#but when they get in a hole they’re afraid to shoot the 3

[the-physicality]

All things considered I’m ok with this

Set your hopes low and your expectations lower amirite

My hot take of the night is the mercs need to draw more fouls specifically shooting fouls

And they need to really commit to the shot clock violation defense bc it is so good when they execute it

[sixhours]

bright spots - chapter 7

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | In progress

Rating: Teen Words: 2k Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel & Ellie, Joel Miller, Ellie Williams, Marlene, canon divergence, hospital AU, medical stuff, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, canon-typical violence, vomiting, implied rape/sexual assault, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Joel

A week of tests and blood draws passes, and then they’re escorted to a wing on the next floor up. The door to the suite reads Imaging & Diagnostics and Joel recognizes the tube-shaped contraption in the next room as an MRI machine.

“Whoa…it’s like a fuckin’ spaceship,” Ellie gasps, immediately reaching out to touch the machine, poking her head inside.

Marlene chuckles. “Kind of. It’s going to take pictures of you. Hopefully.”

 Joel narrows his eyes. “Hopefully?”

“Well…you can imagine what it took for us to get this thing working after twenty years of gathering dust…corrosion…and finding someone with the right skills to refurbish it. And it’s hell on the power supply when it’s running.”

“So what, I just…lay down?” Ellie says, hopping up on the narrow bed.

“Yep. We’ll set you up there, and the tech will give you instructions. You’ll be able to hear them through a speaker inside. We’ll be keeping an eye on everything from there,” she says, pointing to the little room with the glass window. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

“Afraid? Why would I be afraid? This is so fuckin’ cool.”

Hours later–when she’s been forced to lay still on the hard bed for what seems like forever, when they have to restart the machine multiple times, when it shorts out something in the power grid and the hospital goes dark while a Firefly runs to the basement to reset the whole system–Ellie is less enamored with the spaceship machine.

They trudge back to their room, Joel’s back protesting the hours spent in the same uncomfortable chair in the observation room, Ellie fidgety and restless from her enforced confinement.

They hadn’t gotten a single usable scan.

“Still wanna save the world?” he asks, tongue in cheek.

She scowls, then shrugs. “Better than the hole.”

“‘The hole?’”

“It was a FEDRA school thing. You get in trouble, you go to the hole.”

He shoots her a look and she sighs.

“They had this room that was basically an old closet, no windows. You had to sleep sitting up. At least in the MRI thing, I can see. And there’s enough room to lie down.”

Solitary confinement for children, Joel thinks, a pit forming in his stomach.

“You get put in there often?”

She side-eyes him and smirks. “What do you think?”

He can’t find it in himself to return her smile.

“Wouldn’t have been so bad but…there was no one to talk to. The guards were like here, they’d get in trouble if they even looked at you. So it was just me and an empty room for days. Went pretty fucking crazy after a while.”

“How long?”

They’re back in their room, and Ellie hops onto her bed, feet dangling off the edge, kicking the sides with the backs of her heels.

She shrugs. “Depends on how pissed off the CO was. My longest stretch was seven days.”

Seven days. Seven days of isolation for a fucking kid. Joel thinks he’s going to be sick.

He clears his throat, tries to lighten his tone. “Well, maybe we can, uh, make it a little easier next time. We’ll bring one of those comics you like and I can read to you while you’re in there.”

She brightens. “Oh? That’d be cool.”

“Sure, kid.”

The next day, when the MRI is working again, Ellie hands him one of the books from the bin at the nurse’s station before they’re escorted upstairs.

“‘Little Women?’ Really?” Joel wrinkles his nose. “Didn’t think this’d be your kinda thing.”

“It’s not, but the comics won’t make sense unless I can see the pictures while you’re reading. And one of the girls in this is kinda cool. For, like, a kid who lived in ancient times.”

“The Civil War wasn’t ‘ancient times.’”

“I guess you’d know,” she sighs. “Having lived through it and all.”

“Jesus. I wasn’t alive durin’ the Civil War, kid.”

She grins, eyes flashing. “Second World War, then?”

He feigns a scowl. “See if I read to you, you little twerp.”

But he does, of course.

Joel reads about the adventures of the March sisters over the tinny speakers. He can see why Ellie identifies with Jo. The machine does its job and time passes. Soon Joel sees the first scans appear on the screens in his peripheral vision–outlines of her head and torso in dark blue marked with large swaths of white.

The tech remains stoic as each layer of the scan is captured. She says nothing, but he doesn’t need to be a doctor to know that what they’re looking at isn’t normal. The sight takes his breath, leaves him trailing off mid-sentence to stare.

Tendrils sprout from a large cluster at the base of Ellie’s neck, winding tangled fingers deep into her brain and down her spine. Little offshoots like the branches of a tree thread their way throughout her body in a fusion of human tissue and fungal growth, until it’s difficult to tease apart where one ends and the other begins.

Until now, he’d thought of her immunity as something intangible, an invisible formula that ran in her blood, but this is something else. He thinks of inoperable brain tumors and cancers, things equated with sickness, with death. But here she is–talking his ear off and kicking his ass at Boggle and careening down the hall in an office chair.

A walking fuckin’ miracle.

Still in the machine, Ellie blinks and fidgets, looking up toward the speakers where his voice should be.

“Hold still,” the tech snaps over the intercom, startling him from his reverie.

“Sorry, kiddo. Uh…where was I…”

Mouth suddenly dry, he clears his throat and starts reading again.

When the scans are done and they’re walking back to their room, she’s talking a mile a minute, probably something about the book, but he’s distracted, unable to get the image of those tendrils out of his mind.

“Joel?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, uh–”

“You’re not listening.”

“Sorry…I’m, uh…just tired.”

“Did they tell you anything? When they were looking at the…y’know. The scans?”

“No.”

“Did you get to see my brain?” she asks.

He swallows hard. “Dunno what I saw, kid.”

He can’t shake the fear that’s taken root in his heart as solidly as the fungus in her brain. She’s precious to him; he knows that now, has known for much longer than he’d willingly admit. But something about seeing the visual proof of her immunity–physical evidence that her life is irreversibly entwined with the fungus that demolished his world–makes him feel like he’s that much closer to losing her.

“What, am I some kinda monster?” she jokes, arching an eyebrow.

“No, Ellie,” he says quickly, seriously, his tone taking some of the levity from her eyes. “You’re not a monster.”

You’re a miracle, he thinks. But in his experience, miracles are too easily taken away.

Ellie

“So if you’re taking my blood all the time…does that make you a vampire?”

Nurse Cooke huffs and doesn’t answer. Apparently, she’s just as enamored with her jokes as Joel was at first.

Ellie will wear her down.

“Nurse Cooke–that’s kinda like two jobs, one name, huh? Maybe you should have been a chef. Then you’d be Chef Cooke–”

The nurse withdraws the needle more roughly than she needs to and Ellie bites her lip to stop from crying out at the sting, hissing a soft fucker under her breath instead. The last thing she needs is Joel getting all pissed off in her defense. Again.

His grumbled Is this really necessary? is already a constant refrain, to the point where Ellie has to cut him off with a glare every time they come at her with another needle. Usually that’s enough to shut him up, but he’s been acting really fucking weird ever since the MRI thing. Sometimes she catches him looking at her with this sad, faraway stare, like she might disappear into thin air. And he’s always asking if she’s feeling okay, which is dumb, because he’s the one who’s still recovering from a concussion.

When the draw is done, Nurse Bitchy McBitchface leaves and Ellie goes to the window, hopping up to the window seat.

They also take biopsies now, tiny cores of her flesh to be studied under microscopes, something about examining the progression of the mycelium scarring under her skin. Her arm looks badass after, covered in black marker, like a tattoo in code.

“Hey Joel, do you think I should get a tattoo?”

She examines the latest biopsy markings. If she squints, she can almost make out a pattern in the marks, like a cool constellation of stars.

“A what?”

“Y’know, a tattoo,” she says. “Ink. Maybe like…a dragon? Ooh! No, a whole solar system all up this arm, and then maybe a–”

“Jesus, kid, you’re fifteen.”

“So?”

“So you’re way too young to be permanently colorin’ all over yourself like that.”

“They’re already sticking me with needles all the time. Can’t be any worse than that.”

His face twists into an expression she can’t place like he’s tasted something bad.

“Do you have any tattoos?” she prompts.

“No.”

“You should get one,” she tries. “I could draw you something really fucking cool, like a heart with thorns and a dagger through it, dripping blood–”

“Not gonna happen,” he says.

“Dude, c’mon! Or you could get, like, a cowboy boot with spurs and a hat and–”

“I ain’t a cowboy.”

She narrows her eyes. “But…you said you were from Texas.”

“Not everyone from Texas is a cowboy, kid. I was born in Austin. That’s a city. Or…was a city, I guess.”

“But you read those dumb westerns! You ride horses and shit.”

He sighs, but he’s smiling a little, the way he does when he’s trying not to laugh. “So do you. That make you a cowgirl?”

“What about a guitar?” she tries. “You like guitars.”

“I ain’t gettin’ a guitar tattooed on my ass.”

“Dude, gross. Why the fuck would you put it on your ass?”

“Well, the only way I’m gettin’ this theoretical tattoo of yours is if it goes where no one's gonna see it.”

“Ugh, you’re a dick, you know that?”

“Yep.”

She turns back to the window, puts her chin on her knees. From this vantage point, all she can see is concrete and overgrowth, the rooftops of the building next door, a portion of the street.

“Joel? Do you miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“Being…out there.”

He snorts. “Don’t miss the starvin’.”

“Well, duh,” she rolls her eyes. “That’s not what I mean.”

He turns, and there’s that stupid look again. Worry etched in every one of his old-man creases. His voice softens.

“What’re you askin’ me, kiddo?”

“Nevermind,” she mutters. “It’s nothing.”

She’s not sure how to say it…that everything has changed.

The outside was hard, but the rules were simple. They had routines and plans and an understanding, and even if the circumstances were unforgiving, they shared a common goal: Stay alive.

Here, Joel is different. He’s still a broody asshole but he��worries more. Not that he didn’t before, but now it’s a different kind of worry. The kind that makes him drawn, darkens his face until she has to tell a shitty pun to bring him out of it. A sad kind of worry that scares her more than she’d like to admit. 

He’s supposed to be the strong one.

But she can’t say any of that, because he’ll take it the wrong way. He’ll tell her they should go back to Jackson. He’s already mapped out their exit and keeps his bag packed. He doesn’t understand.

How can she turn away now?

She sighs and stares out the window. She misses the simplicity of long days where they’d walk until her feet felt like they’d fall off, misses the spray of rainwater on her face and the cozy heat of a campfire. She misses the stars, how every night in the wilderness was spent under a black canopy of pinpricks.

Everything in the hospital is flat, sterile, unchanging.

Safe.

Boring.

Really fucking boring.

[astaroth1357]

How Often They Worry about MC…

For those who don’t know, I have a little dog named Charlie and she is a large portion of my world. There's no need to be alarmed, my dog is fine, but there are days where I hold her and all I can think about is how much I worry about her health down the line… I suppose we often do that for the people we love, particularly the ones who may not last as long as we will. Take that as inspiration if you'd like.

Lucifer 

Near constantly. 

If you tracked his blood pressure on a grid, you'd see it start to continuously rise about when he decided they were worth having in his life.

Lucifer is the eldest sibling to a whole crew of brothers so he's no stranger to worry. He worried about his brothers when they were young, he worried about them after the Fall, and he still worries about them now (even if he's less open about it).

But a part of him knows that his brothers can handle their own, at least to varying degrees. The MC, though? He's far less sure…

They've proven rather resilient, but also headstrong and reckless. Neither of which are good things to be in a place this dangerous...

If Lucifer isn't careful, he can catch himself staring at a wall or window just wondering where they are and if they're doing alright… If he called them every time he had a passing worry, their inbox would be full by the end each week.

He holds himself back because he doesn't have the time to constantly protect them, but that doesn't stop him from sending a text once or twice a day. They better respond or he'll start (secretly) panicking.

Mammon

He forgets their mortality from time to time, but every time he remembers it hits like a ton of bricks…

Mammon is a pretty "in-the-moment" person. He doesn't spend a lot of time dwelling on the future, but whenever he does the thought of losing MC always comes back to him again and again.

Like. It's gotta happen eventually, right? They're human, humans die, hell they don't even live that long to start with!

The MC can always tell when Mammon's getting worried because he'll get uncharacteristically quiet and pace around or hover by them…

Every little injury or strenuous task will suddenly seem like too much to him as well. 

If they need to carry some boxes, he'll carry them all.

If they have to jog to class, he's carrying them. 

If they so much as get a papercut, he'll have a heart attack.

It's not very hard to get Mammon out of these funks - he really does want them to reassure him that they're okay - but he's never going to get fully over it…

Not until he can steal whatever top secret immortality formula Solomon must have used anyway… He'll get it off that bastard eventually.

Leviathan

Thinks about it so often he has to actively try not to just to get any peace…

He dodges his fears for MC like a protagonist dodges lasting consequences. Every time he feels one creeping up, he's always got a distraction waiting…

"Hey where's MC at? I hope they didn't fall into the riv-OH HEY CHECK OUT THIS NEW GAME!!"

"What are they doing over there…? That looks hard, what if they bre-WAIT DIDN'T MY FAVORITE VOICE ACTOR JUST RELEASE A NEW PODCAST???"

"What if the MC dies tomorrow and they leave me all alo-DEVIL FIGHT 200! YOU CAN'T BEAT DEVIL FIGHT 200, LET’S BREAK MY HIGH SCORE!!"

Cut him some slack, his psyche cannot handle the idea of losing them on top of everything else he grapples with every day.

If, on the rare occasion, he does let himself fall down that rabbit hole he becomes extra clingy and practically begs MC not to leave his room… like ever. He'd bubble wrap them if he could.

Anytime they get really hurt or really sick he refuses to leave their side even if it means he has to awkwardly sit on the floor. He just needs to be able to glance at them every so often to be sure they're alive… Still breathing?? Phew…

Satan

He worries, preps, rationalizes, then worries again…

For Satan, knowledge is power and every scrap of information he can learn about MC is more power he can use to keep them safe and healthy.

Yes, he will want their medical history. Yes, he's going to need a list of prescriptions. Family members too. And no, you do not get a choice.

He'll read up on as many things as he can - pawn medical journals off of witches and get magical alternatives from Solomon.

The cycle usually goes: 

1. He's lying awake at night because he just heard about some terrible bacteria that makes human's skin peel off or something.

2. He does all the research he can on this bacteria, its treatment options, best prevention methods, etc.

3. Gets right about to break out the rubber booties for MC to wear around, then realizes they have a very slim chance of catching said bacteria since it's only native to incredibly remote parts of Indonesia.

4. Feels instant relief that MC will probably not catch flesh-eating bacteria and can finally sleep again…

5. Hears of some other human medical horror from Solomon and starts to worry…

It's a vicious cycle indeed… But at least he's getting a lot of medical training. Soon enough he'll be the Devildom's version of a human vet (which I guess is just a doctor, come to think of it. 🤔)

Asmodeus 

Lives so "here-and-now" that he doesn't remember often, but when he does it's always heartbreaking…

Asmo usually tries to worry about things as little as possible. It’s bad for the skin, you know? But when the MC is involved, all of that goes out the window.

Like how a delicate blossom eventually wilts in the snow, the MC is bound to leave them in time… Usually there's supposed to be something beautiful in that kind of tragedy, but perhaps he's just too close to them to find any romance in it.

The thought of their death gives him breakouts and anytime they get hurt or sick he's the first brother to offer them comfort. Every time.

Because he doesn't feel like he's as physically strong as he brothers, he tries to make up for it by minding their health in other ways. Anything to keep his MC strong and beautiful as always!

If Asmo is in a worrying mood, then he may also compensate by trying to take the MC out to a party or some fun event. Why sit around worrying by himself when he could be making memories with them now, right?

Beelzebub

It comes in waves, mostly at night.

When your thoughts throughout the day are mostly, "I wish I wasn't so hungry," it doesn't afford you a lot of time to think about much else.

In a way, it's a good thing since he experiences a lot less stress. But those worries are still there and they mostly plague his dreams…

Beel doesn’t feel hungry when he's sleeping, so a lot of his fears will make themselves known overnight. An injured or dying MC is often in his rotation of nightmares though, of course, he'd rather it not be…

After having one of these dreams, his first instinct is to always make sure the MC is okay. If they're with him, he'll hug them and check their heartbeat. If they're somewhere else, he'll go to them or shoot a text.

He has woken up without realizing his nightmare was all a dream though, and usually it's up to Belphie or MC themselves to console him while he cries… It's so heartbreaking, sweet boy just puts a lot of pressure on himself to be sure they're safe…

When he worries, it's like they're the most beautiful and expensive China set in a room full of bulls and hammers. If he could tape them to his side, he probably would. He gets scared for them that much…

Belphegor 

More scared about it than anyone else in the House.

Despite his calm demeanor, Belphie is truly afraid of losing his loved ones beneath the surface… He's already lost one of his most dear siblings before, going through that again may just break him.

Unfortunately, he's also felt just how fragile the MC is firsthand... He's not even the strongest of his brothers, yet he was able to snuff them out so easily… Who's to say someone else won't try?

Like Beel, MC's death is a recurring nightmare for him but he can usually shake off his dreams fairly well, if not change them mid-sleep. More scary is when something is actually wrong with them or they're not feeling well.

Belphie always sets his inner laziness aside for the MC when he can. If they get sick, he'll usually be right along with his family to take care of them - even if he has to skip school to do so (not that he cares about class anyway).

When he's worrying about them, he tries to play it off at first, but soon enough they'll notice him acting overly concerned and losing sleep… Best to calm him down before he starts getting cranky.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

-Spoilers for Ep 7-

But I like to imagine after Adrian uses the bomb on Chris’ dad John pulls the reader and Chris away from trying to run to him, then when the reader see’s him again they’re furious with him but help patch him up and can’t stay mad at him for too long

There's no wrong time to rock

Adrian Chase x reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: SPOILERS for Episode 7 of Peacemaker

A/N: I couldn't help but write something a bit longer, because I absolutely loved this idea. I hope you like it, my love, and thanks for sending me this<3

PART 2

You are the only one

Living in my fantasy

in my dreams

come on

come on

come on

You sang with joy, next to Adrian. You were heading to a destination from which you probably would not return, but the sight of the young man dancing was enough for you to enjoy the moment.

You smiled broadly as your gaze met his behind that red line on his mask until suddenly a heavy blow to the side of the vehicle made you fall.

"What the fuck was that?" Economos asked after the car fell on its side and skidded against the road.

"You are okay?" Vigilante asked, holding your waist to help you up, to which you nodded gently.

The metal of the car rattled outside and you went on alert, unconsciously placing your hand on one of the knives on your belt.

A hand opened a crack and then ripped off much of the ceiling, revealing a figure clad in red and white.

"Dad?"

“Oh, fuck”

"What are you doing?"

"What I should've done long ago" the man uttered, pointing with both hands to shoot. Adrian grabbed you around the waist again and threw you out of the way of the man, in the same direction Chris had thrown himself.

When White Dragon approached you with the intention of shooting you tried to aim your weapon at him, but Vigilante was faster and started attacking him from behind.

"We have to go. Come on, get up,” Economos told you, as you and Peacemaker climbed out through the hole left by Auggie Smith's shot.

As soon as you were outside, you turned to look for your partner, whom you saw from the other side of the car, shooting violently at the man. You also saw him extract a grenade from his belt and from that everything seemed to go in slow motion

"There's no wrong time to rock!"

"Vig!" yelled you and Peacemaker in unison, realizing what was about to happen, and you tried to run in that direction, but John stopped you by holding your arms.

And then, an explosion.

“We have to go, we have to go”

"No, no, no!" you screamed desperately, but John took it upon himself to drag you into the woods, ignoring your attempts to run to find Adrian.

With your heart almost out of your chest, you started running to escape from those madmen, wishing with all your heart that the boy was still alive.

"Shit," you whispered, looking in all directions to try to find Chris and John. You had lost it after the stupid plan of the raccoon and now you were afraid to find one of those White Hoods, so you were trying to be as careful as possible.

In the distance you saw a road and parked on one side was a red car. You hid behind a tree to try to figure out if that car belonged to the enemies, but you were surprised to see a figure in the driver's seat that seemed to be asleep.

Was it…?

"Oh, my God!" you said out loud, running to the car. It was him, he was there "Adrian!" you yelled, hitting the glass of the door hard. He was breathing, and a few seconds after insistently knocking he raised his head "Open the door!" you desperately asked. He seemed stunned, but he still managed to unlock it so you could get in.

“Y/N?” he asked quietly. He seemed exhausted, he was injured and some of his clothes had been burned.

But at least he was alive.

"Are you a fucking asshole or something?!" you yelled at him Suddenly, seeing him, you knew you were furious with him “How the hell did you think to do that?! You're so stupid!" you continued You checked his body with your eyes for any bleeding wounds, but it seemed like it was just some burns. His suit had protected him enough "Only you think about exploding a grenade practically on your feet!" you said out loud, as you climbed onto his lap and heard him groan at the pain this had caused him "And now you're hurt!" you exclaimed, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. Without warning you grabbed him by the cheeks and slammed your lips against his, bumping lightly into his glasses. "Do you have any idea how much you scared us, you bastard?" you screamed again. Tears were already dripping from your eyes, and without waiting for an answer you took the glasses off his face to kiss him again, but this time it was an appropriate kiss.

Your hands continued on the side of his face and you pressed your body closer against him, kissing him deeply. He tensed at first, but then you felt him respond to your touch and took the opportunity to entangle your fingers in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. You broke contact for a moment to gasp for air, but as soon as you got it you gently kissed him again once, twice, and three times, until you were forced to pull away a little more to look at him. He had swollen lips, dilated pupils, and a little blood on his face.

"I don't understand," he muttered, frowning slightly. He stretched out his hands with difficulty and put his glasses back on “First you yelled at me, then you kissed me, you yelled at me again, you kissed me and now you're crying. These are very confusing signals."

"Chase, you're a fucking jerk," you hissed. For some reason, you were still upset with him, but you didn't have time to argue anymore because you caught a glimpse of two people running in your direction "Move to the passenger seat, I'll drive" you ordered and he obeyed.

You'll take care of him later.

“Dude, they saw us. Peacemaker and I are wanted. What other choice do we have besides killing this veterinarian, this nurse, and this male nurse?”

"What the hell are you doing, Vigilante?" you asked furiously, walking into the room. Thank goodness Harcourt and Adebayo had already arrived, but now Adrian was pointing his gun at the three nice people who had helped you with Eagly. "Put that down and come here."

"But…"

"But nothing!" you exclaimed "Put that down and come here so I can heal your wounds, NOW" you continued, pointing a finger at him. He paused to think about it for a second, continuing to aim at them until he finally clicked his tongue and lowered the gun as he walked out of the room. Everyone looked at you in astonishment, for not even Economos had been able to persuade him of his idea of ​​killing them, but you did not stay to enjoy their surprise but went directly to follow the man.

"You're so boring," he said. He had sat on one of the tables where they attended to the animals, there was a pout on his lips and you could almost swear that he would start kicking "And if they catch us it will be your fault"

“Can you please shut up? No one is going to catch us and if they do it won't give a damn because the world is going to end anyway” you scolded him. You opened the first aid kit that you had taken from the place and took out material to heal the wound on his face, while you felt his attentive gaze on you "What's wrong?" you asked after a few minutes.

"You're still upset," he muttered. He surprised you that he had come to that conclusion because you knew he wasn't the best at reading sentiments "I know from your eyebrows"

"Yes, I'm still upset with you"

“But I saved our lives”

"No, you put your life at risk," you said seriously. You had already cleaned and protected his wound. He looked at you from behind his glasses, not understanding what you meant.

"And why does it bother you?"

“Because I care about you, Adrian!” you exclaimed, almost throwing the piece of cotton you had in your hand and then you closed your eyes with a bit of desperation "I care about you a lot and I'm worried that something will happen to you"

You were silent for a few seconds, while he kept looking at you as if you were something indecipherable.

"Is that why you kissed me?"

Now you looked at him, one second, and noticing the seriousness on his face it was inevitable to start laughing like crazy. You were laughing out loud and this only made him more confused.

"And now why are you laughing?"

“Adrian, you really are a fool” you smiled. You couldn't be mad at him for long, you never could.

"I'm not complaining, I really liked it" he added, afraid that he had given the wrong idea "It was sexy to hear you yelling at me while I had you on my lap and you kissed me like that" he confessed and that only made you laugh a little more, adding blush on your cheeks "We should repeat it someday... if you want" he finished, a little more confident and flirtatious now that he knew you liked him that way.

“Is that what matters to you? Are you going to ignore that I was yelling at you for almost killing yourself?”

"Honestly, if you kiss me like that, you can't expect me to think about anything other than that," he smiled.

“Hey, lovebirds” you were interrupted from the doorway. It was John “We have to discuss what the hell we're going to do. Come on,” he said simply and then he left you again.

You looked at Adrian and smiled at him, a little kindlier than your previous dealings, receiving the same from him.

"We're going to die, right?"

"Yes, it may be so," you answered, afraid that your words might come true. The boy got up quickly and before you said anything he approached you to catch your lips in a kiss that managed to extract a sigh from you that almost became a moan. When you parted, he had a smile on his face.

"I wanted to kiss you again before I died" he explained with a shrug, as he walked to the exit without looking back.

If you didn't die with those damn butterflies, that man would end up killing you.

[concernedlily]

cousins wip 7

pt 1

pt 2

pt 3

pt 4

pt 5

pt 6

The next time he’s at the tower, it’s for inspection by the other families that look to the Theerapanyakuls, and there’s no room for pining; if they think he’s not up to scratch he’s dead.

Maybe not at the meeting. Maybe not even this month, or next month. But eventually, when it suits them, he’ll be dead.

“I’m not going to let them do anything to you,” Kinn says quietly; or maybe just at normal volume, but he’s standing so fucking far away from Porsche, practically plastered to the opposite wall of the anteroom they’re preparing in, he might as well be in space. “I killed two of them for crossing me the last time we met. They’re afraid of me. They won’t touch you.”

“That doesn’t help,” Porsche says and twitches the fall of his jacket over his hips again, although it’s already perfect. He’s in charcoal grey today, a nod to the minor family’s mourning, a linen mix to add a more casual touch compared to Kinn in the grey ombre he’d worn when he kidnapped Porsche from the bar and started all this, a dusty rose shirt underneath that Tankhun had pulled out of his own wardrobe and bullied him into when Porsche had shown up in a black one. “We’re not mourning that much,” Tankhun had sniffed, and the pink looks good on Porsche, fey and dangerous, so he’d agreed.

Kinn had given him an approving nod when they met up to go over the script, but his gaze raking over Porsche had been empty, purely professional. He hasn’t tried to touch Porsche at all today, keeping to what he’d said by the pool, and that’s what Porsche thought he wanted, knows he should have initiated himself, but it’s making him crazy. Even just a fingertip brushing the back of his hand would do, would settle him back into his skin and reassure him he belongs, but Kinn is acting like a fucking stranger.

It’s absurd. He’d taken care of himself and Chay for years and years, he never wanted or needed or had anyone else to rely on, and a few weeks of romance with Kinn and he’s feeling bereft because there’s nobody to hold his hand? 

He straightens up, lifts his chin, and heads out.

The presentation goes well enough. It helps that Porsche isn’t the only new boy: Khun Charoensuk and Khun Rittirong are new too, replacing the men Kinn killed last time in representing their clans at the council of the organisations that look to the Theerapanyakuls. The other five members around the table are wary too, feeling their way around the new balance of power with such a lot of change, and it’s clear that Kinn was right. His shooting of the leaders who tried to rebel against his rule underlies every moment of the discussion, even sharpened by the main family coming out on top after Gun’s attempt at a coup.

Porsche wonders if it will get to a point between them where Porsche will be as worried as the rest about what Kinn might do. Kinn wouldn’t hurt him now, he knows that to his bones, but in a year, five, ten, things will be different. When their relationship is only a distant memory of a brief interlude of devotion and great sex, when maybe Kinn will have another lover and have convinced himself Porsche was only an infatuation, when they’ve settled into being nothing more to one another than what they are around this table - maybe then Porsche will have to be nervous of him, will have to demonstrate his loyalty over and over to feel safe. With <i>Kinn</i>, his Kinn, when all Porsche wants is to worship him on his knees.

Khun Wanchai is the first one to broach what Porsche expects they’re all thinking.

“I’m not questioning your decision, Khun Kinn,” she says carefully. “But a bodyguard from your house to lead the minor family, and one so new… is there a reason behind this choice?”

Porsche will give her this: the insinuation that Porsche got the job on his back is deniably subtle. Unlike her six colleagues, who are smirking and glancing at each other and very possibly only moments from asking for a sample themselves of the hole the Theerapanyakul heir is clearly drunk on.

“It wasn’t Kinn’s choice,” Porsche says earnestly. “Khun Korn offered me the ring. My mother is his sister.”

Kinn glares at him and Porsche smiles back. Oh, did Korn want it to stay secret that he’d faked his death? Did he want nobody to know his family took in a girl child of a family they’d annihilated and when she grew up killed her husband and abandoned her kids until dragging them back to the mafia years later? Too fucking bad.

Khun Wanchai gives Porsche a piercing look and then very obviously decides she’s not going anywhere the fuck near that. It’s the smartest decision anyone has made at this meeting, as far as Porsche can see. She folds her hands in her lap and sits back in her chair.

Khun Narong leans forward. “I’m sorry. You’re saying - you’re a Theerapanyakul? The nephew of the head of the main family?”

“A cousin of the head of the main family,” Kinn says from the head of the table, crisp and lethal. He’s clearly displeased that it makes a difference to them whether Korn elevated Porsche or whether it was his own choice. “<i>I’m</i> the head of the main family. My father is recovering from his recent illness but he was well enough to make the decision personally. As is the main family’s right.”

Everyone glances around one another and once again they all visibly opt not to ask just how shitty the Theerapanyakul doctors are to have announced Korn was dead when he was merely ill.

There’s only one more message Porsche wants to get across. “And I’m not a Theerapanyakul,” he says, makes eye contact with Kinn. “I’m a Kittisawat.”

It’s as much of a statement as he dares make. Appointed by Korn, serving at the grace of Kinn and all these assholes around the table - but he’s not Korn’s puppet, and he’s not a stopgap until he gets assassinated and someone else comes along. Everyone around this table is a dynasty? Fine, so is he, even if he’s just at the beginning.

“We’re delighted to have a cousin to take up the reins. We’ll work as closely together as when my father and my uncle were in charge,” Kinn says smoothly.Nobody points out that his father and uncle working together recently resulted in one trying to kill the other, and the other actually killing him back; mafia rule by fear has a lot going for it, Porsche thinks, when it comes to nobody talking back. 

Porsche is probably the only one who sees how much it pains him to have to claim Porsche as a cousin publicly. Kinn’s gaze meets Porsche’s down the table and Porsche has to look at his hands clasped bloodless-tight on the table in front of him. It’s cleaned to such a high shine he can see himself in it, looking strict and lost.

The five family heads look at each other, then at the two new guys, and Porsche doesn’t know any of it well enough to fully track the unsaid discussion but the endpoint seems to be that he’s in. He’s not accepted, exactly, but he’s getting a chance. 

And then they move on to business talk and Porsche finds out exactly what he’s getting a chance at. 

It’s not a surprise, not really. He’s been in the job a couple of weeks now, he’s got Gear, he’s been talked through the finances more than once by now. But there’s a difference between the practical way Gear talks about it, as a matter of matching people to do the work to the places where work needs doing, and the way the people around this table talk about it, detached and businesslike. 

The talk about the main family is contracts, PR, investments, customers, the channels to get dirty money clean onto the books. 

Porsche’s to do list is very different. Bribery, wetwork, keeping the criminal underworld in line, drugs, arms deals. Porsche would think he’s being hazed, that they’re seeing what he’ll take, but there’s no sense of that from anyone around the table, including Kinn. This is just the minor family’s role. This is what Korn handed to him like it was supposed to be a fucking reward. 

***

“You did well,” Kinn says, when everyone else has left. 

“Thanks,” Porsche says, slumping back into his chair. If things were different he thinks Kinn probably would have wanted to fuck him on this table, get Porsche naked and sweaty against the pristine polish, watch him try to claw at the surface as Kinn thrust deep inside him and end up with his hands in his own hair before he dragged Kinn down to kiss through their orgasms. 

“Porsche,” Kinn says, the soft way when he thinks Porsche is being a little bit unreasonable. Porsche looks up at him startled and his thoughts must show vividly on his face because Kinn’s expression changes in a second from businesslike to hungry, gripping his own thigh like he has to in order not to reach out. “Keep looking at me like that and I’m going to bend you over this table,” Kinn grinds out, half-remonstrating half-pleading with Porsche to give him that chance. “I thought you didn’t want me to touch you any more.” 

Porsche feels his face twist. Maybe Kinn is just predictable, but he thinks it’s more about how in tune they were, how ferociously sexually compatible and connected; Porsche knew Kinn would say that because he’s thinking about it too, the frisson of fucking where they could be found any minute, the melting release of Kinn touching him, taking him wherever he wants and however he wants and all Porsche has to do is let him. 

“It’s never been about what I want,” Porsche starts to argue, but he’s so exhausted by having this same conversation over and over again. Maybe if it felt like bleeding out the poison it would help, but the poison comes from inside him, from the complicated mix of desire and love and revulsion their situation makes him feel; there’s no letting it out and there’s no point both of them making the same identical cuts in themselves to try, shredding themselves and each other over and over again. 

He waves a hand and starts to get up. “Forget it. Is there anything else?”

Kinn gets up and goes to stand over by the window, looking out over the city. “Do we need to put anything in writing?” he says. “We’ll continue to split the profits between the main family and the minor family. Equal, like before.”

Porsche draws his finger down the table, watching his fingerprint smear the shine. “Do you really think I care about the money?”

“No,” Kinn says bitterly. “I know you don’t. But what else do I have left to offer you?”

Porsche doesn’t say anything, thinking, and out of the corner of his eye he sees the moment Kinn registers it. He turns around, looking at Porsche; not with the same hunger as before, the physical: with everything else between them, the way he’d looked at Porsche as they walked up to the helicopter, wanting Porsche to be pleased, wanting Porsche to be pleased with him.

“Name it,” he says softly.

“The minor family really does do the dirty work,” Porsche says, still staring at the table. He makes a circle, gives it eyes and a smile. 

There’s a pause, Porsche refusing to look up at Kinn and see the expression on his face. Kinn says in an emotionless voice, “Do you remember once asking me how I handle it?” 

Porsche does. Working in the bar for so long left him with a good memory when drunk. He remembers taking Kinn out to the pier, wanting attention and comfort after Mes and somehow knowing despite the difficulties between them at that point that Kinn would give him as much of both as he wanted; he remembers sharing with Kinn about how it was growing up and Kinn talking to him in turn, the first hints of the heart Kinn had opened up to him so freely in the forest; he remembers how tentatively Kinn had leaned in to him, how it had felt to respond, the gentle kisses they’d traded until dawn was creeping into the sky. 

“Do you think I had a choice?” he says, echoing Kinn then. He feels for the ring unconsciously, twisting it on his finger. It still doesn’t feel right, heavy and too solid; serious hand to hand fighters don’t wear rings. It’s easier with a gun in his hand, unlike Kinn Porsche doesn’t shoot with his left alone. 

Kinn doesn’t answer. He stalks back to the table and swipes his half-finished drink from the meeting, although more of the ice will have melted than Kinn prefers. Porsche wonders whether Kinn really believes that his telling Korn no would have been an option. He wonders whether Korn and Gun were ever close, whether Gun was worn down after years of doing the worst stuff while his brother built higher and higher towers into the sky; he wonders whether Kinn gets why Vegas might have hated him. 

“Letting you walk away now would put you at more risk than you’re in as head of the minor family,” Kinn says. He sounds anxious now, the way he had apologising to Porsche over and over when Porsche discovered the truth about his house, about how he’d been manipulated and forced into taking the job with the Theerapanyakuls. 

“I know,” Porsche says. He does; at least he knows that’s part of Kinn’s thinking, if not Korn’s. It was in this room that Kinn choked him, hurting him to save his life. He still remembers viscerally the way he’d felt as his oxygen ran out, the vivid image of Chay as he’d lost consciousness, the terror of not trusting anyone and not understanding what was happening to him even as he’d known why. 

Kinn had done it to keep him safe, he accepted that long ago. He thinks now about keeping Kinn safe, about how long he can keep it as his shining reason for dirtying his soul when he knows he’ll have to watch Kinn falling out of love with him. 

“The main family and the minor family can be closer now,” Kinn says appealingly. “Supporting each other, trading off. The way it should have been.”

“Sure,” Porsche says. He can see Kinn doesn’t even really believe it as he’s saying it. The minor family keeps the main family plausibly clean for the legitimate businesses; Kinn might be able to put on a bespoke suit and oversee a traitor getting a beating and then go straight to a PR launch, but he’s not going to be machine-gunning men down in a drug-filled warehouse. The legitimate businesses rely on having a fall guy for the more criminal side of the enterprise and that can’t change. But he appreciates Kinn trying.

He stands up. “If there’s nothing else?”

If they were still a couple Kinn would have done something to help him celebrate his victory with the other clans, Porsche thinks; taken him out and then kept him in, poured champagne into Porsche’s mouth and licked it off Porsche’s chest while he fucked him.

“No,” Kinn says. “That’s it.”

[twsthoodstar]

Twst x Pokémon Pt. 3

This is a part 3 of the last Pokémon post I did, this time with the vice dorm leaders. Sorry this is so late, I’ve been feeling under the weather recently 😓 But I’m starting to feel better now.

Request/idea received from this Anon

Babysitting their crush’s Pokémon while they’re away. However, that task has proven more difficult than expected.

Trey Clover ♣️

Trey was both delighted and nervous when you asked him to babysit Slurpuff. He had only hoped it wouldn’t be as troublesome as certain glutinous monster cat, although he had to admit he was curious. Slurpuff looked so soft and squishy! It couldn’t be that much of a handful could it?

Well needless to say, Slurpuff was actually very helpful in the kitchen. It’s unique sense of smell helped pick the best ingredients and it was more than happy to aid in assembling the treats for the Unbirthday Party, nudging Trey to taste the batter. It reminded Trey of his little siblings back home, how they’d always try and sneak a piece.

However, it all went downhill once the part started. One by one everyone’s cakes and cookies disappeared without a trace. Unaware of the pink Pokémon sneakily using Physic to float the wonderful pastries into its mouth. But it’s cover was blown when it tried to steal Riddle’s tart, and Trey had to step in before the poor little thing lost its head.

Ruggie Bucchi 🐾

Better hope Ruggie doesn’t eat your precious little bundle of wool, might be hard to hold himself back. Shi shi shi, he’s only kidding! He wouldn’t do that to you! Unfortunately, Wooloo seemed to take that very personally and rolled away! It hadn’t even been 5 minutes and Ruggie was already chasing it down!

Poor Wooloo; perhaps leaving it in a dorm full of hungry carnivores wasn’t the greatest idea. Because it zoomed all over the place, trying to flee from any large beastmen. Though I’m sure it looked hilarious seeing the vice dorm leader chasing after a living pillow. Ruggie eventually needed Jack’s help in catching the little guy, and it surprisingly took a liking to the first year!

Wooloo was all over Jack, hiding behind his legs and nuzzling into his bushy tail. Peering at Ruggie with big nervous eyes. He hadn’t planned for this, Ruggie wanted to show you just how responsible he was all on his own, that included caring for your pet. But it couldn’t be helped. Jack hadn’t planned to babysit, but it seemed he had no other choice.

Jade Leech 🐬

(I love Psyduck so much 🥰)

Now Psyduck here is a bit of a special case, so you were a bit hesitant to leave it with Jade. Now there was nothing to worry about, Jade makes sure your Psyduck is well taken care of, he’ll pamper it to perfection. He has claimed he enjoys serving others. Although it appears Psyduck is a rather sensitive creature. But that just makes things more interesting, plus it’s adorable to boot.

Constantly rubbing it’s head, it takes in its surroundings rather slowly. It barely realized you left the room and was just recently waddling around looking for you, poor dear. 😅 Well this shouldn’t be a problem; playtime with rubber duckies, drawing a bath, Jade makes sure Psyduck is in top shape until you get back! However, there was one mishap Jade wasn’t preparing for.

It takes special skill to escape Jade’s well trained eye, and Psyduck just happened to find that perfect moment. Before it knocked into Jade’s terrarium, spilling out all kinds of plants and muck onto the floor with a big bump on its head. It was an accident, but Psyduck couldn’t shake that sudden glare in the eel’s eye. Not even when Jade rubbed its bruised head affectionately.

Floyd Leech 🦈

Oh boy, Gible was not happy about you leaving. Especially leaving its care to a stranger like Floyd. It stomped around and grumbled like a fussy toddler, aggressive to anyone that came near it. While everyone was afraid of getting their hand chewed off, Floyd remained as careless and as brave as ever. So Shrimpy left this little sharkie to be his playmate? How fun!

Gible did not want to play with Floyd, it tried making that as clear as possible. Playing basketball? Deflated. Some squeaky toys? Shredded to pieces. Dancing? It chomped the radio to bits. A yummy platter? Scarfed it down, plate and all. Floyd was clearly losing his patience and started to shift into one of his outrageously random mood swings.

Talk about bad timing when you have an angry Gible pouting across the room. Floyd, now upset the Pokémon wasn’t accepting his friendship, made the mistake of trying to squeeze it. Gible bit him 😬. Chomped right down on his hand, but suprisingly Floyd was fine. It did take Azul and Jade awhile to pry it off, then to keep Floyd from biting back! Hopefully, you’ll return soon before the Lounge ends up in shambles.

Jamil Viper 🐍

Honestly Jamil thinks your Salandit is super cool. Sly and cunning with a streak of mystery, it reminds him of himself. (You smug snake 😑) It was almost the perfect pet for himself, a powerful on way that. Now I’m sure Jamil has some experience with animals, he is Kalim’s right hand man and a servant of the Asim family, the kid knows a thing or two about parades.

So it’s a cake walk babysitting Salandit, at least for the most part. Pokémon are unpredictable creatures and unknown to Twisted Wonderland, so Jamil’s in for a big surprise when Salandit starts dripping actual v e n o m. The red liquid oozes out of its mouth as it starts to burn small holes in the carpet. Of course panics because, that carpet is expensive! And why did you have such a creature in your possession!

He was not prepared for this. Apparently it was having a scuffle with Kalim’s magic carpet, the piece of matting simply wanted to play with Scarabia’s new guest, but the poisonous fire-type took it as a threat instead. Chasing each other around like wild dogs. Reacting quickly, Jamil put it outside using Snake Whisper before things escalated, but decided to give you a call.

Rook Hunt 🏹

You thought Jade was pampering, Rook is over the moon for this fairy type! What a wonderful creature, absolutely beautiful! Rook is completely captivated by the fairy-like creature, the pure pink essence of love in its true form!~ ✨ As he puts it anyways. 😅 Rook will smother Sylveon with attention!

He’ll groom it to perfection and flaunt it to the entire dorm, this of course draws some attention. No one has ever seen a creature quite like Sylveon, with its sweet voice and flowing ribbons. And you left Rook himself in charge to take care of it isn’t that wonderful! ~ ✨ This basically turned into one big photo shoot, with Rook at the center gushing over his new friend.

He even takes Sylveon out on a hunt stroll with him. Man cries when it wraps it’s ribbons around it’s wrist. Let’s just hope no rowdy students make fun of their little adventure, they’ll have a merciless arrow drawn back ready to face them. Rook won’t tolerate gossiping, no one is allowed to tarnish the beauty you and your partner share together.

Ortho Shroud 🤖

Ortho was more than happy to take care of Pikachu for you! He was the one that actually accepted in the first place. It was just so cute and round and soft and friendly, a perfect companion for our little Ortho! Plus, he was really excited to analyze it for his database. Although, in reality he took this opportunity to get Idia out of his shell and help him.

Humans and animals were already a well known subject Ortho knew plenty about, even a few beasts were a well known species. So a loveable Pokémon shouldn’t serve a problem. While Idia wasn’t all that excited about watching a living, breathing, messy pet (virtual pets were much easier) Ortho was not having it and saw this as a good experience.

Playtime was his favorite, Pikachu was just so fast and full of energy. Zipping back and forth with a Quick Attack to chase the bouncy ball, or using its tail to play catch. It was such a cheerful little sunshine, it even shocked Ortho a bit with its cheeks. Emitting little sparks of electricity, which felt really nice. They’re both just so cute together, Idia snuck a few pictures of them napping together.

Lilia Vanrouge 🍷

Another child for Lilia to adopt!! Oh how precious! Immediately Lilia’s fawning over your cute Noibat, however, you tell Lilia to be careful as this Pokémon is quite young. Of course Lilia heads your warning and bids you a graceful farewell, before rushing off with the cutie in his arms to flaunt to his whole dorm.

Almost immediately Lilia’s going to test his cooking skills; a growing boy like that needs to eat right? Well don’t worry, chef Lilia will whip up something nice, which of course has Noibat cheering for a hot meal. The trio of terrified fae and their drowsy human: they couldn’t have Lilia kill off something so precious, you’d be heartbroken!

However, perhaps they were a bit too slow in stopping Lilia, because thanks to his magic he had already whipped up a horrendous looking hole of soup. But what had everyone’s jaws dropping was that Noibat enjoyed it! It even cooed for seconds, nudging Lilia with the bowl. Of course Lilia was over the moon, he’ll have to ask to babysit more often.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Miss Americana (Part 3)

Summary: The reader recovers from her second dose of Compound V and explores her stronger abilities with Dean. But the events of a fun night out might give Miss Americana and Soldier Boy an unlikely ally...

Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy!Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,900ish

Warnings: language, implied past torture/assault/killings

A/N: Enjoy this final part! This contains very minor spoilers for The Boys...

______

“Let me hide this stuff and I’ll be back in five, okay?” he asked. You nodded, Dean cupping your cheek before he was gone. It was barely a minute before he was returning, wearing sweats and a henley, a box under his arm. “Brownies from the bakery down the block.”

“I thought you liked pie.”

“I do. But you like brownies,” he said. “Something to look forward to after you spend the night shaking and sweating.”

“Lovely,” you said. He sat down beside you, urging you to lean into him. He tucked a blanket over your legs, watching the fire crackle. “I don’t think I mind if you’re a monster.”

“I can be pretty horrible.”

“You’re not horrible to me. You’ve never been that way. Even if your first instinct was to try to manipulate me you decided not to.”

“I hate most people. Think they’re worthless. Only care about myself.”

“So? I told you when we met...I’m the nice bad guy. I frankly don’t give a fuck anymore about being the pushover, the one that gets hurt. I just want to never be afraid again.”

“We never have to be afraid after tonight. Never,” he said. “You’ll be stronger than Homelander. Stronger than me. You’ll be safe.”

“For a bad guy, you were awfully nice giving me that dose with no strings attached.”

“There’s no strings,” he said. He stroked your arm when you shivered. 

“Partners?” you asked. He leaned down, kissing you more gently than he ever had. No need behind it.

“I like partners,” he said. He was warm as you started to feel cool, Dean drawing shapes on your bare skin. “I had a little brother.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“He got sick right after I shipped out. Died the morning I got my first dose of Compound V. Only reason I volunteered for the shot. They said volunteers got special benefits. I wanted my brother to get to a good hospital and proper care and he was already dead by the time I got my shot. Then uh, then some of us started dying cause they didn’t know dosages or shit. I thought at least Sam’s gonna be okay. Then I spent three days wishing it would kill me so I could be with him instead of having been away for the last year of his life. But I didn’t die. I was the only one. Then they gave me more and...I guess I enjoyed becoming the super soldier over grieving. Then it goes to your head and changes you and...Sammy wouldn’t even recognize me now. At least I know I’m not going to the same place he wound up so he won’t have to see.”

“What was that like, being honest just now,” you asked, goosebumps covering your skin. You bundled into him more, Dean pulling up the blanket.

“I miss Sammy. I haven’t thought about him in years. I hope the kid’s happy wherever he is.”

“Maybe you’ll see him again someday,” you said. You shook, sweat forming all over you, muscles aching. You turned, unable to get comfortable. “How long does this last?”

“About six hours. Then I passed out and when I woke up it was over.”

“Awesome.” You gripped the blanket tight, Dean massaging your tense shoulders. “Tell me more about Sammy. Please.”

“He absolutely hated being called Samuel,” said Dean with a chuckle. “So naturally I did it all the time when we were kids.”

“Keep going,” you said, stomach churning briefly. “Distract me.”

“Let me tell you about the time we jumped off the shed roof.”

You were in sweaty clothes when you woke, lifting your head off Dean’s chest to find him passed out and snoring lightly. You sat up, shaking out your head. Something was different. You stood, deciding to test out flying first. You yelped when you nearly hit the ceiling, freezing and plopping straight down onto the couch and Dean.

He groaned awake, peeling open his eyes to find you hovering above him.

“Sweetheart I’m all for a little rough in the bedroom but not a full body tackle awake,” he said. You moved to the side, the motion second nature quickly but it required much less effort than before. You looked around, nothing in the room heavy enough to test your strength. Dean sat up, smirking as he looked at you. “Wanna arm wrestle?”

“Yes!” you said, Dean chuckling, groggily taking a seat at the counter. You stood on the other side of the island, Dean clasping your hand.

“Let’s go,” he said. You squeezed, Dean keeping up with you for a good few seconds before he started to go down fast. You heard the counter creek and then it was breaking, Dean backing up. 

“Uh,” you said. 

“Don’t worry about it. What do you expect when you got supes in the place? But you, you’re stronger. Stronger than me,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“Good. Very good. I um, I’d like to go fly. I think I might be faster.”

“Go for it. I’ll call someone to get this fixed. Just be careful. Try not to fly into any planes.”

“I’ll do my best, Soldier Boy.”

“Again?” asked Dean that night. You flew up high and smiled, Dean letting go of you, free falling a few seconds before you dove down and caught him. He giggled and you flew higher, Dean jumping off. You could heard him laughing and went down, something hitting you on the way. You threw a punch and arms released you, Dean holding on tight when you finally caught up with him. You both looked up and glared, a cape and pair of red eyes looking down. “You do realize the fall won’t kill me.”

“Probably not. But it’d be fun to try,” said Homelander. He floated down to your level, your arm tight around Dean’s waist. “Oh relax. I won’t touch your boy toy again.”

“I thought I said to stay the fuck away from us,” you growled.

“I just thought you’d like to know that Soldier Boy’s internal file will be released to the major news outlets tomorrow. Did you know-”

You grabbed his neck with your free hand, squeezing hard, Homelander pawing at your wrist.

“Any good reasons why I shouldn’t kill him?” you asked Dean.

“None come to mind,” said Dean, Homelander’s eyes red but fading as he choked for air.

“Feel free to speak up,” you said, gripping his neck even tighter. 

“Stop,” said a voice, the three of you turning towards a small drone hovering close by. “Let him go.”

“He tried to kill Soldier Boy,” you said, holding on tight. You didn’t even see the drone shoot out the darts, the three of you hit. You instantly dropped Homelander, flying down to the roof of Vought as soon as you could, Dean out cold already and you quickly joining him.

You woke up on the couch in Edgar’s office, no sign of Dean or Homelander. Everything felt off still as you sat up, Mr. Edgar suddenly sitting on the edge of the coffee table.

“Are you alright?”

“No,” you groaned, stretching out. “What the hell was that?”

“If you’re going to act like children, we’ll treat you like them.”

“Dean and I were having fun, minding our own business-”

“Dean and you stole Compound V for your own benefit. I thought you were going to be more understanding of this arrangement.”

“I have to be stronger than Homelander and now I am. We didn’t hurt anybody to get it. You people let him do whatever the fuck he wanted so get off your high horse.”

“We understand. But you can’t kill him.”

“Why the fuck not.”

“He brings value in, even not as part of the Seven. Miss Americana and Soldier Boy can take over the leadership roles and Homelander is to be left alone.”

“He wants to kill-”

“I said to leave it be.” You stood, glaring down at him. “If an incident like this occurs again, there will be consequences. Dismissed.”

“Gonna throw us back in a hole? That’s kinda your thing isn’t it.”

“We know how to deal with problem children, even supe ones,” he said, standing up. “Back off before all three of you are worth more dead than alive. Don’t make me dismiss you again.”

You stormed out, slamming the door after you, not bothering to look back when you heard the wood splinter. You went straight to Dean’s apartment, Dean unscathed inside. But Homelander standing there, neither of them actively trying to kill the other, that was more than enough to forget your anger for the moment.

“You okay?” asked Dean, stepping over to grab your hand. You hummed, looking Homelander up and down. “You got the same message we did I’m guessing.”

“Behave or we’re all fucked. Yeah. Why the hell is he here?”

“We were spoken to at the same time. While he’s still a psycho and has some major fucked up issues, he has a different idea,” said Dean. 

“Said the mass murderer.” Homelander rolled his eyes. “We all want to be in charge of the Seven. Be the best.”

“You shoved your hand down my pants,” you growled.

“True. But enemies can work together when they have a larger, common enemy, hm?”

“Edgar,” said Dean. “He wants to wipe out Edgar. Ashley is the next logical choice and we can control her. She wouldn’t do jack shit to us.”

“Remove Edgar from the equation and we can all get along. Maybe form a little, trio, best of the best. Still part of the Seven but top dogs. Vought would eat that shit up. Behind the scenes you two fuck or whatever it is you do. Publicly, we’re the strongest go America team there ever was. The soldier from a simpler time, the soldier who fought the terrorists and defend her country, and the everyday man who protects his fellow citizens. All walks of life, all the basis covered. Between the three of us our numbers are sky high in every single demographic.”

“What’s to stop us from killing each other after Edgar is out of the picture,” you said.

“You’re strong enough to kill me. But your little boyfriend can’t fly. You come after me, I’ll drop him in the ocean. Leave me alone, I leave you two alone and we all win,” said Homelander. “Deal?”

“What do you think?” you asked Dean. 

“Lesser of two evils. I think,” said Dean. “I say we give it a chance to see if we can get Edgar out.”

“Fine. We can discuss this more tomorrow. Oh and Homelander. I ever catch you in my or Dean’s apartment again, I’ll snap your neck. Deal or no deal.”

“If you were only a little more twisted we could have had something,” he said. He nodded and left, Dean letting out a deep breath when he was gone. 

“Y/N,” said Dean. You hummed, wrapping your arms around him. “Thanks. For catching me earlier.”

“I’m sure you would have been fine.”

“Probably but I don’t want to test that theory out. If he dropped me in the ocean...I still need to breathe. We have to play nice.”

“We will. Until we don’t have to,” you said. He smirked, kissing your lips. “He tried to kill you. Now I hate him even more. As soon as we can, he’s gone.”

“That’s my girl,” he grinned.

“Yes I am and you, you’re my Soldier Boy. We’re going to own this place, very, very soon.”

“Damn straight we are sweetheart. Just a little bit longer and then we can do whatever we want to. Promise.”

_________

[puppetmaster13u]

Hermitcraft as Mob Hybrids

 BdoubleO: Villager (sleeps every night without fail, yet can be very annoying when they want to be)  Biffa: Iron Golem (the man's skin is pretty much iron man. Plus he's normally pretty chill but mess with his and he will mess you up) Cubfan: Vex (I mean this is obvious: Convex) Docm77: Goat-Creeper (The man is the Goat-Father, and he's a cybernetic creeper) EthosLab: Panda (1, the coloring, 2, he lives in the jungle, 3, I just felt like it) False: Wither Skeleton (Name a more annoying thing to get cornered by- plus tall spooky False. Also, who would want to fight her if she could inflict someone with wither?) Scar: Vex (Another obvious Convex) Grian: Chicken (I mean, Poultry Man. Plus most people think chickens aren't able to fly) Hypnotizd: Evoker (His color palette is perfect and it explains why he had trouble with villagers) iJevin: Blue Slime (Very obvious lol. It would be funny if the others had to deal with kid and baby jevins whenever he dies though.) Impulse: Ghast (S6 War: he made a ghast ball launcher. Plus imagine if he could light tnt from a distance by breathing fireballs, or if he could float freely through the air) Iskall85: Phantom (How many times has the dude stayed up mining for days or perched in his big tree) Jessassin: Pillager (You cannot tell me his skin wouldn't match up with it. I also just like the idea that the reason he’s not around is that he accidentally gets summoned to Raids or Patrols) Joe: Fox (Sweet berries, all of the sweet berries- plus in most cultures they're known for their cunning nature) Keralis: Cave Spider (Look into his eyes- only his eyes. Ignore all the limbs he uses to build, please.)

Mumbo: Enderman (Big tall stick of a man. Plus there’s the added bonus of being able to teleport away from troub;e) Python: Hoglin-Creeper (Nether colors, plus tusks, plus the creeper skin. And I just thought it was cool) Ren: Ravager (Dog/wolf was too obvious, and Ravagers are like the illigers' version of a big dog with horns. And I think the idea of the hermits using his mob form to launch themselves is hilarious)  Stress: Witch (She owns the potion shop, and did you see her on Halloween? She was ready for it) TangoTek: Piglin (Most people draw him with horns, why not tusks? Plus with Toon Towers, people could call him Porky the Pig) TFC: Shulker (He always stays in the caves, alone, and likes being undisturbed. Plus the idea of him just sleeping amongst his shulker boxes being the reason no one sees him half the time is amusing) Beef: Fox (The man is literally making Three Fox Hole, plus I thought I had enough Llama Dad AUs) Welsknight: Vindicator (I just like the idea of villagers being afraid of him, and he's just really nice and chivalrous towards them.) Helsknight: Blaze-Vindicator (He was cloned from Wels, with the power used from blaze rods. Plus the image of him raging and shooting off fireballs, only to get a snowball to the face is funny to me) xBCrafted: Glow Squid (The color palette matches up, plus he seems to have an affinity for that in the sea. I mean, just think about how many times he’s had pet guardians) Xisumavoid: Ender Dragon (I mean, he's the admin- and I like the idea of the hermits being his version of a hoard that he protects) Evil Xisuma: Wither (When he destroyed the server, it was with withermen. Plus the visual bonus of him launching wither skulls is amazing.) ZedaphPlays: Husk (1, his baby zombie trap, 2, he lives in/right next to a desert, and 3, I thought he and Cleo could be buddies with the whole Golf thing) Worm Man: Moobloom (Since we associate him with caterpillars and worms, why not flowers? And he can have dainty little hooves to clip clop around in) ZombieCleo: Zombie/Husk/Drowned (I mean, this was obvious. I just figured that depending where she spends her time she can change between the three. But would go back to a normal zombie when she respawns.)

Did I miss anyone? I’ll post designs whenever I get to it.

[misscrazyfangirl321]

ok, so this is ONE HUNDRED PERCENT ok to refuse but I F you want to: cleojohn: 'oh, shiny!' or 'does that hurt?' (again, totally ok if you don't want to :3)

“Does that hurt?” He asks, looking her over. Never has he wished he could leave the water more than he does right now, with her lying helplessly on the shore, soaking the sand with her blood.

Even half-delirious from blood loss, she still manages a wink. “Better now that you’re here, handsome.” It would almost be reassuring but for the way she struggles through every word, gasping at the end.

He may not be Helen, but he understands basic things: Cleo is losing blood far too quickly to survive it without interference. 

“I’ll get Helen. She can-”

How she moves so quickly in this state, he has no idea, but her hand shoots out, catching his wrist. 

“Stay. Please.” It’s the lack of flirty commentary, more than anything, that locks him in place. Her voice is suddenly small, and he realizes with sickening certainty that she’s afraid. She knows she’s beyond hope, beyond saving, and it terrifies her.

There’s an idea scratching at the back of his mind, unthinkable (except that he cannot stop thinking it, cannot stop considering)- 

“Wish I had more time,” she says finally. “I was gonna marry you, you know?”

Resignation and determination mingle in his chest. He cannot do this (but he will). He does not deserve her (but he will not let her go, not like this). “I daresay you still might,” he says quietly, and her eyes go wide. Rarely does he grant her flirtations more than an indulgent smile-they’re from different worlds, after all-but he sees no reason to hold back now. 

“Not really up for... Putting on a wedding dress right now. Raincheck?” A tear slips down her cheek before she can stop it, and he knows time is almost up. If he’s going to do this (and he is), now is his last chance. 

He yanks his hand free from hers, forcing himself to ignore the hurt in her eyes, and claws at his arm. Once he’s drawn blood-icy blue-he reaches out, letting a few drops fall into her gaping wound. She watches them fall, then looks back at him, a question in her eyes she never gets a chance to voice. In the next moment she shrieks, a sound that cuts him to the core, and falls unconscious on the sand. 

-

When she wakes, he’s floating across the room from her, watching her in open concern. Helen has patched up her wounds (wounds that were already beginning to heal, her new mer form regenerating quickly), and traded her bullet-hole ridden gold dress for a glittering white one (white, of course; he’ll have to scowl at Helen about that one later) that fits better with her new tail. 

She blinks up at him a few times, brows furrowed in an expression he’d almost call adorable if he wasn’t so afraid. 

“I imagine you have many questions,” he starts, and she shakes her head. 

“Just one.” She’s clearly still weak, but she lifts her head. “Were you serious about marrying me?”

 He pauses. “That’s your first concern?”

She considers for a moment, before humming. “Second. First, I’m going to kiss you.” 

He cannot stop the laugh that bubbles up inside him, giddy relief pushing away the fear. “Whatever you want, my love,” he says softly, making his way to her side. “Whatever you want.” 

[yoonsshadow]

ETERNAL - iv

➳ summary ; They have died so often that death has lost its meaning; hurt so regularly that pain has become inconsequential; lost so much that they hold each other to the light of the stars. They have nothing yet they have everything, as long as they have each other. And, after centuries, they now have her.

➳ pairing ; bts!ot7 x fem!reader

➳ genres ; The Old Guard au; fantasy, historical, action, romance, alternate universe

➳ themes ; angst, fluff, death

➳ warnings ; talk of death, ptsd/flashbacks, war zone, heavy violence, course language, panic attack

➳ word count ; 2k

➳ note ; Hello! I know that this chapter took a little longer to get out, and it is a little shorter than usual, but it’s because it takes a lot of time and research to make sure that I’m doing this story justice. That being said, I hope that you enjoy!! The journey for these eight have truly begun now, and boy, do they have a lot coming. :3

masterlist

For a while now, your life has been slipping between your fingers. Like a shadow passing through the night, every moment has melted through you, pooling at your feet until you’re slipping, falling, thrown to the ground. From the moment the first bullet was delivered through your skull, you have lost grip of your control; of the things you hold dearest to you.

Sitting here, surrounded by these seven men, that empty cavern in your chest aches just a little less. It hasn’t started to fill up yet⎯⎯might not for a very long while⎯⎯but the silence no longer echoes. 

“It still feels weird to think about,” you say, soft voice carrying through the room with ease. They are all listening so carefully that you cannot meet any of their eyes. “That I died, I mean. I’ve had time to rationalise it, but my whole life has been spent thinking one way⎯⎯believing in life and death, mortality, the fragility and preciousness of living⎯⎯but now I’ve been killed multiple times, died naturally a handful more, and so it feels as though the whole world has been skewed and I’m yet to find my balance.”

Your fingers fiddle together in your lap, eyes downcast to the empty soup bowl on the coffee table.

“The story of how I died the first time is kind of a long one. I can’t tell you about the final moments without explaining everything that led up to it, but there are a few years of history to go through. So, if you want me to condense it…”

“We have all the time in the world,” Namjoon assures, and it could be a joke, a satirical remark regarding your current situations, but instead he speaks with the utmost care, as if he is afraid of any wrong word, any misstep. He is telling you that they are patient, that they don’t mind waiting, that they will listen to every word you say. For you.

And it warms that hole in your chest enough for you to meet his eyes⎯⎯all of their eyes⎯⎯and offer a small smile. Then you nod to yourself. This is a story you need to tell, no matter how painful the memories are.

“Two-and-a-half years ago,” you begin, “the Special Warfare Command uncovered the elaborate smuggling operation of North Korean forces. Untraceable men⎯⎯assumed Black-Ops⎯⎯would enter South Korea through other countries using fake documentation. It’s unclear how long they stayed, months or years, but they would eventually kidnap vulnerable children and smuggle them to North Korea via Mongolia and China.

“Unfortunately, it took years to trace the movements of these men to a point where we knew what they were doing and how they were doing it. The SWC eventually concluded that North Korea were kidnapping and training future sleeper agents and spies, and avoiding suspicion by hiding in the Gobi Desert. They had an entire base of operations on a grey-zone of the border between Mongolia and China, and managed to leave no traces of their movements.”

You need to take a deep gulp of air at this point. Up until now, you have merely stated facts; regurgitated information as you have been told. However, you know that everything from this point on will become personal. You try to think back on your years of conditioning in the army.

“It was at this point that my team was requested for the operation. The 707th Special Mission Group has hundreds of personnel, all within two assault companies, one support company, and one all-female company. There are many missions in which female operators are a better fit, this one included, and out of the female company, my team was chosen.

“When I was promoted to Captain, and at such a young age... All I felt was excitement. Excitement for such an honour, for the experiences ahead, for being able to lead my very own team. The women on my team worked so well, too. We had many successful missions, small and big, and we were ready for this operation. We were ready for Operation Fawn.”

The air in your lungs stutters as you exhale, and you try to swallow the lump in your throat. You’ve avoided thoughts of the thirteen women who had become your friends, your family, but now you are submerged in the memories. Both joyous and tragic.

A few of the men around you look as if they want to move forward, to comfort you, but they also know that it isn’t their place to do so. Not yet.

“The plan was relatively straight-forward. We had found the location of the children, and so it was our job to silently infiltrate the site. Remove all hostiles, retrieve the missing kids, bring them back safely. It wasn’t unlike other missions we had completed before, so we were confident that we could execute it without fail.”

Pulse pumping loudly in your ears, heart beating violently in your chest, you begin to see flashes of that night, playing before your eyes without your permission.

“Get down!” A bullet whirs through the air where your lieutenant’s head had just been, close enough to be able to hear it cutting through the air. “Shit,” you mumble to yourself, peeking around the corner of the collapsed wall for the rest of your team, “how the fuck are there so many of them?”

“Captain.” A voice cuts through the chaos, the intercom in your ear crackling to life. “They’re still pouring in - West entrance - all armed. There shouldn’t be this many men.”

You land shots on three oncoming men, their bodies falling to the ground, but they are quickly replaced by more on their way. You have to do something; you can’t allow your team⎯⎯or the children⎯⎯to die tonight. 

While your lieutenant watches your back, you fiddle with the dial of your radio, changing to a different channel.

“Command, this is Dragon, do you copy?”

No response comes through, and you’re forced to move from the wall with your gun poised, firing shots at any unfamiliar figure you see.

“Command, this is Dragon, do you copy?!”

A grenade explodes a short distance away, shaking the ground and sending you stumbling.

“Command, this is Dragon, Operation Fawn has been compromised! I repeat, Operation Fawn has been compromised! Delta Team needs immediate backup, over a hundred hostiles, and counting!”

Either the commotion around you drowns out the voice in your ear, or you’ve yet again received no response. You are starting to get desperate.

“Jesus fuc⎯ we’re completely overwhelmed, Command! My team can only hold out for a little while longer, but these fuckers just keep pouring in! Something is wrong, there shouldn’t be this many of them, we can’t fucking⎯”

Somebody tackles you to the ground. Gunshots, shouts, dirt in your face, a hand on your throat. The man on top of you is heavy, but you’re able to roll him off of you and shoot him between the eyes.

The blood splatters across your goggles.

It’s all too much. There are men everywhere, and you can’t see any of your team members throughout the chaos. You can’t get through to your command centre. Everything that was supposed to be easy tonight has gone wrong. Something heavy, and dark⎯⎯something that feels a lot like doom and panic and we’re going to die⎯⎯lurks in your guts, but you can’t think about that right now. You have to find your girls, have to save these children, have to stay alive⎯

Your fist aches nearly as much as your thudding chest.

Images of death and violence fade away as you blink violently, flexing your fingers individually and then all together, mind still scrambled, still alert.

There are hands on your shoulders, solid and heavy and grounding, and a pair of soft eyes searching for yours. All eyes in the room are on you, but all you can focus on is Yoongi, who looks as if he knows, as if he understands.

And there is a fist-sized patch of red on his left cheekbone. God, your fist, his face, what have you done, oh god I’ve hurt him⎯

Cool air blows on the silent tears that stream down your cheeks, your bones trembling with adrenaline and fear and sorrow. He’s saying something, lips moving slowly, but the clouds in your head are muffling everything. His hands move to hold yours.

You recognise the movement of his lips as the words breathe, it’s okay, and you try your best to obey, but your throat has closed up, tight like the grip of that enemy soldier who had held you to the ground⎯

Yoongi brings one of your hands to his chest, pressing your fingers into him, and you faintly feel the thudding of a heartbeat against your palm. Then, he breathes in, slow and deep, and you follow.

In and out, one by one, Yoongi slowly guides you to breathe steadily once again, your chest growing less tight with each shaky gasp. The tears have stopped flowing, and your limbs have calmed into only a slight tremor, and the darkness in his eyes are captivating. You want to lean forward, let them swallow you whole, but you instead squeeze his hands in silent thanks.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he whispers, and you realise that your head has calmed down enough to take in your surroundings. All seven are watching you with a careful and guarded eye, but you find no pity. It brings you a sliver of relief.

Rather than replying, you merely nod your head and allow Yoongi to pull you up onto shaky legs. Exhaustion is already weighing you down, and all you want to do is escape your own mind.

They have been once before. You, asleep in the spare room, and them, huddled together on the lounges. They are worried about you, but they are also much more; the fear in your voice, the heartache in each memory, was familiar to them. As they watched you relive your trauma, they relived theirs as well.

“I’m sorry, I-” Namjoon’s words stutter out, unsure, unplanned, unlike the way he usually speaks. “This is my fault. I should’ve known- it was too early to- and maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt...”

“Hey, no.” Seokjin’s hands on Namjoon’s shoulders are as firm as his words, kind eyes seeking regretful ones. “Don’t blame yourself; this is nobody’s fault. She made her decision to tell us. Don’t take that away from her. And we all know that she couldn’t help that reflex. Yoongi’s been hit harder.”

“We didn’t even hear the rest of the story,” Jimin pouts, nibbling his lower lip between his teeth. “Like, how she died, how her team died, what happened to the mission.”

“We’ll have to be patient,” Yoongi sighs. His cheek is already blue and purple, and will probably be fully healed in an hour. “We know the fundamentals, anyway. A mission that was supposed to be clear-cut somehow got turned on its head. It cost her team’s lives.”

“How does something like that even happen?” Next to Jimin, Taehyung’s pout is not quite as full, but still full of the emotions he is trying to keep in. “It isn’t just her team that got hit, but the entire Special Warfare Command. This was a big operation, guys, so something like this should’ve been prevented.”

“Do you think…” Jeongguk is clutching a pillow close to his chest. “Do you think somebody from the inside betrayed them?” Six faces turn to look at him, shocked at the implication, shocked that it makes sense. “I mean, the information about the operation would have been top secret. North Korea has resources, sure, but they shouldn’t have known the when, where, and how of the mission. Somebody had to have turned.”

“Who would’ve done it?” Jimin’s question is not asking for an answer. He feels sick at the thought.

It is at this moment that Hoseok chooses to emerge from his deep silence. When he speaks, his voice is regretful. Knowing. “I think she knows exactly who did it.”

< prev - next >

tags: @leafyturtle​, @loveyoongles, @paint-music-with-me, @barbikatherine, @itsmorgo1604, @calling-dips-on-j-hope, @veronawrites, @applepie1000, @yoonchrisgullwrites, @ally22042000, @ireallylikefoodandyoutube, @blglmgk01​, @basicgukk, @softescapism​, @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered​, @m1nt-3lla​, @hunnayesblog, @rosycheekb​, @hemmofluke​, @the-bisaster​ 

[gay-ghosts-committing-crimes]

Love you to the Moon and to Saturn

based on this post by @emeraldphantoms (ask and ye shall receive<3)

read on AO3

Warnings: some swearing Summary: pure willex fluff to nourish your souls (ft. Found Family trope)<3 Words: 1,134

There wasn’t any real reason for them to be in the kitchen -it’s not like either of them could eat- but there was something about it that drew Willie in, and Alex, caught in his orbit, followed. Maybe it was the way the golden sun filtered through the window when it was late-afternoon, or maybe it was the way it felt like a home; There on the counter were a few papers of Carlos’ homework, by the sink sat some leftover cups and a mug inscribed with ‘Best Dad’ that Reggie had found one day and then had just brought to the house. On days where the band practiced, you could hear the music and singing through the air, they way it was muffled giving it a spectral and haunting feeling to it, no matter how upbeat it was.

In the end it didn’t really matter; It was the place Willie most often was, and in Alex’s eyes that’s all it took. They would spend the day on walks or exploring closed buildings, slipping in and out of public libraries and coffee shops to people watch, and then head home, sometimes crashing in the garage, sometimes making their way inside to the kitchen.

On garage days the whole band was normally there, Julie partway on Luke’s lap, Reggie leaning backwards against her so she could mess with his hair, and then Alex and Willie joining in to cuddle or talk, or play games. Alex was grateful for the way the boys had forgiven Willie (despite it not being his fault), and how quickly they had welcomed him in. Julie had done the same when she met him, and gave him a nose-scrunching smile when she said ‘So you’re Alex’s Willie’ and he responded by blushing furiously and glancing at Alex before giving a bashful smile and a ‘yeah’. 

And so Willie had become part of the group, and despite Julie not being able to touch him unless one of them was touching Alex (something about souls bonding and the magic Julie had), she was still able to see and hear him whenever he was around and made it a point to include him. It was reassuring, to know how much Julie not only approved of, but cared for Willie.

But, thought Alex as he watched Willie hop slightly to sit on the Molina’s countertop, kitchen days were probably his favourite. It was just him and Willie, Willie and him when they were in the kitchen, two boys who’d never had the chance to love like this before, and who were now soaking up their chance while they had it.

Willie swung his legs slightly and Alex smiled fondly as his boyfriend excitedly rambled about something, his eyes glittering and his hands moving agitatedly in his lap, the way he did when he was trying to keep from gesturing too big. His cheeks were flushed and he looked more at ease then he had for a while.

“- and it’s crazy because scientists aren’t even sure that a planet is causing the anomalies!! It could be a black hole, or a-”

Alex smiled wider and nodded, never taking his eyes off of Willie. He imagined it was like how a sunflower always faces the sun; He just couldn’t look away, not when Willie feels safe enough to ramble, not when they’re both together, in love. Not when it’s Willie, because Willie is his weakness, he thinks. 

‘I still would have followed you’

It should scare him, how much he means it, but then he’d have to be afraid of how genuine Willie’s voice had been when he’d said he’d do anything for him, and that’s just something that doesn’t compute. How could he ever be afraid of Willie? Willie and his open smile and kind heart, Willie and his screaming in museums and skating in famous people’s pools. Willie, his Willie.

And suddenly it struck Alex, just how safe Willie made him feel. He didn’t ‘fix’ Alex, and he still gets anxious even when Willie’s there to hold his hand, but... there’s something so magic about the way he can hold Alex’s heart in his hands without Alex worrying that he’ll drop it.

And then Alex was striding across the kitchen and stopping in front of Willie, hands reaching out to take Willie’s in his own, eyes searching, quietly whispering ‘is this alright?’

They’d kissed before, and each time Alex felt shooting stars ricocheting through his chest, but it’s important to him, it’s so important to him that Willie knows he has a choice. Because for so long Willie didn’t have a choice for anything.

Willie’s gaze was burning him, and his expression, so fucking fond and happy, filled him with warmth.

“Yes,” Willie says, and it’s like a prayer.

Alex breathed and leaned forward, Willie’s legs on either side of him as leaned up slightly against the counter where Willie sat, Willie’s hands in his own, fingers tracing across his knuckles, Willie’s eyes staring into his own, Willie Willie Willie.

And then it was Willie’s breath feathersoft on Alex’s cheek and lips, Willie’s lips grazing his-

They were interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs and Alex gave into the urge to give a hearty eye-roll when he heard Reggie talking animatedly to Ray, who couldn’t hear him.

Abruptly the chatter stopped and Alex turned his head to see Reggie smiling at him and Willie, seemingly unfazed that he had just walked in on a private moment.

“Ah,” Reggie said, nodding sagely and bumping his elbow through Ray’s side, “To be young and in love, am I right?”

Alex rolled his eyes again.

“Fuck off Reg, I’m trying to kiss my boyfriend.” Maybe his voice came out more petulant than needed, but when he turned back Willie was looking at him entertained, if a bit confused, and he melted.

“Yikes ‘Lex, it’s a good thing hanging with Ray always helps me feel better, because your words hurt me.” He turned to Willie and gave a wink, “You’ve got him wrapped around your finger.” And then he bounced after Ray, already starting on another story.

Giving one last eye-roll, for good measure, Alex turned to face Willie again.

“Hey,” Willie murmured, grinning, “You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah,” Alex whispered back, leaning closer to Willie again, letting their lips press together before his words are fully out.

“I know.”

Later they will go out to the garage, hand in hand, and join Julie in teasing Luke about some small thing, and Reggie will sprawl across their collective laps and Julie will tell them a story about when she was a kid. Later they will go, and be with other people, but for now it's just them.

Alex and Willie, Willie and Alex.

[misslilli]

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Chapter 10 - XOXO, Gossip Girl

[ DS ]

“Man, I thought our staff meeting was never going to end, I was boored out of my mind while Principal Skinner droned oon and oooon about the importance of having the kid’s desks and chairs at the perfect heights!” Sarah pours herself another glass and passes the bottle to Holly, who agrees wholeheartedly.

“I know, how long can a freaking staff meeting take, everyone’s life flashed before my eyes, I thought I was gonna die in that meeting!” I grab the bottle from Holly and refill my glass.

“Yeah, when he started going over the fire hazards, that haven’t changed in the four year’s we’ve been teaching there, mind you, I was about ready to strangle him with my lanyard!”

“It wasn’t that bad guys, you’re being dramatic. I think he made some interesting points in his speech about classroom safety – seems like you’re going to need it with yours, S!” Alex, always the voice of reason, hands out seconds of our clam chowder.

“I know”, Sarah replies, “The first year’s always a clumsy bunch. On Wednesday one of mine, Felix, he managed to skin both his knees and his hands pretty badly. Poor kid, had to be picked up by his dad!”. Suddenly, the bowl of soup in front of me seems like the most interesting thing in the world and I push bits of clam around with my spoon quietly.

Sarah continues with her story: “He’s a cute kid though, very bright and I can tell he’s good with observing other people, judging their emotions, you know? And get this, I get such a kick out of this: His name’s Felix, yeah? and his dad’s name is Fox. Fox and Felix, how cute is that? I love it! And hoo boy, his dad is. A fox, I mean. He’s devastatingly handsome and so charming!”

Holly whistles through her teeth. “Oooh an interesting turn of events, so much better than complaining about the staff meeting!” At the mention of Felix’s dad, a blush creeps onto my cheeks and I continue to silently stare into my soup. Sarah’s right, of course, and my arm tingles again as I remember the encounter. The elephant on my chest is making an encore performance as well.

“You do realize that that’s a pretty inappropriate topic of conversation we’re having, right?”. Alex gives Sarah and Holly her patented raised-eyebrows, no-nonsense look, which makes Holly giggle.

“Great job at sucking out the fun of a conversation, Alexandra!” Meanwhile, I’m tracing figure-eight swirls into my chowder with my spoon, still not contributing to the conversation, praying to God they won’t notice.

“Of course, he’s off-limits to me as one of my student’s dad but I’m sure he’ll be a hit with the moms, single or not.” Holly goes along with her around a spoonful of soup.

“That’s for sure, I’d be surprised if they haven’t roped him into helping out with every. single. function they have planned this year!” Grinning, she turns her attention to me. “Hey Silent Bob, you’ve been awfully quiet over there, what gives?”

‘Oh shit.’

“You’ve met him D, when he came to pick up his son, haven’t you? Back me up over here!”

“Uh huh…yea…” I mumble into my soup, trying my hardest to hide my flaming cheeks.

Holly frowns at me, cocking her head to her side. Sarah shoots the others a confused look. I swallow thickly around a clam, my throat so tight I can feel it pass all the way down to my stomach.

Alex covers my clammy hand with hers. “Are you alright, D?” I can’t even recognize my own voice when I squeak out a high-pitched “Ya, sure…” and a nervous laugh escapes my lips. I feel pathetic.

Sarah’s eyes widen and she gasps, realization dawning: “YOU LIKE HIM!” I want to dig myself a hole right then and there and crawl into it to die. Damn my Irish complexion for betraying me in a moment of need.

I raise my eyes from my soup and look around at their faces. Sarah’s still in shock and stares at me, Holly is wearing an huge grin of unadulterated glee and Alex just looks at me over her glass with a thoughtful expression on her face, waiting for me to continue. “Yeah, maybe I do…” I sigh miserably and shrug my shoulders, swirling the wine around in my glass.

Holly claps her hands together excitedly, startling the rest of us. “Oh Lordy this is gooood stuff, a budding romance graces the sorrow halls of Plymouth Elementary!”. I frown at her exuberance and Sarah wakes from her stupor.

“I know right? Finally, someone to charm that little rainbow skirt right off of D and I think he’d be the perfect candidate to do just that! His little mini-me is already permanently attached to your side at recess, I saw!” The mention of Felix makes me slide down in my chair just a little bit more and I look down into my bowl, embarrassed.

Alex sets down her glass slowly. “Why the long face, D?”

“Well… you do know that this child must have a mother around, as well, don’t you?” I whisper into my spoonful of soup.

Alex nods solemnly but Sarah pipes up immediately: “I think I can help with that. I only ever saw his dad pick him up, except for today, when his mother did. So like the Curious George that I am, I went to admin and looked at his file – I know, I know, I’m too nosey for my own good – his dad is listed as a sole custodial parent.” She looks pleased with herself. A little glimmer of hope settles in the pit of my stomach at her words, he’s a single parent!

“Still, from what I hear from S, the little guy is already pretty attached to you and he’d be caught right in the line of fire when things go south. He’s already been through a divorce, girls.” At Alex’s words, the little glimmer dies an untimely death.

“A, nothing has started yet and you’re already talking about things going south, you’re ruining all the romance!”

As always, Sarah agrees with Holly. “You’re always so unromantic, Alexandra, let her live a little, she deserves whatever it is that’s about to start!”

They’re trying to get a raise out of Alex, but I’m willing to bet that she won’t budge on this. “It’s not about that and you know it. I wish D all the happiness in the world but there’s a kid here, a kid who’s already been through so much and more importantly, who is already somewhat attached. Think about him for a second before you start up anything.” Before the others can start their counter-argument, I interject.

“Guys! Stop! She’s right! Nothing is ever going to start. Besides Felix, you know how small our town is! People talk. And that talk might very well cost me my reputation andmy job!” It’s a pretty lame excuse, but I can’t tell them that I’m completely overwhelmed by my feelings and the whole situation. Overwhelmed and terrified.

Sarah refills our glasses with the rest of the wine. “Are you kidding me, D? You finally stumble across a guy you like and you’re going to pine for him from afar because you’re afraid the town folk are going to dust off the torches and pitchforks?”

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable. “Can we talk about something else? Please?”

“Que será, será, chicas.,” Holly sings under her breath.

Whatever will be, will be.

[finleyfray]

Bittersweet Memories part 7

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (part 6)

Taglist: @ashadash0904

TW: language,nightmares, think that’s it

Finley looks at the door, waiting patiently for her girlfriends to come in. Earlier today J’onn came along announcing there was a mission and if they wanted to go. Of course, Alex and Maggie said no instantly, but Fin almost ordered them to go and have a bit of fun. After arguing with them for a solid ten minutes, they finally agreed, claiming they will be back before their scheduled therapy session.  

The black-haired woman was nervous for the session. She knows they will talk about a lot of stuff that’s troubling them in their relationship. But on the other hand, some things have to be talked about. Maybe if they sit down and list them, it’s going to help. At least now Fin didn’t have to worry about Kelly stealing her girls.  

‘She has a wife and a kid on the way. She wouldn’t leave them. There is no danger from her side.’ Finley thinks as she hears a knock on her door. 

“Come in.” She looks at the door as they open and Kelly enters the room. “Hi.” Finley smiles politely as she greets the woman. 

“Hi, good morning, Finley. How are you doing today?” The older woman sits on a chair ahead of her. 

“I’m better, I think so. Nothing hurts actually, which is a pretty nice feeling.” 

“That is very good. You know when they’ll let you home?” Kelly asks, looking at the woman in bed. 

“Yeah.” Fin sighs. “They took my blood for testing earlier. Will let me know if I can go home tomorrow. I, uh, I kind of don’t want to go home...” She hung her head and looked at her hands. 

“And why is that?” 

“Well, I’m scared. It went wrong the first time, what if it goes wrong again? What if the pain comes back? And here I’ve had both of them by my side, what if I’m all alone again? I don’t want to stay home any more. I feel like I’m too clingy, because I’ve been practically attached to them for the last week, but I’ve missed them. By now they’re probably sick of me.” 

“We’re not sick of you.” Finley turns and sees her redhead girlfriend by the door. “I promise there’s nothing you could do that would make us sick of you.” Alex rushed to the bed and hugged her. Maggie trails behind her and sits on the other side of the bed.  

“I’m sorry.” Fin hugs them both.  

“It’s okay. We’re here to remind you of how we love you.” Her raven-haired girlfriend kisses her cheek. “We’ll just go day by day. I promise we’re not going to leave you.” 

“I’m just... I’m sorry, it’s egoistic, but when we’ll go home, I’m afraid you’ll just go back to work and I don’t want to stay home alone. I’m worried that something will go wrong again.” 

“It’s normal that you feel that way when a certain place brings you trauma.” 

“Yeah.” Fin cut Kelly off. “But I can’t expect them to constantly miss work because of me! They have taken so many free days, and Maggie even resigned from NCPD because of me. That’s not okay, I’m dragging them down.” 

“I didn’t resign because of you. I did resign because of my workload. Of how my boss was treating me.” Maggie looks at her girlfriend.  

“Well, she’s not wrong. You are also forgetting that you are in this state because of me.” Alex sighs, dropping her head. 

“What do you mean?” Finley looks at her girlfriend tilting her head.  

“Fin, you saved me. If I saw that stupid rock coming, you wouldn’t almost die! You just dropped everything and risked your life to save mine!” 

“Of course I did. What, did you expect me to just stand over there and watch you being crushed?” The black-haired woman frowns. 

“I said all these hurtful words and yet, even when you should be mad at me, hate me, you just dropped everything and saved me.” Alex looks at Finley as she wipes away her tears. Maggie takes the redhead hand squeezing it gently.  

“How do you feel about it?” Kelly asks, looking at them.  

“I’m... angry? At myself mostly. Because I acted like a total asshole. But also scared, because I realize such a situation can happen again, and I know she wouldn’t even hesitate to risk her life for me. And I don’t want to lose her.” 

“Well, of course I would risk my life for both of you. How could I ever look at your mother’s face and tell that her daughter is dead because I did not save her. How do you expect me to just stay there and look at you being in danger and do nothing? That’s not an option, it never was.” Finley huffs. What did Alex even think? Of course, she’s going to risk her life for both of them.  

“See, the thing is, and I can’t get why you keep missing it, my mother cares for you too. For her, it’s like she has 5 daughters. You think I ever want to go to her and tell her one of them didn’t make it!?” Alex’s voice broke, she was trying to maintain her tough face, but there were so many emotions inside her that she felt like she would burst.  

“Baby...” Finley sighs and hugs her redhead girlfriend as she feels her shaking from a sob. “I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.” She looks at Maggie who hugged Alex from behind.  

“But you almost did! You stopped breathing in my arms!”  

“Babe!” Finley retreats and looks her girlfriend in the eyes. “I am here now. I promise you it’s not changing. We have so many plans together, we’re getting a dog, we talked about moving to a larger house, your sister is getting married soon! I don’t plan on missing all these things. I want to spend the rest of my life with both of you, and I’m not dying anytime soon. It’s alright, it’s going to be okay.” 

“Promise?” Maggie whispers, her voice trembling from her own tears.  

“I promise.”

***

Alex smiles as she enters the room with coffee in her hand. It was a tough week, Finley was ordered to stay for a few days longer in the medical just to make sure there's no change for the worse. That also made them meet up with Kelly daily, and now Alex was feeling a lot better. The redhead was hopeful for their future in a beautiful house with a dog they really want and some kids. Or at least she hopes so, she still didn't talk about the kids part with her girlfriends. 

Alex always wanted to be a mother. Even if she had a time in her life where she wasn't sure if she likes men or women, Alex was always sure she wanted to have kids. She doesn't know when to talk about it yet, but she's sure she will.

"Hey. Ready to go home?" She looked at Fin, who's sitting on the bed.

"Yea, but Maggie doesn't let me do anything!" The black-haired woman whines and points at their shorter girlfriend who's packing all their stuff. 

"That's because the doctor said you need to take it easy." Maggie rolls her eyes and Alex laughs. Typical Sawyer behaviour. If the kids ever get that trait from her, they're going to be in so much trouble. 

"Come on, I'll help." The redhead walks to her and begins helping her girlfriend with packing. 

"Alright, I think that's it. We're good to go." Maggie informs, looking at their suitcase. "We'll get you a wheelchair, and we can go to the car."

"No! No, no, I can walk!" Finley huffs. "I don't need a wheelchair, I don't have a cast any more, I'll walk!"

"Babe..." Alex sighs. She gets it, it's so frustrating for Fin that she doesn't have the energy to walk so far as she's used to, she gets tired after a few meters, she won't be able to make it to the car. Yes, the black-haired woman is doing her best at physical therapy, and she makes a lot of progress, but she can't make it that far. "Baby..." Alex begins again, but she doesn't know what words to use to not hurt the younger woman but at the same time convince her to use a wheelchair. She looks at Maggie trying to get some support. 

"Finnie… The car is far away. It would really help if we just get you a wheelchair?" The shorter woman says, looking at their girlfriend.

"Oh." Finley hangs her head and looks at the floor. "O...okay."

"Baby…"

"No, just, please go get the wheelchair. Just don't, I get it. I know I'm too slow for you." 

"Okay." Maggie exits the room and they stay alone. 

"You okay?" Alex asks, looking at her girlfriend. 

"Yea. It's just… you know. I want to be able to walk normally. It's so frustrating that I'm getting tired so quickly." Finley sighs looking at the redhead. 

"You'll get better soon. Just not so long ago you could only move in a wheelchair, and now you're able to go alone for a bit. You need to give yourself some time, those injuries don't heal overnight." She walks to Fin and envelops her in a hug.

"Here you go." Maggie walks in with the wheelchair and looks at them. "You okay?"

"Yea." Finley stands up, leaning on Alex. She walks 4 steps and embraces Maggie. "Sorry. I overreacted. I just want to finally feel better and get back to our normal life."

"I know baby, I want this too. But, small steps, you know?" Maggie kissed Finley’s forehead and helped her sit on the wheelchair.

***

Maggie smiles as she enters the elevator. After a successful day at the DEO it's finally time to go home. She presses the button and the elevator closes going up. After a few seconds, the door opens again, and she walks out. Putting the key in the door, she opens them.

"I'm home." She announces, but she's met with silence. She furrows her brows and instinctively grabs her gun. While Finley might sleep, Alex never sleeps during the day. She slowly walks to the living room and chokes on air. There, on the couch, lies Alex with a bullet hole in her head. Maggie wants to scream, but she can't get any sound out of her mouth. She wants to go to her girlfriend, check on her, cry, scream, but she can't. Her legs lead her to the bedroom. 

There on their bed lies her other girlfriend. She looks at her with dead eyes and a hole in her chest. Next to their bed stands a man. She can't see his face, she can only see the gun in his hands. Once again, Maggie can't move. She looks at the man as he speaks.

"I told you…"

Maggie shoots up with a gasp. She looks around and finds her girlfriend's sleeping in bed next to her. The Latino tries to get her breath together. She grabs the duvet with shaky hands and gets out of the bed. She feels her cheeks getting wet and goes to the kitchen. 

"Fucking hell." She closes her eyes, but when she does, she sees her girlfriends dead all over again. She goes to the window and focuses her vision on the sign of the gas station near their home. 

Slowly, the raven-haired woman is able to even her breath and stop crying. She goes to the kettle and puts in water to warm it. 

For a few days now, Maggie has had this nightmare. She comes home and finds her girlfriends dead. She can't see the face of the man that shot them, it's all blurry. Only words spoken "I told you." but they don't mean anything to her. 

She makes herself some coffee. She won't be able to sleep any time soon. 

For the past few days, she went to lay with her girlfriends only to get up when they were asleep. She didn't want to alarm them, but she was just so tired. Maggie misses the good sleep. 

She tries to occupy her mind at night with everything she can think of. Recently, Maggie discovered podcasts, and she loves the criminal ones. She's always able to identify the murderer before them, and it successfully occupies her mind. She loves coloring adult color books while listening to it. The raven-haired woman would never admit to it, but it really calms her and brings her joy.

Maggie brings her cup of coffee to the table, but before she can power her headphones on, she hears footsteps. She quickly turns and is ready to fight when she sees Finley.

"Hey." She hears her girlfriend's sleepy voice, and it brings a little smile to her face. "It's late, what are you doing here?" The blue-eyed woman hobbles in her direction, and Maggie stands up to pick her. She grabs her and goes to sit on the couch nearby. The Latino snuggles into her girlfriend and sighs. She didn't realize how bad she needed a hug. Fin embraces her and softly scratches the back of her head. 

"What's wrong?" She asks, and Maggie can hear a worry in her voice.

"Nothing. I just wanted to snuggle."

"Then why are you here with coffee instead of sleeping?" Her girlfriend asks softly.

"I just can't sleep any more tonight."

"Babe, you look exhausted. What's wrong?" 

"I… Nothing is wrong. I just can't sleep." Maggie rolls her eyes. Finley and her stubbornness are going to be the end of her.

"Baby…" Fin stops and yawns. "Talk to me, please."

The raven-haired woman sighs and leans back a bit to look into her girlfriends blue eyes.

"I just keep having this nightmare for a few days." Maggie cups her girlfriend's cheeks to feel her. She needs to know she's really here. 

"Can you tell me about it?" Fin's hand softly strokes her hair.

"I don't know…"

"Please?" Her girlfriend made a puppy face, and she was gone. She can never say no to that face, and her girlfriend knows that. Damn her. Maggie sighs.

"It begins normally. I come home from work and open the door. I call out, but it's so quiet, I go to the living room and there on the couch lies Alex with a bullet in her head. And I can't do anything about it." She feels her girlfriend wiping away her tears, she didn't know she was crying. "I can't go to her, I can't scream, I can't cry, nothing! And I'm forced to go away, to go to the bedroom. And you're there, looking at me with dead eyes, hole in your chest. There's this man standing next to the bed. He's holding a gun, but he doesn't have a face, his face is blurred." Maggie sobs. "And he's only words are "I told you…". Like, what does this even mean!" She snuggles into Finley’s chest and sobs even more. 

"It's okay, we're okay, you're okay." The black-haired woman embraces her and whispers in her ear. "It's just a nightmare, we're here, and we're safe. Nothing is coming to kill us. We're going to be okay."

Slowly, her sobs become quieter, and she feels herself being maneuvered to lie on Fin. She rests her head on her girlfriend's chest and listens to her heart beat. It's so comfortable, and she feels a duvet on her, giving her more warmth. And right now, as Maggie's fatigue gets the best of her, she really wants to believe that they're going to be okay.

[random-mha-thoughts]

Ears (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Coffee shop AU

Summary:  Todoroki works at a coffee shop where you catch his eye, but the day you finally stay in, he gets zapped by a cat quirk

Word count: 1,586

a/n: And here’s the first one shot to kick off ShouCat week!  I hope you guys enjoy this cute little post :3 Gender neutral pronouns they/you are active!

Tags: @cyanide9602 @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ @bunnythepipsqueak​

Chibi’s ShouCat Week masterlist

Todoroki's first encounter with you was like anyone else at his job: at the front counter.

You were moving a strand of your hair off your face when you walked up to him with a grateful yet tired smile on your face.  Any other customer can do something similar - in fact, many have - but for some reason, your actions were the one to catch his eye.  Maybe it can be considered love at first sight.

You ordered a caramel macchiato with coconut milk, plus one of the few breakfast sandwiches the cafe offers.  He made sure to fulfill the order to the tee, double checking the recipe, before calling the name you provided.  Seeing your eyes light up in joy at getting your coffee order was the first time his heart stuttered.  When you turned around two steps away from the counter after taking your first sip and praised, "You made it just the way I like it, thanks!" with a grin, it was the second.

Ever since then, it was a daily occurrence to meet you at the cafe for your typical order before running out the door.  On the days when his coworkers worked the counter, he'd notice you walking in and immediately start preparing your order as top priority.  He noticed you apparently favor him; his coworker had to prepare your order because of a morning rush once and he saw you grimace after taking your first sip.  Todoroki thought he failed you that day.  The next day, he relished in your noticeably extra giddiness when you realized your routine was back to normal.

His mind screamed to get to know you, but he's afraid you only see him as a great barista and that's it.  If he it wasn't for that shred or self-doubt he would've already written his number on the inside of your sandwich bag.

"Just shoot your shot, dumbass, the worst thing they'll do is say no."  Bakugou's advice wasn't delivered in the kindest way, but Todoroki needed the bluntness.

"You're assuming they'll be back for a while, what if they suddenly disappear one day?" Jirou added.  "Then you'll end up kicking yourself for not doing anything sooner."  Todoroki's chest constricted at the thought of not seeing you anymore.  He decided to do something the next day.  

That is, until he woke up the next day to cat ears on his head.

True to his hair color, one ear is red and the other is white.  To his mortification, he couldn't pull them out no matter how hard he tugged at them, and pain shoots up to them like they've been a natural part of him for his entire life.  He didn't know what to do; hats were forbidden at work because of the uniform, they wouldn't come out, he has no other way to hide them.  He can only casually stroll into work and play it off as a headband or something.

Bakugou was for sure going to call him a furry after this.

Work ended up being more or less the same as usual, except for him getting more stares that usual from both the customers and his coworkers (Yes, Bakugou laughed at him the second he walked through the door).  The girls called him cute and wanted to pet him, to which he politely refused.  His heart was too busy mentally preparing for when you would walk in and spot his new features.

He didn't have much time, however, as he turned around and suddenly there you were at the counter.  His heart pounded as your eyes flickered up to his head.  Boy, was he unprepared.

Your eyes gleamed and your mouth formed a small "o" unknowingly before collecting yourself and giving him your usual order.  Todoroki noticed a few of your lingering stares and felt twice as embarrassed.  How could this happen to him?

It got worse from there (at least, to him it did).  His dismay grew when he saw you carry your meal to a table near the front window instead of out the door.  Of all the days you decided to stay for the morning instead of leaving, this tragedy had to befall him?  How could this happen?

"You're an idiot," Bakugou startled him during his lunch break when the boy was hiding in the staff room.  "Why are you here?"

"I can't go out there with my ears like this."   Todoroki flicked one of his new ears.  He had to admit, they're pretty soft to the touch.

"You should be out there talking to your lover, not holed up here."  The ash blond had enough of Todoroki being a wuss.  He pulled the boy up by the arm and towed him out in public, shoving him towards the table.  "Go, stupid!  They'll think you look cute with your stupid ears, it's a blessing in disguise!"

The lost male was about to turn around and protest when he saw Bakugou's eyes being redder than usual.  He wasn't getting out of this one.  Taking a deep breath to ease his hammering heart, he strolls over to your table.  He could only think of something professional to say so he wouldn't sound creepy.  "Were you satisfied with your order today?"

You looked up from your laptop.  Noticing the familiar boy, you smiled, "Of course!  You always make it to perfection, thank you!"

A wave of relief and warmth spread through his body at that.  "I'm flattered you remember me."

"There's no reason I shouldn't."  You move your bag and laptop away from the other side of the table.  "If you're on break, sit for a while."

Todoroki gratefully accepted the invitation, mostly because he was scrambling to think of how to ask anyway.  "So... what brings you here?  I mean, usually you get your order to go, I'm just wondering why you decided to sit for once."

You closed your laptop, giving him your full attention.  "One of my classes were canceled today and I had some work to catch up on.  And I like the vibe here."

"Oh, I see."

You stared back up at Todoroki's head and cough.  "You didn't have those before, did they just grow overnight or something?"

The boy's face turns crimson.  "You wouldn't believe me if I said they did."  Telling you the truth came naturally to him since he felt you wouldn't make fun of him.  "I'm hoping they're only temporary,"

"Well, even if they are temporary, you still look cute with and without them."

If it were possible for Todoroki to turn redder, he would have at your flirty comment.  He fingered the soft tissue since you had left him dumbfounded and tongue-tied.

It seemed to have flustered you as well.  "I hope this doesn't sound weird or anything," you stammer, looking down at your hands in shame before peering up at him, "But, can I...scratch your ears?"

Todoroki was sure his heart exploded into a million pieces at your request.  It took all he could to not just plop right into your lap like a real cat.  "I'm okay with that," he answered a little too quickly.

He loved the way your eyes brighten at his acceptance.  Scooting over, he brought his head closer to you in anticipation.  As soon as your soft touch meets his ears, he was in heaven.  Such a simple action as ghosting your fingers across the new appendages lights up the sensitive nerve endings there.  His eyes subconsciously close at the new sensations, leaning into your touch as your nails scratch behind them.  If he wasn't careful he would probably have purred right in front of you, but a part of him wouldn't have cared.

"Are you sure you're a human?"  You chuckled at his obvious enjoyment of your treatment.  "You seem to love this a little too much."

He straightened his body back up.  "You just do a pretty good job of...petting."  What else was he supposed to call it?

"I have a soft spot for cats, I love petting them."  Your orbs probed his.  "If you still have them tomorrow, would you like me to pet them again for you?"

Todoroki's wanted to smile to it cracks his face in half.  "S-Sure."

You took your pen from the table and wrote your number on the inside of his arm, your touch barely any pressure as you hold his wrist steady.  "Your hands probably get wet all day working, I don't want it to rub off."

"That would be smart."  He liked your warmth being close to him.  When he gets the courage, he'd like to caress you the same way as well.  Now that their relationship has moved on to the next step, he wanted to keep you close to him the way you were right then.

You met his intent stare at you when you finished writing on his arm, staying that way for a moment, and for a fleeting moment the thought of you pecking his nose flashed across his mind, but then the lilt of your laughter shook him out of his thoughts.  "You really are a cat, you have an intense stare like one."

Todoroki blinked stoically.  "Is that bad?"

"No, it's endearing."

Todoroki hoped that you two have more affectionate encounters like these.  He's practically a purring kitten under your tender gaze and touch.

.

.

Bonus:

All the girls are in the back of the cafe swooning, but also secretly jealous that Todoroki only allowed you - a seemingly perfect stranger - to pet his ears while Bakugou stands there all smug because he was the reason you two are together in the first place.

[ghostxofxartemis]

For character ask: Ashley no doubt :D

@neonbutchery If you want to send me another character for the ask, feel free to do so as I received Ash twice in my inbox <3

Character Ask.

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

Ash, my favourite thing about her? Pretty much anything, she's a girl who knows what she wants and will fight for it. She knows she's deserving of the promotions she keeps getting skipped over but she works hard to show the Alliance that she's worthy, even though she got rejected time and time again and doesn't feel worthy any longer, she doesn't let that stop her.

She's a tomboy but she's also really in tune with her feminism, her sexuality and I think that's absolutely fantastic (guuurl... I wish I was more like you!)

Family comes first for her. It seems in today's society, everyone is so gunhoo on their career, forgetting that family is also important, that they aren't always going to be there, and if something happens to you in your career, you're easily replaceable. Ash knows this, especially in her line of work where she faces hazardous conditions everyday, she makes sure she takes the time to talk to her family. I really love that about her.

There really isn't a least favourite thing about her other than the fact that Bioware over sexualized her in ME3. Where's that tomboy with the bun in her hair? She doesn't seem to be the type to let her hair down while on duty. Yes, I do believe she does let her hair down once in a while but not while she's fighting a war.

favourite line: "Just because I like poe doesn't mean I can't drill between the eyes from a thousand yeards away" or something like that, but you know which one.

and "Nothing like a nice relaxing stroll on the beach, blasting bad guys with my boomstick."

BrOTP: I think her and Garrus would have lots of shooting competition, which on can snipe the most enemies and same with Wrex but with the shotgun. I can definitely see her charging in with them and joking around with them afterwards. She's not afraid to get her hands dirty, and both Garrus and Wrex do respect her for that, we can see the respect is mutual.

Her and James, they both live to be soldiers and enjoy that, I think they would have competitions like, who can dissemble and reassemble the guns the fastest, who can lift more, or even sparring competitions.

OTP: Shepard obvs (and both Male and Femshep -after writing a f!shepley for the Solstice exchange, I really enjoyed the version I made of them). I think they suit each other the best, maybe it's my own bias, or maybe it's the way I portrait my canon Shep and how him and Ash are very competitive and both survivors and their bond is extremely strong because of that, I don't know, but I just think they work so well together.

Shep/Ash/Kaidan is my next one. I don't think Ash and Kaidan work well alone, but with Shep I think it would work. Ash has a dominate personality and she's brash while Kaidan is a "keep to the books" kind of guy and I think they're personality would clash at the end of the day as a couple. I see them more as BFFs.

Miranda/Ash, Traynor/Ash, and Jack/Ash are also some that I think would work well with her. 

NOtps: I don't know if I should go there but here goes: Wrex, Garrus, Jacob, Liara, Thane. Okay, maybe all the Aliens romances for Ashley.

Random Headcannon: I can picture Ash with a wardrobe full of old clothes, some of them even full of holes but she hangs on to them until they can't be worn anymore and she makes rags out them to clean the weapons. She doesn't let anything go to waste, and this is because her father was the only one that worked and provided the income but we know that the Third Serviceman Class (the rank her father remained at for his entire career) doesn't make very much money. He made enough for the family to have the bare minimum and so the girls shared clothes and they wore them until they couldn't get anymore uses out of them. They're mother would patch t he clothes until there wasn't anymore room for new patches etc. I think she has maybe 1-2 dresses in her wardrobe but not more than 3 at most.

Her favourite PJ's are an old Alliance t-shirt she first got a training and it may have holes under the armpit section but she refuses to through it out cause it still has more uses. nd an old pair of shorts.

I think that when her and Shep (earthborn/colonist Shep mostly) live together post war they are both very giving people because they have more than what they need and both of them are used to living with the bare minimum and they are just people with big hearts who know what it's like to have nothing, to come from nothing.

Unpopular opinion: She's not racist, she's a realist there's a difference.

Ash: The council races will always think of themselves first. It's...human nature.

Council Tevos: If we lend you our strength to help Earth our own world's will fall.

Ash: We can't afford to the trust them, not if the survival of humanity is on the line.

Council Tevos: The cruel and unfortunate truth is that while the Reapers focus on Earth, we can prepare and regroup.

Ash foreshadows so much, I could spend hours writing more of the foreshadowing she mentions....but the reality is.... she will still be wrongly labeled a racist but Ashley fans know that all to well.

Yeah some things she says aren't the most favorable lines but that's cause of Bioware's writing, not Ashley herself.

Song I associate Ashley with: Bloody Creature Poster Girl by In This Moment. It's probably not something she would listen to... or maybe? But I feel like it describes her very well, she's really not a Damsel in Distress. She can handle herself *Flexes her Guns*. And she definitely teachers her daughter(s) to be the same.

Favourite picture of them: ALL OF THEM! There's not enough picture of Ashley out there on the net, so all them are beautiful to see because it's like "there's finally a picture of Ash and not someone else"

[artificialqueens]

Ever in Your Favor, Chapter One (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: For the 75th Hunger Games, tributes will be chosen from each district's living victors.

Denali and Rosé, two women with a shared past, are the only living victors for District 12. They’ll grow a lot closer than they planned in their effort to survive.

A/N: Bringing my love of fantasy AUs to Rosnali! It's been a while since I've done a multi-chap, but I'm excited for this one! You can probably read this without knowing the books/movies, but it's helpful if you look up the basics if you're confused. There will be blood, violence, and injury throughout, but nothing more graphic than the books/movies.

Thank you so, so much to Writ for supporting this idea and helping me with it, and FaceTiming me to scream with your reaction. I love you <3

I really hope you enjoy, and please leave feedback if you like!

Read on AO3.

The blood is everywhere.

It stains the grass, trickles down Rosé’s pants, burns in her nose. It’s sticky on the side of her face. It pours from the fresh gash across her shoulder. It’s caked under her nails. It soaks the bodies on the ground.

The bodies.

One is still clinging to life, wheezing through the hole in his chest.

Rosé made that hole.

Rosé waits, not releasing her blood-soaked grip on her blood-soaked sword, until he gives one last wheeze and the cannon goes off, announcing her as winner of the 59th Hunger Games--

“Rosie, wake up. You’re having a nightmare again.”

Rosé shoots upright in bed, soaked with new sweat and old blood.

“It’s just us here. You’re safe.”

It’s her sisters in front of her, just her sisters. No bodies. No blood. No sword in her clenched fist. She sucks in a deep breath as her sisters watch in worry.

Rosé’s the only one who officially lives in the Victor’s Village house, but more often than not, Jan or Lagoona or both will come over for dinner and occasionally stay the night with her. She knows it’s mostly because they love her and want to, but it’s partly so they can make sure she eats and sleeps. She was the one who taught them to braid hair and jump rope, who used to check for monsters under their beds, and now they have to watch her eat and put her to bed and tug her out of nightmares. But Rosé doesn’t even care, because she loves her sisters more than anything and it feels so normal to have them around. She’s able to laugh and smile and forget, and she just pretends not to see the concerned looks her sisters exchange on her behalf.

They both stayed tonight, because they know what tomorrow is.

Rosé nods as she comes back to herself, holding back the apology on her lips because she knows they’ll just brush it off.

“Are you okay to go back to sleep?” Jan asks.

Rosé shrugs. If she looks at her hands too long, blood stains appear, but that’s not something she wants to worry them about. She hates still having the dreams, clear as if they happened an hour ago, not sixteen years ago. Plus it’s almost four, and she needs to be up in a few hours anyway--

“Let’s make cookies,” Lagoona says, coming to the same conclusion.

It’s what they did as kids, helping their parents with the bakery after school and on weekends. They’d line up at the counter, and Rosé would cream the butter and sugar, Lagoona would add the rest of the ingredients, and Jan would scoop the dough on the baking trays. Their mom always says there’s nothing a cookie can’t solve, and maybe that’s true of failed tests and middle school heartaches.

It’s a little harder when you had to kill people to stay alive.

Rosé tries, goes through the motions with her sisters, grateful that she has them. Wishing she could be better for them. She tries to hold herself together with sugar and butter, erase the blood on her hands by replacing it with melted chocolate. She’s calmer by the end at least, the tightness in her jaw loosened.

She notices that the lights are on in the house across the path. There’s only one other occupant in the Victor’s Village, and she’s not sleeping either.

---

Denali has long been awake when Reaping Day comes. She’s always up early to go for her morning run. She doesn’t need to run for her life anymore, but she runs from the memories just the same. It’s a normal thing to do, like when she used to wake up early every morning and hunt, and she likes convincing herself she’s normal.

Normal people don’t sleep with a knife in their hand and a bow at their feet.

Running. Always running.

She wishes she didn’t have to come back from her run today. The reaping starts in a few hours, and she’ll be paraded across the stage, one of two victors for the district. And then she’ll get assigned some poor kids she’s supposed to mentor, and no matter what tips she gives, what favors she tries to get from rich sponsors, it won’t be enough. Those kids will never come home. Not like Denali did.

Her right knee is screaming when she stumbles in the door. She’s gone too far on it today. It had been mangled in the final fight in her Games--dislocated, muscles torn, bones shattered. The doctors fixed it up enough for her to walk painlessly, but her punishing runs are sometimes too much for it.

She makes breakfast but can’t bring herself to eat it. She never ate on Reaping Days as a kid, worrying that if the impossible happened and her name got called, she would puke in front of the whole crowd, which in her teenage mind was as bad as getting called. And then she was seventeen and the impossible did happen, and instead of being free from this once she passed eighteen, the Capitol’s rules of her serving as mentor meant she’d never really be free of the Games. Not even winning them had been enough to escape.

Donut yips at the door, and Denali realizes someone’s knocking. She pets her dog--she always wanted one as a kid, and it’s another attempt at normalcy--and opens the door to see Kandy and Kahmora on the other side.

“We’re here to cheer you up before today’s shit show,” Kandy says bluntly.

Denali manages a smile. She doesn’t see her friends very often--they’re busy with work, and her house and whole life are so dull she doesn’t blame them for not wanting to spend time here--but they always make it a point to visit on Reaping Day, and Denali is so used to the loneliness that it’s both nice and strange to have friends over. They’re the sole reason Denali has extra coffee mugs, which collect dust in the cupboard 364 days of the year.

“What do you think Manila will wear this year?” Kahmora asks, her way of avoiding the unavoidable.

Denali wouldn’t mind if she brought up the Games outright. She’s become something of an expert in them, rewatching old footage over and over, looking to lessen the Games’ power on her, or give her something that would help a tribute. If you know every second of every Games, if you’re prepared for anything, then you can’t get hurt.

“It can’t be worse than that pink coat from last year,” Kandy says.

“At least you’re not dressing her,” Denali says. It’s the first joke she’s made in months, and her laugh sounds hollow. Fake.

But they both laugh, continuing to talk about what Manila will wear to pick tribute names, and Denali can pretend she’s normal, even if normal people don’t have their back to the wall and eye on the door, ready to run if needed.

It’s fine.

She’s fine.

The reaping will be over soon, and in a few weeks, the Games should be over. And maybe, just maybe, she’ll be lucky enough to succeed and bring a kid home this year.

---

The doorbell rings minutes after Jan and Lagoona leave, and Rosé knows the time is officially here.

Denali gets her every year and they walk to the reaping together. It’s nice, not having to do it alone. Almost like having a friend, though Rosé doesn’t actually know what to call their relationship.

Denali was best friends with Jan, and Rosé remembers her climbing trees and making jokes, practically another sister to Jan. Hell, Denali was practically another little sister to Rosé. She could remember helping Jan and Denali with their math homework and teaching them to weave friendship bracelets. Rosé didn’t see her much after she got back from her Victory Tour--but then again, she didn’t see anyone much after that, didn’t really leave her room. And then five years passed and suddenly she had to mentor a seventeen-year-old Denali who was so much stronger and fiercer than the kid Rosé remembered, determined to be the best and win the Games. Rosé knew Denali could win, and did what she could to make it happen, giving tips and begging sponsors, and Denali came home. Their district hasn’t had a winner since.

“At least the weather’s nice,” Denali says as they head into town.

“Yeah.”

The weather. Rosé had helped Denali learn fractions so she didn’t tear her notebook out of frustration, had helped her perfect her grip on a knife, had included notes of encouragement with Denali’s parachutes in the Games, and they’re talking about the weather. It’s like this every year, every time they have to mentor, the bare minimum of small talk and work talk. It’s like their past is so fragile they’re afraid to bring it up, that even the slightest mention of what they share will shatter the glass, and the images of them inside it.

The Games are the biggest thing that unite them, an experience and horror they share. But the topic is an ocean between them, one they hesitate to stick their toe in with each other, one they have their own ways of dealing with. Denali thrashes through the ocean; Rosé sees her go for a run every morning, and then walk her dog later, and then do yoga after that, careful activities that let her stay above the tide, fighting the forces that want to pull her under. Rosé just lets herself drift in the waves while trying to avoid that she’s in the water at all, and hopes she has enough air not to drown when the water swells.

“Your--your hair looks nice,” Rosé says. Whatever pointless things they talk about, she’s always nice to Denali, still has it in her to do that much. And her hair really does look nice, twisting down her back in a long braid.

“Thanks.” Denali’s cheeks flush pink. “Yours does too.”

“Jan did it for me.” She touches her waves self-consciously. It’s been a while since her hair’s been this nice, and she kind of likes it. She’d do it more often, but what’s the point when she sits at home all day?

“She was always good at hair stuff. She used to do all these braids for me at school when we were bored.” Denali stops suddenly, biting her lip like she knows she’s upset the balance, bringing up anything besides the safety of the weather.

“Yeah, well, I taught her how to do them in the first place,” Rosé says lightly, not wanting Denali to worry she’s done something wrong. She hasn’t, really; she hasn’t directly brought up the Games, at least. And it’s not like Rosé has ownership of mentioning Jan, not when she and Denali were so close and still see each other from time to time.

Denali smiles, and they talk about weather for the rest of the walk.

---

The stage is set, the dry grass ready to be trod on by the anxious steps of teenagers. Manila is poised at the microphone, warming up her throat. Her feathery yellow dress is blinding, as is the smile she flashes when Denali and Rosé reach the stage.

“That dress should come with a warning,” Rosé mutters, and Denali snorts. Rosé’s been a little more talkative this morning, even if everything comes out through clenched teeth, and Denali welcomes it.

“Our two lovely victors!” Manila says cheerfully, shaking both their hands.

“The only victors,” Denali says dryly, but Manila still laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard.

“Yes, well, lovely victors just the same. Take a seat. The crowd will arrive soon.” She ushers them into the plain black chairs they sit in year after year, watching terrified kids trickle in.

The twelve-year-olds come first, and they look so young. Denali thinks they look younger every year. They struggle to stay in a straight line, tripping over uneven grass and bumping into each other, the fear radiating off them.

She risks a peek at Rosé. Her fists are clenched so tight her knuckles are white, and she keeps her eyes on the stage floor, like she can’t bear to look at the kids.

Denali remembers being in their shoes, standing on the same grass. Sometimes she remembers her first reaping clearer than the one when she got picked. Everything was a blur after her name got called, and watching the footage of that day is like watching a movie of someone else, because she doesn’t remember walking up to the stage. Doesn’t remember any of it.

But her first reaping exists in perfect clarity.

Denali holds her breath as Manila reads the slip of paper clutched in her neon orange nails. She’s only feet away from the stage, and it feels like Manila can see through her, like she knows she’s reading Denali’s name and knows exactly where to find her.

But Manila doesn’t read Denali’s name.

She reads her best friend’s name instead.

The whole row of kids gasps, like they can’t believe the reaping came so close to them--came to their very row--but is leaving them untouched. Kids are already giving Jan a wide berth, like they don’t want her bad luck to pass to them. In the back of her mind, Denali wonders if she should worry about that too. But she won’t leave her friend.

Jan is frozen in place at Denali’s side, tears silently streaming down her cheeks. Denali doesn’t even think she’s breathing. The purple bow in her hair is crooked, which she would never allow, and Denali knows things are bad.

Denali wants to tell her it’s okay, wants to help her, but how can she? Everyone knows a twelve-year-old tribute is as good as dead, and Denali doesn’t know if she can pretend otherwise.

“Jan…“ Denali tries.

Jan cuts her off with a sudden breath, nodding to herself and preparing to move. But before Jan can take a step, someone sprints to the stage in a blur of red hair.

“I volunteer,” the redhead says breathlessly. “I volunteer as tribute.”

The crowd erupts into whispers, but all Denali hears is Jan scream as she recognizes the volunteer.

Rosé McCorkell. Jan’s older sister.

Jan lurches toward her sister, trembling so hard that Rosé grabs her waist to keep her upright.

“No, no, Rosie, please!” Jan is sobbing, her face a mess of tears, fighting to break her sister’s grip.

“Jan, it’s okay. It’s okay,” Rosé says softly, though Denali can see her legs quiver for a second. “I’ll come home, I promise. I love you.” Rosé rubs Jan’s back, soothing her as she cries, and though it almost feels too personal for Denali to witness this, she can’t look away from the firm set of Rosé’s jaw, the determination on her face.

Rosé fixes the bow in Jan’s hair, kisses the top of her head, and walks up to the stage.

Manila’s voice, unchanged even after all these years, pulls her into the present.

“Now since this is the Quarter Quell,” Manila begins, “things will be a little different this year.”

Something tugs in Denali’s stomach, her heart picking up speed, all her senses on high alert. The Quarter Quell is always something different; maybe double the tributes, or half of them. But the uncertainty is bad enough, straying from the careful routine Denali expected. Something’s not right; her body senses danger. But her body is always sensing danger. Maybe she’s just being paranoid.

“To honor the Games’ history and glory, this year’s tributes will be chosen from each district’s living victors.”

Rosé’s sharp intake of breath tells Denali she’s figured it out. When Denali realizes, she doesn’t breathe. She doesn’t move. She’s seventeen again, hearing her name at the reaping, the words repeating over and over as she walked numbly to the stage.

Two tributes for each district.

Two tributes from each district’s living victors.

Their district only has two living victors.

For all the rewatching Denali’s done, all the times tracing every twist and turn of the Games, she never prepared for this. Already, her legs are burning with the urge to run like she did in the arena, running from the enemy with a constant look over her shoulder. She can’t run from this. She couldn’t as a teenager and she can’t now, when the Capitol could kill her for it.

Though she might not survive anyway.

It’s too much for her mind to process. The world becomes a formless blob and all she can hear is her heart pounding in her ears. Pounding not only in fear, but anger, anger for her and all the victors. Anger at a system that praised them for winning and said they’d have peace afterward, but never really let them be free from the Games. They did their time. They survived the Games, emerging covered in blood and sweat and tears, scars on their bodies and in their minds. Reliving the Games through mentorship each year is bad enough. How could anyone make them do this again?

Manila is handed the huge glass bowl she always uses, but instead of a mountain of slips, only two pieces of paper lie at the bottom. There’s no escape.

“Our first tribute--”

“What’s the damn point?” Rosé asks, rising from her chair, and honestly, Denali doesn’t know how she’s standing. Rosé’s face is pure white, and she quickly hides her shaking hands behind her back. She has the same look in her eyes as when she volunteered for Jan: the look of an animal who sees the hunter and knows the arrow is coming, but stands their ground anyway, brave and defiant to the end. “It can only be us.”

Manila takes a flustered breath, cheeks flushed even through her thick makeup. “Well, tradition and all--”

Denali rises too, locking her wobbly knees. “Fuck that. Rosé’s right. No sense drawing this out.” Her mom always made her drink cough syrup in one bitter swallow as a kid, and Denali would rather get the misery over with.

Rosé gives a nod of approval, and Denali blushes. Part of her still sees Rosé as Jan’s older sister, as her mentor, someone Denali desperately wanted approval from. But approval or not, she agrees with what Rosé’s doing--taking some power from the Capitol, defying the rules and going into this with their anger known, instead of sitting by and letting a piece of paper and fanfare dictate it for them. If they have to do this again, they’re doing it their way.

Manila clears her throat and takes the microphone again, instantly silencing the crowd. “Well, then. I present your District 12 tributes for the 75th Hunger Games--Rosé McCorkell and Denali Foxx. May the odds be ever in your favor.”

The words wash over her as they did eleven years ago.

Denali’s going back into the arena, and Rosé--her old mentor, her old friend--is coming with her.