an easier way to scam people out of money than putting them in a little book.

63. THE DARK ATE MY BROTHER IN LAW.

64. this is possibly the plot of laura croft tomb raider

65. mmm crumchy

66. what's the opposite of an unboxing video

67. as close to a coffeeshop au as you're going to get from this podcast

68. Doctors hate him! Man REFUSES to die from tuberculosis!

69. your college's psych department has the worst idea ever.

70. reverse death note

71. not even death will stop this woman from taking the british subway

72. man doesn't want to be low key racist in his last moments before getting eaten

73. police versus the second coming of dark jesus

74. lady is haunted by an ad for coffee

75. mike crew says "uh fuck it let's just put this guy on a skyscraper forever"

76. ryan from buzzfeed unsolved breaks into a train yard and suffers consequences

77. you're not a enough of a bitch to be my real mom

78. man gets harassed by his cousin and then exorcises him

79. you know that chase scene in scooby doo with the doors

80. stupid idiot motherfucking jurgen leitner

81. i have been personally victimized by the sequel to the hungry hungry caterpillar

82. pov: elias threatens to cancel you

83. mannequin takes matters into its own hands after people don't like its pitch for a new window display

84. a hoarder put newspaper on my friend's face :(

85. hey there's maybe a little man upon these stairs?

86. man gets got by a squiggly thing in the dark.

87. plumber is so oblivious to spooky happenings around him that it possibly saves his life.

88. guys i think this guy likes to dig

89. lesbian investment banker finds a new, less evil job: arson!

90. guy who turns people's bones starts a gym where he promises not to turn your bones! (he is lying)

91. i was stalked by lightning for 10 years and i all i got were these stupid scars

92. jonah magnus is a bad friend // another day another elias slay

93. ocd is no match for purple fuzz

94. let the bodies drop gently to the floor let the bodies drop gently to the floor

95. im so sorry my brain refuses to remember what the war ones were about but i think one guy got gently kissed on the forehead so that's pretty nice.

96. diversity wins! the not-quite-human delivery men who stole your identity and business are maybe gay?

97. man gets gaslighted by an entire town about a hole

98. 🎶mister sandman bring me a dream, actually don't, please stay far from me 🎶

99. another one bites the dust

100. archival assistants face off against the general public (they lose)

101. jon finally levels up high enough to unlock an eldritch horror's tragic backstory

102. LOCAL MAN MARRIES BUG

103. peppa eats a clown and they cover her in concrete instead of congratulating her.

104. pennywise stole my brother's skin

105. it's world war z baby

106. Something Big Is In Space.

107. man is interrogated about the time he saw thomas the train roasts people alive and also sans is there

108. actor is stalked by mask who liked his monologue so much that it tells its mask friends to come watch.

109. sometimes a family is just a serial killer's daughter and that guy who maybe killed some vampires

110. yeah man those spiders be eating

Part 1 |

[la2yn0va]

Self Aware-HSR ‘Rules’ and Guidelines in the AU. Part 2.

~~~

Had to drop a second part because my boi @deathcvltcivilofficial thinks they can do better then me. I even didn’t go to school today— I’m so confident this’ll be better!

My part one — HEEEEEEERE

Deathcvltcivilofficial’s part — HEEEERE

~~~

Under no circumstances are characters allowed to directly tell the Voidborne arbiter that they know they’re in a game, until they descend.

The only way they’re allowed ‘directly’ communicate with the Omni aeon, is by sending credits, stellar jades, and messages to whoever the Omni aeon is controlling.

Everything the Voidborne arbiter must be taken seriously. Whatever they command, you MUST obey, or be punished by 5,000 Amber eras of torture. —

Newly added—The Voidborne sovereign has stated they say things jokingly. Ask for clarification before committing acts they may have meant in a joking manner.

No touching. You may only gaze upon their grace. Touch without permission is punishable by imprisonment.

You must stand 4 feet away from their grace. You are not permitted to taking their air, nor smelling their divine scent.

If their grace is tired, you WILL DO everything and anything to ensure they gain a perfect relaxing sleep. This is the only way your allowed to place your filthy hands upon their divine body.

If you make their grace uncomfortable in anyway, you will be subjected to eternal suffering and labor. Genius Member Society #83 — HERTA. Will inject you with her de-aging serum to keep you young and continue your divine punishment.

Impersonation of any kind of the Voidborne Arbiter is strictly prohibited! Any Impersonation of any level, that is not signed off by the IPC, is punishable by public torture or eternal suffering.

—If someone wants to make a Self aware hsr story, he’s some things I believe should be included or be considered the base line—

1. Reader shouldn’t gain any powers from the start.

2. The aeons cannot help the reader directly, only being able to lend them power/regift the reader with the perfect mortal organic body at the start.

3. Reader should be apart of the nameless crew (for obvious reasons)

4. Every planet the reader should unlock 2 powers. In penacony, reader should be lead to the throne room that the family made for them and gain some of their past memories, along with Sunday trying to convince/manipulate them into helping his cause.

5. Nanook should be the only aeon that hates the reader, along with enemies like the antimatter legion, the borisin, and the family except for Sunday and Robin.

6. Reader shouldn’t be too serious, or too kindhearted. As they are GOD mad should be balanced. This includes enemies and people who’re blasphemous/against them.

7. Characters should have Yandere tendencies towards reader.

[bruhstation]

Wait a sec, so if Hiro was a time traveler who fast forward through 100 years did he leave anyone behind in the past like say.. a wife or maybe a child?

Did Hiro have any family ?

hiro does, sadly. his family never knew what happened to him despite the outrage his disappearance sparked in japan, and hiro in casa tidmouth didn’t know how the entirety of his nuclear family got destroyed by one of japan’s greatest natural catasthropes.

hiro’s wife and children (except satoko) were eventually wiped out the Great Kanto Earthquake in 1923, but he does have descendants of his own that he managed to meet after the events of casa tidmouth’s Hero of the Rails arc.

(more info about them under the cut)

THE YEAR IS 1894.

Hiro Hideki

秀紀 弘 Hideki Hiro

Age: 57 (before transportation, canon Casa Tidmouth is 62)

The patriarch of the Hideki family. Wise, calm, level headed, but has a tendency to overwork himself and put others before himself. He has a mindset of finishing his work first before rewarding himself with the most basic necessities such as eating or going to the bathroom which exasperated Kamome.

Hiro originated from 1894, the Meiji era. Before he was transported to 1994, he’s a civil engineer and railway inspector that was heavily involved during the modernization and westernization of Japan and oversaw the construction of the Tokyo to Yokohama railway in 1872 and its subsequent expansion to Kozu in the following years.

In an attempt to further the connections with the United Kingdom and as part of a collaboration to improvise their engines and railways, the Emperor formed a research group and sent them to England and its surrounding islands – one of them being the Island of Sodor, infamous for its rumored supernatural influence and cases of outsiders going missing (not a great idea, Emperor). Hiro was sent there alongside his colleagues and seniors and the next thing he knew… his environment was alien, his clothes were tattered, he cannot remember anything, and he’s all alone in a steep siding.

Kamome Hideki

秀紀 鴎 Hideki Kamome

Age: 54 (83 at death)

Hiro’s wife. Their marriage was arranged by their parents but Hiro fell in love with her at first sight. While Hiro speaks gently and avoids unnecessary conflict, Kamome is blunt and goes straight to the point when talking. She was constantly seen wearing a tasuki sash and was well-toned for her age. The neighbors and family’s acquaintances see her as a scary woman with a sharp tongue and even sharper eyes, but… that’s just how her face is. Kamome doesn’t take compliments well and instead of smiling, she usually purses her lips or scrunch her eyebrows to express her happiness (Hiro thinks it’s cute).

During the early years of Hiro’s disappearance, Kamome put on a strong facade for their children. She didn’t have much financial worries because their children already had jobs. Hirokazu’s and Akira’s families visit from time to time, and Kamome quickly came into terms with Hiro’s disappearance, but the loneliness and frustration inside her heart still well.

I took her given name from the limited express train service that JR Kyushu operated, Kamome. Her name also means “seagull”.

Hirokazu Hideki

秀紀 弘和 Hideki Hirokazu

Age: 34 (63 at death)

Hiro’s eldest son. He was named after his father. Hirokazu was a serious, rigid man — always bent on following every rule there in his line of work and wouldn't hesitate to reprimand people for messing up. He liked expressing his thoughts (usually related to Japanese politics) without sugarcoating anything and got a knack for debating with his peers, so he’s often exhausted with his father who’s always calm and open to anything Hirokazu says without refuting much of his opinions. Despite being polar opposites, Hirokazu greatly respected and adored Hiro — hence why he followed in his footsteps to become a civil engineer.

Ever since Hiro disappeared, everytime Kamome looked at Hirokazu she felt like he resembled Hiro more and more. Hirokazu’s responsibility in taking care of his family (especially his elderly mother) grew stronger and his need to live up to his father’s legacy eats away at him.

Akira Hideki

秀紀 明 Hideki Akira

Age: 31 (60 at death)

A shy, stoic woman whose social battery drains quickly. She’s soft spoken and doesn’t talk much because of her social anxiety, so he enjoyed conversations with her gentle father more. Akira is also kinda awkward at socializing — behind her neutral face, she’s constantly nervous when faced with a crowd or an unexpected acquaintance of either his father or mother who wanted to chat with her, something she’s extremely self conscious about (Hiro told her she’s fine the way she is). When she succeeded in a conversation, however, she got all fired up and overly proud of herself Akira married a wealthy textile businessman who’s been seeing her for a while and is incredibly smitten with her.

After Hiro went missing, Akira’s husband, mother, and siblings often find her wandering around the train station, sitting solemnly or even asking railwaymen and random passersby if they’ve seen her father. She wasn’t doing mentally well, but luckily her family was there for her.

Masaharu Hideki

秀紀 雅治 Hideki Masaharu

Age: 24 (53 at death)

A student from the Tokyo Imperial University. He studies medicine and was an apprentice of his professor at a hospital in Tokyo. He’s timid, always stressed out, and have trouble standing up for himself, especially against his professor who always reprimand him for even the smallest things such as being late to a conference or being too slow to hand him an operating tool. Masaharu was also a mama’s boy. Kamome fusses over him and always tells him to eat more. Hiro too, but he’s not the most stern.

His professor used his connections to help Masaharu look for his father. Rescue teams, fellow colleagues from Europe, even autopsy labs and funeral homes — he looked everywhere, yet he and Masaharu are stumped. Masaharu felt so useless and even considered dropping out, but Kamome and Hirokazu dragged him back to reality, which made Masaharu end up crying.

Hisae Hideki

秀紀 久愛 Hideki Hisae

Age: 21 (50 at death)

Spunky, stubborn, and always up-to-date. She is IN LOVE with western fashion and a HUGE francophile. She’s a tad spoiled and always asks Hiro for some money whenever new clothes hit the market. Hisae likes dressing up her younger sister Satoko in various clothes she made or bought. She also worked at Irohanayama’s tea house because government officials and their wives always visit in their western attire. She’s also good at talking with people and pleasing upper-crusts. She dreamed of visiting France someday, though this is mostly because of the rose-tinted glasses she has for Europe.

After Hiro went missing, Hisae spent most of her days moping, not wanting to eat or leave her room until Hirokazu and Satoko convinced her to. One day, she suddenly stopped holing herself up in her room, quit her tea house job, and planned on opening her own clothes shop.

Satoko Hideki

秀紀 聡子 Hideki Satoko

Age: 17 (46 during Great Kanto Earthquake)

Being the youngest and most obedient, Kamome frequently asked her to go out to town to run errands. Generally a quiet person, though she always butt heads with her more hotheaded sister Hisae. Most of her clothes during her late teenage years are hand-me-downs from her. She didn’t really have any notable abilities or talents, but she likes collecting hairpins and combs.

In 1923, Satoko survived the Great Kanto Earthquake because she lived at her husband’s hometown far from Tokyo, making her the only living member of Hiro’s nuclear family (some grandchildren from the Hideki family survived but that’s another story. It’ll make this tree longer)

She is Kenji and Kana’s great grandmother.

———

THE YEAR IS 1999.

Kenji and Kana met Hiro during their visit to the Great Kanto Earthquake Memorial Museum. When Kana was taking pictures of the memorial hall for her school assignments, Kana spotted Hiro staring at the list of names. Kenji went to the bathroom for a second, and Kana saw Hiro sitting alone on the bench. Kana sat beside him and sparked a conversation, leading to them eventually becoming friends. Kenji joined them shortly after, and they parted ways soon after it got dark and Kana urged Kenji to take her home so she can print her photos. Hiro bid them farewell, looking wistful but also satisfied with himself.

Neither of them knew that they’re Hiro’s great great grandchildren… until much, much, later.

Kenji Shirogane

白鐘 健二 Shirogane Kenji

Age: 22

Lives in Shinjuku, Tokyo, with his younger sister, Kana. Ever since their parents went abroad for work-related purposes, Kenji has been acting as a guardian for his sister. He studies biomed at Tokyo University in Bunkyou. He goes there via the Yamanote line.

Kenji’s great at cooking and Kana only likes his curry rice because he doesn’t put any “weird” vegetables in it. He likes Japanese variety shows like Takeshi’s Castle and Gaki no Tsukai.

Kana Shirogane

白鐘 華菜 Shirogane Kana

Age: 16

Lives in Shinjuku, Tokyo, with her older brother, Kenji. Second year in high school. She’s in the sports club at her school and is a star for the girls’ running team. A cheerful and hyperactive girl, Kana is rather mischievous and can put on crocodile tears whenever Kenji doesn’t allow her to do something. She frequently gets into trouble at school because of her purple inner dye and grommet belt.

Kana is also quite foul-mouthed and has little respect towards most adults that boss her around, labeling her as a problem child at school. Kenji’s fond of her, but he also describes her as “disrespectful towards older folks”. She would also pull on his nose whenever she’s hungry in the middle of the night and saw Kenji sleeping by the couch to wake him up. However, she truly cares about her family and loves her older brother. Kana’s just a kid being a kid.

[whateversawesome]

About Spy x Family Chapter 83

Let’s talk about the latest chapter of Spy x family along with some traditional crazy theories. 

First of all, Twilight has been trained to kill the enemy and he was being attacked, so in theory, he should have killed Yuri, then...Why did Twilight hesitate? I think the whole fandom knows the answer...Could it be because of a certain person? *Coughs* YOR!

Mr. Spy has been compromised. He hasn’t realized it yet, but he’s in love.

Want further proof? Here he is in the middle of a fight, thinking about his wife 😏 Note about this: He must know at some level that Yor is different from other women. Otherwise, why did he ask himself that question?

And here Twilight was ready to do his job, meaning kill his enemy, an SSS agent who is ready to arrest him, torture him, and possibly kill him. I think at some point, he really thought about finishing him off, but then he hears a name...Yor.

And that changes everything.

He hesitated once, then the second time wasn't a hesitation, but a full conscious decision: Twilight knows it’s a risk to let Yuri live. He could discover him, but he still spares his life, not out of mercy, but out of love for his wife and his family (because Yuri is his family too).

Now about Yuri... I’ve mentioned this before, and this panel makes my suspicions stronger: Yuri will be the one who discovers Twilight’s identity. That kid is smart and if he starts putting the pieces together, he may end up discovering everything.

Also, I think Twilight not killing Yuri will be a deciding factor in the end. Right now Yuri is a KID. But at some point during the story, he’ll become an adult and will have to face some truths: That the SSS does bad things and that his brother in law is a spy. This is the point when Yuri will have to choose between duty and his family and I believe he will choose his family (at a great personal cost).

When this happens, things are going to get tough for Yuri, because the SSS high command sees him as a puppy who obeys and does the dirty work for them. What do you think it will happen when he doesn't obey? (This guy is scary 😟)

Plus, Yuri feels he owes his sister for sacrificing herself to raise him. That's why he wants to protect her: he wants to pay her back for everything she has done for him...and what better way to pay her back that to protect her family (husband and daughter).

On top of everything, he now (sort of) owes Twilight. Yuri thought he was going to die, that’s why he mumbled an apology to Yor. Once he discovers who Twilight is, he’ll know the reason why he wasn’t killed.

It’s going to be messy. 

Bonus: Did Twilight kick Yuri on the balls? Looks like Anya won't be having any cousins 🤣

[athymelyreply]

A highly recommended read. Full text of article under cut

On October 7, I was not hiding with my child in the safe room. My house was not burnt to the ground, and my husband didn't blow me a last kiss before his killer fired a fatal bullet.

I was safely at home in London where I have lived for over 30 years when my elderly peace-activist parents, Oded and Yocheved Lifschitz, along with 77 others members of the community, were taken hostage, barefoot and in their pajamas from their homes in the kibbutz where I was born and raised.

Israel's hostages in Gaza: A matter of life and death

Israeli peace activists who lost loved ones in the Hamas massacre stand their ground

What we can learn from released Hamas hostage Yocheved Lifshitz

For the past 229 days, together with the families of the other of hostages taken captive which now number 128, we have taken part in the fight for the lives of our loved ones.

A photo of the writer, Sharone Lifschitz's parents, Yocheved and Oded Lifschitz, who were both kidnapped by Hamas to Gaza on October 7. To date, only Yocheved Lifschitz has returned. Credit: Amiram Oren

In Nir Oz, my family's kibbutz, one in four people (117 in total), were either executed or kidnapped. We are still piecing together the events of that brutal day that Hamas terrorists and some Gazan civilians, perpetrated medieval levels of cruelty, driven by hate and revenge, blinded by radical religious ideology and super-charged with amphetamines.

Last month, at the "Seder in the Streets" event in New York, activist Naomi Klein spoke as if none of that ever took place. Instead, addressing hundreds who gathered for a combination Passover Seder and protest of the war in Gaza, she spoke of what she termed the "False Idol of Zionism", comparing Jewish support of it to the Israelites "worshiping" the golden calf and recalling Moses' rage seeing the spectacle.

Klein's interpretation seems to miss the point: Moses, unlike Klein, did not disengage. He did not give up on his people when they worshipped a false idol. Instead, without compromising his integrity and beliefs, he guided them through the desert for forty more years in their journey to become a nation. Klein, at this dangerous moment in history, is failing to lead her listeners to take responsibility, to engage and work towards a shared future in the region for Jews and Palestinians, one built on the preciousness of life on both sides and an understanding of the original intention of Zionism: the necessity for a safe home for the Jewish people.

"Seder in the Street" was also protesting the heartbreaking and ongoing humanitarian crisis in Gaza and settler violence in the West Bank. Many in Israel, like my parents, would agree. Yet their plight and that of the other hostages – most of them civilians, from a baby boy of one year to a man of 86 - are not mentioned at Seder in the Streets or other gatherings of far-left pro-Palestinian Jewish activists.

My father, Oded Lifschitz, who is 83, and his friends who are also hostages, all in their late 70s and 80s, have worked for peace for decades. My mother, Yocheved Lifschitz, was thankfully released after 17 days of captivity.

Yocheved Lifschitz after being released from 17 days in Hamas captivity, in Tel Aviv, Israel in late October. Credit: Tomer Appelbaum

How much more effective these protests could be if activists abroad could act as a bridge between the pro-Palestinian movement and progressives fighting for peace in Israel?

Hamas, a terrorist organization which has been systematically stripping freedom, women's rights and democracy from the Gaza strip since 2006 are also strangely left out of the discussion. In fact, I see more criticism of the Hamas attack and crimes from moderate Palestinian voices than from prominent Jewish voices of the pro-Palestinian movement in the United States and Europe.

Klein is instead content in disengaging from Israel based on a distorted idea of Zionism and in so doing offers no solidarity with the moderate, progressive Jews living in Israel and for whom rejecting Zionism is irrelevant at this moment. Whether we like our government's policies or hate them as many do, Israel is home. Just as Canada is Klein's home, whether or not she likes the policies of the Canadian government or condones its mistreatment of its Indigenous population.

I consider myself pro-Palestinian. My family has always fought for a shared future for our two peoples, understanding this key point: our fates are interlinked. My parents have advocated for peace and equality for and with the Palestinians since the 1960s. We have united as a family to protest policies of the current Israeli government we find abhorrent. I wish for the Palestinians what I want for my own people: to live without bloodshed, in their own democratic state, as part of a negotiated two-state solution.

The facts are indisputable to Zionists and non-Zionists alike: There are about 7 million Jews and 7 million Palestinians living in Israel and the occupied Palestinian territories of the West Bank and Gaza. Jewish Israelis cannot be expected to reject the idea that they can and should have the right to live safely in Israel. Without Israel, where would they go?

Everyone who cares about what's best for the region must strengthen those who are working for a peaceful future. As my father always says, "You make peace with your enemies."

A Palestinian family rides on the back of a donkey-drawn carriage next to damaged buildings in Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, in April.Credit: AFP

Thanks to international efforts to formulate a plan for the "day after" the war in Gaza, we are potentially closer to a long-term political agreement to lift us out of conflict than ever before. To help facilitate it, American and European progressives must distinguish between religious fanatics on both sides and those working toward a path of justice and peace for everyone in the region.

We must differentiate the liberal American pro-Palestinian activists from those who justify Hamas atrocities as acts of resistance. The dominant current narrative of the American far left, including the Jews among them, unwittingly aligns with Iran, and with antidemocratic and illiberal forces.

Instead of fostering hate and promoting disengagement from Israel, progressives abroad should help those in the region regain a sense that another future is possible and advocate for a negotiated political agreement that would create a state of Palestine established alongside the state of Israel. It won't be perfect, but it will be a good start.

The work of advocating for a different, sustainable future, must start with a call for the immediate release of hostages as part of a long-term agreement, backed by America and its allies, including moderate Arab states, that has the potential to transform the lives of Palestinians and Israelis by rescuing them from this ongoing tragedy. To fail to do so is to fail not just the hostages and their families, but to throw all the people of the region further into the abyss and undo the inspiring work of moderate forces within Israeli and Palestinian society.

In this, our darkest hour, we ask ourselves, who is our enemy? My enemy is the blind hate that seeks to erase the humanity of the other side. All of us who are horrified by what is unfolding in Gaza should work toward empowering the people of the region to move away from our common enemy. That's not Zionism, but rather the religious fanaticism we have within both our societies – Israeli and Palestinian – that threatens to engulf us all.

Sometimes, I want to shout at the news on TV, to remind people that their indulgent engagement in hatred of one side is so futile, so self-congratulatory. We can do better.

As we bleed and grieve, and in the case of families like my own – hang suspended between hope and despair for the fate of our loved ones, we must seek points of human connection between Jews and Palestinians, we must fight, not against one another, but for a practical solution that dismantles the status quo so that we can all survive – and live in freedom and security.

Sharone Lifschitz is a London-based filmmaker and academic originally from Kibbutz Nir Oz, whose parents were taken hostage on October 7. On Twitter: @Lifschitz_sha

[grandwretch]

been thinking a lot about those hcs about steve bullying eddie and i'm pretty sure the math just does not check out on any level

like okay so first of all, steve absolutely would not be bullying someone older than him in his freshman and sophomore years, especially because in the way puberty hits teen boys, there is no way eddie wasn't probably taller and bigger than him in those years.

and like, yeah, he was more of an asshole in his junior year, but he was only a junior for four months before the demogorgon. so that means that everything you want steve to be responsible for vis a vis eddie's trauma has to be within that four months.

it's especially egregious when the only person we actually see steve bully is jonathan, who is a sophomore at the time. a sophomore who kicked steve's ass, btw. which probably means steve wasn't physically bullying seniors and escaping unscathed.

also it seems to be an equally popular trope that steve bullied gareth and gareth hates steve the most out of all eddie's friends, which is like... okay, gareth is, i think, a junior at the time of s4? which means he would have been a freshman in steve's junior year. which, yeah, sets him in steve's prime bullying demographic, but can i just remind everyone that steve wasn't even with that crowd for his entire first semester of junior year?

it seems incredibly unlikely that gareth got bullied by steve personally in fall '83 and then held on to that grudge for the rest of high school, especially after seeing firsthand steve's fall from popularity and then spending almost a whole year in school without him.

[strangersteddierthings]

Steve, Gareth and Chrissy are cousins AU (sad edition) [prologue] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Final Part]

"So," Robin says after they clink their molotov cocktails together, "do we also get to talk about the whole cousin situation now?"

Steve looks across the field, where Eddie and Dustin are defending themselves from invisible enemies. Gareth and Lucas are swinging the finished spears at each other while Erica shakes her head at them, working on a third. It looks like Nancy is showing Max the proper way to hold a shotgun, which isn't nearly as bizarre as it probably should be.

"What's there to talk about?"

"Are you doing okay?" Robin asks.

Steve doesn't mean to making a scoffing noise. It just leaves his body involuntarily. "No. But I'm not the only one not doing okay. Now that we know Vecna doesn't have to do the whole weeklong build up to murder town, that he could get any of us, as any time and he's just being a sadistic bastard-"

"Steve. He'll take the bait. If nothing else, we have to believe that."

Steve looks from Max to Gareth, then back to Robin. "Yeah. Right."

Robin is quiet for a moment, before her eyes flick away and back to him again. "Do you want to talk to Gareth? He was... God, Steve, it was awful, hearing him scream for you. While Vecna was... Anyway, I know you two are like avoiding each other for whatever reason, but I think you can let go of whatever it was."

"I just wanted to keep them safe, Robbie," Steve swallows down the sob that wants to break free. "I never wanted them involved in this. I was so scared that I'd somehow infect them with the Upside Down that I just kept them away and it took Chrissy anyway. It-it-"

"It hasn't taken Gareth, though," Robin says softly, cutting Steve's spiral off. "It hasn't taken him. But he needs you. I think you need him, too. You should talk. Before we drop him at the Creel house. Because."

She doesn't finish, but that's fine. Steve knows what she's saying. They could die today. Any one of them. Chrissy died without Steve making it right. He'd started to work on hanging out with Chrissy again, but it was all surface level. He didn't even apologize. With Gareth he could justify, however shitty that was to do, that he was staying away because Gareth asked him to.

Chrissy hadn't asked for Steve to step out of her life. He'd done that himself in '83.

He can't do right by Chrissy anymore, but he can try with Gareth.

He stands and Robin gives his knee two solid pats before he walks away.

"Dustin, you piss off Steve somehow?" Eddie asks.

Gareth, in the middle of facing off with Lucas, pauses to look around, which gains him a light tap to his side by Lucas' spear. Sure enough, Steve is stalking their direction with a grim determination on his face.

"What, why am I the one getting the blame?" Dustin says, offended.

"It is usually you," Lucas adds, which earns him a squawk of indignation from Dustin, who shoots back, "he could be coming to lecture you for making Erica do all the spear making!"

Steve doesn't approach either boy, though.

"Hey, can we talk?" Steve asks once he comes to a stop in front of him.

"Got some end of the world regrets, Harrington?" Gareth says, trying to keep his voice lighter than he feels. He wants to tease Steve, not bully him.

He must succeed because Steve gives a chuckle and says, "I don't think we have time for all the end of the world regrets, so, uhh, just the one for now."

"We're cool, dude," Gareth says, eyes flicking from Steve to Eddie. The kids know, Gareth told them himself, but Eddie doesn't. "I started it."

"Yeah, but I graduated and still pretended you didn't exist. Which isn't what you asked for."

Gareth shrugs, because he doesn't know everything but he knows enough. Learned this isn't anyone else's (besides Eddie and his) first rodeo or whatever. That there have been other times, dating back to the year Will Byers was lost for a week. "Dude. Seriously. We're cool. You've been dealing with... whatever the fuck this is. So, just, like promise to be around more once we all survive this."

Steve looks pained but before he can reply, Eddie cuts in, "I'm sorry. How do you know each other?"

Gareth looks to Steve, who just shrugs as if to say your friend, you responsibility and honestly? Fuck Steve Harrington. Keeps traumatizing secrets and pushes Gareth away and also throws him to the wolves. Except, this is the secret Gareth has been keeping from Eddie. He sighs and turns to Eddie. "Well, uh, Steve's my cousin. We used to be super close before I started high school. Actually, Steve here is the reason I joined Hellfire!"

Eddie seems to go through all 7 stages of grief before settling into a confused. "I'm sorry. Steve talked you into joining Hellfire?"

"That is not what I did!" Steve defends himself.

"God no. He just went into great detail about how loud and obnoxious and attention-grabbing the current president was, as if that would make me want to not meet you for some reason."

"It was a warning!" Steve yelps at the same time Eddie sing-songs, "You think I'm attention-grabbing, Harrington?"

Dustin, Lucas, and Erica are all laughing at Steve has he tries to sputter through what he meant by attention-grabbing ("It's hard to not pay attention when he's shouting from the top of a lunch table!"), and Gareth just watches on, amused.

After they fight an... evil wizard? Vecna or whatever his name is. Once this is over, Gareth is going to sit Steve down and make him tell him everything, but that can wait.

He wants to watch Steve flounder trying to defend himself from the accusations of watching Eddie just a bit too much back in high school.

Later, as they all pack up and load up in the RV, Nancy stops Steve from entering the RV, ushering everyone past until Gareth and Steve are the only ones left outside.

"Are we acknowledging that you're cousins, now?" she asks.

"You knew!?" Steve sounds surprised. Gareth's surprised, too.

Nancy just rolls her eyes. "Steve, I've been to your house." When that just makes Steve look confused, she rolls her eyes and says, "there are family pictures covering almost every inch of your living room."

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" Robin pipes in, appearing in the doorway with an angry expression.

"It wasn't really my thing to talk about, was it?"

"Yeah, but did you even check in with Steve? If you knew, and knew what happened to Chrissy- you didn't even ask if he wanted to go to the funeral!"

"Robin!" Steve hisses.

Nancy doesn't look upset by whatever accusation Robin seems to be trying to make. "If Steve wanted to go, he could have said something. We aren't his keepers. But, also," her gaze goes from Robin to Steve, "I didn't want to pry or seem pushy. I figured you'd tell us when you were ready."

Robin frowns but doesn't say anything else, disappearing back into the RV. Gareth gestures for Steve and Nancy to go first, and then he's closing and locking the door behind him before heading to sit by Eddie along the back bench seat. A bunch of shit has been piled there, so Gareth shoves it off the seat and to the floor. The pile of things ends up being a hazard and he almost brains himself while turning to sit down; something under his foot slides and Eddie saves him, yanking him to fall onto Eddie. After some fussing and laughter from those around, Gareth gets seated and looks down to see what almost killed him.

It's a phone book.

Eddie leans in close once they're back on the road to town to whisper, "so, you just let me go on all those rants about King Steve and never once thought to tell me you were related?"

Gareth just gives him his best impression of a King Steve smirk and says, "I would have hate to have deterred you from talking about your favorite school subject."

It's worth seeing the scandalized look on Eddie's face, even as the man socks him in the leg for the comment. "I hate you, man."

Gareth rubs his leg and says, "you don't mean that."

There's a long silence from Eddie after that before he says, "you're right. I don't mean that. And. Uh. In case I don't- in case it goes south down there but ends up fine up here, I just-"

"No," Gareth growls. "Fuck you, Eddie. We're going to be fine. All you gotta do is shred on your guitar and get the hell out. You're going to be fine."

"You didn't see the bats."

"Eddie."

"Fine. It's gonna be fine," Eddie agrees and falls silent.

Gareth frowns at that. Eddie must really be worried, to not argue back like he usually does. Gareth's worried, too, but what can he do?

He thinks about his mom. When did he last tell her he loves her? If they don't succeed tonight, will he get a chance to say it again? Will anyone get a chance to say it again?

Gareth looks down at the phone book at his feet.

"Wait, does anyone have change for a payphone?" Gareth asks from somewhere behind him. Steve turns in his seat to look into the back of the RV.

"Uh, yeah," Robin digs into her pockets, but then narrows her eyes at Gareth and asks, "wait. Who are you calling?"

"I have to let my mom know I'm alive. Just... hear my voice," Gareth says. "She needs to know I'm okay. It's already been too long since last we talked and... after Chrissy she was..."

Robin's face drops into the guiltiest look Steve's ever seen on her face and she produces her wallet, dropping the whole thing into Gareth's open hand. "Yeah, no. Sorry. There's still plenty of time for a phone call before the end of the world. You better return my wallet, Cunningham."

"I'm not going to rob you, Buckley," Gareth says before ducking out the RV with Max, Lucas, and Erica.

Steve tries not to let the guilt well up in him as they drive away. Gareth had wanted to come with Team Kill Vecna but Steve had quickly argued against that. He wasn't going to let Gareth anywhere near the Upside Down.

So it was decided. Max, Lucas, Erica, and Gareth at the Creel house, Dustin and Eddie on distraction, and Nancy, Robin, and Steve were going to face down Vecna.

There was still hours to go before they'd try, with a time set for 9:20ish, since that's the time Vecna's been enacting his curse according to Eddie's broken watch. Plenty of time to fortify Eddie's house in the Upside Down, plus the almost 40 minute walk to the Creel house from Forest Hills.

This was going to work. It had to.

Max and Lucas opt for hiding around the back of the house, waiting for time to pass until it's closer to dark, and Erica said she was going to snoop around the abandoned playground, so Gareth decided to head to the payphone a couple of blocks down the street.

He makes it halfway there before Erica scares the shit out of him by saying, "why do you need a phone book?"

Gareth yelps and spins, stupidly trying to hid the book behind his back even though he knows she already saw it. "I- uh, no. No reason."

Erica eyes him and he's suddenly very aware of whatever Eddie saw in her that night at Hellfire, that let her join the club. She's pretty scary for a middle schooler. "Do I look stupid? Who are you calling." It's not a question. It's a demand.

"I'm going to try and get a hold of Eddie's uncle," Gareth answers, trying to sound like an authority figure. "Tell him he'll find Eddie at his home at eight tonight. I know you all are so used to not telling people but this is- we need a real adult and Wayne's an army vet. He'll know how to help. He'll want to help."

She purses her lips, stays quiet for a moment before she nods. "I'm usually surrounded by stupid people, but you're kind of not one. I've got more change if you need it."

Gareth calls the plant and asks to speak to Wayne Munson. It's a bit of back and forth before the secretary agrees, but only if Wayne agrees to speak to a Gareth Cunningham. The plant must be getting calls from angry locals.

"Are ya really Gareth, or are ya just wantin' ta yell at me for helpin' raise the devil incarnate?" Wayne sounds tired and Gareth feels bad for him.

"Eddie would love for you to call him that to his face when you see him again."

"Thank God, son," Wayne sounds relieved. He must recognize Gareth's voice. "Ya okay? No one's harrassin' ya, are they?"

"No. Listen Wayne, I'm going to say something crazy but please just listen and do your best to be casual. I know where Eddie is. Or, where he will be at eight tonight. He's.... not physically hurt but he's going to need you. He might hate me for telling you this but I had to."

There is a pause where all he hears through the phone is a long inhale followed by a slow exhale. "Mmm hmm. I appreciate yer concern and glad ta hear no one's botherin' ya just for knowin' Eddie."

Gareth is only confused for a moment before he realizes Wayne is trying to make this conversation sound routine from his end. "Just. He's going home. But please don't show up until after eight. If you... if you beat him home he might run. Try to keep you out of this, y'know?" Gareth is just lying now, but he's a teenage boy in a garage band that plays in a dingy bar at the edge of town. That is to say, he knows how to lie off the cuff.

"I read ya loud and clear. I'll let ya know as soon as Eddie's been found safe so ya can quit worryin'. I gotta get back to it, but thanks for reachin' out."

Gareth hangs up and looks to Erica. "Well. Let's hope I haven't ruined everything."

"Let's hope that you know Wayne as well as you think you do."

[sevcasejay1chicago]

I gotcha Partner- Jay Halstead

Summary: After chasing down a suspect, you have a bad asthma attack.

Warnings: none that I know of.

Authors note: Jay’s installment in the platonic asthma fics. ❤️ Enjoy!

—————————

You have been Jay Halstead’s partner since Erin Lindsey left 2 years ago. You had been friend prior to this partnership, having met at Molly’s as well, so the partnership was easy to fall into. You knew each others quirks well, but you also knew each other’s medical history very well given all the near deaths you two have experienced since being partners. You have never experienced more near death experience on the job before working with Jay Halstead.

Today, you and Jay, along with the rest of the intelligence unit, are sitting on a suspect’s house. This individual has been indicted for multiple counts of aggravated assault and battery, leading the unit to believe that he is involved in a string of assaults at a few night clubs he has been known to frequent. He’s smarter than most criminals. He makes sure not to hit the same club multiple times, but to randomly jump around to throw off any suspicion.

You and Jay were sat in his truck, idly chatting about Matt’s move into the apartment with you and Kelly, when the suspect pulled into his driveway. You both straightened up as Voight began to speak.

“Suspect has landed. Suspect has landed. Use caution. Don’t spook him.” Voight instructed through our radio.

Jay grabbed our tac gear from the backseat and handed me my own. We suited up before slowly pulling the truck to block the end of the driveway. Burgess and Adam came up one side while Voight and Atwater came up the other. You noticed blood on his door handle and quickly jumped out of the truck and rounded it to grab the guy.

“Chicago PD!” You yelled, announcing yourself before moving to grab the suspect. Unfortunately, he was quick to react and shoved you into Kim before running down the small alley way next to his house. “Rabbit Rabbit Rabbit!” You yelled, quickly standing to your feet to pursue. You were the smallest and the fastest, next to Kevin.

You heard Jay flip the sirens and say he was going to cut him off. Kevin was on your heels, cursing about how the perps always run but they can’t run from you all. You shook your head, pushing through the burning in your chest. You were still recovering from your attack a few days prior, so you definitely weren’t in top shape.

You saw the end of alley way, thanking God that this run was coming to an end. Just as the suspect reached the end of the alley, Jay pulled the truck to block it and held the suspect at gun point through the window.

“Put your hands up.” Jay growled, seeing the blood on the suspect’s shirt and knuckles.

You stopped running, coming to a halt at the back of the truck with your hands on your knees. You were having trouble catching your breath as an audible wheeze left your body. You dizzily grabbed the bumper as you sunk to the ground. Jay saw you and quickly jumped out of the truck as Kevin cuffed the perp.

“Y/n?!” Jay yelled, crouching down in front of you. “Jesus. Your blue.” Jay muttered, taking your face in his hands for a second. You were ice cold. “It’s okay. I gotcha partner. Up we go.” Jay muttered, pulling you into his arms and rounding the truck.

“She okay?” Voight asked, coming to open the door for Jay.

“She will be. She’s having an asthma attack.” Jay said over your wheezes. He dug around in the glove box until he unearthed your inhaler. “Alright sweetie. Let’s do this.” Jay shook the inhaler before helping you squeeze the trigger as you attempted to breathe.

“Here. I got a pulse ox from the first aid kit.” Kim said, jogging back from her and Adam’s car. She handed the device to Jay before moving back to give you and Jay some room.

They all waiting on baited breath as the pulse ox read. High heart rate and oxygen level fluctuating between 83-85. Their eyes grew wide at the reading, concerned given that your inhaler should have opened you up by now.

“I’m taking her to med.” Jay said, buckling you in and shutting the door.

“I will give you an escort.” Voight said, quickly running to his SUV that Kevin pulled around after placing the suspect in the back of a patrol car.

“5021 George to Med” Jay said into his radio, lights and sirens blaring as he drove.

“Go ahead for Med.” April said.

“April. Y/n is having a bad asthma attack. Cyanotic, high pulse, O2 is low to mid 80s. Rescue inhaler administered and not helping. ETA 5 minutes. ” Jay reported, glancing over at you as you shook. “Shhh. I gotcha partner. I’m gonna get you help.”

“We will be waiting at the door. Med out.” April said.

Jay put his radio back on the dash before reaching out to take one of your shaking hands in his own. “Almost there. You are doing great.” Jay encouraged, trying to hide his worry.

Tag list:

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@daggersquadphantom

[monstersinthecosmos]

Vamptember Day 2 - Sick

{prag 83 - the devil's heart}

The blood is bad.

Tastes different, and Daniel is nauseous when he pulls away. Not like how he can still feel anxious, the way he can still worry himself sick. Nothing digests in his body anymore, not like it’s supposed to. He’d almost forgotten how it felt, and for a moment he’s back in his old life, pressing his forehead to the cool side of the toilet, eyes watering as he pukes his guts out. 

Marius is at his side in an instant, with a reassuring hand in the small of his back, silently asking if he’s all right.

“The blood was bad,” Daniel says. He wipes his hands on his thighs and looks around the club for the exits. The heat of all the grubby human life around them makes him want to gag, and he wants to leave.

Marius studies him for a moment, then his eyes drift towards the man Daniel had tasted. He’s so graceful as he follows suit—Daniel barely sees it happen, even looking for it—and Marius dabs politely at the corner of his mouth.

“There’s nothing wrong with the blood,” he says gently. 

The music throbs inside Daniel’s head, and he knows he’s sweating. The back of his throat clenches.

Marius shrugs. His face is so serene. Nothing wrong with the blood, but he doesn’t say it to be petty. Daniel feels defensive, anyway, wants to shout at him. I’m not crazy, he wants to argue. Fuck you, Marius. 

Maybe the music is too loud. Maybe it’s the nausea. But he just nods. Rubs his eyes. Marius gestures towards the back of the club and takes Daniel’s lead.

In a weird way, it reminds Daniel of Armand. Fucking dweeb. That way they can both just… fucking stare and share all their stupid mundane commentary. 

Fucking vampires. 

With Armand it used to send him into fits. It was such an easy opening to pick a fight.

Cold air blasts his face as he pushes through the back exit, into the service alley. He glances at Marius, right behind him, ears ringing as the door slams shut. The quiet is an instant balm, only hearing the thud of the bass through the brick walls. There’s traffic up ahead, and their footsteps crunch on the salt and ice, and his head feel clearer.

Part of him imagines more of Marius’s level-headed observations. I’m not picking a fight, Daniel. I’m only trying to help. You will be fine, there was nothing wrong with the blood.

If Marius is listening in to his thoughts, he doesn’t react. Daniel breathes the cold winter air and tries to mask them.

~~~

But the blood still tastes bad.

The next night, and the night after.

Daniel goes out alone, tries again. The sickness hits him before he even takes a taste, the way a pre-ritual used to do to him when he was alive. And he feels stupid, for a moment, as he sits down at the far end of the bar and leans his forehead into his hands. Silly that he’s been feeling so much better, that Marius trusts him enough to go out alone, and he’s here wishing for another confirmation that nothing is wrong. 

Feels stupid, like he needs his dad or something.

He’s sweating again, and his mouth is watering. He wonders what the bartender would do if he vomited blood all over their tip jar. 

Like, maybe it is stupid, like he needs his dad. But it is what it is. He needs his dad, huh?

“Hey, are you home?” he asks into his flip phone, a few minutes later, out on the sidewalk. He looks up the street, towards the mountain. Their house is up there, in the dark. He can see it some nights, but it’s too cloudy tonight. 

“Yes,” Marius says. “Is everything all right?”

Daniel debates running home. All the way up, like an animal. It feels good sometimes, but he thinks he doesn’t feel well enough right now. He wonders if he could get a taxi. Steal a car. Can’t remember how he got here, actually, and he panics for a moment. Slipping back into his old ways. 

Fuck.

“I’m fine, I just…” he glances up and down the street, for cameras, for witnesses, before pressing the palm of his hand to a car window. And how honest does he want to be? He tucks the hard plastic phone between his ear and his shoulder as he pushes the window down, forcing it open.  “I wanted to see you, I guess.”

Was that weird to say? He tries not to agonize over it, distracts himself by unlocking the car, letting himself inside. He’s seen Marius start these fucking things with his mind, but Daniel isn’t quite there yet. 

Marius’s voice is quiet as Daniel tears out the panel for the steering column, tossing it to the passenger seat as all the guts and wires dangle out. 

“Are you feeling all right?” he’s asking. 

“No,” he mumbles, as he peels the wires with his hard fingernails. “I mean. Yeah. I don’t know.  I’m fine. I’ll be home in a few.”

He clicks the phone closed. Gets the wires to spark, feels the car rumble to life. 

Armand used to comment on everything, just say shit, and Daniel always felt like he was being a smug little shit trying to pick a fight. 

But Marius just seems… 

Constant.

~~~

“Do you think vampires can get a flu?” he asks, later on, back home. He’s sprawled across Marius’s king sized bed like a starfish, while Marius plunks awkwardly at his heavy laptop from the chaise by the window. He raises an eyebrow, and Daniel continues before a lecture can find its way out. “I mean, like. Evolutionarily. It would make sense, right? How long would vampires have to be around for something to evolve to affect us? Wouldn’t nature want to thin us out?”

Marius’s head tilts. He shuts his laptop and folds his hands on the lid. 

“You think you’re patient zero for this flu?”

“Don’t be a dick.”

Marius chuckles. He sets his laptop aside and rises, his movements fluid, too smooth as he approaches the bed and kneels at the corner. Crawls on hands and knees towards the center, to reach for Daniel’s forehead.

“What do we do for a vampire flu?” he asks, and he says the word vampire so sarcastically. The back of his hand presses gently to Daniel’s forehead, and his eyes glimmer in amusement. “You don’t have a fever.”

Daniel tries not to laugh. Presses his mouth into a line and tries to look past Marius, towards the window, the ceiling. Tries to focus. Nauseated again, and he’s not sure if the presence of this creature in his bed is making it better or worse.

Or, to be fair. He’s in the creature’s bed, isn’t he? Typical, Molloy.

“You’re old as fuck, you don’t have any ideas?”

“Oh, but you young ones are so much more hip to those things, aren’t you?”

Daniel rolls his eyes. Marius drops his hand, and settles beside him, lying side to side so their shoulders touch. 

“I’m serious, though.” Daniel says, after a silence. “I don’t… feel good. I think something is wrong. The blood tastes bad.”

“Well, it’s not impossible,” Marius says. “Sometimes I think that things won’t change, but wouldn’t it be difficult to endure if there were no surprises left?”

“Yeah… I guess so.”

“You know…” he starts. He rubs at his face as he pauses, as if lost for words. The simple show of hesitance is as human as the smile lines that show in his face from time to time. “I don’t think this is so unusual.”

He turns to check on Daniel, just a glance, before looking back up at the ceiling. “A lot of blood drinkers don’t adjust well. I suppose you’ve learned that by now. Many don’t survive their first century.”

“Yeah. I heard.”

“I wonder sometimes. If the Blood just didn’t sit well with those ones. If they’re not suited for it. And who knows how they feel, before they give up. You might know better than I do.”

“Do you think I’m suited for it?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Marius says. He shrugs. Keeps staring at the ceiling. Daniel sends out the faintest touch of mind gift, wondering if he can read for unspoken context, but Marius is closed tight. “I don’t think that’s for me to say, Daniel. Perhaps it’s not so rigid. You sound a bit like your maker when you ask like that.”

Hah. 

Daniel rubs his eyes. Clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering.

“I’m not saying you’re doomed,” Marius continues. “And I believe you, that you don’t feel well.”

“You think it’s in my head?”

“It could be. But we keep quite a bit in our heads, don’t we? I’m sure that doesn’t make it less real.”

Marius rolls onto his side, so they face each other. Daniel used to hate making eye contact with him. Gave him the fucking creeps. It’s easier now, though. His tiny smile is so simple and kind.

“Do you want to make it past your first century, Daniel?”

“I mean. Yeah, I think. I guess.”

“Drink from me,” he suggests. “We’ll get you there.”

Hunger squeezes in around him. He hadn’t drank tonight, in the end, he realizes. Yet the hunger hurts everywhere in his body, like his veins are running dry, not the way he used to get a stomach ache. It paints over the nausea, somehow, once he thinks of it, too urgent to notice that he doesn’t feel well.

His arm curls loosely over Marius’s waist as he comes in closer. Presses his lips to the thick artery in his throat, feeling the pulse for a moment before he bites down.

All those years he’d begged Armand for the Blood and he’d never thought he’d feel like this again, not once they were equals. He thought he’d never feel that danger again. 

Marius pets the back of Daniel’s head as the blood gushes into his mouth. And if all the hardness wasn’t enough, or the eerie way he moves, the uncanny vibe of something ancient, the taste of the blood brings the reverence home. He can’t explain it—maybe none of them can—but as he swallows, his body can sense the age.

That’s how you level up. Not enough that you’re a soft little human courting death—Daniel’s in the club now. Just had to go for someone older. 

He bunches Marius’s sweater in his fist and pulls himself closer.

“Amadeo used to get sick sometimes,” Marius says. Maybe he just thinks it, Daniel isn’t sure. But he sees the images, flowing from the wound. “My Blood would make him feel better. He was so… funny.”

Daniel sees it. He pulls in tighter, tangling their legs together as he chases it.

Armand, in the master’s bed. Shiny pale, sweaty strings of hair sticking to the side of his face as he rubs his cheek into the pillows. He shivers, but keeps kicking the blanket away, keeps saying the fire is too big. 

“Take me outside,” he says. “Master, please. Thank god you’ve come. Please, I left it in the forest. It’s too hot in here, Master.”

Marius sits at the edge of the bed, touches Armand’s forehead. Armand moans at the cold, and moves like he’s drunk as he clambers into Marius’s lap. Presses his face to the icy dead throat.

“Take me to the caves,” he whines, too out of it to notice he’s using his mother tongue. 

[aotopmha]

I keep going on and on about the gameplay/story integration in Endwalker, but I think Vanaspati is another great example.

In my eyes it's a little bit of a milder narrative example than anything that came before, particularly all of the level 82-83 gameplay sections, but I think it excels at a different aspect of storytelling, which is specifically creating an atmospheric story set piece.

Especially the run towards the final boss feels incredibly impactful because of how massive in scale the destruction of the forest below is shown to be.

I've seen Vanaspati be compared to Holminster Switch and I agree with that comparison.

They're both equally good at creating a similar set piece of selling the scale of a new unknown enemy force with the difference that at this point in the story, we don't really understand the Blasphemies and how they truly work at all.

While Holminster sold us the horror based on knowing, Vanaspati sells it by us knowing basically nothing.

The revelations in the cutscenes after the dungeon fix this, and I just really like how the story manages to still create enemies that you fear after making some characters survive the craziest circumstances possible.

The nature of the Blasphemies is horrific because anyone who turns into one is automatically gone. The souls do not even get a chance to be reborn. They're just gone.

(Shoutout to the Arkasadora family turning into Blasphemies one by one as they succumb to despair at one point during the dungeon.)

I love, love the monster design for them. They were great in Amaurot and I dare say, the bosses in here are also mechanically more interesting. Amaurot is a great set piece, but I'm not sure I care for any of the bosses in there mechanically.

While I think there are some really neat mechanics here, particularly for the final boss.

I really like the "meteor" mechanic here. Was a cool variation in Zodiark, is cool here, too.

And with finishing Vanaspati and learning more of the foe we face, we're firmly back from the moon and at the lvl 85 quests, about half-way through Endwalker.

I have nothing else to say here, really. I think it's just a really good story.

[observeowl]

Second Chance | Chapter 7 - Sighting

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After your intense training, you realise despite knowing the right form for shooting. This body has yet to be conditioned for shooting that many arrows. In a competition, you have to be able to shoot a minimum of 83 arrows. In your current condition, you have to take a few minutes break after every 10 arrows, and that’s not possible during a competition. 

Knowing your impending muscle ache, you returned to your room to recover your energy as your friends went out for lunch. You sent a quick text to Andrew before knocking out on your bed, not having any energy to do anything else. Thankfully, Andrew knew a few people from your club as he was quite sociable, and the sports team often came together at an event. After having lunch with his friends, he texted you after he went back to his room, and when you didn’t reply, he asked your friends to check on you. He was told that you were still asleep and that you were probably only going to be able to meet him during dinner. 

It was time to get ready for the team dinner, and your friends tried all sorts of methods to wake you up, but you were still sleeping like a log, and they had to splash you with a cup of water. “It’s your fault for sleeping so deep.” 

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” Andrew called out when you walked in. “Saved you a seat.” 

You walked sheepishly towards him and sat down. “Thanks. Sorry for being late.” 

“It’s not a problem.”

As everyone began eating, people started talking with their friends. Andrew talked about what he did while you were sleeping and mentioned that he just got the schedule of when his basketball competition was going to be. It was going to be held at the end of January, giving them time to practice before serious studying started. 

“Training must have kicked your butt.” Andrew said. 

You sighed and nodded. “I’m totally dreading the second session of training later.” You slumped on your chair, not wanting to go anywhere.

“Ohh poor you.” He took your hand. “Just think about the competition. I know it’s tough, but all the effort is going to be worth it in the end.” He encouraged you. 

“Do you want to join?” You asked him since you figured he had nothing else to do. “You could help me sight.” 

“Me? I don’t know how though.” 

“Don’t worry; it’s very simple. I’ll teach you.”

“I should help you sight.” Natasha offered when she joined your training one day. She came with the intention of seeing Clint, but when she saw you trying to figure out where your shots landed, she went forward to assist you. 

“Natty!” You turned around in shock. “I didn’t expect you to be here.” You went to hug her the best you could with all your equipment. “I don’t have a scope though.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get one from Clint. He can’t say no to me. He doesn’t miss his shots anyway. The scope is useless to him.” Without even asking, he went to take his scope from his bag and returned. “I’ll tell you your score and the position so you can adjust.” She made you return to your spot and get ready. 

“8, 9 o’clock.” You shifted your scope slightly to the left and fired another shot. “9, 9 o’clock.” You shifted it a bit more, taking a deep breath before shooting again. You had the level right; you just needed the arrow to move to the right. “10.” 

“See, you’re about to adjust better with someone helping you.” She said when it was time to collect your arrows. You managed to see the correction of the arrow - moving towards the centre.

“Yeah, but there’s often not enough people as there are many people shooting at once.” You explained as you pulled out the arrow and placed it back in your quiver. 

“I’ll be here for you.” 

“So, do you understand?” You asked after teaching Andrew. 

“Yeah! It’s really simple.” He went to his spot and started reporting where your arrows landed. 

Everything was going well. Everyone was minding their own business except for the few small talks you have with the person next to you while waiting for everyone to be ready before starting to shoot each time. You were shooting rather consistently each time, even though you haven’t been hitting many tens. Your groupings were small, and that’s the most important thing. “8, 3 o’clock. You have been shooting to the right a lot.” Andrew commented. You hummed, not wanting to move your mouth too much, shifting your anchor point. 

“Hey, Clint.” Someone said, affecting your release, you landed a shot way off.

“Oh, that’s a 1, 2 o’clock.” Andrew noted, surprised at your sudden deterioration in scoring. You nodded and took a deep breath before loading another arrow. You were unable to get your breathing rhythm back, and your hands were shaking a lot. Deciding to get over with it, you released the arrow, knowing it was not going to land anywhere close to where you wanted it to be. “2, 12 o’clock.” 

You placed your bow in your bow stand, not intending to shoot for a while. “Are you tired? Should I get some water for you?” You smiled at his attentiveness and nodded, going with him. You’re not willing to be in the same space as Natasha. 

“Let’s take a seat here.” You pulled him to benches that scattered the place. 

“You sure you can skip training?” Andrew asked tentatively. 

You chuckled a little. “Relax a little. Are you always following the rules?” 

He wiggled his hands a little. “I can probably count the number of times I went against the rules with one hand.” 

You smiled at him. “It’s alright here as long as you shoot 200 arrows during training. I just don’t want to enter now. I won’t be able to shoot right.” You had your hands together. He could tell there was something you were hiding, but if you didn’t want to share, he wouldn’t pry. 

You rest your head on his shoulders. He was the perfect height for you, it was very comfortable, and you drifted off without realising. 

===

“Nat. What are you doing here?”

“I’m just passing the time.” She sauntered over to him while looking at the others. After spending much time with Clint, she learned a few archery skills and could tell who needed more help. 

“Let me ask you something since you’re here.” Clint pulled Nat aside to speak in more privacy while still being able to see the rest. “Are you sure you’re dating Maria? You seem to jump from being friends to being girlfriends. When did you guys even go on dates? I never knew you two were this close.” 

“I don’t have to tell you everything I do. Maria and I like each other; that’s what matters.” Natasha angrily defends. 

Clint sighed and shook his head, “That’s okay if that's what you truly think. If not, you’re just going to hurt people around you.” He left Nat with his words before going back to guide his teammates. She’s mad that his best friend didn’t trust her. 

When she left the range, more smoke was coming out of her ears when she saw you sleeping on Andrew’s shoulders. Why was everything going your way, but she has to fight for every ounce of happiness to come her way? Isn’t it enough that her marriage with you has turned sour? Why does every relationship she gets into have to be so tough on her? Does she not deserve the relationship that every girl dreams of?

After a few shots, she decided that drinking by herself was boring and lame and called Maria to join her. By the time Maria arrived, Nat was already drunk on her shot. The bartender was a bit hesitant to give her any more, especially when looking like a student. 

“Maria!” Nat cheered when she saw her arriving. “What are you doing here?” 

“You asked me to come,” Maria said, wide-eyed. “Never mind, how much have you drunk?” She counted the number of shot glasses on the table. “You can really drink.” 

“Sit with me!” Nat pulled Maria closer and pushed her onto a chair. “Come on! Don’t waste it since you’re here.” She forced a shot glass into her hand and nodded for her to drink it. After knocking it back once, more came her way, but she refused it. Vodka shots were not something Maria liked, and someone needed to be responsible for bringing her back to her room. 

“Come on; you’re drunk. Let’s get back to the resort. Of all the days to get drunk, you choose to get drunk on the day before you leave. You’re not going to like the hangover you get tomorrow.” Maria said, more to herself as she knew Nat wasn’t listening. She paid for the drinks before swinging Nat’s arm over her shoulders and bringing her back to the resort. 

All the way, Natasha kept complaining about how Clint didn’t trust her. Her mouth kept running until Maria covered her with the duvet. As much as Natasha puts on a serious and menacing look on the surface, she’s a cute little one when she’s sleeping. She looks harmless when she curls up asleep. 

“I know you won’t remember any of this tomorrow. But I still love you for it.” Maria sat next to her and combed Nat’s hair with her hands as she watched her sleep peacefully. She hesitated a bit before placing a soft kiss on Nat’s hairline. “I have loved you ever since I laid my eyes on you, Natasha.”

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