#but it's never been more important to at least say something

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

new normal. l Joel Miller

Summary: your life went on, only the worries were the same

Warnings: some smut (+18) but not too much, fluff, some worries, Reader is pregnant, Ellie and Tommy show up here, boring chapter

A/N: i wanted to write something before i leave and give it to you when i'm not home. i hope you'll welcome these scribbles warmly. i love their story so much and I hope you like it too.

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

Joel Miller was in bed when he felt a sweet-smelling weight settle on his back. Something wet touched his neck, and then someone kissed his cheek. A muffled groan escaped his throat.

"Are you asleep?" a quiet but self-satisfied voice sounded in his ear.

"Not anymore..." he murmured. Another kiss. He reached his hand back and felt wet and soft skin under his fingers. "What time is it?"

"It's almost seven." you replied. Another two kisses and a gentle bite on the ear.

Joel rolled over on his back with difficulty, because you weren't going to make it easy for him, and when he rubbed his eyes he saw the sweetest sight in the world. Your hair, still wet, fell over your face. Smiling eyes stared at him, and the open robe revealed that you had nothing underneath.

"You couldn't sleep?" you shook your head. "What's gotten into you, huh?"

"I have no idea, but you know what?" Joel raised his eyebrows and you leaned down and whispered in his ear. "I want you. Now. Please..."

"Please always works." he replied and a moment later he took your face in his hands and moved to capture your lips with his. 

You tasted like mint toothpaste. He didn't know why it was so important to him at that moment. Nimble fingers quickly took off your robe and a second later you were lying on your back and Joel was nestling between your spread thighs.

For the past few days you had been in a honeymoon state, or at least that's what Joel called it in his head. You were full of energy and your appetite for intimacy grew at a very fast pace. There were days when Joel would come home and you would greet him with such sparkling eyes that you didn't even have to say anything more. No, he wasn't complaining, but if he was fifteen or at least ten years younger, he would definitely be able to do more.

But there was something about it that pleased him the most - normalcy. His mind was filled with thoughts of everything that was happening, and most of all, you.

"Fuck, I love you so much..." he moaned as he started moving inside you.

"I love you too, Joel Miller." you replied and pulled him in to kiss him hard.

Sometimes he imagined the world was normal. Like in that bed, with your body right underneath his, that was a slice of normal. If it weren't for this fucking pandemic, that would be your normal. 

He'd be making love to you in your shared bed. You'd be married, engaged, or just together, because would that even matter? Sarah would be all grown up, maybe have her own family, kids... And you'd be carrying another child of his, a new beginning. Maybe it was crazy, but the thought was really beautiful to Joel. 

But then he'd remember Ellie. If Sarah were alive, he probably would never have met Ellie. She'd be living with her parents, her real ones. How could he not have her in his life? Joel didn't think he could give her up now.

And you? Did anyone really give him a guarantee that he would have met you if the world hadn't lost its mind? Maybe that was the only normality he could have. Maybe that was how his path was supposed to go.

But Joel really appreciated it, every single day. Every morning when he saw Ellie and you, every minute spent together, every kiss. It was like tearing something for himself from the claws of changing fate. And Joel wanted to hold on to it.

He met you at the moment when it was supposed to happen. In the place and time right for both of you. You had walked such a difficult path that he was already grateful for what you had together. And you were supposed to have even more. Fate was kind to him.

You didn't notice him when he entered the bedroom, too busy looking at yourself in the mirror. He watched as you rolled up your shirt, looking at your belly. Your clothes still hid it well.

Finally, you looked up and saw Joel's reflection. A smile formed on your lips.

"Hey, beautiful." he said quietly with a smirk.

"I look like I ate two solid meals at Russo's." you said with a sneer. "I thought it'd be bigger by now."

Dark eyes stared at you with awe but also amusement. Joel could see perfectly how your body changed almost every day. He loved it.

"It's perfect. It looks better than I could have imagined." he said and your face lit up. "Are you going to Ann?" You nodded reaching for your sweatshirt. "I can walk you out, I have to meet Tommy."

"Is something wrong?" 

He came closer and slid his hand under your sweatshirt where your treasure was hidden. The roundness of your belly was palpable under his fingers. A sweet kiss landed on your temple. "No, nothing like that. Don't worry."

After the attack on Jackson, you knew that many people had taken it badly. Fear and dread hung in the air like a strange fog for weeks. Even Joel was more restless, sleeping worse. You felt like he was awake at night, listening to every creak and rumble. Like the threat was standing on your porch, waiting.

He wanted to protect you, he still had it in him, and you understood that. Living in Jackson had let your guard down for a while, and now you couldn’t afford it.

“We need to reinforce the walls around Jackson. Maybe add more guard posts?”

Joel looked at the map on his desk and pointed to a few places. “We can put them here. But we’ll need more men to build them,” he said. “We’ll also reinforce the gates.”

“We’ll be working with more patrols over the next few weeks. I want to make sure there aren’t any strangers hanging around.”

“Jesse didn’t find any leads?”

Tommy shook his head. “Maybe it was just one group? But we can’t risk it.”

For a moment, they both thought. The faint rays of sunlight streamed into the room as both men were lost in their thoughts. Finally, Tommy spoke up.

"The ones we caught said there were no more. That it was just this one group."

Joel rubbed his chin and shook his head. "Possibly. But can we trust them?"

"Maybe two groups of Riders joined forces, huh? They wanted to try their luck. They're all dead, so we should be safe."

Joel leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, wondering something. "What if someone was watching from outside? They sent a message to the rest of the group."

"Do you think there might be more people like that?"

Joel shrugged. "I have no idea, Tommy. We need to reinforce the gates though. We have too many people here." Too valuable people, he wanted to add, but he stopped himself. It was already hard enough to convince Tommy to hide the weapons in the basement of the house. You didn't know that, but Joel preferred to be prepared for anything. Your backpacks were packed too, because if the need arose...

They both jumped when they heard footsteps on the stairs, then someone knocked on the door. Tommy's face lit up at the sight of you.

"Hi! Nice to see you." he greeted. Joel noticed how Tommy had instantly hidden all of his previous worries on his face so you wouldn't notice. Did he do the same? Did you read Tommy as well as you read Joel?

"I hope I'm not interrupting," you said, walking in and unzipping your jacket. "Beautiful weather, isn't it? I saw Maria and Benji. She told me to tell you she was waiting for you with dinner."

Tommy's smile widened. "Thanks. I'll be right over. And how's my favorite nephew or niece?"

“Good. We’re growing up slowly.” You looked at Joel, his hand clearly moving the papers to cover what he and Tommy had been poring over moments earlier. “Joel says he sees changes every day, but I’m not so sure.”

Tommy looked at his brother, clearly impressed. “That old guy is observant, isn’t he? When spring comes, you won’t be hiding anything anymore.” He stood up and gathered his things. “I’m going home. I promised Maria I’d take Benji. See you for dinner on Sunday?”

You both nodded, and Tommy left. You took his place in front of the desk, watching Joel carefully.

“How’s Ann?” he asked.

“Good. But she’s worried about Shane patrolling more often.” You sighed. “She understands it’s necessary, but… You get it.”

"Yes. But we have to get through this. Tommy wants us to reinforce the walls." 

"That's good, right? They got here pretty quickly last time." 

Joel nodded. "We can't let that happen again."

Quiet sounds reached the bedroom where you were changing the sheets. Joel and Ellie were sitting downstairs. The girl had been learning to play the guitar for a long time, and Joel was very involved in it. He had a lot of patience, and the time he spent with Ellie was very important to both of them.

The fact that you were a family was simply obvious to you. Back then, by the river, you didn't just find this young girl, you found a home. And now you created this home together. You were already finishing folding the laundry when Joel quietly slipped into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

“She went to Dina’s,” he sighed. “If this keeps up, we’ll forget what she looks like.”

You smiled. “You weren’t like that? I’m sure you were out late wandering around.”

“That’s why I know now why it bothered my mother so much. Sarah wasn’t like that.”

The name of his dead daughter fell from his lips so naturally that for a moment you didn’t even notice. It took a moment for you to speak up again.

“Do you think about her?”

He nodded, sitting on the bed. "Almost every day, and now even more often." He sighed. "Ellie's older than her now and we're having a new baby soon. I wonder what she'd think of that."

"Do you think she'd like Ellie?"

"Yeah. They're different, but they're teenagers, right? They'd get along." He ran a hand through his hair and scratched the back of his neck. "I think you'd love her too."

You smiled softly, putting his washed shirt aside. "She was a part of you. I'm sure I would have loved her in an instant."

You were silent for a moment. The warm memory of Sarah hung between you. Finally, it was Joel who broke the silence.

"When Sarah came along, I was too young. Now I feel too old." he said, as if he had blurted out something he'd been thinking about for a long time. He looked at you lovingly, but like he really needed you. “I love you so much and I really want this. I just hope I can do it.”

You stood up and carefully straddled his lap, placing your hands on his shoulders.

“We’re in this together, remember? You and me. I see how you feel about Ellie, I hear you talking about Sarah. Our baby will have the greatest father in the world.”

“I think you’re overestimating me.”

“And I think we have a lot more to worry about. You’re not as old as you say. And I wanted this too, so…” He placed his hands on your hips, and you brushed your lips against his. “I’m grateful for what I have. I never thought I’d ever have so much.”

“You’re too good for me, you know that?”

“Sometimes.” You chuckled. “Come on. We’re alone. Let’s take a shower together, and then I’ll show you how good I can be for you.” 

He captured your lips in a tender kiss. It was soft, full of what he wanted to tell you but couldn't put into words. But you understood. You knew him so well that he didn't need to say anything more.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name @hiroikegawa @mandaloriankait @mmmunson @grace-928 @umadirectioner

[kxsagi]

Welcome back kxsagi. In lights to the latest Blue Lock chapter, I'm here with an angst Reo request. May I request: Reader breaks off her arranged marriage with Reo because of his ambiguous relationship with Nagi and it didn't take long for her to accept the overseas scholarship to the US. After Nagi gets eliminated from Blue Lock, Reo begins to wonder if wooing Reader back is worth it.

“𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟”

a/n: who hurt you 💔

ngl i liked writing this one tho, i love a reader who knows her worth (title inspired by greedy by queen tate mcrae)

you don’t cry when you break off the engagement. maybe you should’ve. it would’ve felt more cinematic, more like a love story falling apart. but you don’t even raise your voice. you sit across from reo in his sleek black dining room, stare at him through the steam of untouched tea, and ask him plainly, “do you love me?” 

he doesn’t answer. not in the way that matters. instead, he says, “nagi’s important to me.” 

and that’s all you need. 

you don’t ask how important. you’ve heard it in his voice when he talks about nagi, seen it in the way his eyes trail after him, like he’s gravity. like everything in reo’s world orbits him. and you? you were the well-packaged life plan. the trophy girl he could fall in love with eventually. 

but love shouldn't feel like a delayed payment. 

you slip the ring off your finger and set it on the marble counter. you don’t look back when you walk out of the house, or when his mother calls the next day in a panic. you’ve already accepted the overseas scholarship by then – full ride, prestigious university in the U.S., a future that has nothing to do with boardrooms or arranged marriage portfolios. 

it surprises you how easy it is. you thought it would hurt more. but it’s like slipping out of a coat that never quite fit right. you feel lighter. untethered. 

reo doesn’t try to stop you. 

and that, in its own way, is the loudest answer of all. 

weeks pass. months. blue lock rages on like a firestorm back home, and you don’t keep up with it, at least not publicly. you pretend you’re too busy with midterms, frat parties, finding new favorite coffee shops and running late to everything. but in the quiet hours of the night, you still check the scores. you read the headlines. you don’t search for reo’s name. you search for nagi’s. because you want to know when it happens. 

and it does. 

eliminated. early. 

no fanfare. no post-match interviews. just a name in the footnotes of a sports article you have no business reading. and the moment you see it, you know – reo must’ve watched that game. must’ve felt something twist in his chest when the person he built his whole life around walked off the field, not with a bang, but a shrug. 

maybe reo expected to be there, waiting for him. maybe he thought nagi would find him again. 

but he never does. 

and reo… reo’s left standing in a stadium that suddenly feels too big, surrounded by ghosts. 

he starts seeing you in strange places. not really, you’re thousands of miles away, but in flickers. the way a girl holds her coffee, the exact pitch of laughter from behind a bookshop door, the scent of that perfume you wore only on weekends. he doesn’t realize it at first, but you start haunting him. 

he opens your old texts. never responds. scrolls through the pictures he never deleted. you smiling up at the camera, hair a mess, lips stained with strawberry gloss. you holding up a peace sign in front of the mikage family summer house, eyes crinkled, wearing his hoodie. 

he wonders what he’s supposed to do with all this regret. 

sometimes he thinks about messaging you. once, he even types it out. hey. are you happy there? he stares at it for a long time, thumb hovering over send, before deleting it and tossing the phone across the couch. 

because what would it change? 

he made his choice. chose something undefined over someone real. and now nagi’s gone, and so are you, and all that’s left is the echo of what could’ve been. 

he goes to your favorite bakery one morning without thinking. the owner recognizes him but says nothing. he buys the cinnamon bun you used to love and eats it alone in his car. it doesn’t taste the same. 

he wonders if he should try to win you back. wonders if the fantasy of redemption is better than the reality of rejection. 

across the ocean, you’re thriving. not because you’re trying to prove anything, but because you finally feel like yourself. no one’s fiancée. no one’s backup plan. just a girl who learned how to leave before someone forgot to ask her to stay. 

you think about reo sometimes. in the quietest moments. in that gentle, faraway way you think about a chapter that ended too early. 

if he ever reaches out, you don’t know what you’ll say. 

but you do know this: you won’t wait in the stands. not for him. not for anyone. 

you’ve got a new game to play. 

and this time, it’s yours alone. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

Mark knows one thing: All good things come to an end.

[Invincible Varients X Reader]

14 * Break(Up) [7.6k]

[Part one]  [Ao3]  [13]

"You know that guy that shot himself in the back of the van?

Botched it and blasted his whole fucking face in half."

Botched - Go Hang

        Day ??????

        "I want to... just no fire this time." Mark said, hard under your hips. He was laid on your shared cot, pretty in the firelight, dinner boiling on the exo-skeleton stove. You'd yet to go beyond where you'd sexually explored. He was still too nervous to hurt you, but horny as an alley cat. You didn't mind the distraction and it seemed to keep him grounded, stable. 

        You furrow your brow. "What's the fire got anything to do with this?" 

        His hands soften their hold on your breasts. Tank top forgotten somewhere. That, at least, was new.

        "I can see myself," he says barely above the fire-crack, "in your eyes."

        You were so much healthier now with a constant stream of food and water. Cumming on the semi-daily. Yet without sun, you weren't as glowing as you could be. You were becoming something that withered in the gloom, something like him. Deformed. Monstrous. Seeing his reflection, even a moment, reminded him that he was corrupting you. Ruining you. Letting you rot with him in this cave. This dark, isolated place so much like his personal hell, just bigger.

        "I like seeing you." You say. 

        "Well, I don't." He'd be more snappish if his dick wasn't hard, twitching for attention.

        You could live without fire, the light for now. So you lean off of him, and dash out the blaze. "Happy?"

        Without the possibility of seeing himself, seeing how trapped he was, "Yes."

        Day ????????

        "You hear that?"

        You woke in the dark, sleep heavy on your lids. You slept too much to tell the time. Mark sometimes slept with you, like tonight. Curled up together for warmth at first then for company.

        "Hear what?" You turn your ear to the ceiling as he slipped out of the cot.

        "That." He floated up. Pressed his head to the cool roof of the cave. Fingers flat to the dirt to feel any vibration. He listened and listened and listened. You tried to listen, you couldn't see where he went in the oppressive dark, just knew he left your side and would spiral if you let him feel around in the dark. 

        Crack!

        There it is!

        Crack!

        But from where?

        Crack!

        Below him. He looked down to find the white carapace glowing with orange with light. A frown twitched on his cheeks. Every time he left you were back at it, making fires- light to see by. Nothing was that important to see here. Plenty of blind folk did by feel so why couldn't you?

        He shook his head. There he goes again. Thinking crazy. You were used to seeing. Comforted by light's normalcy. He needed to stop being so weird. He needed to get himself in check.

        You pop your head out, trying to see, but he was too far up, shrouded by the shadows. He knows he should return, but he can't bring himself to. He pressed his head to the cool rock and felt the cuffs holding him to the ground while his father's voice whispered he would never escape. 

        Day ?????????

        "I just don't get what's taking him so long," Mark says.

        "I don't know." You'd tread this topic flat. Mark turned it into a desire path.

        "I mean, how long's it been?"

        You rest your head against his shoulder, bored even though he was flying you around, "I don't know." 

        You'd been walking, trying to explore the mold cave by yourself but he deemed it too dangerous for you to go alone. He put the torch out, scared it'd catch on something if you weren't careful. Flew you through the sneeze-inducing cavern while you couldn't see a thing. So much for exploring. 

        "You agree, right? He should've been here by now."

        "Probably. If you're so worried about it maybe we should try to dig up." His doubt was starting to wear on you, it was impossible to convince yourself things would be fine when he wouldn't stop insisting the opposite was true. 

        "Do you think I actually killed him?" He ignores the last part, you don't know if it's on purpose or if he's stuck in a loop. 

        "I think it'd take a lot more than that to kill one of you." Except you hadn't seen the full damage done to Phantom. Mark moved too fast.

        "I broke his leg." Mark admits, "I saw the bone. I didn't mean to it just happened." His brain screamed infection but he knew that wasn't likely. Viltrumites regrow entire organs and never sport a sniffle. But his father had been the one to tell him this, his father who always seemed to be so full of lies. Taking him to that prison, telling him everything was going to be alright. He just needed a few months in the slammer to clear his head, change his mind. A lie. He never did.

        Angstrom Levy said he could kill his father. A lie. He never got to.

        Angstrom Levy said he could have you. Not a lie. Hold it together.

        Day ??????????

        You don't eat inside the hamster enclosure. It'd grown stuffy with crab smelling steam, with your constant, all-day lounging. Mark let you explore, but never far without company. If you were alone he insisted it be in the hut, where Phantom's tracker was. 

        Defiance was sitting just outside, slurping the same soup you'd been eating for days. He doesn't make a comment as he touched down, wiping spores off his clothes. He eyes the fire flickering inside the hut. "Do you really need that?"

        "I like seeing when I eat." You say in between bites.

        "You don't need to though, do you?" His tone is clipped. Though he made no move to go inside and put out the blaze.

        It pisses you off. "I need to not feel like I'm back in prison."

        "I-" Words are swallowed. He walked inside, head low. Returning with a shallow bowl. He didn't need to eat but with prison and all the memories it brought, an animal instinct inside him told him to. 

        He sat down heavily. Sloshing hot water on his thighs that he could barely feel. "I don't mean to make you feel that way. I just-" Out the corner of his eye, you sip at the bowl's edge. "I felt like I almost lost you when those two attacked me. I'm scared they'll find you and I won't know where you are and they'll hurt you again."

        You don't think they're going to find you but you don't say it. "I can handle myself."

        "Can you?"

        You set the bowl aside. Finished. Food sat heavy at the bottom of your stomach. "Mark. I kill people for a living. I went to a prison where I was constantly collared and couldn't use my powers. You think surviving that was easy? Surrounded by a bunch of other criminals, some worse than me, some who knew I killed people they loved? The guards had to keep me in solitary most of the time so Machine Head's favorite murder machine didn't leave in a body bag." Too many of the employees there were in his pocket. They kept you locked pillowy tight, safe as could be from the other riffraff when the warden wasn't around. The other inmates hated you for it. "I knew I was going to have to work for him when I got out but still I was relieved. Safety like that isn't safety, you know?" 

        "I wish my sentence was like that." He says instead of acknowledging the point you were trying to make. That he was doing the same thing your jailor did. 

        You shouldn't ask but you do. "What was it like?"

        "Bad." Just remembering made his hands start to shake. Sloshing more of the soup on his legs.

        You take his bowl and set it aside. Put a hand on his, feeling like an asshole. Of course it was bad- just look at him. "You don't have to talk about it."

        He made his muscles go taught all over to quell the shake. "You want to know." 

        "But I don't need to."

        He considers this before saying. "For most of it, nothing happened. Where I was kept was far away from everything it..." When he shut his eyes he saw his father standing bloody over him. When he looked at the floor, dark and matte, he saw the same floor as his cell, unbreakable, unstainable no matter how much blood his body wept. When he breathed in the stale air, it smelled the same. "The waiting drove me crazy."

        Waiting. He was still waiting. Waiting for Phantom to come. Waiting for him to dig a sturdy tunnel to the surface. Waiting to get out of here. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting for the punishment. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. And when it did, it was going to be bad. It was always bad. Worse than the last worst thing.

        "I'm sorry." 

        Your apology is like canon shot straight through his head. He'd known this version of you a month and never heard words so sincere. "Why?"

        You shrug, "Because prison sucks. My sentence was definitely not as bad as yours and I dunno, I'm sorry for that. I mean, I wouldn't trade places with you or anything but I wish I understood."

        You crack a smile. Try to lighten the moon but his brain superimposes you into his cell. Puts you under his father's scrutinous gaze. Your skin dripping down your face. You curled in a meaty ball, sobbing while your flesh blistered. He wondered what you, his version of you, looked like while dying. 

        He needed to puke.

        He left without warning. So quick you fell back and can't see where he'd gone. 

        Day ???????????

        You put the fire out soon as he got 'home'. Dinner was served. If it even was dinner time. 

        He sat, ate as quietly as he could which wasn't very quiet at all. He didn't like you seeing him eat. He tried eating with the barb utensils, really, he did but it was so awkward and wrong. Eating with his hands was better but he was embarrassed if you watched him. So, no light at mealtimes. No light while you touched him. No light while sleeping. The list was only getting longer.

        You blindly stab for meat, barb going tink-tink-tink against the exoskeleton bowl. "How are the babies today?" 

        He was right. They didn't eat after birth and they didn't live long. The dead were slowly staring to pile up in corners. It was too early to tell if the population was dwindling but you were starting to guess yes. Not enough worker mites to drag them away to use as fertilizer in the farm You took it upon yourself to move the piles of carcasses. Not a fan of their smell after a few days. 

        "Mmm." He slurps something down.

        "The nursemaids still feeding them pieces of the queen?" You pop a piece of meat into your mouth. Sour with age. The queen was starting to go bad. Mark tried to jerky-fy her the same way Gray had but it didn't work, only left the cave so smokey you couldn't make a fire for what felt like weeks. He also ended up burning a pound of her precious meat, but at least you could use it as fuel. Which you were also running low on. You were considering turning to the mold farm, maybe using dried bug shells or egg linings. 

        He grunted in reply. He hadn't spoken to you since the prison talk. He'd regressed to his prison days. Make no noise, make no waves, and he'd be okay.

        You gave it time, then more time, and more time but this was getting ridiculous. You keep the conversation so you don't go fucking crazy.

        "Any of the girlies in the lead?" In the last few days, a few of the young grew bigger than the rest. Still fleshy and wriggling but clear replacements for the queen. Only one of them would survive to adulthood and it'd be good to know who to get on your side. Much as you could get a bug on your side.

        Another grunt.

        "Good talk."

        You were annoyed with him. Hard not to be when stuck in close quarters so long. Yet he still had you on your back later. Eating you for desert without saying a word. He may have gotten worse at coping, but he'd gotten better at eating pussy. You don't mind your volume. Screaming into the carapace roof as you come undone. Hoping Phantom had a microphone in that little spyware thing you stuck to the wall. Maybe he'd get so jealous he'd throw caution to the wind and just come down already. Take you to the above ground where you longed to lounge in the sun. Even for a moment.        

        Day ???????????

        Click click click-ity click.

        They came forward in a wave of pale bodies. Climbing over egg sacks and atop each others backs to be the first to your feet. Before they can touch you, climb up your body, you let loose a loud click.

        The masses stop. You hold up the stinking torch constructed from dead bugs speared through a piece of rebar. They do not flinch back from the heat and light. They are under your control and will not move until released. Controlling thousands at once is difficult but their minds were so simple, so tiny, it was like controlling a weakened Viltrumite. Harder than a human being at least.

        With a click click click, they began to move out of your footpath. You stop when you're stood at the precipice of the nursery. The five fat larval potential queens wait for you on the backs of their adult caretakers. You look over them all, holding the torch overhead, assessing the strongest looking versus the scrawniest. You didn't know their criteria for survival but you hoped the biggest meant it was the healthiest. 

        You held out the old meat you'd brought along to the largest. She takes it in underdeveloped mandibles. Chittering as you let go. The first sound any of them had made since the queen died. It felt like a good sound and you couldn't help the small smile on your lips. 

        The trill travels back, a sound of content from the entire hive it seemed. You laughed, awkwardly, and held out another piece. The to-be queen took it and the sound repeats in a wave. 

        "(Y/n)," Mark's voice from far away, peaked with concern. "(Y/n)!?"

        "Over here." He'd started talking to you again not too long ago, no apologies, no preamble. You didn't say anything about it either, just glad to have him talking again, to hear a voice besides your own. 

        He found you holding an oversized grub, the other bugs circling your feet. "I think I picked the queen?" You laugh while he hovers horrified. They could've swarmed you there were so many, a carpet of pale bodies going round and round in a not-quite death spiral. 

        "Put that thing down." He warns.

        "She likes me." Even though she was wiggly and slimy and gross, she was a little cute. Mandibles grabbing hold of your tank top to nibble on. "I'm like, securing our spot in the hierarchy." You don't know if it's true. If you even did pick a queen or if the second you put her down the bugs would kill her. 

        Mark could care less what a bug thought. He tore the grub out of your hands and set it down, scared if he killed it the swarm would blame you. In the same breath, he picked you up so quick you dropped the torch. Your new friends swerved to avoid the blaze but some burn, popping out of their shells. "Hey!"

        "I didn't know where you were." There's panic in his voice. "I couldn't find you." He'd gone to sleep some time ago. Didn't move when you woke up and left.

        "I wasn't far away." You argue. "I had a light, you could see me."

        "We've been using less light lately. What if I couldn't?" He landed outside the hamster hut and carried you inside.

        "Okay, well, I need light to walk around this place unlike you." You wait for him to set you on the cot but he doesn't. "Uhm, hello, put me down?"

        "You make me worry-"

        "Mark."

        "It's like you don't listen to me-"

        "Mark."

        "I worry about you so much, and it's like you don't care."

        "Mark, put me down."

        His hands flex but his body obeys. You take a step back in the dark and start to tilt back, tripping on the cot. Mark surged forward, caught you by the back.

        "See?" His breath is hot on your face, grip hard on your upper arms, "I'm protecting you from yourself."

        You don't like who he's becoming in the dark. "I don't need you to protect me." You wiggle in his hold, "Let go."

        His hands spring open, you fall ass first to the cot. You feel it heavy in the air. His urge to pounce, to try and control, but he balls his fists and stays standing over you. You hate it.

        "I want to be alone." You say. He hovered around so much, too much, glued to your hip. The words are a threat to use your power. You don't want to but if he makes you- you will.

        "No." He says.

        You think about forcing him but don't. It'd only make him worse. "Then don't bitch about the fire when I cook." You make no move for the pit.

        "You ate this morning, you're not hungry."

        "Excuse me?" It was true, but you were prickly, wanted something to change. You wanted out but he wouldn't try.

        "I think you're trying to upset me."

       You were annoyed that he was right, that he had been a brick wall so often any response seemed to piss you off. "I think you're being crazy right now." 

        Crazy? Crazy? 

        He took in a breath. "You think I'm being-" He heard his father in his voice just then. Shuts him right up, "I'm sorry. I- I just thought I was alone again. I got scared."

        "Doesn't mean you can just pick me up like that. I'm not a doll, Mark." 

        God, he'd been so stupid. So, so stupid. Acting like the others. Possessive. Obsessive. Crazy. Part of him says to leave, to give you space but he doesn't. He can't stop himself from acting like the others. Suppose it was genetic. 

        Day ????????????????????

        You sit outside the hamster hut. Far as Mark would let you go before he started acting off. More off than he had been down here. Fine, it's fine. You could handle it. You needed the practice controlling the bugs from far away.

        You click loud and clear. Push and pull the bugs like the tide. Experimented with different sounds, seeing what they'd do. You'd actually managed to get them to dig. In the center of the main cave and not the ceiling like you wanted. You were trying to figure out the series of hisses and clicks that'd redirect them. 

        Mark knew what you were trying to do. All the what if's came piling in his head. What if the tunnel collapsed? What if it made the whole cave collapse? What if you wanted to get away from him? What if you were scared of him?

        "You should stop." He said, watching your back.

        "It's good practice." You say between clicks. 

        "You could hurt yourself."

        "I won't." 

        He shuts up. Watches you try to redirect the bugs to middling success. Thoughts more discordant than the bugs movement. Louder than your clicking. He thinks he should kill the bugs. All of them so you can't dig a way out. He thinks that after days, maybe weeks of nothing happening, the hammer was about to come down. Thinks you're trying to tempt fate. Thinks maybe, just maybe, this was Phantom's idea all along. Phantom wasn't stupid. He knew Mark would crack up in the deep, isolate dark. He knew he'd regress. Act like the animal he was, all of them were deep down.

        Mark needs you to know. "He's leaving us down here on purpose."

        You watch the bugs. "Why would he do that?"

        "Because he's obsessed with you." He said.

        "You're not making sense." Then you turn on him. He sees it in the dark, your furrowed brow and twitching lip. You think he's crazy. 

       He needs to make you understand. He's not crazy, he's not. "Think about it. They all want you to themselves but they can't have you if you're all over some fuckin' freak like me. So he stranded us down here. He's listening I bet. Maybe they're all listening, waiting to swoop in when I fuck up." If he had hair he'd pull at it. But he doesn't so his hands press down on the expanse of scars on his head. 

        Turns out, you weren't looking at him like he was crazy before- because you absolutely were now. "I don't think..." You sigh, stand, click and let the bugs disburse. "Mark, we can't know that. We can't know anything down here. I think we should start thinking about digging up for real. If we're slow about it and careful there shouldn't be a cave in." You hoped.

        "There's going to be a cave in." He said assuredly.

        "You don't know that." You reach out for him.

        Phantom would know. 

        Mark didn't know anything at all. Down came the sledgehammer of reason. He didn't know. He was assuming. He was being crazy.

        Your touch is like a healing balm he immediately relaxes into. "I'm sorry." He says. "I just- I don't know what's happening anymore. I thought I'd know what was going to happen when I got out and now I don't and I'm so scared all of the time. I'm sorry," His head starts to hang and he begins to lean in, melt into your body, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

        You brace for his weight.  Body stiff with how hard you had to hold him up, arms straining to wrap around his back as he cried into your neck. Yet no tears wet your skin. Trapped behind those black lenses until the moisture reabsorbed to skin, leaving behind remnants he could never recover.

        Day ???????????????????????????????

        "Mark, just sit down." 

        He doesn't reply. Feet endlessly going plap-plap-plap on the sweaty ground. He was always moving these days. Shaking his leg. Floating around you. Pacing. You suspected he was too scared to do it in prison, a way to distance himself from the memory. That if they heard him move they'd bust into the cell and beat him half-dead. You understood the need to distance himself, but the sound had been going for hours. It was the only thing you could focus on in the dark. He only let you light a fire if you were cooking now which was less and less often. The Queen had gone to rot. You'd turned to eating her subjects which Mark was starting to argue, could be eaten raw. 

        "Mark."

        Plap-plap-plap.

        "Sit down."

        The sound is sucked out the air in a vacuum. You have to hold his mind down, headlock it to submission. It thrashes, writhes in your grip. Talking is difficult with how much he struggles but you manage, "Walking in circles won't get us out of here."

        He breaks free so quickly and completely you feel the snap in your skull. Then he's on you, solid hand over your mouth.

        "Don't do that." Breath hot on your face, powerful body hovering over you. 

        You hadn't used power on him for days- you think it'd been days- and he hadn't reacted badly then. But his tone, the crackle in the air, told you now things were different. 

        His hand falls away. Regretting the action as soon as he'd done it. His presence leaves you all at once.

        "Never do that again." It reminded him too much of when his captors would put a bit in his mouth so he wouldn't bite off his own tongue during the torture, cuff him to the floor so they could torment him. He was horrified he'd lash out, kill you if you did it again. 

        Judging by how fast your heart raced? You thought the same thing. 

        Good, you should be scared of him. The thought makes him sick. 

       Day ????????????????????????????????????????????

        He's convinced the others linger outside the rocky prison walls. Listening so hard if he thought loud enough they'd hear, the same way the prison guards always seemed to. This place was so close to where he'd been last month. Was it last month? Or two months ago now? A year? He was never good at keeping track of time in there. Worse in here. All he was good at was waiting for inevitable punishment.

        But you were no good at that. Always trying to better yourself. Train with the bugs. Figure out their language slowly and surely like it was a game. You kept trying to soft launch the idea of getting them to dig you out but he always shot it down. Ignored you when you suggested he try digging out.

        You were getting better at shucking bug exoskeletons to get to their tasty white meat. The queen was fully rotten now, but that was fine as her subjects were more tender and juicy. You were getting better at making soups. Which was endearing at first but now all he focused on was how quick you could build a fire. How often you built them. How loud and bright they were. How them burning meant you could see him at his very lowest. Could they see him too? 

        "We could eat them raw." He suggested for the millionth time, sat just out of view. Where the firelight couldn't touch him. 

        You give him a look, cracking a dead bug out of its shell and letting the meat roll into the makeshift pot. "I'm not doing that."

        You don't get it. You don't understand the danger that's looming around the corner. Waiting to strike. You and your smile glowing, attracting bugs like him. 

        You'd be mad, but when nothing bad happened down the line- you'd understand.

        He rushed forward, killed the fire in the stroke of an arm. Finally, he could be comfortably close to you.

        "Mark! What the hell?"

        "Quiet." He muttered in your ear. 

        You scoff and blindly reach out for the fire. Fingers finding hot coals. You hiss, reeling back a moment before reaching out again, not deterred at all. "What'd you do that for?"

        You still didn't get it. He had to make you get it. He grabbed your arms from behind, chest pressed to your back, voice in your ear. "Stop," he says, "We don't need it."

        "Yes we do, to eat." You try to shuck your arms out his grip but it's unwavering.

        "No." He says. 

        Your lips purse. "We're not fucking cave bugs Mark. Let go of me."

        Touch fell away like you burned him. It stayed away while you rebuilt the fire, mentally holding him in a choke hold after you told him to, "Stay."

        When the fire was back on, you turned to him, frowning. Because you knew he wasn't happy you used your powers on him. You knew he'd do something shitty. So you kept the hold long and strong as you could just to look at him and his pretty face in the firelight.

        When the hold breaks, darkness is almost immediate. Fire kicked to the hamster hut walls. "Mar-"

        His hand came to your mouth, dirty fingers digging to your cheeks. "No." He growled. "No. No more."

        You felt him moving you both. So fast you couldn't process until it was done. You sat on the cot, legs splayed in front of you, hands weighed heavy down between them. Wrapped in rebar still hot after being twisted so fast. Then your head, oh god, your head was so tightly wrapped round the middle you felt like you were a watermelon being squeezed by a hundred rubber bands. The cotton he'd used as a makeshift bit, pulled back your cheeks and dried the spit off your tongue. So thick you couldn't push the thing out with your tongue, could barely swallow.

        He says, "I'm sorry," wavering with such fear. Like he wasn't the one scaring the shit out of you right now. Your heart rabbit fast in your chest, fighting the urge to scream. If you got your arms free, you could pull off the gag, talk to him, calm him down like you had been the whole time. 

        You wriggled in the restraints. Tried to use your feet to pull the rebar off your arms but it was too well wrapped. Knotted over itself and solid. Fear seemed to choke you and you resorted to screaming from your throat, hoping some syllables would break through and he'd realize how crazy this was.

        "Why wouldn't you listen to me?" He says though you can barely hear him over your own guttural screaming. "I've been through this kind of thing before, I know what I'm talking about."

        You beat your wrapped arms against the ground, making your bones vibrate, making the ground go clang clang clang. 

        He goes on, "I promise I'll take the gag out when you calm down. I can't trust you to make a bad choice right now." Your legs gather under you, push you up but his hands are on your shoulders, pushing your ass back down. You can't tell between the absolute oppressive black and his body. Both are everywhere.

        "It's alright," he says soft, "I've got you."

        Day ??????????????????????????????????????????????????

        He poured water onto the cotton bit. Soaks it through until the water drips sourly onto your tongue. Pushed raw bug guts in the few gaps in the gag. Held you warm at night. Told you it was going to be okay.

        You have no idea how long it's been like this, the dark seems to hold you in place. The past and the present feel the same, you don't feel like you have a future anymore. Only the darkness and his touch for the rest of your life. You are still scared, every time he moved, your mind screamed that this time he would snap your neck. That in his fucked up brain it'd be a better idea to kill you than find a way out. He wasn't even trying anymore. He didn't leave the hamster hut, a constant companion in the quiet dark. 

        Some part of him was lucid enough to know if he took off the gag, you'd get him back- oh you spiteful Mark-killing thing. The other bit of him, tiny as it was, said he should take the gag off. That you wouldn't hurt him, you cared about him. You wouldn't kill him. To which the other side said; "Wouldn't you?" Doubt ping-ponged him back and forth. Either way he wanted to take the gag off, wanted to apologize, but he felt the phantom cuffs and couldn't move. 

        You couldn't take it anymore. The dark. The hours of silence. Mark regressing. All of it. You'd been biding time, trying to store energy.  

        You rolled off of the cot that felt like your coffin, shuffling forward on your knees, spinning to face him- where you hoped he was. Know he's watching. You didn't do much after he first put you in the restraints, he'd promised to take the gag off when you calmed, but it never came. The dark made you begin to doubt he'd said anything. 

        You bend down, head first and find his chest. Headbutting him gentle as a docile cat. Grunting through the restraints, trying to say, "I wanna talk to you," but it came out as, "Ahhahaakohuu."

        The warring sides of him flare. You were going to make him leave, bring the cave down, ruin everything you'd built together. You wanted to fix the bridge he burned because you were an angel. He knew he was the bad one for doing this to you. You must be so scared of him. You must want him dead.

        That thought is worse than being in prison again, it echoes in his mind, making him move. His hands shoot out to undo the gag, let it fall to the ground with a wet thop. His hands come to either side of your head, where the gag left an irritated indent, red and deep. "Oh Jesus (Y/n)." 

        Hearing his voice crack made you want to cry but you couldn't. You were cried out because of him. Arms came around your middle, pressing you to his front as he shuddered with incoming tears. You stayed still, pushing your feelings down as you breathe through your mouth for the first time in what felt like a century. Your dry tongue flexes in its cage. Jaw and cheeks stretch, power builds up your throat as he snivels.

        You wait until he pulls back, arms slipping away, leaving hands lingering on your waist. "I'm so s-"

        "Mark." He's heartbroken by how little your voice sounds. It makes him want to break things because he knows what's coming and he knows it's all his fault. "Go to the ceiling, and dig a way out."

       He lifted off the ground and out of the hut. Surprised into submission. But his grip didn't loosen for some moments, lifting you with him until his hands dropped to turn himself into a human drill. You fell, screaming but your hold on him stays. 

        You hear him hit the ceiling, shaking the cavern as you hit the ground. Twenty-feet worth of gravity come down on your left leg all at once. You feel the crack, fast, hot- the snap of your tibia breaking under skin. There's no time to scream before the rest of you hits the ground, forcing the air out your lungs.

        Mark is fighting against your control as he spins, turning rock to gravel lighting quick. Your hold is as strong as his fist, crushing, insurmountable, until it's not. Gone all at once. The control leaves as you begin to scream.

        He's knelt at your side, you can't see him but you feel the wind as he lands too quickly, hear his panicked breaths as he reaches for you. Dirt from his shoulders drop onto your face as he leans forward. You try to heave yourself up to get a look at the damage despite the dark and your weak human eyes. He can see it's bad. Your left leg was bent in the middle of your shin. He knows that if you saw it you'd puke, pass out, bleed out from the inside and die on him. Leave him here alone.

        So he pushes you down to lay on your back. All he can hear is your sobbing and the falling rocks from the hole in the ceiling. The ceiling that now cracks and groans, but doesn't cave. He knew it was a bad idea, but he should've known you'd try something stupid and desperate like this. He remembers the desperation that came after months in the floating prison. How it'd all leached out of him the longer he sat, the harder they hit him. He needs to stop you from doing something like that again. To stop you from making it worse, just like he had. 

        He's stuck in his head again, holding you but unable to make a decision. Breath comes back to you in slow, burning sips of air.

        "Mark-" you gasp, swallow, trying to scrounge up some power, "you need to keep digging."

        He doesn't want to take off, to leave you, but your power hits him like Battle Beast's mace to the ribs. You are stronger in your adrenaline fueled desperation. You force him to fly up, to dig, dig, dig until the rocks become less hard, until he hits dirt that morphs into silky sand. But you are not as strong as Battle Beast, and you are woozy with agony. He feels it when you pass out, the lack of your power holding him. He is back in the caves as hundreds of pounds of now unsupported sand follow him. Piling under the hole in a building dune.

         Mark kneels over you. One hand over your mouth, one hand under your neck. Watching as consciousness returned to your body. Tears kickstart as your brain registers the pain. You start to thrash against him but it doesn't work, makes the pain worse. You go limp under him, eyes searching for his face in the dark and not finding it. 

        "Why did you do that?" He says, voice roadkill raw.

        You can't respond. Consider biting his hand but you're too scared. He scared you too much to fight back- like Scars, but somehow more unpredictable. You think if you fuck this up he'll kill you then lay next to your body, catatonic until he dies. You think he'll do it quick, a snap of the neck, and he'll think it's merciful. It'd be easy, then you'd be dead. You didn't want to be in this cave anymore but even more than that, you didn't want to die.

        "The roof could've collapsed." He says, "You could've died. You could've..." He hears it. The thundering pitter-patter of your heart. Hummingbird fast because you're hurt and scared because of him. "I hurt you." All at once he is barraged by how miserable you must be down here with him. How he'd locked you up and thrown away the key like dad did. Like Mark did, the real Mark, your Mark because you told him what he did to you one night after sex. He'd grown distant after that, remembering you weren't really who he wanted to see outside of prison- then he clung to you, unwilling to leave you like he had. 

        "Oh God, oh God, I'm worse than him." His hands go up to his head. 

        You have no idea what he's talking about but you need to make him, "D-"

        His hand is back over your mouth, harsh enough to make you gasp.

        "No," a growl. "No. It'll cave in. Don't you see you're going to die? Stop it." Your heart beats on, terrified. Tears squirt out of your eyes. He's making you cry. Thumbs come up to wipe the tears away. "No, no, stop that, hey." The gentleness in his tone warbles like bad camouflage.

        The more he wipes the tears away, the more come to replace them. He can't plug the flow. This is his fault. He knew he should've stayed in his box instead of going with Angstrom. He wasn't fit for the outside world or those distant planets with imaginary sap rivers. He wasn't fit for anything at all.

        "I didn't mean to, (Y/n)." He cups your cheeks, lets the wetness gather on the sides of his rugged hands. Let it soak, burning into his skin as punishment. "I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to, please talk to me. Please, please, I love you." When it comes out, something feels ripped out of him. He was hollow before, but empty now. He couldn't love you, he didn't know you, not really. You were a figment he ruined like the first. He didn't deserve to give his heart to anyone- to push that curse onto anyone. Especially not you. You didn't need a rotten thing like him.

        In his attempts to quell the tears, he no longer held your mouth shut. You could make him dig but the sand was coming down in a river now. The hole would dig itself now. Fill the cavern in a few hours at this rate.

        The sun was coming, the nightmare was over. Mark didn't have to waste away in this hell anymore, didn't have to drag you down with him. You'd figure it out under the sun. Fix up your leg. Fix up his brain. You just needed him to calm down, to understand what was next.  

        "Mark," you croaked and he goes still, as if already under our control, "Just stop."

        In your head, you mean for him to take a breath. To calm down. To talk this out. You were mad, sure, scared, absolutely, upset, totally, but he was still your partner in survival. Still someone you cared about. 

        In Mark's head? Stop was something yelled over the guards as they kicked his ribs in. Stop was what he said to his father's attempts at swaying him, to the lies he fed him. Stop meant more fists were coming. Stop was something he could never do in regards to loving you. To hurting you. Stop was ending your pain the only way he understood how.

        You feel the impact more than hear it. A sound so strange, you couldn't process, couldn't even guess what it was. Then came his wheezy groan. The brassy drip of blood on stone. He let out a sigh as his body came down hard atop yours. Warming your arms with quickly spreading heat.

        "Mark?"

        You shift, expecting him to move with you. Maybe to help you up. Maybe to stop you. But he does neither. He shudders once twice, then goes completely, utterly still.

        "Mark?" 

        You wriggle out from under him. Front soaked through, smelling of blood. So much blood you could choke.

        "Mark?!"

        You're on your knees in the dark. Padding around with arms tied by rebar, feeling for him, the problem, the sudden quiet. There's his bubble butt, there's his strong lower back, there's a.... wet, warm hole. There's... his arm going up. There's something in his hand. Hot and firm. Your hand comes away slick and reeking. 

        You don't remember when you started to scream. Or when you stopped 

        One moment you were. Then the next, you were face first in a puddle of congealing blood, your throat raw and head pounding. Movement pricked at your ears. You stirred, trying to return to reality. Sand almost buried you alive, you could feel it shift off your back. When your eyes open, there is sun coming through the roof. White hot and burning your eyes, but you can't look away, finally seeing him. 

        Light frames his back. Broad shoulders and narrow waisted. Standing over you. 

        "Mark?"

        Water, something he hadn't had in days drips down his chin. Bugs wriggle in his grip, their juices on his lips. Stomach churning but starting to work after weeks of nothing. He looks strange to you in his blue and yellow suit, his pretty brown eyes squinting down at you. Mark wore white. Mark didn't have hair.

        You looked just as strange covered in blood and bugs. His doppelganger laid beside you. Mostly buried in tan sand, gone dark brown with blood. His eyes adjust to the dim light and he sees the heart, held in his scarred hand peaking out of the sand. Jesus. 

        And there you are, bloodshot eyes, rebar tied too tight around your wrist. The miserable, missing and presumed dead girl who was the most valuable bargaining chip in the wastes. He doesn't have to think as your head starts to turn, eyes about to take in the view next to you. He's fast, swooping you up and out of the cave. The movement, being held, the shift- brings hot white pain. A sound comes out of your lips, dying with your waning consciousness. 

[astrobolical]

I’ve taken a deeper dive into DC comics recently, and I have something I gotta say.

Guy Gardner just needs a chance to escape his past.

While his bowlcut and joke-character era are important, they were filled with throwaway c-rank hero antics and writers who, lets face it, didn’t like him. But he’s not as bad as people think when they hear the name Guy Gardner. He’s more than just that lantern Batman knocked out with one punch (which was deserved, but still).

The more I read about him or things he’s included in, especially more recent media, I’m awestruck that he doesn’t get at least a little more love.

So here are the reasons I think Guy Gardner is better than you think he is.

Upbringing

“I never took a punch that hurt as bad as any he gave me.”

Guy didn’t have it easy growing up. His father was an abusive alcoholic who berated and beat him daily for nothing, just because he was there, because he was “thick headed.” But despite everything he went through and the horrible upbringing he had to endure, Guy didn’t fall into the same cycle as his father did. Yeah, he has a bad attitude, he’s pretty cocky and he hides behind that bravado, but he never turned to villainy.

He became a social worker in older media, working to help people who are in his situation to escape it, like I’m sure he wished someone would have helped him. In more recent media it has been retconned that he’s a cop, which I like less, but he’s still a good one. He goes out of his way to help people and make their lives better, as best he can. No one walks away from that sort of history unscathed, so his aggressive persona is no surprise. But he’s a Green Lantern, and a hero despite it all.

Willpower & Strength

Just to begin with the fight pictured above, Guy took on that Yellow Lantern without his ring and nearly died, but he won. He has some of the strongest willpower there is, and the sheer bravado to back it up. His fellow Lanterns, mostly, know that while he’s problematic that he will get the job he’s given done. And if they don’t right away, they’ll soon learn it.

Guy very easily could have been who the ring went to over Hal, if it weren’t for Booster Gold’s time stream shenanigans causing him to be further than Hal was from the ring (which was how it was supposed to be, Booster was making sure things stayed how they were meant to). That’s all it came down to. Distance. He was also a candidate for John’s ring, but if I recall he was helping someone and lost out again.

And his creativity with his constructs and how quickly he can work with it is astounding.

(More on this topic also in Intelligence below)

Devotion & Reliabiltiy

“C’mon kid… can’t d-do this without you.”

Believe it or not, he’s a reliable partner both work-wise and in romance. He’s trusted to mentor new Lanterns, and is a high ranking Lantern himself for a reason. He’s rough around the edges, a little too forward, blunt and a tiny bit horny (…okay very horny) but all of that goes out the window when someone is in danger.

He cares for others despite how his persona may make it seem. He listens more than people think, and he understands others more than he lets on. A good example of this is actually in a silly comic about superhero dating. While he was showboating and being a bit of an arse, he retained every single thing she told him. (And for context, she was using him for an article about how BAD it would be to date a superhero— specifically him. Rude much?)

“Nothing’s gonna stop me from being at your side if you need someone or something.”

And to his partners he does show great care and love for them, even if he’d rather be seen as the tough guy.

So, yeah, despite it all there’s someone with a very large heart behind his attitude. He’s bold, he’s loud and far too confident, but you also know he’s someone you can turn to.

Intelligence

“I figured out the receptors in my brain I need to stimulate.”

This is one of the bigger points for me, because as much as he fucks around this man is incredibly intelligent. He’s been shown to deep dive into research, study and learn whenever he needs to. So much so his entire room was at one point a terrible mess.

But even more so this man was able to save himself from dying after being cut in half. I debated putting his in Willpower, but it’s more a testament to his quick thinking and knack for learning.

He was able to use his ring to recreate his lower body, which included all organs which functioned to keep him alive. Eventually he even perfected it enough so that it would take less effort to maintain. Then to stop himself from ever having to sleep (and his lower body subsequently disappearing and killing him) he figured out how to stimulate his brain with his power ring to release the chemicals he needed without actually having to sleep. He would have needed to figure this out within a day or two at most while dealing with the severe trauma he would have experienced.

So few people would have had the wherewithal to even save themselves to begin with, let alone trick your brain in such a way so quickly. And accurately.

And there’s so much more to his character than the shit end of the stick he was originally given. That’s not to say he isn’t an arrogant little bastard, but when people hear “Guy Gardner” they laugh, without realizing how much his character has evolved.

He’s able to be his bratty self, sing songs about his ass, showboat and still be a good person while maintaining that humour.

So yeah, I think more people need to give Guy Gardner a chance.

[itsrubesshawty]

The Quiet Hours

Pt.2 to “spit it out”

Tw: attempted suicide, drugs/alcohol

Darlin’ had been getting better.

Or at least, that’s what they said.

That’s what Sam wanted to believe.

That’s what David never asked.

They went to therapy—once. Took meds—sometimes. Stopped drinking—mostly. Smiled when people looked. Responded to texts. Showed up, made jokes, gave hugs. The whole performance.

But none of it ever stuck. Not really.

Especially not at 3:00 a.m.

The apartment was too quiet.

Too dark.

Darlin’ sat on the floor of their bedroom, a joint half-burnt between trembling fingers, eyes bloodshot and wide. The shadows in the corner moved wrong. Something about the walls—too close, too loud. Everything hummed like it was alive.

There was a voice in the hallway.

Not one they recognized.

“… don’t turn around…”

Their heart dropped.

Another voice, this one closer—behind them.

“… told you this would happen…”

They blinked hard. Rubbed their eyes. Tried to ground themselves, but the floor didn’t feel solid. The air was thick, like syrup, and their hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Shut up,” Darlin’ whispered, clutching their head. “You’re not real.”

But the whispers just laughed.

The apartment pulsed. The ceiling breathed. Shadows stretched long across the floor like hands, reaching. Grabbing.

Panic clawed up their throat.

They stumbled to their feet, knocking over the ashtray. Glass shattered against the wall. They didn’t even feel it when it cut their foot.

The balcony door was open.

The night air beckoned.

Cool. Quiet. Simple.

No voices. No shadows. No past. No Quinn.

Just air. Just falling.

Their chest heaved. Tears welled. Not because they wanted to die—God, they didn’t—but the noise wouldn’t stop, and nothing felt real anymore.

Their hands gripped the railing.

They climbed.

And that’s when the neighbor screamed.

—

It all happened in a blur.

A call. Sirens. Blue and red lights spinning against the glass.

Darlin’ on the edge of the railing, barefoot, sobbing. Begging the air to stop pressing in on them.

A police officer on the balcony, voice calm and distant:

“Hey, hey—look at me. You don’t have to do this.”

Darlin’ couldn’t even hear them. All they saw were hands. Quinn’s hands. Shadows. David’s face twisted in shame. Sam walking away. Everything closing in.

When the arms grabbed them, they screamed.

When the needle went into their neck, they didn’t even flinch.

—

He got the call at 3:51 a.m.

“Hi, is this David Shaw?”

The voice was too clinical. Too calm.

“This is Officer Daniels with the LAPD. We need to inform you about an incident involving someone named uh tank..? They’re listed as your emergency contact.”

His whole body froze.

“What happened?”

“They’re alive. That’s the important part. They had what appears to be a psychotic episode and attempted to jump from their apartment balcony. They’re stable now, with paramedics. No hospitalization—just observation and follow-up needed. But they’ve been using again, and there were signs of recent self-harm.”

David sat on the edge of the bed, breath stolen from his chest.

“Where are they now?”

“We administered a sedative. They’re still at home. Someone’s sitting with them.”

A pause.

“Look, sir, this is more than just a bad high. We’re not trying to scare you—but they need help. Real help. Family. Friends. We thought you should know.”

David didn’t say goodbye.

He was already throwing on a hoodie, keys in hand, rage and guilt boiling together in his chest.

How had it gotten this bad without him seeing?

—

They were curled up on the floor in the living room, the lights off except for one flickering lamp. Their eyes were half-open. Silent. Drifting somewhere between exhausted and numb.

The paramedic had left already, and a kind but awkward officer waited by the door, arms folded.

And then—he came in.

David.

Darlin’ looked up slowly, heart pounding even though everything felt fuzzy. Their throat was raw. Their hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

He said nothing at first.

Just stood there.

Looking at them.

And then—

“What the fuck, tank?”

His voice cracked down the middle. Not angry. Just devastated.

Darlin’ flinched.

“I’m—” They tried to speak. It came out dry. Weak. “I’m fine.”

David scoffed, loud and bitter. “Fine? Fine? You’re high out of your mind and hanging off a balcony and that’s fine?”

“I didn’t mean to,” they whispered. “It wasn’t—It wasn’t supposed to go that far. I just—I couldn’t sleep. The walls kept breathing—”

He crouched down in front of them, voice softer but still strained. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because you’d look at me like this.”

David’s face twisted. “Like what?”

“Like I’m already gone.”

Silence.

He sat beside them, leaning against the couch, eyes closed.

“I never thought you were gone,” he said. “I just thought you were getting better. That you didn’t need me anymore.”

“I needed you every day,” they whispered, crying now. “I just didn’t want to be a burden again.”

“You were never a burden,” David snapped. Then, softer: “You’re mine, tank. You’re my pack. I’d burn the world down before I let it eat you alive.”

They broke.

Completely.

Folded into his arms, sobbing so hard they couldn’t breathe. He held them tighter than he had in years.

No judgment. No anger. Just raw, painful love.

And the promise to never, ever leave again.

[minzart]

Beggars can't be choosers (7)

Ao3 - Prev - Next

Decepticons & Reader(GN), Skywarp & Reader(GN), Soundwave & Reader(GN)

You find an "automatic" tank busted in the middle of the night, and as the good millitar Mechanic that you are, you fix it.

Or, the Decepticons don't have a trained doctor(yet), and you just volunteered as a substitute by their leaders' logic and standards

You knew, on a hiphotetical level, that sand was an ass to get rid off, you had been to a beach before, but damn if it weren't ten times more annoying when you had to get rid of it in a mechanical contraption. You had worked most of it out of your bike, it wasn't lustrous or polished, but it at least looked usable now, even if you had to put it back togheter again

No-one appeared in med bay yet, it was a rare sight to see someone come in anyways, but at least it gave you privacy enough to work in your own entertainment, and distraction, the weird hallucination of last night still coming back in flashes to you... you refuse to believe that actually happened. It was probably a way for your body to justify how ichy it felt during sleep, that's probably it... anyways your baby

You pick every part of it and fix into place as carefully and firmly as you can, fuel still high enough for some good use, oil in good contion, now you needed to test it... wich means seeking someone to be your "keeper" of the day, you cringe looking back at your work... you could tecnicaly test it here, it is big enough, but also it would be loud and most important it was too smooth, you needed friction to see if the shock absorbers were put back correctly

You sigh, kicking back the kickstand and turning the ignition once, freeing the handle, you push it through the halls until arriving at the main hangar. There you find the purple seeker on watch, looking bored as he sits next to what looks like a metal door, they had finished welding it, cables and wires scattered around the place showed they wanted to make it automatic, smart, even if it was a lot of work

You stop and look around, dreading that only he was on watch, you hoped Thundercracker could be here, the blue seeker was far more amicable than his colegue. Deciding it was best to look for him without a "means of scape", you pull down the kickstand and lave your motorcycle besides the far corner of the wall, anyone who looked there could see it, so you hoped they wouldn't think it was an escape plan

But as you walk away from it you hear a bored voice calling to you "please, tell me you are planing to escape so SOMETHING fun happens today, I'll even give you an one arc advantage even"

You stop, his face turns to you, and you look between him, your bike, and a corridor, thinking if you should just say a lie... then it hits you that it wouldn't matter anyways and he would learn of your intent soon if Thundercracker, or even the twins, agree to go with you "I was planning to test this outside, just need someone to go with me, since, you know, lords' ordered me to never leave without supervision"

"Ugh" he drops his head and slaps his face in boredom, then peaks behind his own fingers "test that thing?"

"Yeah, give it a run or two, see if everything is in place" you slap it's tank

"..." You hear the runs of a processor "would a race help you with it?"

His smile is sharp, and you fear for your life "I guess...?"

He jumps up, you can feel the metal tremble bellow your feet "alright I'll play human-keeper today, come on"

"Aren't you on watch duty?" You hold back a groan

"Tc is coming in like half and arc, the base will be fine, don't worry about it" he runs, and you have no choice but to follow

You had noticed that each seeker had their own individual way of transforming, it tecnicaly wasn't a surprise peer say, they are separated individuals after all, but it still surprised you how each one of them was so unique even if so similar

Thundercracker, for example, he always transformed in place, you knew he could run or jump into it, but he always preferent to transform still, and like a human jet take momentum after his full alt-mode was in place, he was most comfortable when secure

Skywarp however, he liked running into it, three big leaps and his upper body was already half transformed, turbins firing and the second his lower body hits the ground he takes off of it, his impatience showing even in transformation

You mount your bike, pull your visor down, kicks the kickstand, turn one last time the ignition key, press the eletric start button, and turn the throttle as hard as you could. As you charge the low gears immediately, you feel the engine run in itself, gaining life so suddenly it jumps, and you smile in triumph and a bit in arrogance... alright, a lot of it actually, you pull it back balancing in one single wheel and the second it touches the ground back you take off

A nice good wheelie to start isn't so bad

You did plan on only doing a test run, but well, you were very low in fun, each day living in tension with the decepticons, they were... nice..ish... when they wanted to, but they still were bigger, stronger and faster, than you. You had no internet in your free time since signal didn't reach wherever the fuck you are right now, not even in your work, the small moments you had to keep up with the world outside was when you waited in line for groceries, it was... so much less than what you are used to, and it only didn't drive you into madness because of the constant tension of big ass robots needed your assistance and maintainece

It has only been work, and work, and work, and treat and work for a week, you were absolutely exhausted, and then your bike came back to you, a glimpse of hope, not from a escape from this place but of boredom, you could at least use it as entertainment when going to work and playing the "they have no idea how bad human tech is so of course you needed to use it every day at leats once else it broke in half and exploded... totaly" card

And now, now someone is racing you, you hadn't had a good street race in years, you couldn't win, you knew that, but you would be damned if you let him think you couldn't at least keep up with his bullshit

Skywarp slowed down and got to your level, swinging from side to side, the gush of wind he made making difficult for balancing, but you persisted "See that rock pilar over there?!"

Skywarp shouts and makes a turn to the left, you follow, seeing in the distance the said rock pilar, that was more like for a mountain cut in half, appeared "that's where we turn, now good luck!"

And just as he says this you feel the ground change bellow you, from a smooth line to a rocky one, you noted the shock absorbers need a big more space to work properly, for now you could live with using your legs for impact bracing

It was not an straight line until the end, there were big rifts on the way that you needed to bypass, the first one too big to jump you take a hard turn right, making Skywarp follow from the other side, he mocks you all the way until you find a smaller gap or a bridge "what the little fleshbag is too slow to jump that little rift?"

You roll your eyes, enjoying the wind around you regardless of the mockery, and a thought occurred to you, you could die for it, but his reaction could make up for it, but the vibration in your veins is high, your heart pumping faster by tye mere though of this idea... perhaps, you are a bit drunk on adrenaline

The next time a rift appears in your way, you force the engine to it's limit, passing by the seeker for enough moments for him to not register what you wanted to do in time, when he finaly noticed he shouted "Hey! hey, isn't that too big for yo- HUMAN???"

You jump off the big gap, with enough force to get in the middle of it, you can hear only the blood in your vain, you would not make it, but you knew that, and you hoped your plan would work, and it does, Skywarp is right bellow you as you expected, using him as a platform and with brief propulsion of his momentum you jump off when in the other side "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!"

You push your visor out of the way and barks a laugh of madness as you answer "Playing!"

"Playing?! Is jumping off to your death playing?!"

"Aww, were you worried?" You coo at him

"Why would I be worried?! I just didn't want to carry your splatered remains to lord Megatron, you'd dirt my servos"

"Of course, of course" you pull down your visor "I knew you would be there"

Despite his bark, you didn't find any more rifts. Instead, you went under the rocks, you spin and jump and roll, all in good fun, contagious fun, that the seeker responds in equal energy as the finish line gets closer and closer, Skywarp started pulling for a U turn, and you as well

The race back was more lazy and chill, him doing some twirls in the air in victory, and you lazily letting only your hips guide your way, stretching back and feeling the wind pick up around you

"Want to try that again, but cooler?" He speaks, you smirk, picking up the pace and turning to the nearest rift

"I though you'd never ask"

............................

"Were is he?!" Starscream barks, for the third time in a while, leaning in the nearest wall

"I'm sure he will appear eventually" Thundercracker says, again, for the third time

"The audacity to leave without a warning" the red seeker growls "and leave with the human at that, what was he thinking... no, wait, he probably wasn't thinking at all! That fragging imbecile"

"I'm more concerned for what the human was thinking...it's unlike them to go out without an warning"

"I'm sure you are dying inside thinking of why your little pet didn't come to you for a walk, but how about we worry that it ran away and might have found an autobot, hm?"

"They are not a pet" he murmurs "and if they did ran away, lord Megatron would be the first to know"

"He is miles away in the decoy base, making time to sell the ilusion. He wouldn't know scrap even if it hit a fan and made it explode in his face"

"There they are" Starscream spins his head so hard he thinks it will be stuck in that positions for cycles come

And lo and behold, in the distance a jet and a... dot? No, it's a human in one of their predated tech. Skywarp swings from side to side, and the human pulls a wheelie

"What are they doing?" The comander asks, not expecting a answer but their demeanor freaks him out a bit, so friendly...

"Hm..." Thundercracker thinks, remembering his research in humans customs, the internet as they call, has shown him many things, few with actual practical context of what they mean, but he could assume, for him it looked like you were showing off your skills, maybe not for impressionalism but for fun, however it has a funny side effect for cybertronian language, he knows you are not even thinking about it, and neither is Skywarp the oaf, but it would be funny... "It looks like a matting ritual-"

"A WHAT?!" The blue seeker cover his ears and tries to hide a smirk "NO ITS NOT THAT- THEY COULDN'T BE- HOW WOULD YOU EVEN KNOW THAT- You know what never mind, don't answer that- HOW WOULD THAT EVEN BE POSSIBLE?!"

Now that Thundercracker knew for sure, a thing he learned from you and his research "You would be surprised, humans say if there is a will there is a way-"

"EWWWWW" he says that and Tc can't help but let a laugh escape his derma ".... you are messing with me, aren't you?"

"Maybe...?" Starscream hufs and get inside, his turn now over since he was covering for the missing soldier, and maybe that's for the best, because the state Skywarp and you apear to be, for a second made Thundercracker actualy consider that his joke was actualy right

When Skywarp morphs back to his root form, he is full of wheel marks, paint scratches off in crevices, his turbins slowly cool as a smug smile in plastered in his plate, there's a satisfying hum of his engines signaling a healthy use of pent up energy that had been finaly dismissed

You were no better, messy clothes, face scratched and burning hot, ruffled fur and a dumb smile in your face, for a second, Thundercracker actualy though you two had... "Where were you two?"

"Around" Skywarp comments moving inside the base while you push your bike in too

"Doing what?" He looks at you both again a suspicious look in his optics

"Playing" you both answer togheter and snicker, and that's the creepiest scrap he has seen in a millenia, because a happy Skywarp is one thing, but a happy Skywarp AND a happy human? That's something not even his nightmares could conjure

.........................

You give a satisfied sigh as you ender med bay, today was really fun, you would have to wait after tomorrow to actualy take a bath, but fuck it was worth it, the wind around you, the adrenaline rushing through your veins, the absurd stunts you pulled with a fucking jet

And also a reaffirmation too, you thinki... recently you were counting the friendly decepticons, Rumble and Frenzy were... friendly, but you know, can feel it in their optics, that it's more for their own amusement than yourself being you, Receptor was only doing his job, Megatron literally kidnapped you and is constantly on guard expecting results always, and then there was Thundercracker, the only one you can say that is as curious as you but for humanity

And now, there was Skywarp, he didn't liked you per say, but at least he didn't hated you as you feared, he just preferred to keep himself entertained above everything else, and now you could provide a bit of fun for him too, so a bonus and a point to you in plan staying alive

As you decide to change your clothes, you finally feel a prick in your skin. Turning around, you notice that there is a boombox in the alt-mode check-in... there is a boombox in the al-mode check-in oh fuck

"Oh..." You stop and cough "hello... how... may I help you?"

The blue boombox has the decepticon logo plastered right in the middle of it's caccette player, it is missing a button and then you hear static coming out of his speakers

"Got it" you are still hopping not to freak out because he is a human sized boombox, maybe he can change sizes just like his caccettes, but also, it's Soundwave on the medical wing and if you fuck up there is no-one to help you escape Megatron but worse of all his caccettes wrath

Carefully, you pick him up, heavier than what his model suggests, and puts him in a makeshift table you set up using cardboard boxes you smuggles out of the military base you work in

Looking around you noticed that unlike his companions Soundwave alt-mode looks like he could be easily taken apart and put back, you are not sure if it's because he was born like this or his diguise allows it to be possible "I'll need to open you up..."

He doesn't respond, and you wait just a bit more to be sure, then you grab a screw, he still doesn't respond "You good?"

Finally, a static sound, you jump a bit on instinct, then nods "alright, I'll take that as a yes"

Unscrewing the sides you carefully get his front open, revealing familiar wires and motherboard, you unplug the speakers and caccette player off, separating them completely

You check for a blow fusil, but it looks good, from twisted wired and maybe melted components. Everything was in order, except for the part that emits the sounds, the two small squares had melted off and being welded in wrongly, someone had tried to fix him, but by the looks of it had done a poor job

"Bip once if you can't transform, twice if you can"

You wait, and wait, the atmosphere is a bit tense, you assume he is thinking if he should tell you the truth or not of the situation, by his silence you suspect he can't, but suspecting and being sure are two whole opposite spectrums that you can't mess up in, so you wait

He tries to speak once, and doesn't try again, you nod, and goes for the solder you also smuggled out of the military "hope this won't hurt but I need to get these things off then"

With the silence as your answer, you start your work, in less than a hour you had fully removed the two mended parts and imediatly you see Soundwave de-transforms, he sits behind you, engine on maximum, the rumbling of it the only indication of perhaps a small panic attack, you turn the pieces over your hands, they are from a brand you know, wich means whoever messed with him probably took off the old ones, the ones that could actualy expand with him, great

You wait his fans cool down, and the giant bot finaly looks at you instead of the ground, his voice ever so firm and unwavering "Assistance: apreciated, report"

"Thank fuck you have two voice modes" you mumble letting a sigh leave your lips "unless you can stay with these for maybe two months stuck on boombox mode, you wont be able to play any sound from that, or speak apparently"

He nods, and stays put, you swing from side to side for a bit, then decide it's best to tide things up a bit, slowly the silence of the med bay becomes bearable, and then you hear a tap

Followed by another, then other, a tune, one you recognize... he has been watching you, that's what this tells, he knows where you are and what you do, visually and vocaly, and revelation hits you, if Starscream is commander of the fliers, seekers, the air force, and Megatron the tyrant, Soundwave is the shadow, the spy master, the information gatherer

Why would he need a small mode? Espionage on the locals, why would he be able to carry minicons? A Trojans horse situation, why didn't you noticed him approaching the other night when you are constantly on high alert here? Experience in being percieved

You now understand his reluctance in telling you a weakness, he was vulnerable, and valuable, however he has to put himself as vulnerable to pass on the lie of his disguise, how many times has he had to bluff to cover a critical condition you wonder... you continue your work, huming along to the tap of his tune

If it was anyone else, you would think this was a bonding moment, a small start to a connection, but as the spy master engines calm more and more to an almost stop, as he taps and plays with the tune, as he keeps looking beyond the walls, you understand... this is his trust

You have acquired Soundwaves approval as a doctor

[drygutsandhollowbones]

RUBY: and then ironwood was like “im gon be a big ol asshole and make u guys wanted criminals because i have issues and i think everyones out to get meeeeee!!!!!!"

RUBY: and now were hiding from the law :p 

RUBY: grimms been getting freakier too, theyve been getting more humanoid, more freaky eaky

RUBY: they still have no match for my silver eyes and my super quick speeds!!!

RUBY: so yeah thats basically what happened…

SUN: geez louise…

SUN: nothings better in vacuo

NEPTUNE: In fact, it’s worse. 

NEPTUNE: The weather’s been rougher, and several camps have been destroyed over the past week.

NEPTUNE: Me and Sun spent all day having to pull people out of the rubble and take them to the center of the city.

NEPTUNE: And it’s getting so crowded, so cramped, I don’t know if we can keep on redirecting everyone from there to here.

VELVET: Not much is left of… us too.

VELVET: You were talking about Grimm, right Rubes?

VELVET: We aren’t dealing with Grimm.

VELVET: Or at least, your understanding of Grimm.

WEISS: Are they anything like those scientifically altered ones? Are there any more weird scientists in Remnant? One is enough...

VELVET: Not altered.

VELVET: They’re all natural.

VELVET: I think that’s the worst part.

VELVET: Like they were always meant to look like this, with no impute from humans.

VELVET: Maybe our understanding of what Grimm are is flawed.

VELVET: They aren’t all animalistic monsters.

VELVET: The one's that're naturally occurring...

VELVET: They’re just like us.

VELVET: In almost every way.

VELVET: I saw one once.

VELVET: Me, Sun, and Neptune were doing another of our missions.

VELVET: We were out there for days, trying to get everyone on trucks sending them straight to the heart of Vacuo. Just praying >praying< that this would be better than keeping us all separated.

VELVET: I began to wonder…

VELVET: About the fact these camps were getting destroyed. Left and right. Day by day.

VELVET: We would get alerts every hour. 

VELVET: We were never able to save all of them. We only had time for one evacuation.

VELVET: A lot of the vacuans we save, though, keep on muttering something about some creature.

VELVET: It seemed like just like any other tall tale.

VELVET: But I guess I should have known by now how that would go.

VELVET: And later that night, I saw her.

VELVET: It was all real,

VELVET: If I wasn't scared out of my mind I could've touched her.

VELVET: Maybe I could've talked to her.

VELVET: She was just…

VELVET: Covered in blood.

VELVET: None of it seemed to be from her.

VELVET: Couldn’t even make out her face.

VELVET: She was there, and then the next second, she was gone.

VELVET: Yet I started seeing her… more.

VELVET: It’s like she’s watching me.

VELVET: Maybe not out of malice. If she wanted me dead, she would’ve done it already.

VELVET: It’s been almost a year since I first saw her, and since then? Vacuo has gone to shit.

VELVET: A year since we lost Coco…

VELVET: The important thing is that if you find anything suspicious in Atlas, you report it to me.

VELVET: It would mean the world if any of you helped me.

VELVET: Even the smallest pieces of evidence would mean a lot.

WEISS: I will do it.

VELVET: Do what?

WEISS: I will look around Atlas to see if these ‘demons’ are a problem here too.

WEISS: I will report to you as soon as possible, Velvet.

VELVET: Thank you.

VELVET: Thank you so much, Weiss...

VELVET: You’re awesome.

WEISS: Well I… hahahahaha…

WEISS: hahahahahahaahahhaha

PENNY: ???

WEISS: Anyways Velvet, you have my word <3

VELVET: :)

VELVET: thanks, Weiss

VELVET: :)

WEISS: :)

SUN: sorry guys but me and um nep. have some important businesses to attend to so um

SUN: logging off.

VELVET: Oh um.

VELVET: I guess I'll be logging off too

VELVET: I don't have anything else important to say.

VELVET: See you later Weiss.

VELVET: <3

VELVET: Oh, and you guys too I guess.

>RUBY: HOP OFF CALL

PENNY: [ಠ_ಠ]

PENNY: What just happened

>RUBY: DISCUSS WITH YOUR "TEAM", PPRW, ABOUT THE DEMONS

[LAST | NEXT]

[alwayssmilingvenison]

“Let’s go to the park tomorrow, I believe I spotted ducks there. We can make them treats before we go.” Alastor responded. He was digging himself a hole...but he couldn’t help it. He yearned for his love for so long, they missed out on so many tender and loving moments...and Alastor’s life the past two decades was nothing but work and being a single father. A single father. Another reason to want more time. He had to let the other know about Charlie, at least that she’s around!

Yet he didn’t.

Over the remainder of the week, they went out every day. Every day Alastor had a chance to bring her up, but didn’t. He’d approach the subject then pause. He knew well that a child with an absent partner was a hard pill to swallow and Michael’s words had made it clear that was still an issue today, not something that should have stayed in the past. Disgusting the things mortals decided to keep around.

He even stopped wearing his ring as he noticed the ugly looks they were getting and remembered how much it meant to him when Lucifer stopped wearing Lilith’s ring. Sure, Alastor’s was to Lucifer, but this Lucifer didn’t know that. The queen assured himself it was only temporary and that soon Lucifer will be slipping it back onto his finger!

His days fell into a hectic routine. Wake up, have breakfast with Charlie, hand her off to a servant, work for a bit, go on a date with Lucifer, put together his apartment on Earth, have dinner with Charlie, talk with Lucifer usually until the other passed out, and work more until he passed out at his desk. The whole time assuring himself this would all be worth it in the end.

The princess noticed that he wasn’t leaving the palace as much, he was doing mostly paperwork and talking on a phone to someone, lovingly. She didn’t have her memories back, but as far back as she can remember, her papa made sure to show her pictures of her daddy, tell her stories, and told a few weird people (suitors) that he would never move on so they were wasting their breath. She thought it was so romantic that even with her daddy not around, her papa loved him deeply and worked so hard for him!

So him talking to someone on the phone didn’t sit right with her, neither did him spending less time with her. He’d work alllll day then get a phone call and disappear for the night. She knew he was busy, but it hurt!

She caught him cooking dinner on Saturday in their kitchen and tried to join him and he did let her, though she could tell his attention wasn’t on her, his mind elsewhere. She tried to ask him who they were making the yummy food for only for him to say it was for a side project he was working on. She asked if she could help and he said no so she stormed off. She hated this! She missed her papa! The one who dropped everything if she asked, who included her in his plans, who made her feel like she was the most loved person in the world—she hated whoever was taking him away!

Alastor eventually came looking for her to tell her goodnight and that Bee would be over soon to watch her before he noticed the time and swore. He opened a portal and before he could notice, Charlie rushed into the portal with him. Charlie glared up at him with tears in her eyes before noticing the change in setting and her curiosity won, looking around in wonder.

“Charlie, dear, you can’t be here…” Alastor spoke calmly, setting down the dishes he brought on the kitchen table. “Let’s get you hom—”

“No! I’m staying!” Charlie argued, stomping her little hooves. “Papa’s been mean and ignoring me to go...wherever here is?!” She accused and Alastor did flinch, his ears lowering.

“I… I’m sorry, Charlie, that you feel like that, but this is important. I—”

“You don’t love me or daddy anymore…?” She asked heartbroken, tearing up. “Is that why you took off your ring? Is that why you don’t go to the hotel or rings anymore? Is that why you’re busy and not talking ‘bout him…? You found someone else here…?”

Whoever said children were blunt and could cut you to your core was understating their effects as Alastor suddenly felt like scum. He knew his reasons, but even knowing them he felt disgusting. “No! ...No… Charlie…” He knelt down and hugged her. “I love you and your daddy more than anything… I’m horrified hearing I made you doubt that… I have been chasing your daddy…”

“D-daddy’s alive…?” She asked in shock and Alastor nodded.

“He is, but he doesn’t remember anything, so I’m trying to help him remember. Problem is, he doesn’t remember Hell or us being married, so I have to come here, take off our ring, and play dress up.”

“Dress up?” She asked and he nodded, activating his glamour. “Whoa~” She said in amazement.

Alastor smiled at the reaction and was about to coax her into returning home when she suddenly looked to the door, a knock following a few seconds after. He stiffened, feeling dread. Lucifer was here, there wasn’t enough time to talk to Charlie and recharge the crystal to send her back. His mouth went dry before gulping and smiling to Charlie. “Would...you like to help me…?” He was never so unsure in his life, but he was backed into a corner. He took her hands and made a glamour for her before standing.

Every step to the door felt like hours, but it was only a few seconds. He opened the door with a sleepy smile. “Welcome, I apologize, but I have a plus one as well…” He stepped aside to let them in, having to clench his fists to not attack Michael as the angel noticed Charlie and smirked.

He was confident he won.

“Hey, hey, no need to apologize or defend him. It wasn’t a problem at all.” Alastor assured him warmly, though his eye twitched hearing how the angel took care of Lucifer. So Heaven knew for a while then and never told them anything?! That pissed him off more than anything. Sure, he knew it was because Lucifer was a powerful being and this is their chance to get him back, but aren’t they supposed to be virtuistic? What’s more virtuistic then letting a grieving widow know his husband is alive or was reborn?! ‘Then again when have they not been massive hypocrites?’ He thought bitterly.

Alastor mostly tuned out realizing Lucifer was talking about Michael, until he heard the other say he missed him. He smiled lovingly despite not seeing the other, closing his eyes to envision him here. “Not at all. I miss you too…” He never wanted to part from his lover for so long ever again. “I wish you were here now.” He added before opening his eyes and facing reality. “But we’ll see each other this weekend.” He had so much work to do before then. “Not to mention we can see each other between then.” Fuck, he just possibly doubled his work, but he found it hard to regret or take back the offer.

[lovecolibri]

Okay, I haven't been on Tumblr yet and thoughts may change throughout the day but here is where I stand at the moment.

I do not thing the show *as a whole* is baiting us, because the story is not finished yet, and you don't bring something like that up in-universe to make the audience think about it if there's no follow thorough. I DO think they are trying to tease it like a classic m/f slowburn but without consideration to the fact that it IS different for mlm pairs, ESPECIALLY 8 seasons in. If this was season 2 or 3 it would be a different story. If we'd had sometime even this season a "classic slowburn" trope of an almost kiss or something like that, even that might be enough to pull the kind of press stunt they did. But we are kinda in uncharted waters here, with characters/actors with so much chemistry AND the willingness to follow through on it, and a show/network/showrunner that seem to be on board, or at the very least not actively hostile. This changes the game a bit! And unfortunately the old marketing techniques are not gonna fly in the case without SOME KIND of immediate payoff, because mlm ships have been burned so many times before.

All that said, I DO think, for this episode specifically, the hard Buddie push and Buddie press before an episode where they did not even have a one-on-one scene talking together and barely spoke, WAS ship baiting people into watching what they knew was going to be a lackluster finale that was not giving anyone anything to look forward to. (Except maybe Chim becoming captain, what is anyone else even set up for next season???)

The Abbott Elementary cast can come make arguments about characters just being friends (while knowing they were getting together) to tease and rile up the audience because those shows and those m/f ships ALWAYS get the follow through, AND most viewers won't see one random article, and so will just follow the clearly laid path playing out on the show. For mlm/wlw ships, that kind of talking point plays directly into some harmful stereotypes, and fans are often looking for ANY scraps so the articles are much more likely to be seen.

IDK man. I think there is a reason they kept the writer under wraps (which should fucking tell them something about allowing that writer to continue on rhe show), and I think they hoped dropping a lot this week would be enough to carry everyone through hiatus, but if the show itself is not delivering ON SCREEN what is happening with these characters, no amout of press is going to get people to tune in. Why bother when you can catch any important character moment in an insta post or two, and read an article about the stuff happening with characters that never gets shown?

ANYWAY. I'd say disappointed but not surprised, but I AM actually surprised that the set up for a perfect 9-1-1 wacky save and triumph over death storyline was right fucking there, and they chose NOT to capitalize on it. They literally could have put a couple seconds at the end of the episode of Bobby in a lab and no one would have shut up all summer about it. I just...HOW do you utterly fail on THAT scale?

[dufferpuffer]

Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody didn't comment on Tonks' relationship with Remus.

Isn't that interesting…? Moody is paranoid, vigilant and focused on safety. Being an Auror is dangerous work. The war is dangerous. It is his job to train Tonks to keep her alive. He is highly pragmatic about all this.

When he has something to say - he says it. When he feels negatively about something - he complains. When he see's a distraction - he puts an end to it. He is blunt to the point of being abrasive.

Tonks and Remus were not secretive. At least they failed at being subtle Adults had been weighing in on their developing romance for probably well over a year (by the end of HBP) Tonks' patronus changed. Tonks and Remus did missions together, likely by Moody's own hand.

But Moody never comments on them as a couple. Why? Because he doesn't think it is important…? I don't think so.

'Not being important' isn't going to stop him from grumbling. He is a grumpy old man. Telling Tonks to focus... Telling Remus to grow up... Muttering about fools distracting themselves from more important things...

Also - it IS important. It was affecting how they functioned. Perhaps they worked well together - kept eachother alive... But Remus started avoiding Tonks; taking suicidal missions. Tonks was being emotionally affected by it.

“You’re compromised. That’s a liability. You’re off active duty until you sort yourselves out.” - that's the sort of response you'd expect from Moody, right? Either work it out or give up on the relationship until after the war. IF they survive it.

So he MUST approve of it. Moody not outright saying positive things is more in character than holding his tongue. It is also insinuated that all Remus' peers (aside from Snape) approve, which would include Alastor.

But… Moody must really approve, to not say anything! There is a lot of reasons why he wouldn't approve - even while trusting Remus as a good man, Tonks as a capable woman and thinking their personalities mesh well.

There is a war on. Unnecessary messy emotions are a liability. They are not stable. They aren't working things out easily. The ongoing drama is a talking point for everyone - distracting. Tonks is still gaining experience. She should be focusing. Remus is a target for multiple sides of the conflict. Werewolves, the ministry, the Death Eaters… he isn't the safest man to be with.

"Save it for after the war." Would be the 'smartest' move. But Moody isn't being smart about it. His silence, I think, is sentimental. He is a romantic at heart.

Why else would he, Mad-Eye, ignore safety so blatantly? They are vulnerable but he allows it without so much as a grumble.

Perhaps it has to do with Alice and Frank, Molly and Arthur - couples that are undoubtedly stronger together. Perhaps it has to do with the fact he has seemingly spent his life alone. Certainly his later life - not trusting anyone to get close. Maybe he can't bear the thought of telling them to separate when either of them could die any day. Has he experienced regret like that? In himself or colleagues?

Going a step further - Nobody else comments on what Moody feels, either. Nobody says "Moody doesn't agree… but he rarely does" Nobody says "Even Moody thinks you two are good. He might not say it, but we all know how rare his silence is."

It's like they are sensitive about it, too. They don't want to poke the old badger where he's tender.

(I realise the doylist answer is probably that if anyone said anything unsupportive of their relationship, Remus would stick to them like a limpet - especially someone as respectable and sensible as Alastor. But this is more fun B^) )

[ihopesocomicask]

Got reminded of some things recently and just wanted to say: thank you for not making Vicious’s tearing up at her daughter leaving some kind of redemption for her. I can’t think of many people I know who wouldn’t use it as evidence that she “really loved Hope all along” or something.

It can be more complicated (love can be a motivator behind abuse, in some fucked up ways- arguably Vicious did care about Hope solely as the role of a daughter, if that makes sense) but I’m glad you stuck to your guns about how her upset wasn’t motivated by actual care. I didn’t even realise it was something I wanted explored until I saw you talk about it because (in my experience at least) it’s such an overlooked detail.

Thank you so much! We just always hated how clearly abusive parents get redemption arcs in any media. There's nuance, but when that's all there is, you end up with people who think forgiveness is the not just the only option but the correct option. All that is is manipulative towards children to forgive their bio parents no matter what they do to them (which is authoritative might I add). It was important to us that we show that no one is obligated to forgive their abusive parents. It should be a choice not influenced by outside sources telling you you should.

Hope is a forgiving person, but one can only be so forgiving.

We weren't even worried about it being a spoiler. We wanted to make it absolutely clear that Vicious is not going to be forgiven and she's never going to see her children again. And if people got the wrong impression and assumed that we were going to give her a redemption arc, we would need to change something. Because it wouldn't stand if we had a significant amount of people defending Vicious' abuse. Thankfully that hasn't been the case. People could recognize that she was crying because she lost control of the situation (and her daughter). Perhaps other feelings are there, but they ultimately don't matter.

But we also didn't want to be coy about her fate either. We have a definitive plan for her to not be killed by her abuser Jasper. We still think people will be satisfied with her fate in the end. - Cat

[dootznbootz]

Odysseus canonically has a prize implied to be a female bed slave in the Iliad hope that helps

Okay, so first off: Hi. Spring is here and it's very nice outside. Flowers are beginning to bloom and the birds are back so that's lovely. So there's that

And I've literally been over this in a couple of posts, granted with my own headcanons (which of course mean nothing in this argument) added to them but I still add the evidence from the texts that defends my perspective.

But In short, implication is not confirmation.

When does it say she's in bed with him? Homer purposely mentions how Patroclus and Achilles are snuggled up with ladies of their own in Book 9 of the Iliad, after all. When does Homer say this for Odysseus? As Homer even says the names of the women who are with Patroclus and Achilles: A woman by the name of Diomede is laying beside Achilles and Iphis is laying beside Patroclus.

And that's another thing: what's this Bed Slave's name? Menelaus' slave, who is the mother of Megapenthes, is either Pieris or Tereis. Agamemnon's is Chryseis. Telamonian Ajax's is named Tecmessa. When did Homer mention Odysseus' concubine's name? Why is she never mentioned again?

That's not even to mention the Athenian playwrights not mentioning this concubine despite many of them hating Odysseus. Even in the plays where Odysseus is more villainous and/or more of an antagonist, there is no mention of concubine. This supposedly canon concubine would be a PERFECT tragedy for a play where you want to show Odysseus' horrible nature. It's almost as though she doesn't, most likely, exist.

Also, since you're talking about the only possible instance of this "canon" concubine, in which it's Agamemnon talking about wanting something (Note: Not someone) of equal value, I've got at least 3 English translations of the one possible mention at the ready just for you.

Hope this helps.

IDK which translation you're reading, but as someone who's read multiple versions...Some just say "Prize", and with the "it" and "something". I...didn't really see it as a woman and/or specifically a concubine.

Let Achaeans give me another prize, equal in value, something I’ll enjoy. If not, then I’ll take a prize myself by force, something from you or Ajax or Odysseus.

(Book 1, Johnston)

Let the Achaeans find me a prize in fair exchange to my liking, or I will come and take your own, or that of Ajax or of Ulysses; and he to whomsoever I may come shall rue my coming.

(Book 1, Butler)

But if they do not give me such a gift, then I will seize your own prize or Ajax’s or Odysseus’ and carry it away, angering whomever I visit.

(Book 1, Heumann)

So to ME, I take "Prize" of "something of equal value" and/or just a slave.

Also, not all bride prizes were enslaved with sexual intentions. Hecuba is a perfect example.

Odysseus most likely took Hecuba as his slave because of her status. Odysseus is, time and time again, shown to care more for wealth and "shiny things" than he is for beautiful women (why I believe he just wasn't one to HAVE sex slaves, alongside the fact that he has no listed concubines canonically. Again, Anon, please show me where Homer mentions her name.). During the funeral games in the Iliad for Patroclus, Odysseus is usually always eyeing up the luxurious items during his competitions. He's genuinely not shown in canon to really EVER be driven by sex (until it's Penelope of course).

Taking pretty women as slaves adds to status, but taking the woman who was once queen? Big status thing. Hecuba was old and needed help walking but her rank was important; he was absolutely not having sex with Hecuba.

Btw, me standing firmly on this stance doesn't mean that Odysseus not having a canonical concubine makes him a "better person" compared to the other Achaeans. He still had slaves. Even if he doesn't have sex with them, he's still partaking in SLAVERY. And he's still a horrible person because of that. None of that "it was of the time", owning another human being has always been and always will be fucking wrong.

I'm also not saying that others CANNOT interpret Odysseus having concubines. While it is horrific and wrong, it was the cultural norm after all even though no concubine is named.

If you're here from the tags of that post I recently reblogged, all I was saying was how I didn't really like how folks did that. That's simply an opinion. Btw, my opinion shouldn't matter to you. I am literally a stranger on the internet. I'm sorry if I've ruffled your feathers but there is this very nice option of just scrolling past and NOT going into my inbox out of pettiness.

To finish this all off, forgive me for my blunt language throughout this answer but frankly, I'm not even truly upset about your interpretation even though I disagree with it. I'm mostly pissed by your arrogant and "holier-than-thou" AF tone.

You didn't come into my askbox to try and correct/teach me, to try and "help me". You didn't even come in with evidence to even "teach me" with or to support your interpretation. And your "Hope this helps" does not give a friendly and/or kind vibe to have a discussion and/or give me the possibility to learn more about the subject. You are being derogatory, you know this. Even if I didn't have evidence to back up my interpretation, or if I haven't read 3 different translations of the Iliad to try, you are being rude. Period.

You sent this ask to be petty and you come off as a pompous type of person which is NOT an energy that is meaningful to discussions of literature/history.

Regardless, get off your high horse and do better. I may complain and whine and have opinions but I keep that shit in my own personal posts and tag correctly (as best I can) and I NEVER send rude anons and/or bother people on their own posts/blogs/fan works/etc. In a way, I'm thankful that you sent this to me and not someone just joining the fandom and/or who's more timid than I.

(Also forgive me everyone for not putting this under a "read more" but this post is shorter than most of my other ones and I want to make sure Anon sees the end of this because, Again: DO. BETTER. And even if they don't see this, I hope others get the message.)

[dhruvkumaar]

Does reading nonfiction help fiction writers?

It’s the question that’s been worrying me for some time. I mean, we all know reading other author’s fiction helps you a lot in writing your own story. But, if you write fiction, does reading nonfiction help too?

I recently began university around a year ago. And firstly, I just checked my grades and I’m not doing well. Secondly, I’ve been reading a lot because of it. Y’know, those political science, history, philosophy, cultural studies stuff. A lot of nonfiction. And, because of that, I’ve been reading less and less of fiction too.

Now, as an author myself, that kinda worried me. I’m not worried anymore because the semester’s over and I’m back to reading fiction again, lol, but it led to a question: they say writers should read a lot. They never mentioned what they should read. So, does all this random nonfiction that I’m reading counts? Or it doesn't? Why does it not count?

And so, guys, welcome to another one of my yapping sessions.

***

#01. Elements of Theme and Style

First, let me reiterate the main elements of storytelling here. Because, obviously, nonfiction can't help you with every part of storytelling, but still, there’s some stuff I feel it can actually help you more than fiction ever does.

Anyway, these are the main elements: theme, plotline, character, setting, and style. That’s it. That’s all. That’s everything your story is made up of.

Now, plotline, character, and setting are obviously unique to fiction. Actually, if you study nonfiction and style a little deeper, you’d understand that everything in language is plotline and character, but let’s not get into all those details, because it means we’re severely disrupting the sense of what these words conventionally mean to us right now.

So, what’s left with us are theme and style. Now, you might ask: what’s theme and style?

Theme is the underlying foundation of your story. It’s the issues your story is trying to tackle, or even the message it’s conveying. Honesty is the best policy, betrayal, good wins against evil, racial injustice—all that stuff. For example, Metamorphosis is absurdist, and stands on the themes of alienation, family dynamics, and stuff like that. Mainly alienation, though. Kafka is trying to give out a message too: you’re just as good as you’re earning and providing something to somebody. All relationships—at least in Gregor Samsa’s case—are transactional. Once you can't give that anymore, you turn into an insect.

Damn, that’s such a good reading of the novel, I realized. I’m so damn smart—y’know, I just thought of it! Lol, sorry.

Let’s come to the other element: style. It’s the way you write. As simple as that. Style includes your vocabulary, tone, but also some common habits, such as how detailed your scene-descriptions are. Style is basically how you tell the story. How you design those words on paper, y’know.

For example, look at this blog itself. I use the word lol a lot. Also, I use a lot of commas, em-dashes, colons, and a lot of unnecessary phrases in the middle. I joke around, but I still sound a little informative. That’s my style.

Every writer pens the same story differently, and that’s what makes it their own. After all, Shakespeare never wrote his own plotlines. Romeo and Juilet was inspired by earlier Italian tales, Hamlet is a retelling of the legend of Amleth—and I can see a lot more on Google right now, but I won’t list them all here because that’d be boring. But yeah, Shakespeare never came up with a story of his own.

Yet, he’s often regarded as the greatest author of the English language.

Why do you think people love him so much? His plotlines? No. It’s his style. His poetic grasp on the plays left his audiences baffled. His words were strong enough to hold people’s attention—and make them feel emotions. Simply through words.

Yeah, he was white. And he probably never existed. But let’s ignore all that, lol. Lemme make my point.

What I’m trying to say is: style is important for your story. Damn, I wrote a hundred-plus words just to explain this?!

***

#02. Nonfiction is storytelling

Most of nonfiction is storytelling too, in a way. You’d often find that in essays and articles, the authors often tell a little story connected to the message they’re giving. But even if there’s no apparent story as we know it, there’re still characters and a plotline—of events, of ideas, or simply of contexts.

I told you I won’t go deeper, but I think I need to. Look at this blog. There’s no story, except when I told you I’m failing university. (which is true, by the way—my GPA is three. three-point-zero. and im NOT happy…)

Anyway, look at this blog. It has characters. Both theme and style are characters of the sentence. All sentences need characters. In fact, in the last sentence, the word sentence acted as a character too, with the verb need being, well, the action that the character sentence does. Yeah, language is a lot complex than we initially think it is.

Anyway, we don't give a damn about that characters. As fiction authors, we talk about a living being when we talk of characters. And nonfiction might not have that all the time, but most nonfiction does.

Nonfiction is a form of storytelling—it just tells a different story. And in a different manner. So, the style is gonna be different, and, let’s say, less novel-like. But there are stories.

Language itself is storytelling. Like I said, all sentences need characters—the subject—and actions—the verb. And when a character acts, that’s plotline. Without it, there’s no language. There’s no thought, even.

Yeah, even political ideologies are characters. Every object is a character. Lol, everything is character.

Now I kinda sound like a mad scientist who’s going on a random monologue before the climax hits.

***

#03. Climax: The part where I console myself for reading less

So yeah, nonfiction has theme. And style. It shares both the elements with fiction.

Also, these elements appear the same in both forms. Like I told you about how the character changes with form, theme and style apparently doesn't.

In a nonfiction, look at how they use their words. Nonfiction evokes emotions too—notice how they do that. Notice how they appear interesting and keep you hooked. Observe their style.

Also, observe how they subtly try to tell you something—that’s theme. Understand theme. Understand characters and plotline, because even though the story is being told to you in a different manner that doesn't include action and thoughts, it’s still there. You might need this skill a little bit in fiction, too.

Prose is prose, guys. If somebody has written it, there’s definitely something you can learn from it—even if it’s bad enough to learn what not to do.

***

Conclusion

Stories are all around us these days, man. Everybody online is hyper-fixated on storytelling and how to use it to gain social-media traction, sell something, or simply just, y’know, entertain you. The corporate world has accepted it so much for a reason. Hate those corporate guys, though—I don't know why. I just hate a corporate lifestyle, but that’s just me, I guess.Anyway, just learn to notice the stories around you—in the events, newspapers, reels, YT videos, ads, essays, or anything else that you consume. And see how they make it work—or how they fail at it. That latter one helps too!

[vicedmuses]

there was something about mike that was alluring. brett wanted to show him all sides of him. it seemed like even when he did, the man didn't care. he didn't run away screaming when he saw his pearly white teeth. his fangs. did this man have some sort of death wish? did he normally attract danger at this magnitude? if the vampire was any different, he would have lectured him on how to be better, on how to take care of himself more. maybe on how to not fall into a trap. then he would've lectured him that if a monster was after him, making out definitely wasn't the right thing to do. he would've if he were good. he wasn't though and all of this just made him want mike some more. “do i look like the type of person who gives a damn about being selfish or not?” he shook his head slowly. “no no, my pleasure is the only one that matters.” he wasn't going to admit to the amount of time. he couldn't. that would have been giving up too much power and he was already used to having more power in a dynamic than this conversation. “i do think you're pretty. i thought that part was obvious when my tongue was down your throat, but i guess not?” sarcasm laced his words as his tongue darted out to lick his own lips. almost like showing him what he was getting moments before. “i know you think i'm hot. it's okay. you don't have to be scared about what you're feeling right now.”

technically, he didn't even know what he was feeling in that moment. there was a sense of pride that filled him up when mike said that he didn't want another man. he only wanted him. the vampire didn't do emotions, at least he didn't think he did. not as a human, not as a vampire, not as anything. that just wasn't something that was on his radar or important for him to think about. now though? he would never admit to rethinking that whole thing, but he was feeling an attraction for the man. one that went beyond adrenaline or hormones. even if he drank from him, he wanted to still see him and be around him. almost like he felt a little bit more energized with … whatever mike was … around. did he think that he was going to make him a better man? probably not. brett didn't even let his nagging brother get the best of him and change his ways. so he highly doubted that this would change him for the better. still, when he was with mike, he didn't necessarily feel like going out and committing a crime.

"i would like to interject here to say that while we weren't exactly planning this moments before, he didn't pull away. hell, i think he was ready to let me fuck him right here and now if you didn't walk in on us. so can you be a dear and just leave?" his brother's commentary mixing in with mike's explanation wasn't helping anyone. if anything, it made rhett even more confused. how did they end up going from chasing each other down to ripping each other's clothes off? the werewolf did have to chuckle though. at least it wasn't like his brother was the angel in this story. “he is an asshole, yeah. everyone knows it, but most people don't jump into the sack with him because he's such a dick.” since it almost sounded like the other was using that as an excuse for being turned on by him. the vampire just flashed another smile at him. “have you no survival skills? they always say you should humanize yourself to your hunters so they won't want to kill you.” the werewolf wasn't really surprised his brother was acting that way. what he was surprised about was why mike seemed to like it. “so you're both horny, but only one of you is a sadist while the other is a masochist?” he just wanted to make sure that he had all of the details correct.

at the mention of all three of them leaving together, both of the brothers glared at each other. neither of them had a problem with making a long trip. for brett, he could probably cut most of that time down and do it multiple times. for rhett, his legs were strong enough that he probably wouldn't have gotten tired. the detective was the first one to reply. “you're going to keep on getting yourself into trouble, so i might as well tag along no matter who else is there.” he took off his zipped up hoodie to hand it over to the other. at some point, it seemed like somebody had tried to rip mike's clothing. brett seemed to have a smug look on his face when he realized why he was trying to cover him up. “darling, i am the trouble you keep running into yet i can't seem to get you away from me.” although, if he was preoccupied with the other man, that meant he was going to have less time to hunt another meal. someone he didn't care about killing. so both brothers walked out of the shack and waited to place their arms around mike. the vampire around his waist and the werewolf around his shoulders. the clear distinction between hot and cold was apparent from both of them. hopefully mike didn't get sick. then, the detective continued the conversation. “so, mike, what were you doing before brett here found you?”

Maybe it was fitting that he’d fallen for Brett. No one in his family really had normal relationships. Maybe it was in their blood—to crave the wrong people, to mess things up before they even had a chance to go right. Mike made bad choices like it was second nature, but that was a whole other rabbit hole he wasn’t about to fall down. Not yet. Still, it was getting harder to pretend. Harder to hide how his body reacted, how his voice softened without permission, how his guard cracked whenever Brett looked at him like that. The kind of look that could be manipulative—or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Brett was just that intense. That honest. Hell, he seemed more honest lately. Sure, trust and protection sounded nice—but in Rosewood, that didn’t mean much. Anyone from there could’ve told you that. And still, Mike was going against every instinct to run. To shut down. Instead, he leaned in.

“Oh yeah? Some would say that’s selfish,” he teased, his voice low, playful. “Shouldn’t it be their pleasure is your pleasure?” And then he saw it—just a flash, but enough to confirm his earlier suspicion. The teeth. Not fully human. Not exactly a vampire either, but close enough to set off every alarm in his head. He should be afraid. But he wasn’t. Quietly, like the moment didn’t need words, Mike cupped Brett’s face. His thumb traced his cheek, slow and tender. It wasn’t fear. It was something else. Acceptance. Maybe even curiosity. Maybe more than that. “Oh? So you were being a creep?” he laughed softly. “Do I even wanna know how long? Days? Hours? Weeks?” He groaned, burying his face for a second. “God...” The blush bloomed before he could stop it. No one had ever said something like that to him. Not like that. And the thing was—he could tell Brett wasn’t just saying it to get in his pants. He could’ve lied. Spun some pretty line. But he didn’t. “The feeling’s... very mutual,” Mike murmured, leaning in to give him a quick, meaningful kiss. He pulled back just enough to smirk. “So you admit I’m pretty.” His voice dropped into a softer register. “Well, a very handsome, very charming man is doing the same to me. So... guess that makes two of us.”

Mike playfully rolled his eyes at Brett’s response, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t know why he’d expected anything different—Brett always had a way of answering that walked the line between honesty and charm. And damn if it wasn’t working. Not that it had to. Mike was already in too deep. “Good to know I’m in good hands,” he said, voice dropping into something low and teasing—seductive, even. Two could play this game. For a split second, Mike considered telling Brett the truth—that he’d never done this before. Not like this. That he was ready to give himself completely. No walls. No lies. Just trust. “Please... I don’t want another man,” he whispered, the words heavy with truth, edged with something raw and real. But fate had other plans. Just as the moment was moving along, they were interrupted.

This had to be the most embarrassing moment of his entire life. And somehow, every word that came out of Mike’s mouth just made it worse. His explanation was a disaster. The guy probably thought he was either easy—or straight-up mentally unwell. Which, okay, maybe he had a few issues, but this wasn’t about that. Brett wasn’t helping, of course. Not that Mike expected him to. If anything, Brett probably didn't care they’d gotten caught. “No! It’s not like that!” Mike blurted out, waving his hands like that would magically fix everything. “He was attacking me—at first! But he stopped when all that chaos broke out. Something was about to hit him, and it was the only safe spot, okay?” He winced. Yeah, this wasn’t sounding any better. “I ended up on top of him, we weren’t exactly planning it,” Mike continued, digging his grave deeper. “And yeah, I got to know him a little better in the process. Murder-y tendencies aside, he’s not all bad. Still kind of an asshole, but... that’s part of the charm, I guess?”

He shot Brett a sharp glare. “May I remind you that you were literally trying to kill me? We didn’t exactly have time for pleasantries. And you made no effort to learn my name, either, Brett.” His tone had bite, but the roll of his eyes carried more sass than venom. Then Rhett stepped in scolding Brett and Mike had to bite back a laugh. He wasn’t surprised Brett didn’t listen, but what did surprise him was the warmth of Rhett’s jacket being draped around his shoulders. He hadn’t even realized he was cold until that moment. The difference between the two guys was... stark. Night and day. One tried to kill him, the other was wrapping him up like something worth protecting. “Likewise, Rhett,” Mike said, his voice softer now. “I... I lost control, too. Brett’s not completely to blame. And I’m sorry you had to witness all that. I’m not usually like that.” He didn’t know why it mattered so much—what Rhett thought of him—but it did. A lot. Maybe too much.

Mike caught himself before reaching out to touch Rhett, not sure where the urge was coming from. It was the same strange pull he felt with Brett. Maybe it had something to do with whatever flew at them or that damn book .“That would be nice, yeah,” he nodded, responding to Rhett’s offer. “As long as I’m not running. Breaks would be good—it’s a bit of a distance. But... thank you.” For a second, he got lost in the warmth of the moment—until Brett grabbed his arm, yanking him back into the chaos. Mike turned, arching an eyebrow at him. “Of course. Even though, you did try to kill me,” he teased. Now he was stuck between the two of them—literally and emotionally He liked both of them. And he wasn’t sure why. Rhett was gentler, kinder. Easier to talk to. Brett? He was chaos and fire and danger... but not just that. “Do you guys mind if we all go together?” Mike asked, glancing between them. “Something still feels off. Whatever happened earlier, I don’t know if it was something that from the bottles or whatever the book was. Either way, it’s probably not smart to be left alone. Or leave Brett alone either, for that matter.”

[timetobeaghost]

Just wondering if people who keep insulting jews for supposedly being Zionists have any clue what they are talking about? I mean I' doubt it...

So, Zionism is the idea that Jews move back to Israel and build a state there. To finally be safe btw. Now if that is a smart idea or not is no longer a problem we need to discuss, as it already happened. Israel was founded 75 years ago, generations have been born there. Right now Zionism means supporting the continued existence of Israel.

So this right up there is something you would hold against a person? And if you truthfully answer yes, do you think there is any justification for that, other than you wholeheartedly agree with a genocide of Jews and think even Jews should agree or have it coming?... You have thought through what the Fall of Israel means and for how many million people?

[ruvviks]

HIIIIIIII BONES what faction(s) does tiberius join? and which companions is he closest with? :]

HIII EZRA THANK YOU SO MUCH :] this got insanely long because i have. so much to say about this game it's unreal i'm very sorry in advance. but hope you enjoy ^_^

so in my canon of fallout 4, there's a couple of things different from the game because i personally don't think of tiberius as a leader in any sort of way, mainly because he's like. 23 years old. that's a literal baby. he was only born yesterday fresh out of the freezer

so!! that means that the minutemen are already very much established in the commonwealth again when he emerges from the vault, and there's a lot of sprawling settlements to be found in places where you'd otherwise have to build them yourself in game; so sanctuary isn't abandoned at all, and tiberius returns to his sister's home with a special surprise waiting for him (every other house in the neighborhood is now home to a bunch of strangers centuries into the future! welcome home boy!)

that said, tiberius DOES end up sort of joining the minutemen?? but not officially. he meets preston in sanctuary who helps him get settled in in this new and strange world and in return to show his gratitude tiberius helps out wherever and whenever he can, but considering the path of revenge he's about to go on he doesn't really consider himself good enough of a person to like. fully be part of it if that makes sense?? especially since the minutemen aim for as much peaceful resolution of things as possible, and he is not like that :(

tiberius massively dislikes diamond city, and feels a lot more at home in goodneighbor. he does some mercenary work there for a while and that's also how he ends up with the railroad, which he Does officially join :] a bunch of my other fallout ocs are also railroad agents; max, who's also general of the minutemen (don't ask how she finds the time to juggle all these different jobs she doesn't know it herself either); magnus, who's a goodneighbor guard; and nikolai, an ex-raider who now does a bunch of stealth operations for the railroad. tiberius takes his job as agent very seriously and through his new connections becomes more involved with the minutemen as well, now that he knows the two work together to give escaped synths a new and safe home and such :]

he does NOT join the brotherhood of steel. he hates them so fucking much it's unreal. to him they're literally just invading the commonwealth with the way they're terrorizing settlements and forcibly establishing their own outposts and whatnot and it causes a lot of chaos everywhere which is NOT ideal at all. max is handling most of the situation but she's clearly under a lot of pressure and it makes tiberius want to blow some shit up. which he eventually does when everything has escalated so far that there's not really another way to deal with it anymore

he only joins the institute to infiltrate them for the railroad, and he is NOT having a good time during it. he dislikes shaun (his nephew, not his son!) so fucking much but there's nothing he can do about it. i'm trying to make the institute a bit more interesting but it's still a work in progress because well the game leaves a lot to be desired on that front to me personally but either way, the whole place makes him super paranoid and he quickly realizes that it's a LOT bigger than what it's making itself out to be. the area he's allowed to be in seems just a little bit too well-organized and streamlined as if it's all pre-programmed and he constantly feels like he's being watched. which he is! because he ends up finding proof of a lot more levels that go much deeper into the ground and while a lot of them seem to be abandoned, he does end up finding evidence that there's more people holed up Somewhere. and they're watching everything that's happening in the area of the institute he's allowed to be in. it's all part of something bigger and he does NOT like that shit

lastly, tiberius ends up with the children of atom :] kind of against his will?? but also he's not really being forced to stay so it's kind of a gray area really. basically what happened is that he went to the glowing sea, ended up passing out because he went by himself like the stubborn mf he is and the children of atom take them to their crater to nurse him back to health but also give him like. some sort of special radiation cocktail of some sort which ends up making him a bit of a freak. much more resilient, much more absent as well, a bit faster than he used to be. he's basically their chosen one because i feel like out of all factions it'd make most sense for the children of atom to be weirdly obsessed with him like he's a perfectly preserved human from before the war. that IS kinda fascinating

either way tiberius doesn't really mind being part of them all that much because it puts him in like a negotiator position if that makes sense?? the other factions all have their other touching points where he isn't all that needed to create connections and stuff but having this extra connection with the children of atom who are mostly feared by the rest of the commonwealth helps a LOT with keeping peace and all that, so it's beneficial for all parties involved because it also means that tiberius can just freely enter any of their outposts and he can rely on them if he needs them for anything :] the children of atom are a lot more willing to assist him with something that may be a bit shady than the minutemen or railroad would basically so it's a good backup to have LMAO

as for companions, tiberius is closest with preston 100% :] when he emerged from the vault, preston was the first person who talked to him and didn't treat him as a possible threat, and he helped him get settled in which tiberius will always be grateful for because he was so so scared. and preston made everything a little bit easier. he's very caring and patient and matches tiberius' funnyman energy surprisingly well when they're joking around, which would all remind tiberius a lot of his sister stella. preston Would in fact be like a brother to him :]

he enjoys hanging out with piper and nick, but only sparingly so since those two just love to investigate stuff and a lot of their time hanging out ends up turning into business of some sort and tiberius does NOT have the detective's spirit! he likes being clueless. he does not always need to know everything. he does like tagging along but sometimes he just wants to SIT and have a beer or something

which, naturally so, makes hancock better company for him. tiberius did a couple of gigs for him personally (and got to know him much more intimately during a wild night with both him and magnus but we don't talk about that) and he likes to stop by goodneighbor regularly for a drink and to talk about shit that's been going on lately. since magnus and hancock are together, magnus is there a lot as well but tiberius sees him a lot more regularly at the railroad too :]

that being said, the railroad is definitely tiberius' main hub for hanging out with people he loves the gang SO much. his best friends there would be nikolai, glory (she's alive yes obviously), deacon, and tinker tom :] and also max but tiberius sees her a LOT more at the castle since that's by the end of the in-game events also a place he can be found at a lot. he doesn't take a lot of minutemen jobs but he does help out on location with whatever they need, plus the castle is a huge and busy marketplace which would be super fun to visit (especially at night) so he just likes hanging out there in general! that's also where he hangs out with cait and roxy (max' wife) whenever he gets the opportunity

tiberius' relationship with x6-88 is. strained. on a surface level he likes the guy, but his loyalty to the institute definitely gets in the way of their friendship a lot at first. i haven't entirely figured out yet how to like, get x6-88 on tiberius' side in a satisfying way that doesn't feel out of character for him?? but that's basically what i'm aiming for, because the two DO spend a lot of time together away from the institute itself which would give tiberius a lot of opportunities to show x6 what the commonwealth is really like. and what the institute's reputation is and all that. and with x6 getting attached to tiberius during all of that he WILL be forced to pick a side at the end of it all. and i personally don't think he would side against tiberius after spending all that time building up an actual friendship for the first time in his life

surprisingly enough, tiberius and maccready did NOT!!! get along well at first AT ALL. when tiberius was taking gigs in goodneighbor he was unbeknownst to him stealing away a lot of mac's clientele so naturally mac has very one-sided beef with him. especially because both of them are like. babies. i can't remember maccready's exact age but that's a baby. and tiberius is one too. and they're both competitive and kinda stupid so when they first "officially" meet there's this insane tension between the two of them and every conversation they have is just a pissing contest. they've been kicked out of goodneighbor together on at least one occasion because of their near screaming competitions

(at some point after the battle of bunker hill and tiberius has temporarily broken ties with the institute because shaun's attitude pissed him the fuck off he goes to goodneighbor with his friends and after a drink or two too many he agrees to a bet maccready makes with him about killing elder maxson. tiberius succeeds by knocking out a brotherhood pilot and pretending to be the pilot instead, sort of successfully flying a vertibird up to the prydwen, somehow knocking out a guy in full power armor to then steal said guy's power armor, killing elder maxson (who by then has committed enough war crimes including but not limited to laughing max in the face when she tried to talk to him about a possible collaboration in hopes to keep the peace in the commonwealth) with a pipe pistol, and then jumping down(!!!!!!!!!) in the power armor to make his escape by walking over the bottom of the ocean on the shoreline in the power armor. he brought the guy's coat and dogtags with him as proof. maccready was turned on and angry about it)

but after traveling together for a while, tiberius and maccready learn they have a lot more in common than they initially thought and they grow closer over time :] i adjusted mac's story as well by making lucy his older sister rather than his wife (HE'S A BABY. HE DOESN'T NEED A WIFE AND A CHILD IN THIS ECONOMY) and duncan his nephew, so it's still a direct parallel to tiberius' story except lucy is still alive but missing, whereas stella is in fact very much dead. at first it makes tiberius feel frustrated and upset in a very selfish way, but it helps him with like, allowing himself to grieve for the first time since he exited the vault which by then is a LONG time ago, and then it also helps him with moving on from it rather than staying stuck in the past. helping mac with curing duncan and finding lucy helps the both of them and after all that they end up getting together :]

SO YEAH. very bumpy road for tiberius all in all and he makes connections in a bunch of different places, but he's always just a gear in the machine rather than the one operating the machine if that makes sense :] he feels a lot more at ease when he can actually make a difference at his own pace rather than having everyone look up to him constantly, the closest he got to that was when he was the one to infiltrate the institute and he has NEVER been that stressed before in his life. he makes it out alive and relatively unharmed but good lord. he's never doing that shit ever again