#blame cliff for not taking the shot you wanted to take

[unoislazy]

Promises

Vi x Reader (Part Three)

Childhood Friends to…?

————————————————————

You weren’t going to lose her again.

Before you could act, the sound of a gunshot echoed through the air, followed by another and another, all expertly aimed and managing to not hit Sevika in any real damaging way. Eventually these shots scared Sevika away. Once she had fled the scene, and against your better judgment, you hopped through the rubble wall and sprinted towards Vi.

“Vi?” You whispered again, as you kneeled to the side of the woman. She looked up at you, a smile graced her face slightly through the pain as she tried to almost play off her clearly awful wound.

“Hey Sunshine.” She greeted quietly, a short exhale leaving her as she tried to move up against the wall behind her. You gently grabbed her arm to attempt to help her up against it as you stared at her, taking in every new feature.

“You came back, You really came back.” You mumbled slightly, still unable to believe that she was truly sitting right in front of you.

“I promised, didn't I?” She answered through her pain clouded vision as she continued to hold her torso.

“I- I thought you had died or-“ Before you continued, you looked down at her hand, remembering that she had been stabbed. Luckily you knew just where to take her to get help. You shook your head of all the thoughts that flew every which way in your mind, all the questions you wanted to ask. Right now, the most important thing was Vi’s safety. You quickly stood up, offering your hand, a slight smile on your face.

“Let’s get you fixed up, you are not showing your face just to disappear again.” You offered lightheartedly as you kept your eyes on her. She looked up at you, appreciating your attempt at a joke as she took your hand allowing you to hoist her up and helping her lean on your shoulders.

Just as you were going to begin walking you heard the sound of someone else walking up behind you. You turned slightly and noticed a tall woman walking your way as she folded up a gun before storing it on her back.

“Right, Sunshine, this is Cupcake, Cupcake, Sunshine.” Vi very haphazardly introduced, clearly her mind was focused on other things which you couldn’t blame her for. You looked towards the woman with a questioning gaze, she was wearing clothes of someone who lived in Zaun but… clearly she didn’t actually live here. You could tell with one look that she was from topside.

“Nice to meet you, Cupcake.” You said with a smile, not bothering to ask any questions. Perhaps she was just a friend of Vi’s?

“Caitlyn, my name is Caitlyn.” She corrected quickly, clearly unhappy with being called such stupid nickname. You snickered a bit as you turned away, Vi still using you as support.

“Well then, nice shooting Caitlyn.” You complimented as you began to walk towards the place you needed to get Vi back to the way she was. Growing up Vi often needed some sort of medical help, whether it be just regular patching up or several days to recover. It became a running joke that she blocked with her face and you honestly had a hard time arguing with that sentiment even now. Caitlyn followed alongside you both as she looked about at the different sites around you as you made your way to your destination.

“So, what… happened to you?” You finally spoke up after a long bout of silence between the three of you. You looked to Vi who was still holding on strong as she limped against you.

“Oh you know, big explosion, got arrested, then I got let out by Cupcake here, the usual.” She answered sarcastically which caused you to roll your eyes a little before facing back forward. You figured it was for the best, her bleeding out was probably not the best time to talk about traumatic backstories.

After a little time you finally reached the edge of a cliff which just barely supported a tower that seemed to be held up with concepts of stability and a dream. A sign stuck on the front blared a bright purple that was only just bright enough to barely illuminate the surface of the ground. You looked a bit over the edge, seeing how far down it went you turned to Vi.

“I know you think you can parkour your way down there but I seriously think we could just-“ You tried to reason with her, already knowing her thought process. “There’s no time.” She cut you off before pushing off of you and making her way to the edge. Before either you or Cait could manage to stop her she jumped and managed to do more damage to herself then if she had just…

been a little more patient. You swore the words ‘A little pain never hurt’ would be etched on her grave with the way she threw herself about.

You sighed as you made your own way down and made your way over to Vi. You were concerned for her well-being but she kinda did this one to herself. Once again you prop her up against a wall as you waited for the topside girl to catch up.

“Caitlyn, could you go to that shack over there and tell her that she’s been stabbed, she’ll give you exactly what you need.” You instructed to which she nodded, clearly ready to help out in whatever way she could. As she walked away you had forgotten to mention that she would need to make a trade for the serum but you had other issues to focus on.

You moved back up, closer to Vi as you looked over her once again. It was then she finally spoke up.

“What were you doing… in that alleyway with Sevika?” She said quietly as she tried to conserve her energy.

You felt your heart drop. You knew if you told Vi the truth, if you told her you had been willingly working under Silco, she’d lose her mind.

“I was just… out gambling.” You lied, your eyes focused specifically on Vi’s wound. Even though you weren’t looking her directly at her face you could tell she had raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“You? Gambling? I guess everything has changed.” She muttered sarcastically before wincing slightly.

“You know, you’ve never been all that good at lying, Sunshine.” She said as she continued to apply pressure to her wound.

“Here, let me.” You offered quietly as you then moved to move her hand so you could apply pressure instead to at least give her some sort of rest. A quiet groan of pain left the woman’s lips as you pressed down, immediately causing you to ease up completely.

“I’m sorry, did I-“ Before you could finish your question, she quickly grabbed your arm and lightly pushed down on your hand.

“No, keep it there.” She instructed through the pain. You stared at her, watching as her face cycled through expressions of pain and relief before her eyes fluttered back open and looked just a bit past you. You turned back and realized it was Caitlyn.

“Did you get it?” You asked to which she nodded and tossed you the vial. Without a second thought you turned back to Vi and popped the vial open.

“What exactly… is it?” Cait asked as you tilted the vial towards Vi 's lips with intense concentration.

“No one really knows. Some sort of shimmer concoction.” You responded before pouring just enough into Vi’s mouth and tilting her head to make her swallow it. Your mind would’ve been flooded with thousands of other thoughts had you not been so worried about your friends wellbeing.

It didn’t take much time at all for the concoction to take effect, causing Vi to writhe in pain and pant as it took every ounce of energy out of her.

You continued to hold her face as she went through this, trying to offer any comfort you could manage as you waited for the effect to finish. Once it was done, you let your hands leave her face as you searched her face for any other signs of pain or lasting shimmer effects but she seemed fine.

“You okay?” You asked, watching as she propped herself back up, almost as if she had never gotten stabbed.

“Never better.” She replied before sitting up fully, she then looked back towards you and repeated,

“What were you doing in that alleyway with Sevika?”

“Vi, you just got stabbed and that’s what you're worried about?” You asked, rolling your eyes before she quickly replied,

“Well when you were with the person who stabbed me, yeah I think I deserve to be a little worried.”

You sighed knowing she wasn’t going to let it go. You closed your eyes as you braced for her reaction as you spoke your next words,

“I work with her… sort of.” You admitted, now hesitantly opening your eyes once again to see Vi who’s face shifted from shock to pure anger.

“So you’re working for Silco?” She practically hissed as she quickly stood up. She kept her eyes locked on to yours as she stood above you.

“Yeah but-“

“What do you mean, ‘but’? Do you understand what he’s done? What he’s continuing to do to people and you’re working with him?”

“Vi it’s not like-“

“All this time away and I come back to find you went to stand by the man who stood against Vander. Did he mean nothing to you?”

“I didn’t have a choice, okay?” You finally managed to speak up which got Vi to finally take pause and stop her angry rant at you. You continued,

“You all were all I had. I had no one else to go to, everyone I Cared about disappeared in a day, a night even, and I had nothing to keep me alive. I needed money, and can you guess who happens to be in charge of every job from one side of Zaun to the other?” You asked in a sarcastically angry tone as you looked at Vi, expecting her to answer.

“Silco.” She said quietly

“Ding, ding, ding, that is correct!” You said in an equally sarcastic tone as before.

“You seriously think I would work with him without a second thought? You think it doesn’t eat at me every single day that I go into work that everything I once found comfort in is gone?” You spoke, now finally standing as well as you looked towards Vi once again.

“I often thought I saw you running through the halls or hearing you laugh, sometimes I even heard Vander when I’d be cleaning up peoples dishes.” You admitted, thinking back to the times where you fully paused during your work to do a double take wondering if you truly did see Vi or hear Vander. It was painful but it slowly just became a part of your life and now that one of them was actually standing before you was still a serrai feeling you hadn’t yet quite grasped.

“I’m not stupid Vi. I was just trying to survive.” You said, as you looked over from her to the topside girl who was just standing and taking in every ounce of your little argument. You knew she could never understand the extent of what you as a Zaunite had to go through, but you could tell there was good in her. How much good was a different question in its own right.

Before Vi could speak up, a noise came from outside the area the three of you had been hiding out in. Vi was the first to walk out followed by you and Caitlyn. As you walked out, you laid your eyes upon none other than Silco in all his glory.

“Ah, I see you’ve met my friend.” Silco said in a dangerously jolly voice as he looked towards you. It was clear he didn’t think that highly of you, he was just using you to taunt Vi.

“Sevika informed me of the stunt you pulled.” He said as his hands dangled the coals of fluorescent shimmer in front of the addicted victims that surrounded him.

“It’s a shame really, Jinx had a soft spot for you but, I guess that won’t matter now.” He spoke which caused Vi to turn to you,

“You know where my sister is? How much shit are you keeping from me?” She asked, bewildered and almost… disgusted that it seemed you were more on Silco’s side than hers.

“I was getting there but you kind of interrupted me.” You argued, turning back to face Silco.

“Oh how secrets can destroy that of which we hold dear to us.” Silco taunted, his hands still teasing the shimmer to the people around him before he finally let them loose and let them have what they had been pleading for.

“So sad to see something so precious be destroyed so easily. It’s a shame you won’t have time to fix it back up.” He noted confidently as the people around him began to mutant and shift into bigger, more deformed versions of themselves. You subconsciously took a step back as you looked at the creatures before you. Sure you had heard about what shimmer did to people but you had never once seen it in person.

You looked from Silco to Caitlyn who had already begun trying to hit the unstable tower behind you all down, but her shoulder slams just weren’t enough. You then looked to Vi who seemed to have already gotten the message as she squared up to fight.

“You talk too much.”

[spirantization]

"Wild Blue Yonder" dealt with some of the emotional fallout of the Flux, so I want to rewind a bit and look at what that means for the Doctor.

I know that the Timeless Child and the Flux are contentious topics. I'm not here to argue either way. But now those storylines have decisively not been retconned, and with both of these fresh in my memory, I feel the need to offer some context for anyone who may not have seen it, and to recontextualize it for myself and anyone who has.

NotDonna: You don't know where you're from. The Doctor: How do you know that? How does anyone know? How does Donna know?

In "The Timeless Children", we find out that the Doctor was discovered as a child alone under a wormhole, and adopted by a woman named Tecteun. There was an accident where the Doctor fell from a cliff and regenerated, and subsequently Tecteun performed "experiments" on them to try to understand regeneration. The show minces words about this but she killed a child a whole bunch of times is what happened. Her experiments created the Time Lords and allow them to engineer their regeneration properties. The Doctor has no memory of any of this, and only finds out via the Master and information stored in the Time Lord Matrix.

The Doctor, predictably, doesn't tell anyone about this revelation. She makes a speech to the Master about how this makes her more, we get a single shot of her looking a bit tired in the TARDIS, then she immediately gets thrown in prison.

Ultimately, the Doctor doesn't know where they're from or who their parents are. And the very fact that they're not from Gallifrey is information that no one in the universe should have. Everyone who knew is now dead.

NotDonna: I saw it in your head. The Flux. The Doctor: It destroyed half the universe because of me. We stand here now, on the edge of creation, a creation which I devastated, so yes I keep running, of course I do! How am I supposed to look back on that? NotDonna: It wasn't your fault! The Doctor: I know!

A fun fact about the Flux is that the Doctor did not cause it. So why does he blame himself? Because the person who caused the Flux was Tecteun.

The reason why Tecteun wanted to destroy the universe is because the Doctor interfered with things too much. Too much morality. Too inspirational to people. She calls them a virus. So her solution to the problem of the Doctor is to destroy the universe, with the Doctor inside, and take her ship to a different universe to start fresh. She also was the one to steal all the Doctor's memories of previous lives in the first place. She's dismissive and patronizing and clearly does not care about the Doctor on an emotional level at all. Tecteun is a piece of work, and the implications of her actions and how they've shaped the Doctor have the potential to go deep.

Thirteen doesn't get too much of a chance to react to any of this, because there is plot going on. And shortly after they reunite, Tecteun gets killed by a different villain. So there was no emotional closure in the moment, and there's now no possibility for the Doctor to make sense of her actions. The Doctor does not tell any of her friends about any of these events. She keeps promising to tell Yaz but does not.

"Wild Blue Yonder" is the first time we, as the audience, hear the Doctor discuss the Flux. And their perception of events is skewed at best. The Flux wasn't caused because the Doctor made a mistake and a lot of people were killed, which is what you can argue for many other situations. The Flux and the devastation of the universe was caused by their mother, who promptly turned around and told them it was their fault for being such an interfering nuisance. We know that the Doctor is often an unreliable narrator, but this is beyond that. These are the words of an abused child who has internalized the narrative that the abuse was their fault.

So the Doctor being able to talk about this with Donna, who has seen what happened, who knows him, and tells him that it's not his fault — it means so much to him. He wants it to be her so badly. And then NotDonna laughs in his face. You can see the devastation. He thinks for one moment that he can finally talk about this with his best friend, and it's snatched away from him. He gives himself a moment to break down in the corridor, and then you can see the walls rebuilding as he suppresses it all again.

At the very end of the episode, back in the TARDIS, he's trying very very hard to be nonchalant. I'm curious. The NotDonna could remember all these things that happened to me while we were apart. Can you? Just wondering. Things happened, but I'll be fine. In a million years. It's not a joke.

He wants so badly to be able to talk about this. You can see it in all the lines of his body language. He's keeping himself together but is prepared to fall apart in an instant. He doesn't want to actually tell anyone, but if Donna just magically knew already, and could tell him it wasn't his fault — well, that would make the world of difference. But she doesn't know, and he can't bring himself to tell her. And so the cycle continues.

[zepskies]

Every Second Counts - Part 4

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: No cliffhangers this time, I promise. 😘

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Perilous situations, blood and violence, some more protective Russell, angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff.~

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 4: “Mountain Man”

You were running for your life. 

Blood dripped down into your line of vision, but you swept it away from your face with a haphazard hand, along with your tears as you nearly stumbled on the path. 

A gunshot rang in your ears and hit a tree instead of your head.

Shit! You screamed and ducked, but you kept running…

After you tumbled down the hill, it was a small mercy that you didn’t break any bones when you eventually landed at the bottom. You’d stared up at the sky, winded, your back aching. Until you noticed Rick, one of Eddie’s men. He was sliding down the hill after you. 

You didn’t know what happened to your brother after he attempted to push you out of harm’s way. That thought alone gripped your heart like a vice, but you knew you couldn’t stay here on the ground either. 

You forced your body to move, whimpering at the pain and stiffness. Shakily you pushed onto your feet and slipped on dead leaves as you went. You moved your legs faster, until you were able to take off running deeper into the forest.

You gasped when your foot caught on a large rock. It sent you crashing into the ground. With your hands still bound, it made pushing yourself back up that much more difficult.

You spat out a couple of leaves. Fuck…

When Rick caught up to you, fear made you jolt into action. You wrapped your gathered hands around the rock that felled you and tossed it at him with all the strength you had. He blocked the projectile with the same hand that held his gun, like an idiot. You really couldn’t be blamed when the gun went off in his face.

He screamed, and so did you on reflex. Though his cheek and brow had been grazed by the bullet, he was lucky he still had both eyes. He blinked a bit of blood out of his left one. You scrambled back onto your feet and meant to keep running, but Rick still managed to surge forward and get a hold of your hair. 

Uttering a short scream, you grabbed his shirt and kneed him as hard as you could between the legs. You hoped you crushed his dick and balls.

“Oh, f—” He went down to the ground, sinking onto his knees as he dropped his gun. He glared up at you. “You little bitch!” 

You were panting for breath, but you didn’t wait for him to recover and grab his weapon again. 

You ran. 

You ran, even though you had no idea where you were going. You just knew that you couldn’t stay in one place. But if you couldn’t find your way around a college campus, how the hell were you supposed to navigate the damn Medicine Bow National Forest?

Along with your desperation and fear, tears kept filling your eyes whenever you thought of Charlie. 

Please, please, please…

“Goddamn, they could be anywhere,” Russell groused, as he and Colter hiked through the forest. He was, admittedly, breathing a bit harder from the trek uphill. “It’s been hours already.”

“It’s barely been an hour,” Colter reminded him. And he didn’t look winded in the least.

Bastard. Russell glanced at him, but then he focused on the horizon. The sun was finally starting to come up, which was good for them. They could see the trails more clearly.

“Remember when Dad used to make us free-climb the cliffs in Sierra?” Russell asked.

“Yeah,” Colter said. “You used to beat me every time. Wonder what happened to that guy.”

His tone was teasing. Russell shot him a look, half annoyed, and half amused.

“Yeah, well, he turned 40,” Russell replied.

Colter smiled, but both of them paused when they heard a gunshot ring out, followed by two more.

“That was close,” he said.

“Yeah,” Russell agreed, drawing his own gun. Colter did the same, and they hurried up a roaming hill that had Russell briefly peering over the side. In his mind’s eye, he had to shutter away the memory of seeing a body flung over the side in the dark and the rain. Then him looking over the edge of that cliff and recognizing his father’s twisted body.

And Colter, shouting up at him with angry, tearful, accusing eyes.

A male groan broke Russell out of his thoughts as he and his brother came up on a grim scene. Two men laid dead, and another young man with dark hair was lying prone on the ground, clutching his wounded leg. He’d been shot, though a gun also was held tightly in his own hand. He aimed it at the newcomers.

“Charlie?” Colter asked. He recognized the other man from your family photos.

Charlie blinked up at him in surprise, but not without a grim set to his jaw.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

Russell let out a subtle breath. Colter was relieved as well.

“I’m Colter. This is my brother, Russell,” he said. “Your sister asked for our help to find you.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. All of them slowly lowered their weapons. Russell gestured at the bodies lying yards away from him.

“I’m guessing one of those guys is Eddie Mendez?” he said.

Charlie nodded, gesturing at the man closest to him with his gun. He groaned at the agony in his right thigh. Colter quickly went to his side and began to wrap a tourniquet around his leg to stem the bleeding.

“Did the bullet go through?” Colter asked.

“I think so,” Charlie replied.

“Where’s your sister?” Russell asked, his impatience evident in his stance and the way he held his gun while scanning his surroundings. His frown deepened when he didn’t see you.

“Oh, fuck!” Charlie said, and not at the pain of Colter wrapping his leg. His eyes were wide with panic. “Rick’s after her. I clipped him, but he slipped by me.”

“Where?” Russell asked. Charlie pointed down the side of the hill.

“Down there. Headed north I think, but I’m not sure,” he said quickly. “Help her, please!”

Russell didn’t need any encouragement. He started down the hill first. 

After making sure Charlie was stable for now, Colter followed after his brother a few minutes later. 

Russell called your name as he searched through the dense trees. Sunlight was beginning to filter through their leaves in dappled color on the trail. It gave him a better view ahead.

He stopped short when he saw a splatter of blood on the ground, painting the dirt and some dead leaves. A well of unease rose in his gut.

He headed toward the sound of running water, and he soon found another cliff. Just beyond it was a waterfall, and river below. Seeing no signs of life, he pulled back and continued to call your name, and all the while, pushing down his worry.

“Russell?!”

He turned sharply to see you coming out of your hiding place—a large fallen tree. A smile started to raise his lips, but no sooner had he taken one step in your direction, when he almost got a bullet in his head for his trouble. 

“Watch out!” you yelled. Rick came out into the clearing and aimed at you next. 

“Get down!” Russell shouted. 

Without blinking, he shot Rick three times: once in the shoulder, twice in the chest. 

The man went down. He was dead before he even met the ground. 

It was then that Colter finally caught up. Russell nodded at him, but his focus was on heading for the fallen tree after he stowed his gun.

The moment he took a step over it, you popped up with a yell, ready to smack him with a tree branch. He leaned back raised up his hands in defense. 

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay! It’s just me, slugger,” he said with a grin. 

You let out a sharp sigh of relief. The branch fell from your loose fingers. As you caught your breath, your mouth trembled, and your eyes filled with tears at the sight of him. 

Russell softened. He reached for you.

“Come ‘ere,” he said. Your hands slipped into his, and he helped you over the trunk of the tree. After using his handy pocketknife to cut through the zip ties binding your wrists together, you landed right into his waiting embrace. There, you spilled hot tears into his bulletproof vest. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve gotcha,” he said. His voice was low and soothing. “You’re okay.”

You raised your head with a desperate question in your eyes.

“Charlie?” you asked.

“Charlie’s okay too,” Russell assured. His hand soothed over your tangled hair and down your back. He could feel you trembling as you rested against him and sobbed. He held you tight, safe, as he rocked you a little from side to side. His own relief was a weight off his chest. 

Colter stood by and watched with a secret smile. 

With his bare hands clawing into damp soil, Colter dug up the crate Charlie buried near the base of the waterfall. True to his word, it was filled with precious artifacts. 

“Just, please be careful,” you warned him again over his shoulder. “These are quite literally hundreds of years old.”

Before Colter could assure you, again, that he’d be careful, you actually set a hand on his shoulder and implored him to move back.

“Matter of fact, sorry, let me do this part,” you said. “I’m the only one who’s really trained to handle these. Plus, your hands are dirty.”

Colter raised a brow, but he obliged you. He glanced over at his brother. Russell just watched in amusement while you opened the crate. 

You wished you had gloves on for this, but you supposed it couldn’t be helped. You stopped just shy of touching them—a bow and arrow, three spears, and a couple of knives. Each were crafted with wood and bone, with designs carved and accented in faded red and blue.

“Wow,” you whispered. Your historian heart was singing right now. 

You made sure each artifact was intact and hadn’t sustained water damage, then you covered them back up with the lid to the crate. 

“Okay, now you can take it, thank you. This thing is heavy,” you said, with a pat on Colter’s shoulder. 

His lips played at a smile, but he accepted the responsibility of carrying the crate.

Russell rested a hand on the small of your back to subtly help you back up the hill. You couldn’t help walking closer with him, your arm brushing against his side. You glanced up at him with a smile. He matched you, then looked up ahead. 

Charlie was waiting for you all while leaning against a tree. He still looked like utter hell—cut up, bruised, bloody, and now shot in the leg. You went to his side and gently grabbed his arm. 

“God, Charlie. You sure you’re okay?” you asked. He curled an arm around your shoulders and flashed you a familiar grin. 

“Oh, yeah. I’m like a cockroach. Just keep coming back,” he said.

You had to agree with that, laughing through the spark of your tears. Russell came on his other side and shouldered most of your brother's weight off his bad leg. 

“Okay, here we go. One step at a time,” Russell said.

Slowly, painfully, Charlie managed to make it back to Colter’s truck with you and Russell supporting him. Colter brought up the rear with the artifacts in tow. 

And behind you all, the sun broke more fully across the dewy trees in a morning swathed with orange and gold.

After Colter drove you and Charlie to the hospital, he and Russell took off again soon after to do something with the three bodies hidden under a tarp in the bed of the pickup truck. The thought made you shudder, along with the fact that the Shaw brothers knew how to hide bodies.

But you supposed it was better than the alternative.

As it was, you, Colter, and Charlie had to lie to the hospital staff about how you both had earned your injuries—in a brutal mugging, where Colter was able to scare off the men that got the jump on you and Charlie.

"I never saw their faces," as he'd later told the police, while the nurses prepped him for surgery. "I just tried to protect my sister the best I could."

You backed him up on the story, even as the lie felt bitter on your tongue and made you nervous (especially when you thought of poor Dr. Feinman).

Despite that little break-in at the museum yesterday, you'd never been good at being a rule breaker. Fortunately, Colter's calmness when he gave his corroborating statement helped you. Like Russell, he was a solid, anchoring presence...if in a different way.

For the crate of relics, Colter advised Charlie to ship them back to the museum anonymously. It would be the easiest way to encourage the police to lose steam on looking for who took them in the first place. You and your brother begrudgingly agreed, even if you had a secret thought of sending the artifacts to the NMAI. Maybe you could convince Charlie to send them there instead, or to one of the local Native American tribes here in Wyoming.

Hours later, however, you were able to finally be with your brother when he came out of surgery. In that time, your own bruises and the cut above your brow had been tended to in the Emergency Department. Now, you sat by his bedside while he slept off the anesthesia. You stroked his scuffed hand on the bed.

He really was a mess, you thought, as a tear rolled down your cheek. But he was alive. That was what mattered now.

A quiet knock at the door had you looking up, and then smiling to see Russell.

“Hey,” you said quietly, and in surprise. “Everything…went well?”

Russell’s lips quirked. “Yeah, we’re all set.”

No one would be finding those bodies anytime soon. He had a buddy in Denver, Colorado who happened to be a cremator. It was only a couple hours over from Laramie. He and Colter had just gotten back from driving the bodies there.

Before Colter drove over to Dory's apartment next, both to check on her and to fill her in on everything, he'd dropped Russell off at your house so he could get his car. He hadn’t felt right about leaving you in the hospital by yourself, even if you did have your brother.

Not without saying goodbye, at least.

“You know, I need to ask his doctor a question about his post-op care,” you said, gesturing at Charlie. “Can you stay with him for a minute while I go find a nurse?”

“Sure,” Russell agreed. You smiled gratefully and touched his arm as you passed him.

When you were gone, it left a heavy silence in your wake. Russell looked over at Charlie’s sleeping form. Russell sighed and sunk down into the chair beside the bed. He rubbed his tired face with both hands.

Shit. Now that he thought about it, he could’ve just told Colter to bring Dory here. He pulled out his phone to call his sister, when a low groan caught his attention.

Aw geez. What kinda timing, Russell thought, as he realized Charlie was waking up. His eyes slowly slid open, brows furrowing at the bright lights above him, then at the man beside him.

“Hey, man,” Russell said. “You’re okay. You’re in the hospital.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Charlie said, with another groan as he tried to stretch his body. He found he couldn’t yet move his leg. As awareness blinked back into his eyes, he settled on Russell with resignation.

“Thank you,” he said. “What you did for me, for her…I sure as hell didn’t deserve it, but thank you for saving her.”

Russell shook his head. “No need. Just get better.”

“Yeah. The doc says in a few months, I’ll be able to learn how to walk again,” Charlie said.

Russell gave him a firmer look.

“No, I mean get better,” he said. “You know you nearly got your sister killed.”

Charlie’s gaze fell. His face tightened, but really, he couldn’t even be upset at the accusation. He knew it was true, and his guilt already threatened to consume him. He also knew he should be in jail for what he’d done, and what he’d facilitated for months. After what nearly happened in the past twenty-four hours, he wasn’t sure how you could ever forgive him.

“Look, I served too. I know what you’re going through, being back here,” Russell said. “It feels wrong and right, don’t it?”

After a beat, Charlie nodded. “What branch?”

“Special Ops. I hear you were a pilot, Captain.”

“Yeah, I was,” Charlie said, his eyes lowering. “Now…now I don’t know what I am.”

“You’re her brother,” Russell said. Both his tone and his gaze all but demanded that the other man look him in the eyes. “Not her father or her son, her brother. I know you’ve been struggling. But I think you already know what you need to do, and figure out who you’re gonna be today, tomorrow, and the next.”

Charlie took in those words, and tried not to chafe at them coming from a near stranger. He knew, deep down, that all of it was right.

You came in a moment later with two cups of coffee. You brightened with a gasp when you saw that Charlie was awake.

“Hey.” He found a smile for you. You gave Russell the coffee you’d brought for him, but you quickly set yours down on the rolling tray so you could sit beside your brother.

Russell stepped out to give you two some privacy. You thanked him again and watched him go. Then, you turned back to Charlie with a tearful smile.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked.

“Have I said how much I love morphine?” Charlie remarked.

You rolled your eyes and took his hand in yours. “Yeah, how can I forget your thing for hard drugs.”

That hit sharper than a mere joke. His eyes fell away from yours. You sighed and bit your lip.

“I’m sorry,” you said. Charlie shook his head and covered your hand with his.

“No, I’m sorry. For everything I’ve put you through. And I don’t just mean today,” he said. “I’m going to make it up to you.”

“All that matters is that you’re here, and you’re going to be fine,” you said. “I’ve already put together a list of what you’re going to need when we bring you home—”

Charlie stopped you with a squeeze of your hand.

“I’m not going home just yet,” he said.

“Well, no, not until they discharge you, but—”

Again, he gently cut you off. “You were right. I need treatment, and not just for this damn leg.”

He swept a hand through his hair and sighed.

“When they let me out of here, I’m going back to rehab,” he said. “After that, we’ll see.”

 Tears stung in your eyes…but you nodded in relief. You held both of his hands then.

“You’re not doing this alone,” you told him. “I’ll be with you, every step.”

 Charlie let out a self-deprecating chuckle. He felt he didn’t deserve that, but he smiled at you.

“I know. You’ll be nagging me in my head, even when you’re not there,” he said. You smirked and brushed his greasy hair away from his face.

“Damn straight,” you replied. “I’ve finally become Mom.”

Charlie shook his head in amusement, but he leveled you with a pointed finger.

“But for now, you need to go home and get some rest,” he said.

You reluctantly agreed with that too. After a full twenty-four hours without sleep, you realized that you were exhausted. You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you,” you said. “I’ll come back to see you tomorrow.”

“Good. Love you too,” said Charlie. His eyelids were starting to droop from the pain medication, but he forced himself to stay awake for a little while longer. He even helped you back onto your feet with a guiding hand on your back. “Wait, is someone staying with you tonight? I don’t want you to be alone.”

You grabbed up your purse. “Don’t worry. I think I’ve got that covered.”

Your brother quirked a suspicious smile at the look on your face. The one you tried to hide from him when you noticed his scrutiny.

“What, is it one of those guys who helped us?” he asked. “Is it the blonde one—Ken doll? Or the mountain man?”

Of course he knew their names, but he just wanted to mess with you. He could already see you getting flustered while you twisted the strap of your purse between your fingers and glanced at the door.

 “What? No! Just go to sleep. Take advantage of the morphine while you’ve got it,” you said. “Don’t worry. I’ll call Dory.”

Charlie leveled you with a look. “Mhmm.”

He pulled the blanket higher on his chest and watched you leave. When the door swung open, he saw Russell leaning against the wall, waiting for you. 

Charlie huffed. He should’ve known. 

Okay, mountain man.  

That was the last thought he had before he drifted off.

You left your brother’s room just about overwhelmed with a maelstrom of emotions. However, the moment you saw Russell waiting for you, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, it all distilled into one simple thing. 

He met your gaze and started to smile. 

You smiled back, and you went to him. 

You reached up to frame his face with both hands, and you searched for something in his eyes. They were tinged with surprise, but he waited on you, wondering what you were about to do. 

When you thought you found what you were looking for, you raised up on your toes and pressed your lips to his.

His hands unconsciously found your waist and held you to him. He met your lips in kind, and even deepened the connection. Your fingers slipped into his hair, lightly dragging your nails against his scalp. He hummed in pleasure. 

When your lips eventually parted from his, it was still too soon, he thought. Russell stared down at you with a question in his eyes—one he couldn’t help voicing.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you for everything.”

Ah… Russell’s smile evened out and faded slightly. 

So that was just a gesture of gratitude. He hoped you didn’t decide to thank Colter that way. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” Russell said. “I’m glad Charlie’s all right.”

“No, I do need to. So thank you,” you said. Your hands drifted down his chest, plucking at the edge of his jacket. 

“I don’t really want to be alone today, to be honest,” you admitted. “Would you…want to…keep me company for a while? You could rest up at my place.”

Russell’s brows raised. His lips curved. 

“Well, sure. I could do that. Your couch seemed pretty comfortable,” he said. 

“You don’t have to stay on the couch,” you replied. 

And then, Russell finally read your meaning. He saw it in your eyes, staring up at him through your lashes.

Maybe that kiss was exactly what he thought it meant. His smile became more genuine.

“Well, okay,” he said eventually. He wrapped an arm around your waist. “Let’s get you home then.”

You leaned against his side and gave him a lazy salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

He shook his head. His smile deepened into a grin.  

“You’re a little delirious, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Probably need some water,” you said with a giggle. “And God, I’m starving.”

Russell laid a gentle kiss to the side of your head that wasn’t bruised.

“All right, we’ll take care of that too,” he said.

“You know what I’m craving?” you asked. He looked down at you questioningly, and again he found your smile.

“Sriracha fries,” you said.

Russell busted out laughing at that. He fist-pumped the air with his free hand. 

“Hell, yeah.” 

For that, and much more, he would count today as a win. 

AN: There we go! A nice fluffy finish for you. How did you like how Charlie's arc wrapped up, along with her reunion with Russell? 💜

But just wait. We're not quite done yet...

Next Time:

He took in your hesitant face, then the pretty dress you had on. The color matched your eyes. Soulful eyes.

He smiled when you let him see them again.

“Can you see the bruises? I think I covered them up well enough,” you said. You turned to look at yourself in the mirror again, touching your jaw carefully. 

Russell’s hand raised to find your cheek, earning your attention with wider eyes. His thumb swept across your skin as you started to blush.

“You’re beautiful,” he said with a smile. “Don’t you worry about that.”

Your face warmed further, despite your smile. 

“Yeah, the makeup helps,” you quipped. 

“I didn’t say anything about makeup,” he replied. Though he grinned and made a show of looking closer at your face. “Although, have your lashes always been that damn long?”

You laughed, but he didn’t let go of you.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 5 (Finale!)

Series Masterlist

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Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

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@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

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@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

[icarusredwings]

I rewatched Deadpool 2 and took notes.

Disclaimer: He's mentally ill and does mentally ill things (GASP, who would have thought?). Also, violence. A lot of violence. It's really long. Like.. really really long.

The very first words he says is "fuck wolverine"

Then blows his own head off with a shit ton of gasoline. Wonder if he had insurance on that appartment.

He started taking worldwide cases

He also admits to knowing "8th grade spanish"

"Passion of the christ. Then me." Says the man whos marvel jesus now.

I wonder how much wade owes cab guy.

Cab guy killed bandu Lmao

"What is it?"

"My IUD"

"A bomb??" Tell me why he was lowkey excited for it to be a bomb?

I love how serious he gets talking about how scared he is to be a dad.

This empire joke traveled from the first movie too.

"Pretty sure it doesn't work that way but we can try" yes.

When making toaster strudles its almost as if he could sense them coming despite it being so silent. This kind of makes me think that Logans not the only one who just jumps up sometimes.

This man really just said "Fuck it" jumped out of a 2 story window, BOLTED after this guy as fast as he could, got hit by a car, rammed another car, and whole ass hugged this guy before jumping in front of a truck with him. I don't want to see anyone try to tell me he's one sandwitch drop away from jumping off a cliff.

Cinatography by Blind Al.

Directed by one of those guys that killed john wicks dog.

God I love Ryan Reynolds because you know it was him.

Wade stop peeing your pants in public.

Weasel "We still have bowie..." Yeah id lie to him too at this point.

"Yeah im fine"

Fucked up

Insecure

Needy and

Emotional. Kübler ross apprently.

"Buck no more speaking lines for you" and he meant that shit.

Al is so humble and sweet. Making tea and giggling. Tries to shoot him and then just hears him collapse on the floor. How many times do you think he collapses on the floor a week? Just to be drimatic?

"Sweetheart can you speak up? Its a little hard to hear you with yhat pity dick in your mouth" Oh so shes his mom. Al is his fucking mom. Hands down. And the best one.

I love how he decided to do an entire bag of cocaine before dying. There was no reason for it and honestly was a waste of cocaine until you realize that these cocaine is wades whiskey. Shots dont work for him really, probably because hes already done it so much, but its the same way how Logan chugs that bottle before wade kidnaps him. Its easier to blame it on a substance then accept those were your actions.

Ness is so cute. The poster behind her has "I love you wade wilson" scratched into it. Its nice to know that his version of heaven is literally just a cozy Saturday morning with his wife.

Colossus just walking in to find wades body parts everywhere and put him in a bag like old dirty clothes lol

"Why cant I fucking die" tone was SO serious.

The fact that theres an x men rule book and its lowkey thicker then a bible. I bet you scott and Logan made 80% of those.

"That asshole was me" oh the tears. Baby boyy.

Wait isnt cable literally scotts son.

Im never going to understand this fucking time line jesus christ

Mutant rehabilitation?? What is he a drug addict? That kid is clearly in pain dipshits.

"X men trainee" is so funny

"Please stop cheating on me"

Daniel the pedophile looking ass

Bro casually signs ryan reynolds on the wolverine cereal box and then destroys his knee caps.

"Those guys hurt you??" It was at that moment, wade went ape shit.

Wade having fun in prison is so him. But come on imagine going to prison just for standing up to an abused child. Not to mention, His face when he immediately realizes how fucked he is and that "oh shit I actually DO have cancer now and it SUCKS"

Is it just me or does Cable reminds you of forge with all his cool fix it abilities. Or is he just futurey.

He didn't say were not friends to make him upset but to draw attention to himself. Him just eye rolling when stabbed in the hand was so funny too because he was like "Ouch. God damn it. Ducking OUCH."

Hes literally pleading with russel to find someone else to peotect him or hes gonna get molested because he cant do anything. His entire power is replacing dead cells WITH new cancer cells. His entire body is dying 24/7 but never fast enough to actually kill him, always regrowing way too quickly. Cancerous is better then dead.

"Get away from me kid" yeah cause he knows hes trouble and he REALLY doesn't wanna watch this kid die.

"Who the hell tries to kill a 14 year old boy"

"Kids give us a chance to be better then we used to be"

Dopinder is so wholesome. I love him so much. No i dont care that he killed a guy. Hes the type of friend you call to take to the movies or the zoo once every year and hes stoked just to be invited.

Peter: I just thought it looked fun :D

Dopinder: FUCK

Peter is that one dad whos kids left the nest and now he needs friends and a hobby so searches for the biggest weirdos he can find.

"Grab the boy- NOT INAPPROPRIATELY >:("

i love his crayon maps/plans

Oh my god weasel im not telling you anything ever again you snitch (same dude, cable is terrifying)

After crying over the love he has for his new team (x force) Wade confirms that he spent 10 years in special forces.

I love how supportive wade is with Peter despite him just being a normal dude only for him to immediately die LMAO

He just cassually lets his impulse win in which he steals a moped.

Oh i just noticed Dominos vitiligo. I always loved vitiligo charaters. Theyre so unique and barley ever given movie roles. Like why not?? Why wouldnt you want someone so beautiful? Im pretty sure she just has make up but it would be cool if not.

Something else is that cable just starts yeeting criminals out onto the street lol

"Theres nothing I cant kill" Let me intorduce you to the man whos on a constant road to dying but can never actually get there.

Im assuming cable wants to kill russel because he unleashes a big bad guy or something.

*cassually snaps neck back into place* Oh god that hurt!

Oh I was right! It was Juggernaut :)

Wade: *gets excited about being PHYSICALLY ripped in half*

"Rub my legs mama 🥺 I got growing pains"

"Oh noo! No no no Dp not again!" We love you Dopinder. Do not ever stop caring. "This shits happened before!?" Yes weasel. Sometimes your friends get ripped in half. Get used to it.

Wade just moves her gun to the right position.

Wade talking about saving russel is so serious that it makes you forget that he has a tiny baby ass rn. I couldn't make a deal with someone woth tiny baby legs... just... no. Not to mention that those baby legs are made of cancer.

"50 years from now you're super fucking dead"

Wade standing outside of the xmen mansion with his phone and a picture of a boom box playing music for Colossus to come outside and help him save russel is something i can see happening to Logan. They have a fight and he storms off to the mansion only for wade to stand outside like that.

"Hi Wade🎀✨️" "Hi Yukio!🥹 you guys make a super cute couple 😊 where was I? 🤨"

"So you wear a helmet so your brother cant read your mind?" "Yeaaahh" average kid conversations.

"Lets fuck some shit up is my legal middle name"

Okay sir edgelord.

Apprently wade has a gluten sensitivity

What is it with wade and metal men??? My man has a type.

"Im just gonna use this brick and maximum effort" Same wade. Same.

Yaayy!! Go yukio! Eveyone loves yukio.

"Thats how we do it in mother russia" What? Shoving an electrical cable up their ass and then put them in a pool? Damn. Ok.

That "I never should have never left you in that prison" with the hug? Man hed be a decent dad I think.

"Dont be ive been trying to make this happen for awhile" okay someone supervise him 24/7. Hes on the active watch list.

Wade: *is dying* Hi Yukio :D

Yukio: Hi wade :)

"R-dog" Oh my god hes too cute.

Them carrying the racist joke all the way til the end made me cringe but that was the point.

His last words being "do you wanna build a snow man?" Is such a deadpool thing.

I was NOT expecting to cry at the end of this stupid ass movie, AGAIN

"Dont fuck colossus" VANESSA KNEW

THE FUCKING COIN

"Is there a knife in my dick?" "There's a knife in your dick."

Oh I just didn't even notice she has heterochromancia! <3 Aahh!!

PFFT DOPINDERS SECOND CONFIRMED KILL

"WERE DEFINITELY NAMINF OUR KID CHER"

"Dont scratch!" *shoots himself 8 times* "Love you! Bye."

Wolverine: ???

[wukong-s-only-wife5000]

Aaaaa I love your writing so much omg!!<3

Can I perhaps get a Monkey King: Reborn. Where him and the reader get into a argument, and he says something he doesn’t mean to out of complete anger. Making the reader really upset and running off. Than maybe something happens to the reader and Wukong feels hella bad But they eventually make up?🥺💖

So I guess this one would kinda be like where he gets mad? Sorry  I know this is more angst and comfort. I just thought more details would be helpful. Anyways sorry again if this doesn’t really fit anything. ;<;

He's Mad: Reborn!Wukong.

Pair: Reborn Wukong x chubby!Reader.

Word Count: 1505.

Content/Trigger Warnings: insecurities are triggered.

Authors Notes: No need to apologize! This is an amazing one. I really enjoyed writing this one even though it hurt my heart a bit, thanks so much for the submission. <3 Hope you enjoy!

<---Previous | Start | Next--->

It doesn't take much to get Sun Wukong angry; especially when you're the target of discussion. He's overprotective and very possessive over you, it's to be expected, you are his baby after all. He wants to make sure you're looked after, protected and cared for; most importantly know that you're cared for. However, today’s anger wasn't just like every other day mad… no, no, today you were the target of his anger, and obviously you knew better than to take his shit sitting down. 

Now, granted, you'd agree that the situation you had gotten into was your fault, and you already felt bad that you put everyone else in danger… It wasn't really your fault that the jaguar demon thought it was a good idea to mess with you because he thought you were a ‘weak and defenseless little pork thing’. 

You had to admit that it triggered you a lot, it really hit home and maybe something might have been said about him being a leopard wanna be that he… didn't take kindly to and tried to attack you before Wukong set him right. Yes, your boyfriend beat the shit outta him and sent him running. It's just that Wukong snapping at you like he did afterwards was the last thing you needed.

“Look, I get that-” you started, but he cut you off.

“I knew this would happen,” he chuckled and shook his head. You could clearly tell that that chuckle wasn't a humorous one, but one that warned he was losing it. However, his statement confused you, and you narrowed your eyes on him.

What did he mean he ‘knew this would happen’?

“What? What do you mean you knew it would happen?” you questioned him, though in your gut, you could tell that was where you really messed up. 

“I knew this would happen,” he repeated, this time looking at you with that glare that he had never shot you before. “You never do anything right! You always have to find some way, shape, or form to say or do something that pisses off something bigger and stronger than you. Then I’m always the one who has to come save you because you keep screwing things up and getting yourself into unnecessary trouble! For once in your life can you just do as you're told and stay where I can see you?!”

“Not once have I ever asked you to do anything of the sort for me… but since I'm such a burden to you,” you clenched your fists and lowered your head a bit. “I’ll just leave, then!” you yelled before you stormed off away from him.

“Shit…” he grumbled as he watched you walk away from him. The sight immediately sobering him up from his previous rage. “(Y/n), wait!” but… you were gone. You may be thick and short, but you were fast.

Wukong continued to growl and grumble curses as he paced up and down. Him and his big mouth! How could he say that to you? He's such a knucklehead. He tried his best to get his emotions in check, but the thought of you being mad at him was just pissing him off more. He sat against a boulder, staring out at the cliff view with an intense glare, as if the view was to blame for him getting mad in the first place. He'd put himself in a temporary timeout so he could cool down before finding you. 

You yourself, well… you hated that the tears kept on falling no matter how many times you'd wiped them away. You knew Wukong didn't mean what he said to you, but that didn't mean that his words hurt any less. What made it hurt the worst was that he wasn't exactly wrong. You did have a tendency to get yourself and everyone else in danger, but it wasn't like you did it on purpose!

Hearing Wujing unlikely or Pigsy more likely say that wouldn't have hurt as much, but hearing your boyfriend say something like that? It shattered you like the most fragile glass in the world. You had to admit, you didn't exactly handle his outburst any better. 

“Real mature, (Y/n)… storming off with your tail between your legs,” you grumbled to yourself as you finally found a spot and plopped down. “I'm such an idiot…”

The tears that filled your eyes and blurred your vision finally continued to fall like a waterfall. Salty tears that fell down your face and felt never-ending. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You don't know how much time really passed, but by the time you had decided to 

“There you are, where have you been?!” Pigsy was the first to chastise you with his fists on his hips, but he immediately shut up hearing Wukong growl at him. 

“Sorry I was gone so long,” you cursed internally when your voice broke.

“Are you alright?” Tang was the first to ask, never really showing it, but you could tell he was a bit worried about you.

“I'm fine, just a bit tired. I guess I fell asleep after my walk,” you lied through your teeth, though it was a lie that all but Wukong believed without question.

The Monkey King watched you walk over to sit by the fireplace at the centre of the camp. Meat dinner appeared to be a fish monster that you figured Wukong caught whilst he was out blowing off the rest of his steam, which was true. You knew him well. No matter how good the cooked fish smelled, you just didn't have an appetite and the thought of eating food made you feel sick.

You heard Wujing telling a story or talking about some legend as he always did, but you didn't pay attention and neither did Wukong. Your mind was somewhere not even you knew the location of, and Wukong’s attention was rotated from you to his meal then straight back to you. It hurt his heart knowing that he had hurt you in his rage, but it worried him even more seeing you hadn't touched any of the food. 

Once everyone finally decided to get some sleep, you and Wukong were left outside. 

“You're not eating,” he spoke. 

“Not hungry,” you said softly, but of course your stomach chose then to make the loudest protest that made Wukong huff through his nose in amusement.

“Yeah, I can tell,”

You wanted to smile or chuckle, but you surprisingly managed to keep to yourself. Without a word, Wukong sat beside you, an action that made your heart race every single time… this time was no exception. He gave you a bowl with the fish meat and bread, small but filling. The rumble in your stomach made him win, so you took the bowl with a soft ‘thank you’. His elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, his eyes were focused on the firewood as you ate quietly. 

“What’d that bastard say to you?” he glanced at you mid-bite of your toasted bread. When you told him, he was seething, but didn't bother to say anything else as you continued to eat.

He felt like a bigger fool than he did before. He knew he should have asked your side of the story, but he was just so pissed off that you almost got attacked that he wasn't thinking straight. 

“(Y/n)-” he started once you were finished and set the bowl aside. Just saying your name, you could tell he was desperate, something else that made your heart race.

“Don't bother,” you said softly, shaking your head a bit. “I know…”

“No,” he looked at you with anguish on his face as he sat on the floor, his hands held yours on your lap. He looked so pathetic and vulnerable, it broke your heart to see him like this. “I shouldn't have said that to you, I was out of line. What's worse, I hurt your feelings and made you cry,”

“Wukong-” your voice was soft, but he cut you off.

“I'm so sorry, Peach.” he pulled you onto his lap and nuzzled your shoulder and neck with his face, his fur tickling your skin. “I'm so so so sorry,”

“It's okay,” you couldn't help but smile at his behaviour. He continued to nuzzle you before he pulled you to straddle him, and he continued nuzzling and kissing your neck. You sighed heavily as sweat dropped from your forehead… You were stuck…

“Wukong-”

“No,” he immediately declined, holding you close to his chest, not willing to let you go. 

His right arm held you firmly against his chest while his left hand intertwined with yours, his thumb caressed your hand tenderly. You sighed once more. You fell into a trap… Now he won't be letting you go till he thinks you've forgiven him, even though you already have.

“I love you, you dummy,” you smiled and hugged his torso. 

“I love you so much more, peach,” he said softly and placed a kiss on your forehead. 

[suzdin]

Washed Up Has-Been: a Dieter Bravo one shot

Dieter Bravo x F!Plus Size!Reader

Warnings: soft!Dieter, sweet!Dieter, smut, angst, bodily insecurities, reader is plus sized but no other physical attributes are described, Dieter is a little chubby as well, mentions of drugs and alcohol, oral (m receiving), mention of sex toys, fluff? (gasp!), did I forget anything? I know next to nothing about the film industry, don’t judge me :(

Word Count: 2,800

Enjoy and feel free to reblog and comment if you wish! 💜🙂

——

Dieter Bravo had not been the same since Cliff Beasts 6.

What did they call it? Losing your spark? Your mojo? Your moxy? Whatever it was called, he’d lost it, along with his marbles… if he ever had any to begin with, and he was sure many would agree he hadn’t.

The reviews were bad, abhorrent, really. ‘Dieter Bravo as Gio Ricci baffling’, ‘Bravo couldn’t act his way out of a paper bag’, ‘I can’t believe this man has an Oscar’, ‘Did he get his Italian accent at an Olive Garden?’, on and on the critics wailed and lambasted.

He’d had a mental break shortly after the premier, firing everyone he could in his vicinity — his publicist, his hair stylist and manicurist, hell, even his agent of twenty five years. He’d hired a new one, of course, a potential script FedExed to his door that morning, fist curled and white knuckled in anger around the thick stack of papers as he perched himself like a sentient gargoyle on his couch, in the tattered clothes he’d been wearing for nearly a week.

A dad. They wanted him to play a fucking dad, some sort of buddy comedy family film opposite Dwayne Johnson, it might be a good move for your career, buddy, his agent had explained. But seriously, him? Hollywood heart throb Dieter Bravo, reduced to playing someone’s bumbling father, opposite THE FUCKING ROCK?

He couldn’t believe it.

He had put on some weight since his last film, sure, but that was no reason or excuse to allow himself to be typecasted as a dad.

Or was it the ever persistent graying in his hair and beard? The laugh lines? The crow’s feet?

‘Dieter Bravo is a washed up has-been’ the internet screamed at him daily, leading him to drown himself in an endless stream of drugs and alcohol…more so than he was already doing, anyway.

He was barely a functioning person. A husk of his former self, he could no longer get it up, unsure whether to blame the drugs or his steadily fleeting mental health, and even putting brush to canvas felt more like a chore than an escape nowadays. He’d become a hermit in his own home, the ghastly, aging 1970s mid-century horror he resided in the Hollywood Hills, that he thought was amazing when he originally bought it a decade ago.

Well, much like him, older things fall apart, and the house was a piece of shit, which was apt.

He had hired you as his assistant and he was so vague as to what that entailed that you were sort of a jack of all trades as far as helping was concerned, acting as his maid, his cook, the middle man to screen his calls, his emails, so on and so forth. Hell, you even took care of the large python he’d bought ‘because it looked cool’, that he was now too scared to touch, himself.

You did it all, and although he never properly expressed as much, he was more grateful for you than he let on.

He always found you pretty, too. Beautiful, even, and not in the fake way he’d grown used to, living in Hollywood. You were kind, sweet, and uncorrupted by a crueler world, always happy and eager to assist him with whatever he needed.

And if he was being honest with himself, the thought of you sheathed around his cock was the only thing that could even get him half hard anymore.

When you arrive for the day, you find him on his couch, glowering at what you can only assume is another bad script, graying hair disheveled and curling away from his skull, teeth gritted in disdain. A look you had come to recognize and were more than familiar with.

“Let me take that to the garbage for you,” you offer, as you normally do in these situations, stepping forward to reach for the offending script.

His eyes clock the way your breasts sway when you walk, the roundness of your belly, the plushness of your arms. He can’t help but stare; he wants to bury himself in you and stay there forever.

He swallows, moving the script away from your extended hand and tucking it behind a cushion, distracted by your body.

“No — no, it’s okay,” he replies and his voice feels like gravel in his throat, realizing he hasn’t spoken all day until now.

Although the script sucks and he doesn’t want to do it, he needs the money. “Thanks.”

You notice his eyes on you and you sit, leaving about a foot of space between you to maintain a modicum of professionalism, observing the sadness behind his dark brown eyes and knowing this has been the norm for several months now but still hating it for what it is.

“What’s on the docket for today?” you ask him and he shrugs, unhelpfully, his lips pulled into a frown, shadows staining the lines of his face. You haven’t seen him this bad in a while.

“I can… make you some hot tea?” you ask, looking down at the schedule in your lap, of which nothing is jotted down for the day.

He shakes his head, carding a hand through his hair. “No. I’m out of tea.”

You chew your lip. “Okay… well, then I guess I’m running to the store today. I have a list already, but can you think of anything else?”

Once again, he shakes his head. “No. I’ll just order it or something.”

You frown and tuck the schedule away, crossing your legs and turning to face him, contemplative.

“Then what do you want me to do today? You’re paying me to be here,” you note. “Unless you’d rather I go home.”

“No!” he damn near shouts, making you jump, and he immediately regrets his lack of impulse control. His gaze traverses your subtle cleavage and you clear your throat, heat warming your skin. “Sorry, it’s just… I don’t want to be alone right now. Can we just hang out?” he queries.

“Dieter, are you okay?” you question and he shakes his head in response.

“No.” A single word that says so much more than that. It pulls at your heart strings, seeing him like this. “I — I’m a nobody.”

“You aren’t a nobody, you’re Oscar winner Dieter fucking Bravo,” you counter, and he snorts, picking at some dry skin on his ankle.

“Yeah, Dieter fucking Bravo, the aging has-been who can’t act his way out of a paper bag,” he snorts.

“If you keep talking like that, I’m going to take away your internet access so you can’t read all the mean tweets about yourself,” you threaten.

“You wouldn’t.”

“One call to your financial advisor and I would and could,” you retort and Dieter scoffs, trying to remember if he’d fired him yet or not.

You cross your arms and flop back against the worn and flattened couch cushions, eyeing him smugly.

The movement pushes your chest up and out, his gaze on you once again and he isn’t subtle about it this time. You clear your throat and stir, staring back at his soft, plush lips.

“Dieter—“

“Come here,” he murmurs quietly and the spontaneity of it catches you off guard, your jaw hanging agape in disbelief and confusion.

“…What?”

It had been months since anyone had touched him, had wanted to touch him, and now, as he stares at your body and smells your light vanilla perfume, after the shitty week he’s had, he needs to be touched, even if only briefly.

“Come… here,” he repeats, more dogged than before, and in spite of yourself, despite how unprofessional it is, you find yourself scooting forward.

He grabs your hips when you’re within reach and drags you the rest of the way, pulling the cushion partially off the couch in the process, a small yelp of surprise escaping your lungs as he softly grips your face to bring his lips to yours.

They’re plush, dry, lightly chapped and he tastes a little like whiskey and weed, but you don’t really mind, his coarse, wiry mustache scratching and tickling against your nose.

Suddenly, with a soft groan in the back of his throat, his hand is under your shirt, cupping your breast, and you break the kiss, looking down to where his arm disappears beneath the fabric, shock settling over your features.

“Dee… are you… are you sure?” you ask. You don’t exactly look like the people Dieter had been confirmed dating in the past, and you feel a wave of trepidation, your self conscious nature bubbling to the surface. You’ve always felt Dieter Bravo was more than a little out of your league.

Not that you’re dating him, but, you know.

“I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t sure,” he tuts and kisses you again, rougher this time, palming your breast, making your cunt throb.

He groans. You’re so good to him, always taking such good care of him, and you feel exactly the way he thought you would, warm and luscious and supple, his dick already fighting with the seam of his pajama pants, the first time in weeks.

And you’ve wanted this, too, as long as you’ve worked for him, never confessing your feelings for fear of losing your job. You never imagined Dieter fucking Bravo would feel the same way about you.

You know Dee needs this, you need this, and you want to make him feel good.

You brush a hand over his hardening cock and he damn near bucks himself straight off the couch with a grunt and a sharply uttered, “Fuck” against your lips. You grin into his mouth at how much composure he’s already lost from so few touches.

You pull away after a moment and scoot off the couch, sinking onto your knees in front of him, nestling yourself between his broad thighs.

He watches you, rigid cock tremoring in his pants at the sight, the outline of it clearly visible and straining against the fabric. “You… you don’t have to…” His voice is thick, haggard.

“Let me take care of you, Dee,” you mewl as you nuzzle your face against the squishy paunch of his stomach, lifting his shirt to plant small, reverent kisses in a circle around his belly button. He giggles and flinches at the contact.

“Sorry, sorry — ticklish,” he explains and you smile, placing a few more kisses there, more delicate than the ones that preceded them, trailing a line from his navel to the thick swathe of hair leading to his crotch.

Despite the pounds he’s put on recently, he doesn’t feel at all uncomfortable in front of you, eyes darkening as he drinks you in visually, lips tight and parted, breaths growing deeper in the barrel of his chest.

You look up and from your current perspective, he’s all wild haired and broad shouldered, panting, your cunt clenching with desire as you eye him with a wry grin.

You smooth his shirt down over his belly and move your face to the hard bulge below, nosing the bulk of it through the fabric and inhaling his natural scent, thick and musky and masculine in your nostrils. You both groan in unison.

“Dear god,” he grunts, “I feel like I’m about to— aaaaugh— fucking bust already.”

“Save it for my mouth, at least,” you snip and his head rolls back against the cushion at your words, the one with the sag in the middle where his neck always rests, eyes sliding shut.

“You’re so good for me,” he pants softly, already so close to falling apart, “I take you for granted and I’m sorry.”

“Dieter, shh.” You find the stretchy waistband of his striped trousers and drag them down his hips, not all surprised to see he’s gone commando, cock springing free from the cage of fabric, uncut and dribbling against the drag of soft cotton. He’s girthy, and you’ve never seen one intact in the flesh before — literally — a small puff of air escaping your lips, taking in the sight of him for a few seconds before coming to your senses.

“Is everything alr—“ he starts to ask, cutting himself off when you unexpectedly cup his heavy balls in your palm and lick a slow stripe up his length with the flat of your tongue, his hips quivering and bucking involuntarily. “Shit—“

You grin, humming satisfactorily to yourself and continue to tease him, his hands finding your hair, fingers twisting at the roots as the rings he insists on wearing get caught in the strands, pulling ever so slightly. You moan.

You feel incredible, your tongue working his most sensitive areas, and he’s having a hard time holding it together, torso heaving above you, tiny whimpers departing his lips, and he hasn’t even entered your mouth yet.

You sense how much trouble he’s having at keeping himself in check, so you back off a touch to give him a momentary reprieve, shifting to kiss along the meat of his inner thighs, nipping at the tiny elephant tattoos etched into his skin as you do so.

He cups one hand on the back of your neck, watching you through half-lidded eyes, your lips like pure velvet and heaven.

He’s already forgotten about the shitty script tucked into the couch, about the bad reviews and the critics with their cruel, baseless quips. Faded away to nothingness, akin to what he experiences when he’s completely blitzed, negative thoughts dissolving to the back of his mind to be discarded, and for now, for the moment, the only thing that matters is you, your beauty, and how well you take care of him.

After what seems like an eternity of small, worshipping, teasing touches to the insides of his thighs and the rim of his belly, your lips return to his cock, lapping at the precum that’s beaded up at the slit before taking him into your mouth, hand fisted at the base as you work him into your throat.

He’s impervious at this point to keep his hips flush against the couch, shuddering into your mouth as you take him and pushing further down your throat, not entirely on purpose, moaning as the wet heat of your mouth engulfs him.

“Wanna— fuck your pussy next time— with a vibrating plug in your ass,” he grunts, hardly able to string a single cohesive thought together, making your cunt throb and slick leak into the cradle of your panties.

Dieter wasn’t one to shy away from toys, and in fact had an entire drawer full of them, which you had accidentally stumbled upon one day when putting away some of his clothes; everything from butt plugs to cock rings to flesh lights with multiple attachments and bondage gear.

You steady his hips with your hands and hold him in place as best you can, difficult with how much stronger he is than you, jaw stretching to fit him, the musky tang of him flooding your tastebuds.

You steadily rock your head up and down his length, taking him all the way to the back of your throat, and you can feel the veins running the length of his shaft pulsating against your tongue, feel the way his balls tighten as he edges ever closer to the precipice.

He’s wanted you, needed you, for so long, that he can’t contain himself much longer. His hips begin to stutter and you feel his body growing taut, hear his breaths growing shallow and haggard, fingers curling against your scalp.

“I’m… I’m gonna… fucking cum,” he grunts deep in his chest. That’s all the warning he allows before his hips stall and he lets out a visceral growl of pleasure, spilling a hot and heavy load across your tongue, some of it seeping out at the edges and dribbling down his thighs until you’re able to steady yourself.

You hold him in your mouth until you feel the very last drop hit the back of your throat, slowly pulling off only when you feel him starting to go soft.

“You should really clean up this awful mess you’ve made,” Dieter taunts when you sit back to catch your breath, watching the cocktail of spend and saliva slide down his tan skin.

You grin and tip your head forward to obediently lap at the escaped fluids. He groans as he savors the delicious sight of you, affectionately brushing his fingers through your hair as you do so.

After a moment, you rise from the ground, your knees cracking from the exertion, joining him on the couch as he tugs his pajama bottoms back up his hips.

He snakes an arm around the small of your back and kisses you, deep and full, moaning when he tastes remnants of himself on your tongue.

He grins against your lips and then rises, yanking you off the couch and giggling along with you when you pass him a perplexed look.

“Where are we going now?” you ask, pleased to see him happy and relaxed again after all this time, to actually see him smiling.

“You took care of me, so I’m going to take care of you. You’re familiar with my special drawer, aren’t you?”

—

FIN. xx

[disformer]

What do you feel is more concerning for children with what is in the EarthSpark series; all of the clear terror and death, or having a they/them pronouned character?

Because the terror and death is seemingly entirely looked over but the ONE CHARACTER going by different pronouns is apparently nothing short of outrage.

Anon, I Am Nonbinary.

I’ll put a more thought out response under the cut

Earthspark drinking game take a sip every time an extremely young child has to emotionally support an adult or is put in life-threatening danger.

1. Steven Universe really ruined a generation of children’s media by making showrunners think they had to tackle issues like PTSD and trauma.

However, to give SU some credit, Steven was not 9 years old at the start of the show. It’s a really jarring choice that was probably made to capitalise on a more marketable demographic for TF and to keep the children’s play more lighthearted, but you get some really weird moments like (checks notes) a nine year old giving advice to an adult on how to handle trauma.

The issue with this is no nine year old should ever have to do this for an adult. They do not need to be wise beyond their years. They do not need to be a therapist for their caretakers. Grimlocks PTSD episode is one of the most egregious examples of this, where (not only is this depiction extremely one-note and weird) the narrative punishes Jawbreaker for not realising Grimlock is having a panic attack in the middle of their play.

As a framing device in a kids movie, what is a nine year old viewer supposed to take from this? The child brain is going to think ‘the adult lashed out and hurt Jawbreaker, it was his fault for being too rowdy.’ LIKE YOU WOULDNT SEE THIS IN PEPPA PIG.

And you do need to consider this when you’re writing children that young in your media, because kids are going to watch shows that have other kids the same age as them in it. There’s an almost instinctive camaraderie in seeing a fellow nine-year-old on TV when you’re at that age. So, the show is very likely going to be watched by 8-15 year olds which brings us to

2. JESUS CHRIST. THIS SHOW NEEDS TO CALM DOWN.

This show is way way way too interested in putting children in extreme danger. Constantly, towards the end of the series.

I’ll make a note first that it’s okay if kids shows have fun play-violence; kids like action. Children like low-stakes explosions. It’s not super serious and most TF media does this well, even if it’s tonally a bit more serious. This is not really an issue in a show like TFP or TFA which also had young kids.

Earthspark does not make its action low-stakes. Earthspark treats its violence extremely seriously; children cry, they scream, they get bruised, their parents wail when they see them in danger. Violence has a lasting impact, it has to because the show constantly wants to talk about trauma, so they can’t have video game rules. If they get hurt it has to impact them. Robbie and Mo are in consistent, life-threatening danger. They’re always being shot at or dropped off cliffs or almost killed and it always harrows them.

And kids can pick up on this. They’re going to realise that this is something that’s Serious, and Scary, and they’re going to be FREAKED out.

They’re also going to be freaked out when the children are fuckin. Tied into the bio-wall with tubes by Mandroid, or when Robbie has alien leukaemia and his parents are so so scared and has to rush him to the hospital and Mo is crying so much, or when their parents are seemingly killed and the kids are screaming and punching the ground and blaming themselves.

And that last part is important, because on several occasions the narrative reinforces this. The narrative. Of a children’s show. Says yes; Robbie and Mo have powers, and this makes them responsible for the well-being of the adults around them. Mo literally gets told this. By GOD. Before her parents proudly watch on without interfering as she fights in hand to hand combat with the villain (WHO IS, AS WE HAVE SEEN, FUCKING DERANGED AND WOULD LOVE TO KILL A TEENAGER JUST ONCE PLEASE PLEASE)

In conclusion, what this tells me is the showrunners are inexperienced. They didn’t consider what is appropriate for the subject matter of a children’s cartoon. They wanted to write about trauma, and war, and think kids are cute! And didn’t want their TF fanfiction to be narratively compromised by having to ‘dumb it down’ for kids.

The result is this is never a show I would ever put on for a 4th grade class in break time, at the risk of severely upsetting a lot of them. And it’s also a show I can’t enjoy as an adult, because it uses the language of a children’s cartoon to make nuanced topics more binarised and soppy.

[chaifootsteps]

sarcastic productions did a vid recently about this thing called Tone Armor and it explains something I've had issues with in HB but struggled to articulate

so Tone Armor is, to simplify it (but I do recommend the vid) what the audience understands the stakes of the show to be. I.e. in a Loony Tunes short no one expects a character to be seriously hurt falling off a cliff, getting shot in the face, getting a piano dropped on them, etc. It's kind of part of suspension of disbelief - some shows exploit tone armor by having an early twist that goes against the conventions of the genre. The twist in Madoka Magica ep3 works entirely off this - if you've seen a lot of magical girl shows like Sailor Moon and Cardcaptors you're used to their stakes and you don't expect anyone to really die. In ep3, someone really dies.

And that's a big problem I have with HB - it can't keep its stakes or tone consistent to save its life. In Harvest Moon, Stella hiring Striker to kill Stolas is played like a dark comedy joke. We're supposed to take it like a dramatic beat but also a kind of wacky demon thing. But then The Circus drastically shifts the tone and expects us to treat Stolas and Stella as a straight example of domestic violence - which they do by having her try to slap him, something which is much less violent than the hit she's already ordered on him episodes before. They've already had Stella escalate to the end point most abusers get to, played it as a joke, and they want to turn around and demand the audience instead take it seriously instead of treating it like just a thing demons do? It was already shaky ground in ep5 whether we should judge Stella for ordering a hit given that the premise of the show used to be about imps running an assasination business, and their targets used to be in Hell!

The show also can't make up its mind whether the audience should be worried about the characters being in real danger at any moment in time. Western Energy is the absolute nadir for this - one minute Stolas is dodging holy bullets like he knows he's in danger, the next he's calling Blitzo and speaking with no more urgency than he did when he hired him as a bodyguard in Loo Loo Land (and the episode seems to expect us to blame Blitzo for not dropping everything to help him? Why wasn't Stolas screaming in terror on the phone then???). Worse, when he gets cut off Stolas says out loud 'am I in danger right now?' like he wasn't just tied up on the back of a horse bound with blessed rope. What in gods name happened to his intelligence in this episode?

Then it's right back to wacky hijinks right as the tone was starting to shift with the Striker song from the imp trio and Stolas is still making jokes ('how does one get their own theme song?') until the episode then decides it's going to be serious and act like the audience should be worried Stolas could die. Besides the fact Viv was never going to kill her Creator's Pet, it is way too late to demand an audience buy into this plot line on a dramatic level. To make it worse half the fight scene is scored with a bubblegum pop song on the radio and it keeps cutting to the much lower stakes Blitzo trying to get Loona to take her shot, like it makes any sense at all to cross cut between the two! That episode is absolute garbage imo and I have no idea why it ended up the way it did outside of Viv probably insisting there needed to be a plot device that would render Stolas helpless (which begs the question how Striker hasn't managed to finish off half of Hell's nobles by now if he has blessed rope or at least Stolas, given he's also dumb enough not to bother using his eye powers or his demonic form earlier - the power levels in this show are also massively inconsistent)

And then to put the cherry on a very bad cake Blitzo asks 'he can get hurt?' like he didn't already know blessed weapons exist and he didn't already fight Striker for trying to kill Stolas with one of them (which he should have let him do to spare us all the badness of this never-ending plotline)

Extremely good point.

Tone armor is definitely a thing, and Viv's problem is that she wants it to be both ways. She wants this show to be Looney Tunes and Madoka, and she wants to alternate back and forth between the two whenever she pleases, and when her audience inevitably complains or is confused, to blame them.

And that's not how this works.

[bi-bard]

Regret My Touch So Much That You Curse Your Baptism - Kaz Brekker Imagine [Shadow & Bone]

Title: Regret My Touch So Much That You Curse Your Baptism

Pairing: Kaz Brekker X Reader

Word Count: 1,292 words

Warning(s): touch aversion, author trying to be dramatic

Summary: [Inspired by "salvation" by Christabelle Marbun] Kaz finds himself faced with a problem. His attempt to solve the problem seems to have consequences that he had not anticipated.

Author's Note: I... love this song so much.

I know that I haven't written for this show in ages, but since the second season came out, I decided to give it a shot again.

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

Kaz asking to meet with you was never necessarily a good thing.

It was usually a sign of something very important happening and I have found that something so important was rarely good.

I had known Kaz for a fair number of years. Even then, I never truly felt like I completely understood him. There were so many different parts of himself that he kept locked away, each with a wildly different key. I had been trying for ages to get him to open up to me. It had yet to happen.

Kaz was silent when I met with him that day.

I had greeted him, but he merely nodded as a way to acknowledge my existence. I could have laughed. I could have sworn that the two of us were much closer than what warranted his behavior.

"Can I ask what this meeting is about," I asked, taking a moment to scan the room.

"You," he stood firm in his spot across the room from me.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "I might need more detail."

He looked away from me, pretending to be more focused on something nearby. I watched his cane spin a bit under his hand.

"Kaz-"

"You have gotten in my way," he stopped me.

I scoffed. "Pardon? In what way?"

"I have found myself unable to pull my thoughts from you," he explained. "It has gotten in the way of my work."

"Do you want me to apologize," I found myself chuckling as the question escaped me. "I'm sorry that I'm memorable?"

"I didn't ask you here to insult me."

"I would be happy to hear why you wanted to meet with me over this."

"In the hopes that confessing it will be enough for it to end," he sounded... exhausted. As if he had truly tried every other solution that he could think of but could not find one to bring him peace.

Like a man confessing his sins in the hopes of being forgiven.

"I see," I nodded. "Well, please feel free to tell me how well this works for you-"

"You don't understand," he cut me off.

I almost scoffed again, but he didn't give me the chance.

"You have become all-consuming," he almost sounded angry. "All-consuming and distracting. You have blocked all other thoughts that I could have. I would give anything to focus on something outside of you, but I can't."

I was stunned for a moment. Not just because of his word, but because of his voice. It was as if he were blaming me for being such a "distraction" to him.

"Is that why you asked me to meet you," I asked. "To rant about me being some 'distraction' as if I was doing it on purpose?"

He didn't have a response to the question.

I wondered if he had practiced this moment in his head. If he had considered what words he should say to get his point across. If he had considered every potential response that he could get when those words were spoken.

I wondered if my particular collection of words had never crossed his mind and that was why no response seemed to form.

"Do something about it," I said.

"Excuse me?"

I stepped forward. "You heard me perfectly well."

Kaz raised an eyebrow at me.

I walked even closer to him, careful to keep enough distance between us that he could back away at any point.

He didn't. Instead, he stepped forward after me. Still not touching but teetering on the edge of the cliff. I felt like if I breathed too heavily, then my chest would brush his.

I had to force myself to keep eye contact with him.

Kaz was always intense. His life required the ability to be intimidating when he needed to be. So much so that it must have become second nature to him at some point. Even in this moment, his eyes were enough to make me want to back down from my moment of bravery.

But I don't think he wanted me to.

He didn't want to tell me all of this just so I'd run. That would be... foolish.

"I want to know why you chose now," my voice was soft due to the proximity, not due to fear. "What corner of your mind did I finally haunt that forced you to confess this to me?"

His silence spoke as a false warning.

"I can't force you to tell me anything or do anything," I continued. "But if I hold so much power over you and your thoughts... I would like to know the extent of my reach. I would hate to abuse such a gift. How much of your days and nights are consumed by this... 'all-consuming' thought of me?"

I felt my heart rate spike when the leather on his free hand brushed against mine. He didn't grab my hand or intertwine our fingers. He merely placed them against each other. Testing how much pressure my skin placed on the leather. How much of my touch could he truly feel through the barrier?

"I see," I whispered. "The great Kaz Brekker... never a truly open book."

I dragged my index finger along the length of his. I quite enjoyed the idea of being wanted. It was a new feeling, but it was one that I could picture becoming addicted to.

"You have found your way into my thoughts too," I explained. "Right in the back of my mind... just waiting. I would never call you a distraction, but I suppose I could overlook that."

The only sign of him being anything other than perfectly in control was his eyes. They were jumping around my face too much for me to be convinced that he had full control of the situation. I decided that whatever suffering I had put him through had been enough.

"All I need is for you to say that you want me in the same way that I want you," I said. At some point, forcing myself hold his gaze had become second nature. I didn't need to fight the nerves sitting in my chest any longer. If anything, those same nerves now held my chin in place. "Say it and I'm yours, Kaz."

I watched Kaz take a long breath. Calming his own nerves. I never thought about how Kaz would calm his nerves. He always seemed so in control of them that the idea felt... wrong. Pointless.

Seeing him do it now felt like something close to intimate.

"I want you to be mine," he managed to whisper out. "Please..."

The idea of someone's shell cracking made perfect sense to me. I watched pieces of Kaz's cold armor flake off like pieces of a wall chipping away over time. It felt impolite, but I was now desperate to know what hid away under that chipped paint. I knew better than to rush that process, but curiosity was a powerful motivator.

Finally, his hand properly grabbed mine. Kaz's thumb dug into my palm slightly. Grounding himself or holding me in place, I would never know.

"I want that too," I mumbled to him.

I watched his face relax slightly. I let a small grin form on my lips at the sight.

Kaz moved forward slightly. I didn't think it was possible.

There was still a safe space between us. Close but not touching. I had no desire to push anything in that moment.

I leaned back first.

Kaz leaned forward in an attempt to keep the space between us to a minimum. I had to fight the urge to smirk a little at him.

That feeling of being wanted was one that I could certainly get used to.

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

Author's Note: I would like everyone to know that I spent about 15 minutes sitting in front of this screen, debating whether or not a kiss would fit here.

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[leohtttbriar]

the snow-melted and it's sunny and it's spring and that makes me feel some type of way so here's a kiradax springtime fic featuring the fascinations of a nature-walk and jadzia dax as a sort of ms. frizzle:

On a bright day like this, Kira was happy to be handing out juice boxes.

Sure, she would’ve preferred to have been part of Keiko’s field-trip party, with the older students on a rock-climbing mission to observe cliff-side fungus. But Keiko had been a little too bright-faced and excited as she tucked her climbing shoes into her backpack and gathered all the older kids together for a lesson in knot-tying and rappelling, and, almost immediately, Miles had begged Kira to swap chaperone positions so he could trail after his wife pretending to be worried about the cliffs on which she was leading an educational expedition but really interested in just documenting ‘the moment,’ as he called it.

“When Molly starts to be embarrassed of us,” he said, turning on his camera and smirking as Keiko demonstrated a very long finger-hold on a nearby boulder, the strained muscles in her forearms and shoulders not even appearing to shake. “I want evidence that we’re actually cool.”

“Well, one of you is,” said Kira. “You mostly play games with Julian in your free-time.”

Miles shot her a dirty look but then Keiko was calling her group to start on the hike and he was scampering after her.

So Kira was left with the younger kids on a much less dangerous nature walk that didn’t involve rock-climbing. But she was happy about it. The day was bright, crisp air with warm sun, and she didn’t have to do much more than make sure the little ones stayed on the path and hand out juice boxes. And, really, they were all too mesmerized by Jadzia to misbehave or wonder off.

Kira couldn’t exactly blame them, though. Jadzia had turned up in a shirt covered in colorful scientific illustrations of various Bajoran insects, a giant hair clip that looked like one of the stone-caterpillars that Kira used to make into a stew in her hungriest moments during the war, and a box of tiny, kid-sized binoculars which she handed to each student with all the sincerity and solemnity of a general handing out medals of honor to soldiers. She oo’d an ah’d over every little thing and all the kids were following after her like she was personally responsible for putting a flower in their path to look at.

“Oh, look at that!” gasped Jadzia, pointing up at what looked to be a normal tree limb with such drama that every single kid was gasping with her despite, Kira assumed, not knowing what it is they were gasping at. They gathered around Jadzia, following to where her finger pointed, their little mouths open in awe.

“What?” asked one of the more impatient kids. “I don’t see anything.”

“It’s an aerial succulent,” said Jadzia, bending down. “See, between the stalks, there's a film which will expand and catch on a breeze if the plant needs to move.”

“Like wings?” asked another kid, taking rigorous notes in her notebook (Kira was able to read she had just added plant flying color green pretty in uneven block letters).

“Yes! Exactly like wings!” said Jadzia, as if this comparison had just occurred to her.

“Wow.”

Jadzia had them all draw a picture of the succulent, a star shaped thing with a sparkly veil between each point, tipping this way and that on the tree branch but yet holding steady. Kira attempted a drawing herself, as Jadzia had made sure to provide her with a “field notebook” and binoculars, along with the kids. It was not a good drawing, but Kira liked it. After, they continued shuffling along the path and Kira helped a couple kids not to trip on their feet as they traversed forward, binoculars glued to their eyes.

When Keiko had suggested a field trip, Kira had not expected to be asked to help. But it seemed Sisko was of the opinion that she needed “a break,” or something like that. And so he had volunteered much of his chief staff to help out with the trip to Bajor and even extending the offer of the supervised field trip to some of the schools that would be nearby their educational expedition. As the morning progressed, Kira couldn’t help but be thankful for it. There were worse ways to spend a day. And Jadzia had been very happy when Kira had turned up, which always made Kira feel warm in more ways than one. She might've switched assignments, anyway, if Miles hadn't asked.

Eventually they ended up by a stream and Jadzia instructed everyone to be on the lookout for fossils.

“I know there are fossils,” she whispered triumphantly to Kira, once the kids were darting back and forth on the bank like the intrepid explorers they were. “I scouted the trail—this watershed area is almost nothing but limestone.”

Kira bent down to examine the earth herself, picking up an angular yet smooth-cornered rock and rolling it around in her palm.

“Limestone has more fossils in it?” she asked.

Jadzia plopped down next to her. “Yep,” she said. She reached over and gently guided Kira’s fingers to hold the rock so the angle was pointed up. Then she poured a splash of water on it, smoothed away some dirt, and pointed to an imprint in the stone. “See?” she said. “A shell.”

“Oh,” said Kira, looking closer at the strangely patterned whirl. It looked like the aerial succulent.

“Limestone is a graveyard, for organic life,” said Jadzia, halfway to soft but still cheerful. “It’s got a bit of a sacred history on Trill, but I never bought into all those sad poems. Trills only seem to know how to write sad poems”—she rolled her eyes, and Kira bit the inside of her cheek to contain her grin—“and I just don’t think fossils are things to be sad about anyway. True, this”—she indicated the rock in Kira’s hand by cupping Kira’s knuckles and pushing gently against them, causing Kira to, embarrassingly, blush—“is made of the compressed bodies of ancient marine life, but it’s not as if they’re gone. There they are.”

Kira turned her gaze away from Jadzia’s open face and back to the dirty rock in her palm. She didn’t like to think of it as a graveyard. Death was a strange, conceptual thing for Bajorans—as all things are and have been and will be all at once, so eternal ending is just one edge of infinite reality, which has many edges stretching on and on.

“It’s just evidence that they were,” she found herself saying. “But they also are. Just—are.”

Jadzia tipped her head, her eyebrows pinched together. “This might be one of those temporal perspectives I don’t get,” she said.

Kira smiled. “I mean,” she said. “In some way, this…shell?”

“Crinoid.”

“This crinoid,” said Kira, still biting back a grin. “Is swimming around now. In the sea.”

Jadzia looked at her, eyes sparkling. “Okay,” she said. “Then limestone isn’t a graveyard at all.” She picked the rock up out of Kira’s hand and placed back on the ground but replaced its weight with her own palm. “Everything just adds and adds, in every direction.”

Kira’s smile couldn’t be stopped. She curled her fingers around Jadzia’s wrist. “Yes,” she said, leaning in close, tracing the line of sun lighting up the dark hollows on Jadzia’s face and the soft hairs on her jaw.

Jadzia tilted her chin down, their noses now millimeters apart. The sound of the stream and the sound of her breath on Kira’s mouth washed over her. “Nerys—” she said, voice sweet.

Then, “Da-ax!”

They leaned away from each other quickly.

“Yeah?” called back Jadzia, wiping her twitchy hands on her shorts.

“I fell in!” said one of the kids while all the others laughed.

Kira snorted. Jadzia pressed her palm against Kira’s once more before launching to her feet.

“Duty calls,” she said, dramatically. “Remember me fondly.”

She walked off, already lecturing all the kids about the joys of an impromptu swim and the subsequent chance to dry off in the sun, and soon Kira was being bombarded by tired students in search of snacks.

She slipped the rock in her backpack, when no one was looking. An eternal touch of a swimming creature and the warmth of Jadzia's hand--everything just added on. It was a bright day.

[kirk-says-wah]

Is it better for them to have found out about the past?

Or would it have been better for them to have left it alone?

I really like this question. So I want to take a pick at it. For me...

If Jason hadn’t come through that door, they never would have discovered the truth. James and Lars would have packed their bags and left, and yes, they would be living in a new town on their own, free from the gang life their parents are in. They would have still regarded their parents the same way they did at the beginning of the story. Lars would certainly fall in love with James, and things would be okay. James would have his family, his children, his dog, his house, and his business. But he would never fully possess Lars. Lars would undoubtedly cheat on him with Kirk because, at that point, he was too deeply involved with Kirk, and nothing would prevent him from seeing him. After all, he had brought Kirk to the wedding. And then, one day, Kirk would be gone.

Why?

Lars would never know, but we do. It's because he was working with Cliff, and Cliff would focus more on Torben now that Lars is out of the picture. So, Kirk has no reason to stick around.

Lars would drive himself crazy trying to find out what had happened to Kirk. He would blame his father, thinking that he had killed him. He would distance himself from James. And, of course, it would hurt James. James would find out about the affair because, whether he saw it or not, he was just like Virgil. And he would run a tight household just like Virgil. Lars would fall into place just like Cynthia, and they would live out their lives like that.

As for their parents, they will continue to hate each other until Cliff seeks the truth, which would take a long time.

With their discovery of the truth, all of this only caused a domino effect from one bad thing to another. These boys will never be the same again. They will suffer for the rest of their lives. Five years, ten years—it doesn't matter. There will never be a time when they look at their parents and don't think about the terrible things they did in the past. It will always be there. Imagine James finding out his father shot Pam. Lars not only (possibly) finding out his father started the fire and killed Cynthia but also finding out that the man you are in love with has been working you over since you met him. Lars will suffer from trust issues. And Lars will most certainly need counseling. I can imagine him withdrawing from everyone and isolating himself in the future. And his mother will divorce Torben.

James—James is just like Virgil. And my fear for James is that he will seek revenge. If it comes out that Torben started the fire, he will want to kill Torben. And Virgil, of course, will also go after Torben. Who knows if they will succeed in killing him? And let's not forget about Dave. He'll kill Torben. And if it was Jason who shot Lars, Dave would have a big problem. Torben will want revenge. However, no one will get to Jason because I have a feeling Jason is long gone by now. Dave will never give Jason up. Yes, he shot someone, but Dave would much rather give up his life for his son. And James will never forgive Jason. Virgil will caution James not to go after Jason because he knows how Dave is. James is stubborn, so he probably will. Also, Dave and Virgil may mend their relationship, but that just means Virgil murdered Pam.

Also, Dave would be vindicated, which is a good thing. As for him rekindling things with Cliff, I doubt it will work out.

Kirk would most definitely have to leave because, regardless of whether they uncover this truth using his help, he will be hated. And Torben would obviously want to kill him. Lars will be devastated, and James will play the protector role.

If James and Lars stay together, they won't have the relationship they were thinking about at the beginning of the story. Those dreams will be long gone because there will be so much trauma and damage that has been done.

Given this entire situation, relationships will be ruined. How can you recover from all this?

So, is it better to know or not to know? In this case, because this is a mob family, in my opinion, it's better not to know. Because when the truths start coming out, just know there will be revenge that comes with it. Some more innocent people may get caught in the crossfire. And although Dave would be exonerated from years of a crime he didn’t commit, Virgil will have to atone for his sins, and Torben may be shot dead. If it all comes out, the people who will suffer the most are their children: Jason, James, and Lars.

That's why I understand why Torben and Lone kept the head shooting from Lars. And why the parents are so desperate for their children to leave the past alone and move away. The truth will do more damage than good.

That's also why I never questioned that the fathers love their sons. And that's why I felt like Jason was Dave's son. Parents protect their children, and that's what these parents are trying to do.

Of course, this is just my opinion.

Omg this is such a good way a looking at it! I really like your thoughts here! I think you’re right, they’re probably better off when they didn’t know. But either way, things don’t look great for them. I think they were all in just a terrible situation

[khazadspoon]

ohoho you also like our good friend fafdm... prompt: sitting on their lap with Manco/Mortimer? I feel like Manco being The Way That He Is would do it sort of to mess with him and then get very into it.. another more playful way to invade his space after the boot stepping/hat shooting incident perhaps?

yes yes yes yes haHA yes!!!

——

One drink turned into two. Two turned into three. Three turned into half a bottle of good whiskey shared between them and a lessening of the quality of the conversation. Colonel Mortimer had drifted back from the window, his long body stretched out in a chair at the table, and Manco was still considering what he thought of the man.

A good shot, for sure, not easy to shock or rile up. As steady and sharp as they come. He intrigued Manco, and that was never a good thing. When someone intrigued him, Manco usually ended up getting into a mess he would need help getting out of. But with whiskey warming his blood and making him feel more like a lanky youth than he really was, it didn’t seem to matter all that much.

He stood, fingers running along the edge of the table as he rounded it, and circled the back of Mortimer’s chair.

“What’re you doing, boy?” The man asked, head tilted to the side as he peered up at Manco.

“Nothing.”

Mortimer huffed a laugh and sipped his whiskey. His hand stopped in the air as Manco dropped himself unceremoniously into the man’s lap. He shifted a little, settling in with his arm braces on the table, legs kicked out under Mortimer’s raised arm, his other arm draped over Mortimer’s shoulder.

Mortimer raised an eyebrow at him, lips quirked at the corner in a small, confused smile. “Nothing… sure. Anybody ever tell you your backside’s about as soft as a jagged cliff?”

Manco shrugged, plucked a match from his breast pocket and lit his cigar. “Once or twice.”

“So you make a habit of sitting in strange men’s laps?”

Another shrug, a smile forming on his own lips. “Figured it’s more comfortable here than on that chair. Can’t blame a man for getting comfortable.”

His body was jostled as Mortimer placed his glass back on the table. A hand pressed to the small of his back, broad and warm through his shirt, and the other landed on his thigh. It squeezed, a warning and invitation all at once that made Manco’s heartbeat pick up.

“I’m not going to be coaxed into a fight, boy.”

“Good, because I’m not looking for a fight.”

Mortimer’s smile softened, the lines around his eyes deepening as the hand on Manco’s back slid upwards. “Then what are you looking for?”

Manco paused, unsure of himself for a moment. He didn’t really know, was the thing; he’d sat down because he thought it would be amusing, crowding himself into Mortimer’s space and maybe getting shoved off, maybe getting the fight he claimed not to want. But the hand on his thigh just held him steady, kneading at the muscle and making his breath catch as it moved higher.

“Well,” Mortimer said after a minute, “you think about it while I finish my drink. I’m a patient man, I can wait.”

Manco tried not to notice the lingering heat on his thigh as Mortimer took his glass again, raising it to his lips and taking a slow sip. He watched a drop fall down the edge of the glass, saw the damp sheen on Mortimer’s mouth, licked his own lips and caught the way Mortimer watched the motion.

As promised, Mortimer waited while he finished his drink. He seemed patient, his body relaxed even with Manco’s weight keeping it in place, but there was a brightness to his eyes that never left Manco’s face. The hand on Manco’s back smoothed up and down, rubbed soothingly, but it only made Manco want to fidget and squirm. He wasn’t a kid anymore even if Mortimer did keep calling him ‘boy’. He was a man, one who had seen and done things no man should, and plenty he thought more men should.

He did shift as the hand returned to his thigh, the empty glass returned to the table. He rocked his hips as though getting more comfortable, heard the catch in Mortimer’s breath and held his own as the hand on his thigh squeezed again.

“Don’t play with me, boy; you might not like how the game goes if you don’t know the rules.”

Mortimer’s hand slid up his thigh almost to his hip, fingers slipping into the small gap between thigh and groin, sending a flash of fire up Manco’s spine. He let his legs fall apart a little, blew smoke into the air above their heads and snuffed the cigar out for later.

“Who says I don’t know the rules?”

Mortimer made a sound, low and heated, the hand on Manco’s back suddenly gripping the nape of his neck. He let out a shuddering breath as both hands squeezed.

“Something tells me you don’t know how to play by the rules…” Mortimer considered him, eyes roaming over the length of Manco’s body. “Maybe someone should teach you.”

Manco gave him a crooked grin and arched into the touches. “Go ahead, old man, we’ve got all night.”

[lovelylotusf1]

What each driver would be like playing “TTT” 🔫🕵‍♂️

For everyone who doesn't know the game: TTT is a multiplayer shooter game where the players get sorted into two teams: “Innocent” and “Traitor”. Only Traitors know who is in their team, the Innocent have to guess (leading to a few mind games along the way). There is also a Detective who gets special items to help the Innocents combat the Traitors.

The goal is to eliminate the other team.

You know Among Us? It's basically Among Us but Counterstrike.

Max Verstappen

That one tryhard in the group, you know the one. Takes everything extremely seriously, no fun allowed, he's here to win. Often seen hanging around Charles, who balances out his serious playstyle. Can be convinced to have some fun but only by Charles.

Checo Perez

Doesn't know why he's here. The last video game he played was Tetris. Is frequently left alive solely because he has no clue what's going on and is therefore not seen as dangerous.

Charles Leclerc

The menace. WILL shove you off high buildings and cliffs just because he thinks it’s funny. Teams mean nothing to him, will kill anyone on sight if it has the potential to make him laugh. No one ever suspects him being a Traitor because he also does all this when he's Innocent.

Carlos Sainz

Is a surprisingly good Detective. However, he WILL sing Smooth Operator when he wins. Sometimes gets killed just to prevent this.

Lando Norris

Running around the map at speeds unparalleled. Manic energy personified. Consistently has the most fun, mostly achieved by trolling everyone.

Oscar Piastri

Resident ghost. Goes quiet as soon as the round starts. Everyone thinks he's dead until he snipes them from the shadows. Has won rounds where he was the only one left standing in his team. Was banned from using a Sniper Rifle for a long time.

Lewis Hamilton

Refuses to play.

George Russell

Writes essays on the fly on who is most likely to be a Traitor based on their behavior and pattern of speech. Tries to calm everyone down and speak in an orderly fashion. Makes for a great Detective but often gets killed when he's Innocent because he yaps too much.

Alex Albon

Blames everything on George. Killed a man? George did it (he was on the other side of the map). Saw someone jump off a building? George shoved them (it was probably Charles). Gets away with it most of the time.

Logan Sargeant

Likes to throw explosive barrels at people to his soundboard of Bald Eagle screeches. He embraces the meme. And is often the first one to be killed as a result.

Daniel Ricciardo

Is very bad at the game. Still laughs the most out of everyone. You probably don't want him as your teammate but he is too fun to be mad at him.

Yuki Tsunoda

You'd think he is sweet because he is so smol. Oh no. The rage has nowhere to go in his body. He is the first to scream obscenities into the mic, the likes of which you probably heard coming from a 12 year old on XBox voice chat (they are vicious).

Pierre Gasly

Targets Esteban and Esteban specifically. Even if they're on the same team. Other than that, can be seen trailing Charles and shoving people off buildings with him.

Esteban Ocon

Most often seen in a heated debate with Pierre, spoken in French. Sometimes Charles is live-translating everything they say to everyone’s amusement.

Fernando Alonso

Gets all the trick shots. Dances on your dead body. You hear him laughing maniacally before he kills everyone. Seems to be a Traitor almost every time.

Lance Stroll

A bit unsure of what he's supposed to do but in a lovable kind of way. Tries to latch onto Fernando, who takes him under his wings like a mother hen.

Nico Hülkenberg

People forgot to invite him.

Kevin Magnussen

Doesn't play. Always uses the excuse of having to look after his daughter (even if she isn't there).

Valtteri Bottas

The one who's always messing around with the props on the map. Likes finding the bike, picking it up and pretending to ride it. Isn't interested in anything else.

Zhou Guanyu

Refuses to use any weapon other than the cat gun. Despite that, he is surprisingly good at the game if his cat isn't trying to lie on his keyboard.

[woodsdyke]

in a shot, i'd swap my body for a body of water worry the cliff side top as a wave crashing over i'd lower the world in a flood, or better yet i'd cause a drought if I was a rip tide, i wouldn't take you out

been slowly picking at this throughout the month, took forever because i was in the process of moving. had a lot of fun with it tho. aveline and johan, really awful as fiancés but great vengeful gay besties. make them regret everything they did to hurt you. go girlies. fuck up their day

(white wasn't customary for weddings in the 18th century but consider: it was for the vibe. ty)

some additional info about these two under the cut because i think about them sooooo much

(tl;dr what if u were two traumatized gay people who had to get married but instead you did crimes that would get you executed by the state, found each other again, now gayer and happier, and became besties who bond over how fucked up your life was and how cool it’d be if the people who hurt you got what they deserved. Wouldn’t that be neat?)

TW discussions of abuse (inc. of children)

.

.

.

Aveline Montclair and Johan Groeneveld both grew up as aristocrats, and have always been godawful at it in new, exciting ways. Aveline is aggressive, stubborn, and prone to lashing out, and her family is unable to find a suitor for her because she’s now stabbed two of them in the hand with a fork (deserved, maybe overkill). Johan is an incredibly reluctant admiral of the dutch royal navy, a kind-hearted, captivatingly anxious man who would much rather be doing a nice artist residency in the countryside right about now.

Their families have a very long history, so ultimately they decide to just marry the two of them off to each other and be done with it. ‘won’t this be an absolute disaster and cause inevitable chaos’ probably. they don’t care.

Their engagement is short-lived but miserable; Aveline despises Johan for taking away the last scrap of freedom she had and trapping her in a life she hates (despite knowing that Johan really didn’t have a say in any of this). Johan resents her because he’s just trying to make the best of a bad situation, while she’s hellbent in making them both miserable.

(we won’t unpack how they both expected unhappiness from the start because the thought of marrying each other made them both feel sick – besties, you are gay. You’ll get there. It’s ok)

To skim over a Lot of things, Aveline runs off with pirates, Johan makes a series of mistakes that lead to him defecting from the navy and going on the run because he knows what will happen if the royal navy finds him. Despite all odds, they run into each other again. It’s a disaster, at first, until they realize some time apart has made a difference, and most importantly helped them realize they’re more alike than they thought. They’re a couple of scared, hurt kids, forced to grow up too fast, who want someone, something to pay for what was done to them. they spent years of their lives at each other’s throats and never stopped to think that maybe there was a bigger enemy to challenge that wasn’t each other.

Turns out when your every move isn’t controlled by your abusers, you can actually make decisions for yourself, and can decide not to ruin your own and someone else’s life over misplaced blame and defensive anger.

turns out if both of you are so intensely repulsed by the thought of being in a heterosexual marriage with anyone, let alone each other, maybe you are gay

and during all of it, they knew. The last thing anyone in the Montclair or Groeneveld families wanted was for Johan and Aveline to realize they’re better friends than enemies. Aveline’s mean, she wants blood on her hands, and Johan has the quiet, relaxed cunning that’s frightening in an angrier man and straight up dangerous in him. They’re a threat as a pair, ironically enough for the people who set them up to tear each other apart so they wouldn’t have to deal with them or acknowledge how badly they fucked up their kids.

Aveline wants to tear into her problems with her teeth. Johan is tired of being fearfully obedient and wants everyone to know it.

things aren’t fully right between them, not really, and won’t be for a very long time – too much history, too much of a lifetime of abuse at the hands of the same people – but things are good between them. one of those once-in-a-lifetime kinds of friendships. Regardless of the outcome, having someone to get angry with, to mourn the loss of a childhood with, to voice those thoughts kept close to their chest on the ways they hope those who hurt them will pay, it’s healing, and right now, they need each other (they always did).

And no matter what happens, if Aveline ever gets the revenge she dreams of, if Johan can have a life well-lived, in spite of being told he was always destined to fail, there’s one thing that won’t change:

Aveline is an only child, Johan is the only surviving Groeneveld son. There’s power in knowing the Montclair and Groeneveld bloodlines end with them.

[felixcloud6288]

Higurashi: Festival Accompanying Chapter 11

Thanks to Rika's help, a treatment for Hinamizawa Syndrome was made, Satoko's symptoms fell from a terminal state, and nothing bad ever happened to these kids ever again.

When Irie and Rika are talking about Satoko's treatment, Irie says Satoko will need to take three shots a day. Meanwhile in Massacre Chapter 11, Rika told Keiichi that Satoko has to take two shots a day instead. So over the next three years, the treatment medication will improve and/or Satoko's condition will become more stable.

And now comes Detective Delicious Ooishi to make this story more tragic than it already is.

Because this is Higurashi, everything always careens toward maximum tragedy. And Ooishi is too good at finding inconsistencies with testimony and evidence and he's too obsessed with finding things out to just let those things slide.

It's bad enough that Satoko's parents fell off the platform to their deaths. It's even worse that this traumatic event happened when Satoko's step-father wanted to have a family-bonding activity in the hopes Satoko would open up to him.

But that isn't good enough for this devil script. All of this may very well have happened because Satoko's Hinamizawa Syndrome caused her to be driven into such extreme paranoia that she pushed her parents off the cliff herself.

And of all the incidents leading up to 1983, this is the one that is truly one of the devil scripts. There were no malicious actors in this story. There were no evil forces pulling the strings. Nothing that happens can be called just or deserved. This is just a story of a horrible misunderstanding that ends in the worst way possible.

And I want to point out that this story never conclusively says Satoko did kill her parents. It gives the possibility and all the evidence to suggest that is what happened, but it never actually says it happened. Instead the narrative practically begs us to let the case go and not blame Satoko for what happened. She was not in a clear state of mind and would never have done this if she were.

Based on this series, I'd assume Ryukishi07 believes that you should not be held to the same liability when suffering from mental illness. In Abducted by Demons, we don't see Keiichi murder his friends. We only see the aftermath and his sheer remorse. We only see the actual murder in Atonement when Keiichi is fully lucid and aware of what he's doing. And in Atonement, we're constantly reminded that Rena truly is out of touch with reality and the story ends with her finally realizing the horrible things she was nearly going to do.

Meanwhile, other instances such as Keiichi's premeditated murder of Teppei, Shion's killing several people, and the other murders leading up to 1983 have a more implicit sense of pointing a finger at them and repeatedly saying "You did this." In these instances, the perpetrators were fully aware of what they were doing. Sometimes, their actions would drive them mad, but they were still sane when they committed their murders.

We weren't even shown why the foreman was killed. We saw the murder ringleader and the story acknowledged he'd killed and dismembered the foreman, but it didn't say why he did it. We only see the man after he'd entered stage 5 Hinamizawa Syndrome. When Takano tried to paint him as a murderer, Irie shut down that idea instantly. Even though he did commit murder, the narrative paints him as another victim of all this as well.

Takano's only takeaway from this is everything that happened was a stupid waste of time and the only reason she's okay with it was because it got Rika to cooperate with her. As I said in an earlier post, her response to rolling 1's is to flip the table to make them 6's. For all intents and purposes, she lost the battle of wills to Rika this time but she at least got a nice consolation prize.

The 1980 incident is forcefully closed as merely an accident and we begin to shift to the 1981 accident. We already know that Rika suspects Tokyo killed her mother. And the chapter ends with the building tension between Rika's mother and the research institute.

back

[elains]

Can you talk more about tharions wife and what he did in hofas?

Yeah sure

TL;DR of Tharion in HOFAS: mistakes were made.

Tharion opens the book as a fighter for the Viper Queen, one of her best ones along with Ariadne. She feeds him her poison, which is some marvelous drug and a very good high. The Frat Boys + Fendyr Heir & The Sprites come to try and take him out and it ends up in Ithan fighting and killing the Fendyr Heir to win their (his) freedom.

And when they leave, the 3 Sprites torch the place. The Viper Queen blames Tharion and places a bounty in his head. Then they go break Ruhn, Baxian and Ruhn out of prison and Tharion saves Lidia's life when she falls off a cliff.

The Ocean Queen comes to visit underground. She wants to know why there are two Queens mad a Tharion and threatening war. She bids him to stay goddamn aboard the ship. Alas, he disobeys and follows the Gang to Avallen. Three Queens angry now.

Some of the Valbaran Fae are fleeing there seeking shelter from the gathering storm, including the Lord Hawthorne aka Flynn's father, along with his wife and younger daughter, Sathia.

It's been a while since I read Ruhn's bonus PoV but she shows up there before here.

Anyway, Avallen is a patriarchal hellhole and Morven is demanding Sathia marry so she may stay, because women in Avallen are worth only the offspring they can bear. Positively charming place. She doesn't want to get married, especially because the two foremost suitors are the shadow twins, Ruhn's murderous cousins.

Tharion volunteers to marry her under the reasoning that had his sister been in the same position, he would have wanted someone to do this for her. Also what's one more whimsical decision anyway? It's not without consequence: divorce doesn't really exist for the Fae; Sathia would be persona non grata among them for doing so.

At one point the Asteri bomb Asphodel and Tharion goes back to Lunathion with Sathia to plead with the River Queen for her to shelter the humans. Sathia proves to be quite the talker here, he is spoiled, and fiery but has a sense of humor and is quite poised as Lady. I like how she handles herself and how she openly challenged Bryce when Bryce wanted all the fae to go choke. She has a backbone.

She has Earth magic! She can make plants grow!

Anyway, once they leave the Blue Court, they run into the Viper Queen and her two assassin-guards... and we get the reveal that one of them used to be Sathia's friend/bodyguard/sweetheart, Colin McCarthy. Her father said he got a new post but rather he just introduced him to the Viper Queen and now he only obeys her (that poison but way more late stage than Tharion's).

Sathia disappears, leaving a note saying thay she cannot leave Colin in the Viper Queen's hands and thanks him for all he did for her. It's time for the endgame so that'll be handles afterwards. Tharion gets the cure for the parasite dampening the Vanir's powers and goes to deliver some flasks to the Gang in the Eternal City wrecking shit up with the Asteri.

He helps them fight, gets shot, gets better with help of Ruhn's brand new healing power. He survives.

His last PoV in the book is he going back to the Meat Market to look for Sathia just to ensure she's okay and then follow their separate ways. It ends on a cliffhanger with him running into Ariadne.