#cough.. quinton

[1-7776]

the hbomberguy vid is good i think i should check out his other stuff. it seems like actually quality essays which is lacking in the youtube space

[alexfromjersey]

LONG ROAD TO GRIEF & RECOVERY

Vada Cavell x G!P OC

word count:

warnings: none

a/n: quick little chapter. I kinda neglected this story for my other Jenna one…sorry 😬.

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GIF by lowkeyvada

“Sleeping Beauty has finally awakened from her slumber”

Deep breath in.

“I’m older than both of you so what I say goes”

Hold it.

“I wish you would just let your balls drop and talk to her. The longing gaze from across the room is so Twilight”

Hold it.

“Happy Birthday youngsters”

Hold it.

“DEVYN!”

Hold it.

“JORDAN!”

Hold it.

“You have to keep your eyes open. Don’t close them”

Exhale.

You let out the breath you were holding into the spirometer. The doctor took the device from you and logged in the numbers. It's been a week since the school shooting. You were shot in your lower abdomen and the bullet lodged into your hip bone. Thankfully, nothing major was nicked or hit, But the doctors had to leave the bullet in otherwise it would cause extensive bleeding.

“Okay Miss Vaughn, your lungs seem clear and strong. But if you start to have trouble breathing or cough/vomit blood, unbearable pain in your hip, go to the ER immediately” The Doctor insisted.

You nodded at his words. Your mother sat in the chair bouncing her leg up and down.

“What about the physical therapy for her leg? Is there a program or something?” Your mom asked.

“There is a physical therapy program we have but without insurance, it costs $250 per session. Based off Jordan’s injury, she will need sessions twice a week” The Doctor explained.

You look over at your mother who seems to be in deep thought. Your face falls when you realize where her thought process is going.

“Okay, thank you Doc” Your mother nodded. She grabs your crutch and helps you to stand. The two of you walk out the office together. You make it to the car and with a bit of a struggle, you manage to get in the front seat.

Your mom gets in the car and pulls out a cigarette. The two of you just sit in silence inside your heads.

“I know what you’re thinking. I know I promised I’ll never go back but…you need those sessions baby” Your mom mumbled.

“I don’t need them. I can do it myself. I can find tutorials on YouTube and do it like that. You don’t have to go back” You said.

“Jordan you’re not a Doctor. You don’t know if doing it yourself will help. These shifts at the diner barely pays the bills and I need you back at 100%” Your mom stated.

You stare out the window with a despondent expression.

“I’m doing this for you. You are my world and I love you forever” Your mom said and grabbed your face to look at her.

You look into her slighted dilated eyes to see nothing but genuine love in them.

“I love you too Mom” You spoke genuinely. Your mom gives you a kiss on the forehead before starting the car.

“Can I go by Quinton’s? I want to check up on him” You asked.

“Of course” Your mom answered.

For the next 15 minutes, you sat in the car with your head against the window looking at the passing scenery. The radio was softly playing in the background and the smell of cigarettes filled the car. You and Quinton hasn’t talk since he told you the news of Devyn passing. You were preoccupied with recovering but you also wanted to give him space to grieve.

It was going to hard moving on with life without Devyn. You felt about the idea. You didn’t want to move on. You wanted to be swallowed up with guilt. Guilt that you survived and he didn’t. Guilt that you could possibly be happy one day.

“Hey Jord, we’re here” Your mom shook you out of your thoughts. You looked up and saw the house you’ve been to numerous times. It felt weird, you started to get nervous. You kept rubbing your sweaty palms on your pants. Your mom took notice and she grabbed your hand.

“Hey, why don’t we go together” Your mom offered.

You swallow harshly and nod at her offer. She gave you an encouraging smile before getting out and coming to your side. She helped you exit the car and walk up the stairs. She knocked on the door for you.

A few moments later, the door opens to reveal Mrs. Hasland.

“I…I” You struggled to find words to say.

Suddenly, you are eloped into a huge. Mrs. Hasland hugged you tightly with tears pouring out her eyes. She kept muttering Thank You Lord into your shoulder over and over again. You wrap your arms around her tightly to return the hug.

Quinton appears from behind his mother. After his mother was finished hugging you, he pulled you into a tight hug too. The two of you pouring everything you needed to say in the hug.

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

A couple of days go by, you spent most of your time at Quinton’s house since your mother started having her company over. You didn’t want to see the men or hear the noises so you went over to Quinton’s, his parents not minding a bit.

You attended Devyn’s funeral which surprised you and everyone else because you absolutely despised funerals. If you could get out of going to one, you 100% did. But this was Devyn, one of your best friends. You couldn’t not go, you wanted to say goodbye to him one last time. You also didn’t want him to haunt you for not attending.

Another surprise was seeing Mia Reed and Vada at the service. You didn’t expect them to show up at all but you and Quinton appreciated it. The four of you all exchanged socials and phone numbers to keep in contact with one another and check up on each other.

Ding!

The sound of the text message sound brings you out of your thoughts. You grab your phone from the nightstand to see a text message from Vada.

Vada: hey (2:34 am)

Jordan: hey (2:35 am)

Vada: im surprised ur still up (2:35 am)

Jordan: could say the same thing for u (2:36 am)

Vada: i couldn’t sleep. the nightmares wont let me (2:36 am)

Jordan: same (2:37 am)

You watched as the text bubbles pop up and disappear. They pop up again with a new message.

Vada: this is probs a stupid question to ask but how r u? (2:39 am)

You sigh at the question. You could lie and say your okay or you could tell her the truth.

Jordan: fine as I can be. how bout u? (2:42 am)

Vada: good as anyone could be after something like that (2:43 am)

Jordan: understandable answer (2:43 am)

Vada: im sorry about devyn (2:45 am)

Jordan: thnx (2:48 am)

Vada: do u remember anything anything before u passed out (2:51 am)

Jordan: no. all I remember is falling out the stall and then blackness (2:52 am)

Jordan: truth be told I thought I died (2:52 am)

You don’t know why you lied to the girl. Maybe you think you are protecting from remembering anything from that…or protecting yourself.

Vada: we should hang out sometime (2:56 am)

Jordan: we should. when do u want to? (2:57 am)

Vada: maybe this weekend? (2:58 am)

Jordan: im down (2:59 am)

Vada: great 🙂 (3:01 am)

Jordan: 🙂 (3:01 am)

Vada: i should get some sleep. I’ll text u this weekend (3:02 am)

Jordan: looking forward to it (3:03 am)

Vada liked the message and you locked your phone. You placed your phone back on the charger on the nightstand.

“Looking forward to it, ugh” You cringed.

[mxrtified777]

okay, i completely switched gears to somewhat coherent ideas, thoughts, and rambling instead of an essay. this doesn't really have anything new or groundbreaking, its more or less just me thinking out loud about nevin; so here, take what ive written in the last 2 hours

☆ I don’t believe that Nevin has the textbook-definition of a victim complex; he’s obviously going to be more complex than the first google result of a Victim Complex/Mentality, but he absolutely shares behaviors and tendencies with said textbook-definitions. He has been shown to deflect blame (“I’m sorry you feel…” / “I-I… It wasn’t a fight, I didn’t hit him, he…”), as well as (seemingly) having a tendency to catastrophize (“...No… but Nevin tends to assume the worst,...”). A key difference between him and a typical victim mentality is his optimism. He believes that things can and will get better and that he has control over elements in his own life. (“I wouldn’t say it’s too late.” / “The only way to go is forward. As someone who has lived in four different states, things aren’t going to stay the same forever.”) He’s hyper-vigilant about possible threats due to negative past experiences, particularly about people (loud coughing Edward). This is shown through Nevin complaining about Drew’s choice of friends, both being people that Nevin actively dislikes and doesn’t trust. (“Is that fucking Quinton?” … “Where the hell are you going with him? / “I said, I'll tell you later,” … “I can’t talk about this right now.” / “Have you been hanging around him behind my back?”)

☆ Nevin doesn’t actively use his trauma to elicit sympathy from others. The thing that separates Nevin from a victim complex the most is intention. He isn’t like “boohoo im so traumatized no one likes me let me do what i want im so damaged”. When he’s talking about his personal hardships and emotions (a rare occurrence) he’s not doing it to manipulate others into feeling sorry for him, he’s literally just sharing how he feels. So his feelings of being a victim are internal for the most part, but. I mean. Yeah, he was the victim

☆ Chris’s tendency to be blamed for things paired with Nevin’s tendency to deflect blame is. It's not going to be fun. Because yes, Chris is a pushover, but he didn’t hesitate to call out Nevin for being unreasonable in their bathroom screaming match. What I'm wondering is how/if this will alter as their relationship develops; will Chris become more tolerant of Nevin’s unjust behavior? Will Chris call him out for outbursts like this in the future, and will Nevin take offense to it?

☆ This is why you do your research, kids. So you don’t prepare for 5 hours for an essay and then you realize your topic makes no sense and can’t actually be proven

☆ Nevin lashing out when offered help by Drew (“What do you think you’re doing?... / “I’m healing you. What do you think?” / “You shouldn’t have. I did this to myself.”) is also considered to be a common behavior for people with a victim mentality. This scene also makes me wonder about how Nevin reacts to being helped/assisted, and a step further than that, being coddled/babied. He’s been the caregiver all his life. He’s been the protector; suddenly, having the tables being flipped on him where he’s the one being cared for is gonna be fun to watch. Like don’t get me wrong, Grandma Jovel is an awesome parent, nothing but unconditional love for her, but it’s obviously gonna be different coming from say Drew or Chris, and it’s also gonna be different between those two as well. We’ve already seen Drew be kind of that way with Nevin, at the end of their argument (“You’re not alone, Nevin. You have me,” … “Even so… I do need to be a part of this because I love you, and I don’t want you to feel alone.” / “Drew, stop that…” … “You’re going to make me cry, too.”)

thanks for coming to what i spent a collective 6 hours on today, im gonna return to being Silly with my boys now

[kyorru-remade]

quinton you will start coughing in 7 days from now

[iridescentis]

all of the (video) essays I want to make eventually:

some of these are self explanatory, but I'll explain a bit bc why not

I think 7 would just be really funny if I made like a 8 hour video meticulously going through the whole plot trying to fix everything

number 4 would be about corpanga, miggie (maddie and diggie from liv and maddie) and lutteo because I think there are some similarities and differences that would be fun to talk about

number 8 is basically catagorising all the disney channel brothers into nerd vs troublemaker, maybe a sub catagory of stupid

10-12 would essentially be the same style of videos as quinton reviews NCU series, like episode by episode recap while also looking into lore and stuff (currently there are 9 seasons I think, so it would be 3 seasons per video/essay)

number 13 is purely because SOMEONE needs to write or make a video about backstage it is such a good show and criminally underrated

number 9 in a similar way because not enough people are talking about the TRAVESTY that was the icarly reboot getting cancelled i just have to make something about that

5 has probably been done before but i have my own perspective bc i watched gmw before bmw and i really want to see more than just 'this show will never hold up to the original' I WANT TO GET INTO WHY AND WHAT WENT WRONG (cough cough why would you make an abc family sitcom into a disney highly censored kids show)

[therichantsim]

I really had a coughing fit!

Fool's Gold? S15.Ep65-BMB39 - First, Quinton put away his usual chill approach and came straight at Draya with "make it make sense". Then Draya came back with long and hard, and before I could even finish appreciating that, BAM! He was was figuring it out! I thought I could catch my breath with Chanel, but she gave me the giggles because it was too cute. Then here comes Draya again, fresh off a very good morning with a whole new dynamic and I was still trying to figure out what I thought about that and if maybe Trin wasn't the only one who saw when Trin left me speechless.

You hit so many beats in only 13 frames, even though I've read it a couple of times now, my brain is still processing it!

A Mean SOB S15.Ep66-BMB40 - But then we moved on to the tête-à-tête in the weight room and I was surprised to see Quinton throw a mini fit, sounding like a kid, "This show is stupid." I'm not going to say that he doesn't have a point, but is he really surprised? Was he somehow under the impression that this was a normal environment to find someone to spend the rest of your life with? I don't think so.

What I do think is that as consensual as it was and as uncomplicated as it was (for Draya), he is really bothered by it and that is only furthered by the fact that he said aloud, in front of cameras, that he wasn't sure he was making the right decision when he chose Draya over Lucy. And now, here he is on the tail end of that playing out.

However, even if he felt that way then, he wasn't going to get anywhere with Lucy, so it's kind of six of one half a dozen of another. He may have felt that there was always the possibility that Lucy could have taken not being eliminated despite their disaster of a date as a sign that maybe she could try, but it's too late for all those what-ifs and maybes. He's living through the decisions he's made and he has no choice but to keep on doing so, because the whole point of the show is his final decision.

Trin asking him about his top 4 and him confirming that they haven't changed was such a simple exchange, but did a lot of heavy lifting story-wise, giving us some specific things to look forward to.

And finally, you really delivered on the last scene. I was actually applauding by the time I reached the last frame, with Yasmine saying, "Bring it on." As I said, my heart was pleased!

Thank you so much for making me crack up and smile very big. Now my thoughts below the cut.

It was a lot going on. I was all over that lot last night, but as far as the story goes you picked up exactly what I was putting down. He came at Draya straight no chaser and she hit him with two shots of tequila. Then next thing I knew was my notifications was notifying me that they were getting biz-zay! Now Trin and Chanel. She likes her because she reminds her of herself when she had less baggage (not calling her kids and husband baggage but it's not exactly how she saw her life playing out, but that's another story episode.) Anyway, remember Draya tried to ask Trin for advice but got rejected and they have a little red relationship bar. (Plot thickens) So, knowing what she saw AND liking Chanel, she gave her not only a piece of advice but a very pertinent piece of advice. Trin and Draya's encounter was also Trin telling Draya you done fucked up. Which leads me to Trin confronting Quinton about what took place. You are absolutely right he was more upset about the fact that he has to live with the decision that he may have chosen wrong. So Trin needed to bring him back by asking about the top four. She knows he has a hero complex and likes being well liked. So, he would've stewed in his whatever that was (tantrum). She got him back on track and he knew what needed to be done because he knows what's coming in the next rose ceremony.

[gaymerasmus]

OMG UR REQS R OPEN!

Can I request a tf2 matchup pls?

I apologise in advance, this is a long one.

Physical appearance:

- I’m not tall [*cough*like5’1*cough*] | I’m a bloody stick, some average meat but I’m still a lanky lil shit.

- Short undercut brunette hair with [somewhat emo] right-sweeping bangs, they naturally sweep left but look fluffier when swept right.

- I am in fact, whiter than sour-cream with very-very light freckles on my face, you gotta be CLOSE to see them.

- I have weird, blue-ish/green-ish/grey eyes. I swear I’ll never know their real colour because they pull a one-two-switcheroo depending on lighting.

- I wear big, thick-lensed, thin black-frame glasses and due to my rapidly declining eyesight I am practically blind without them.

- My right eyebrow has a slit cause I got bored, but I like it and it’s staying (and a piercing bc I can)

- I have size 10[?] gauges [/stretchers, whatever you call the things that stretch your earring holes], I plan to go bigger.

- I tend to wear a lot of black clothing and I have a very punk/alt/emo/grunge style. That, or I’ll look like a dad in cargo shorts and an over shirt thats given up.

About me:

- Trans guy | He/Him pronouns | Preferred name is Corvinn | Gay

- Aussie, very prominent accent, have been mistaken for a Brit because of ‘how I speak’ [I cuss more than a sailor]?

- Diagnosed with A.D.H.D., anxiety, depression and high functioning A.S.D. [that’s the main shit, the combination also causes insomnia lol] | Excess stimulation causes overloads and makes me temporarily non-verbal | My brain gets overly bored if there’s a lack of stimulation | I don‘t know SL because I started having non-verbal episodes in 8th grade. I’ll communicate using my phones notes app, tts or a very confusing game of charades | Stims include; flappy hands when emotionally overwhelmed, rapid leg bouncing when I’m anxious/focusing/listening to music, playing with my/the ear lobes of a person I trust for comfort | I twitch on occasion, I don’t think it’s serious; just painful-ish head/neck/shoulder jerks and non-painful leg/arm jerks accompanied by a grunt/verbal tic [I mainly squeak]/strained face | I have a bad habit of apologising/excusing myself after I twitch | Mental health is poor but I’m trying to get better and I think I’m heading in the right direction.

- Extremely self-conscious of my voice [think it’s too high] and height:(

- Self-taught aspiring artist of 8/9 years now | I do both digital and physical art | Tend to be more digital | When I do physical art it’s mostly sketching and watercolours | Plan to become a body artist in future.

- I’m easily excitable, but I’m told it’s annoying so I try not to but then that kind of leads to me not showing any outward emotion which also upsets people.

- I can sew and I own a sewing machine | Fun fact, I wanted to be a cosplayer when I was younger. Settling for a show-off in my textiles class [friend of mine’s a model/influencer and I’m gonna turn them into dress-up doll lmao].

- I was raised on shit like Korn, SlipKnot and LimpBizkit- I gotta fight to stay awake when metal is playing in the car.

- Favourite colour is all of them.

- I wanna get more piercings; left lower-lip, septum, and venoms.

- My Dad doesn’t think I can sing but a bunch of people have said otherwise. I’m currently at the point where I have no stage but I must sing.

Interests:

- I’m interested in textile practices.

- The Walten Files

- Marble Hornets

- Creepypasta

- Slasher films

- Hazbin Hotel/Heluva Boss

- DSMP

- Horror and paranormal shit

- ARG’s [I suck, but I enjoy watching others]

- FNAF [here since 2016, will cause physical altercations if opposed]

- All of animation YouTube

- Video essays on weird and obscure shit.

- Beloved YouTube blorbos include; CJ the X, Grayson projects, HarleyTBS, Izzzyzzz, Quinton Reviews, Chad Chad, LS Mark, Danny Gonzalez, Drew Goodeen, Mama Max, Nexpo, Manlybadasshero, Markiplier, Jacksepticeye, Neytirix, Noah Finnce, The Click, Sagan Hawkes, Pagan Valley, Wendigoon, Strange æons, Super Eyepatch Wolf, TFIL, Game Theory, TomSka, Pyrocynical, and many more.

- True crime

- Current main hyperfixation; MCR.

- According to 2021’s Spotify wrapped, my top genres were; #1 - Emo | #2 - Otacore | #3 - Metalcore | #4 DreamSMP[???] | #5 - Indie Pop | I think my music taste currently lies in punk/punk rock, modern rock, metal, emo, ska, and a lil bit of vocaloid.

- I love animals. I used to have a pure black cat, he ded now tho:(

- Video games.

Dislikes:

- Seafood

- Rumours

- Twitter drama [unless someone like TRO is feeding it to me in form of a video essay], if I have to hear about one more person being cancelled by a random group of 13 year old white girls over literally nothing I am going to flip my shit😀

- Country/opera/classical music [to be fair, I’ll listen to classical but it just sends me to sleep, it’s too slow for me, sorry]

- Trolls [I’m fine when it’s harmless and all in good fun but when it gets toxic is where I draw the line]

- And a lot of fandoms I refuse to name because they are really toxic and will stop at nothing to find me🚪🏃‍♂️💨🧍‍♂️

Sorry this is so long, hope it’s okay. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, no pressure! Anyway, it’s super la- early. I’m going to bed. Have a nice [insert time here]. Also, thanks and remember to take care of yourself!

Hullo hullo welcome and thank you!! You are paired with...

Demoman!!

Honestly this one was a really close call, but when I really thought about it I couldn't get Mr. Explodey Man out of my head. He sees you as super passionate and well rounded, both qualities he can appreciate! This man comes from a very straightforward and strict upbringing, so having your radiant personality and look nearby is honestly pretty refreshing for him.

I can see your dynamic including a lot of hurt/comfort influences, as well as some partners in crime and like a little friends to lovers vibe. He's very much an optimist and loves keeping your spirits up! He understands a lot of what you're going through (*coughs*t4t*coughs*) so expect a lot of advice and validating comments. Definitely tries to get you into some mischievous activities when bored, trouble is this guy's middle name (it's actually Finnegan). That's not to say he doesn't mind lounging about the house, learning about one of your interests through videos you watch or just listening to you ramble. He might fall asleep on you if you're not careful tho.

Demoman is also a very adaptable man. He's been around and seen a lot in his time, so he comes perfectly prepared for nearly everything you may need from him. It does surprise him at first when exposed to your stims and tics, but only for a moment! He finds stims that show your trust endearing, and certainly doesn't mind getting anything you need if you're having a bad day. He definitely seems like the type to catch on to what the different stims mean pretty quick. If he notices you're getting anxious he may subtly rest a hand on your leg, or lead you away from an area until you're no longer overstimulated. Once he learns about your non-verbal bouts he always keeps a pen and notepad nearby. Just very subtle and gentle things that shows he cares because he really really does.

He also adores your music taste!! Very chaotic instrumentals and throaty singing gets him all kinds of hyped. He tries to pass that hype on to you and it works about 99% of the time. When you're both bouncing with energy he'll gladly take you out somewhere to burn energy (and cause trouble). The best thing about Tavish is that this man can make anything fun. Simple things like taking out the trash, running errands, even going on a quiet walk end up becoming your most cherished memories with him. He always hums a tune from songs you like when he picks up on you smiling more.

Expect to meet his mother!! I have a feeling he plays it a bit old school when it comes to relationships, so he'd absolutely insist upon you meeting her. He also just really loves his mom. When you're both ready he invites you to his (fucking huge) house for tea. He's very confident you'll hit it off right away! It starts slow, but once you mention your experience with textiles she beams. Having experience herself; she happily shows you some pieces she's made for her family and for her. She asks that you update her with anything you make in the future, so I think you can safely say she likes you. It makes demoman very happy to see you getting along.

To summarize; he absolutely adores your presence in his life. He'll try his absolute best to make you happy, and loves laughing with you about anything and everything. I hope you liked it!!

[voidbears-oc-stash]

*Coco tries to talk but just coughs up blood- he hurt his vocal cords screaming- and badly soon enough Null arrives- * Null: hey! WHAT are ya'll doing i detected a massive... spike in... emotional energy... *he trails off as he stares at Caramel before looking at Expo with a look of pure horror'n despair!* Expo... that kid... is an orange lantern construct-

"Thank you, captain obvious, ask Luna or Quinton about it, they seem to be the reason behind it this time." Expo says, flicking his tail

Nameless hands Coco one of his crystals "Hold on, this makes my healing magic reach those deeper parts." he says, starting his healing magic, his wings starting to glow green

[npdsheffield]

i think its really frustrating when people are addressing something very serious but keep using the word narcissistic when they dont know what they mean but you dont want to bring it up because itll make you look like youre ignoring the huge issue theyre addressing and idk cough cough new quinton reviews video NO HATE TO HIM i genuinely dont think he knows what hes implying bc its become a mental health buzzword but im just frustrated sigh

[crowvainn]

blackfien hour I

uhh i’ve been working on this random story, so i’m gonna share it here!

—

the cool air rustled leaves outside, light noises of rain being heard. the silence of the night, oddly calming. frantic running is heard, at this hour? the girl held what seemed to be a necklace, with quartz on it. minutes before, the girl retrieving the seemingly ominous necklace from a small box in her room.

the girl ran to a abandoned cabin. the rain had soothed by now and the rustling was quiet. the girl slowly opens the door, the hinges squeaking while doing so. "Favienne..? Fav..are you there? It's me, Koltia" the girl, Koltia, whispered. the cabin was almost pitch black, the sound of a match being lit is heard, Favienne lights three candles. "Koltia.. good, good. you're here, ��� Favienne looks at the necklace, still in Koltia's hands — with the necklace." Koltia nods, carefully placing the necklace in Favienne's hands. Favienne inspects the necklace closely. the knob of the cabin turns, three more people go inside the cabin.

"Opal, Quinton, Lukios" Favienne said, nodding to the three. "please do sit, same with you, Koltia." the four did what they were told to, Favienne slowly takes two other items from a nearby table, long gloves with perfect embroidery in violet, and a mirror with silver lining on the rims, and a odd purple sheen. Favienne holds the necklace, gloves, and mirror in her hands, the three candles flickering and the fire slightly bigger. the five people close their eyes, and begin to say what sounded like something to say during a ritual.

“after weeks, months, years of darkness the relics have been found this very hour, this very day december 2nd, [REDACTED]”

"we speak to the higher up, the Carwelians who shall uphold the power of Ravenn Irrien Sarabeth II?”

silence. the five waited patiently, for the one moment that makes everything go back in motion. Favienne is the first to pick her head up, she lightly taps the others shoulders for them to pick their heads up too. once they had done that, Favienne paused, before saying just five words: "Koltia, is the next Blackfien"

Koltia shuddered, hearing her name being said. "wh..what?!" she exclaims, looking at Favienne. "the Carwelians do not lie, dear, you are for sure, the next Blackfien." Favienne said. Opal, who was Koltia's best friend, looked at her wide-eyed. Koltia, seeing Opal's expression, assumed she wanted to talk outside.

"Favienne, sorry, may me and Opal go outside for a bit?" Koltia said. Favienne nods, and also gives her the three relics. Koltia grabs Opal's hand and the two go outside. it wasn't raining anymore, the ground was still wet though, and wind lightly blew. Opal was the first to speak once outside. "so you are the Blackfien now?! you for sure had no chance of getting it.. i'm so confused!" Opal said, still holding Koltia's hand. "yeah.. same with me. i thought it was impossible, but i have it..! i don't know how to feel about this" Koltia mutters, feeling happy, but also perplexed.

the two sat and leaned against the cabin, huge gusts of wind blew their hair but they were otherwise unfazed. due to Koltia being the Blackfien, her hair slowly turned a matte black, no shine, just all black. Koltia grabbed the mirror and looked at her reflection anxiously. Opal looked at her in awe, she’d never seen this in action.

“Opal! Koltia! please come back inside” Lukios said, from inside the cabin. the two girls got up and walked to the cabin door. “where’s Koltia?” Quinton said, Opal turned to look behind her,

but Koltia wasn’t there.

—

Koltia woke in a pool of water. the area was dark, with only a lantern nearby, illuminating only a bit of what seemed to be a wall of dark grey bricks. gasping for air, Koltia swam to the top of the pool and got out, coughing up water. she warily picked up the lantern and held it in her hands, before starting to walk through the long corridors of this.. odd location.

standing before Koltia, was a big door. there was a bright light flooding the bottom, in the one crack the door wasn't covering. without a second thought, she gripped the handle, opened the door, and went out.

immediately Koltia collapsed on what felt like that same crunchy grass back at the cabin. she feels her hair. "it still feels.. dry?" she mumbled, noticing that the three relics were dry, too. it was dead silent, no breeze, no rustle, no noise at all. Koltia assumed the others went back to their homes, she checks her watch. "midnight.." Koltia says, was she really gone for 7 hours..?

she gets up and turns the knob of the door, going in the cabin. she places the relics on a table, when she notices a letter near her. she picks it up and reads what it says

whenever you see this, Koltia, place the relics on the stand, which is in a corner of this little cabin. if you don't do this, you will be transferred to different locations and in some very rare cases, you won't be able to come back, there won't be a door with light flooding. - Favienne

Koltia reads the note a few more times, and she finds the stand, behind a curtain. there were three slots, two stick shapes for the gloves; a stand for the mirror; a taller and wider stick for the necklace. there was also a ominous glow in the stand, which was a shiny gold. as soon as she put the last relic, the stand glows a blinding light.. then it stops. Koltia felt normal, like nothing changed. she hoped what Favienne said was true, she would never lie. unless..

before Koltia could think of anything else, someone was turning the door knob of the cabin. Koltia hid under a pile of pillows and curtains, and the figure walked inside. "Koltiaaa… i know you're here.. little Blackfien" they said. they oddly sounded like Favienne.. but with a distorted voice. Koltia sweats a bit, she tries her best to not make any noise at all, having her hands on her mouth. then Favienne lunged at her. Koltia dodges, but just barely. the relics float to her in a odd way, but she pulls the gloves and necklace on anyway. before Favienne lunged again Koltia grabbed the mirror and faced it at Favienne, a beam of blinding white light shooting at the figure. Favienne screams a distorted scream, and disintegrated.

Koltia looked in horror at the remains of Favienne, a dusty note. she picks it up wearily. and the words scrawled on the note said,

"i'll be back, Blackfien."

[aquamanandfriends]

"Hm, well, I can't get chicken and waffles out of my head, and I'm slowly getting high so I'm just going to be bad," he chuckled. "Buuuut, I'm saving this because good gyros are hard to find, they are either too dry or greasy." Quinton leaned back in his chair, "I've tried that but, I don't know, it's never worked out. I've got a friend I've been trying to get move out but he wants to do it on his own." He shrugged took another hit. "Okay," he coughed a little, "Most entertain?" he sighed, "God that's fucking hard," he chuckled, "Um... hmm, okay pick a name," he paused, "Kelly, Jenny, Preston or Mindy, those are the top four for sure, but you only get one story over the phone, the rest in person? Deal?"

"A girlfriend of mine, her beau owns a Greek restaurant. They have a few dishes that are all whole food--there are few paleo and keto items on that menu." She found the restaurant on her phone and texted him the delivery page. "If affording rent is a challenge, why not get a roommate?" she asked. She'd considered it a few times, but Dinah was the only friend she'd managed to keep, and she was currently latched onto her boyfriend. "In order of entertaining-ness, for sure."

[itinabe]

[melonisopod]

I’m not even exaggerating, when I say that seeing Quinton’s Wheezer shirt had me in a mad coughing fit from laughing for like 20 minutes straight.

[dailyrapfacts]

Kanye West offered ‘White Lives Matter’ t-shirt copyrights, but for a whopping $1 billion

Kanye West offered ‘White Lives Matter’ t-shirt copyrights, but for a whopping $1 billion

Ye has to cough out ten digits if he’s to acquire ‘White Lives Matter’ trademarkKanye West hasn’t been able to sell the controversial ‘White Lives Matter’ t-shirts because somebody else filed for the brand ownership copyrights the same day the rapper was seen wearing the t-shirt during Paris fashion show last month. Now, the current owners of the trademark, radio co-hosts Ramse Ja and Quinton…

[derryqueenx]

Babysitting: Part 2 (Used As Bait fic)

Hello. I’m so sorry for this one. That’s all I’ll say....👀

Sequel to Babysitting Part 1 (obvs), and if you all hated Quinton, well soz. But he’s still here. hehehe

TW: Blood & Wounds mention/briefest description

Word Count: 2849

“That was an incredibly stupid thing to do.” Quinton spoke coldly as he walked closer to Vince, who was still trying to hide himself against the door.

“I-I know.. I’m-“ Vince was cut off when Quinton charged forward, arm outreached and gripped him by the throat, slamming him hard against the door as he tightened, cutting off Vince’s air supply as he clutched around the collar, digging the leather deep into his pale skin.

“I didn’t ask for excuses, and I didn’t say you could speak. Did I?” He spat, glaring at Vince who struggled beneath him, both his hands clutching at Quinton for the smallest release.

He really should have gone to jazzercize with Howard more often.

Quinton only squeezed harder, pressing Vince so hard against the door he would surely have bruises again. “Did I?!” He shouted, repeating himself with Vince didn’t answer.

It was impossible for him to make any noise with this pressure on his windpipe, and he needed it to be gone as soon as possible or he’d risk passing out – which in all honestly, didn’t seem like a horrible alternative to whatever it was Quinton was going to do to him. But as he lungs screamed at him for air, his throat burning, he managed a simple head shake, silently confirming with Quinton that he spoke out of turn.

“And are you going to speak again?” Quinton insisted, still holding onto Vince casually as he gave another desperate head shake, which Quinton smirked at. “Lyle is very adamant that I don’t damage you beyond repair, so unfortunately cutting out your tongue isn’t an option. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be creative.” Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Quinton released Vince, dropping him to the ground in a piled heap as he coughed and wheezed, filling his lunges desperately with as much air as they could muster, the sensation of Quinton’s fingers wrapped around his neck still lingering. “Get up.” He hissed, shoving Vince forward as he continued sputtering. “Let’s play one of my favourite games.”

-

“Stop moving or it’s just going to hurt more.”

-

“Was that a cry of pain? No? Sure sounded like it to me..”

-

“I’m on your wrists now, would be a shame if we sliced into it here, wouldn’t it?”

-

“Oops. My hand slipped. Don’t worry, it’s just a little blood.”

-

“Oh dear, you’re making a mess on Lyle’s floor. He won’t be happy about that.”

-

“Bet you’re regretting that stupid escape attempt now, aren’t you?”

-

Finally, after several long minutes of excruciating pain and turmoil, Quinton was done. Clapping his hands together successfully, he took a step back to admire his handiwork, taking a sip out of another drink he’d made himself halfway through. “Stunning. Simply stunning.” He commented, as if looking at a piece of artwork hanging at a museum.

Vince, on the other hand, felt like anything but.

Quinton, somehow, had either found or brought along with him - Vince tried not to think about it -a roll of barbed wire, and had now securely tied the vast majority of it tightly around Vince’s body, binding him just as effectively as rope or silk, only 100 times more painful.

The tiny spikes pinched his skin, piercing it at numerous points so much that Vince had blood running down his arm, chest, legs - everywhere. None of it too deep or too worrying, but certainly irritating and agonizing. With every breathe and expansion of his chest, it pulled on the wire and dug it further in. With every small shift or twitch, he felt it go deeper and glide across his delicate skin. With any move at all, he’d just cause himself more pain. He was sweating by this point from the strain of trying to stay still mixed in with the sight of his own blood (Vince had never been great around blood), as he focused on trying not to take in too many deep breathes, remaining on his knees where Quinton had positioned him, hands bound in front of him and resting on his lap.

He just wanted Lyle back.

“Best not move, boy. Would hurt like a bitch if you did.” Quinton commented, as if Vince hadn’t already picked up on that fact, and Vince just tried to concentrate on a speck of dirt on the ground, not looking up at the man in front of him, trying to ignore the burning sensations engulfing his body. “Ah, this one looks a little loose.” He said casually, leaning forward and poking one of the prongs, causing it to push into Vince, disappearing underneath the skin as it pierced, earning another quick and stifled gasp of pain from the younger man, who quickly clamped his mouth shut, squeezing his eyes tightly together as he tried not to make a sound. “Oh, never mind. Was just the lighting, I guess.” He chuckled, finishing off his drink and momentarily walking away back into the kitchen, leaving Vince on the living room floor, his heart pounding in his throat as he dreaded what else was to come.

When Quinton returned, he had another fresh drink in one hand, and a folded up belt in another, smirking down at Vince. Using the belt, he nudged Vince’s chin upwards, forcing the man to look off the ground and lock eyes with him. “So, here’s the game. For every noise you make, you get 10 whippings. For every noise you successfully hold in, you only get 1.” Vince’s breath hitched, catching it in his throat as he looked back at Quinton with an unreadable expression.

Whatever pain was to come was certainly no worse than what he was feeling now. His whole body was already aching and stinging from the wire, his knee’s hurt from kneeling for too long already, his throat ached still from where Quinton had held him. Surely whatever else would just blend in to the already accumulating grief.

Vince swallowed a lump in his throat as Quinton disappeared behind him, the tense air thickening now at the never knowing – unsure of when the first strike would fall. Quinton started off small – another simple poke into the wire, this time not drawing any blood as it merely scratched against him, Vince clenching his jaw to keep him mouth shut.

“Good boy. That’s only 1 strike. Keep quiet now.” Was all the warning Vince had, before suddenly the belt cracked against his back, avoiding any collision with the wire for now, but creating a large welt no doubt onto the already delicate surface. Vince shot forward on the impact and surprise, his teeth clenched even harder to suppress the silent gasp and wince, the wire cutting even deeper from the movement as he tried to regain his composure, taking deep breathes through his nose to calm himself down.

One down.

He could do this. That wasn’t so bad.

A little belt whipping wasn’t a completely new concept to him, after all. Just, obviously, under different circumstances.

“Well done. And Lyle was worried you might not be teachable, ha. Let’s try again.” Once more, without even a pause for breathe, Lyle brought the belt down onto Vince’s back in the same spot he’d just connected with, sending a much sharper sting up Vince’s spine, but once again, he managed to keep silent, panting through his nose as he feared his teeth may shatter from how hard he had them clenched, his eyes shut tightly with anticipation.

This continued on for a few more strikes, each one getting more and more painful and putting Vince at risk of even the smallest gasp or wince. He was completely tensed by this point, which only caused the wire to cut even more into him but by now all he could manage to focus on was the burning in his back, the taste of copper in his mouth as he moved onto biting his cheek to keep the cries stifled.

So far, so good.

Then, everything changed. With his eyes closed Vince couldn’t see when Quinton moved, positioning himself in front of the man now, bringing the belt down with force across his chest this time. The surprise mixed in with this new sensitive area cause Vince’s mouth to snap open, eyes following suit, as a gasp and cry of pain came close behind of their own free will, disobeying Vince’s brain to keep quiet.

“Fuck!” He shouted in shock, the sting burning his entire chest as the welt already started forming. He wasn’t even completely aware he’d made a noise at first – the pain in his back and now his front being the one thing he was concentrating on, until he looked up at Quinton, who only had the biggest grin he’d ever seen on someone before. When he’d realised what he done, his first instinct was to argue back, apologise and promise it was an accident, but for once his brain finally worked faster than his mouth did, telling him that would only make his situation worse.

“What was that?” He mocked. “Was that a sound?” Vince bit his tongue, his chest heaving with dread. He’d already gotten at least 10 strikes and made it this far – he could do another 10. “Tsk Tsk Tsk, that’s too bad.” Quinton wandered behind Vince once more, disappearing from his eye line and leaving him metaphorically in the dark of what was going on. “10 whippings it is. Remember, keep quiet. Or it’s 10 more.”

The first one was meticulous. Quinton deliberately landed it right across the wrapping of wire on Vince’s lower back, pushing the prongs in on impact, piercing the skin in several places at once, and Vince couldn’t keep it in.

“Ahhhh!” He cried out, attempting to arch his back to relieve the pressure, which only caused the wire on his front to dig in deeper.

He heard Quinton chuckle through the ringing in his ears. “You’re on 19 now, boy.” Another one landed in the same spot, ripping open the skin as Vince could feel the blood start to run down, dripping onto the floor where it blended in with the rest of it, and he cried out again.

“10 more.” This time it hit the wire on his shoulders. The next hit his traps. And then returned to his lower back. Every blow connecting with the barbed wire, tearing open his skin, and ripping a cry from Vince every time to the point he couldn’t even try to keep it in anymore. His brain was a mess of pain and desperation and begging. Everywhere hurt. He just wanted it to stop. Needed it to stop.

He didn’t even bother to maintain his composure anymore. “P-please! Please stop! Ahh! H-hurts, I can’t- I can’t- GAH!”

“You can. And you will. I’ll stay here all night if I must. We’re not stopping until you take your punishment.”

Vince felt the tears in his eyes stinging, rolling down his cheeks as they blended in with the mix of dried and fresh blood, his breathing rapid, his heart pounding, it was too much. Too much.

He couldn’t do this.

Another whip. Another cry. And again. And again.

“I’ll make you a deal, simply because Lyle told me not to damage you too much not because I’m feeling sympathetic. If you can convince me well enough to stop, I’ll stop.”

Vince sniffled, his ears still ringing as the world around him felt faint. Quinton was giving him an out, offering him a way to make it stop.

All he had to do was break.

To grovel and beg and plead.

It was either that, or pass out from blood loss and pain soon enough – which honestly didn’t seem like a terrible option, but who knows how that that would take.

With a shaky breath, sweat dripping from his forehead, blood running down his arms and body, he managed to lift his head high enough to look at Quinton before him, waiting. Digging down as deep as he could, holding back the sob that was threatening to come through, he took a moment to think. He’d seen Howard beg enough times.

He could do this.

“Please..” he started. “Please, I’m- I’m so sorry. I was so stupid and dumb and I should never have disobeyed you. I swear, I’ll be good and I’ll listen to everything you say and do whatever you want. I promise. I can’t go through that again- please.. please believe me. I’ll do whatever I have to to show you I’m serious, to prove to you I’ve learnt my lesson. Just- please.”

Quinton looked down at him in silence, contemplating, listening. He studied Vince amusingly, before finally humming with approval and flashing him a smug smile. “Not bad. You certainly know how to sweet talk your way out of stuff, don’t you?” He smirked, leaning down to grip Vince’s chin once more, squeezing his cheeks firmly. “I hope you have learnt your lesson. We’ve still got a whole day together before Lyle’s back.” He reminded Vince, giving him one last look over before reaching into his back pocket and retrieving a Swiss army knife, flashing it in front of Vince’s face who only looked at it with wide, panicked eyes, terrified that maybe Quinton didn’t believe him. That he was going to be punished again.

When Quinton saw the look in Vince’s eyes he let out a bellowing laugh. “Don’t fret. I always keep my word, and you convinced me well enough. I’ll let you off the hook for now.” He released Vince, flicking open the knife to reveal some thin wire cutters, before making the first snip on the wire wrapped around Vince’s chest and shoulders.

As soon as the bind was gone, the stinging returned. Every time the spikes jolted or moved or fell out, it sent another wave of agony though him. Vince tried to keep the wincing to himself, still in fear he’d be punished all over again for speaking out of turn, until after a long suffering minute, he was free, the wire dropping to the ground around him.

Vince dared to look at the mess that was himself. He skin was littered with puncture wounds, some small, some big, and varying colours of bloods running down to pool at the floor. This was going to take a lot more than simple ice packs to heal.

“Now go clean yourself up. And don’t forget to clean up the mess you’ve made too.” Quinton ordered, walking away from Vince to return to the kitchen nonchalantly, like he hadn’t just spent a good chunk of the day torturing the smaller man.

On shaking legs and many gasps of pain, Vince finally managed to get himself up, walking as slowly and carefully as he could to the bathroom, holding back the tears that were on the frontline until after he was hidden behind the closed door. Quinton had already seen him break enough. He still had to keep some of it to himself.

He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, leaning over the sink as his hands gripped the sides of it for dear life, his knuckles turning white, his head dropped. He took a few deep breathes, trying to calm himself down as much as he could muster, but when that first tear drop fell into the sink, he knew it was no use.

Turning the sink on the drown out the noise, he let himself be free. He cried as quietly as he could while he wet his hands, splashing the cold water over his face to clean up the blood, sweat and tears, before preparing himself to begin with the rest of his body, which would no doubt be quite painful. Again.

Wetting a washcloth, he got to work.

It wasn’t easy, and was a lot messier than he anticipated, but he was eventually satisfied he’d cleaned himself up to the best of his ability for now, at least until, maybe, Lyle would treat his wounds like he did last time. He then only had his fresh cuts on his face left to clean.

Cleaning off the excess blood from the cloth, he prepared to place the wet rag on his cheek, glancing up into the mirror for a better look, and instead of seeing his reflection looking back at him..

… he saw Naboo.

“Ah-!” He gasped in shock, dropping the rag and stumbling back, nearly falling over the edge of the bathtub in the process.

He must have really lost a lot of blood. He was hallucinating. He was disoriented. He was imaging things

“Vince?” The image of Naboo said, it’s expression one of immense relief, almost like he was ready to cry. “Vince, thank god, it’s you!”

Cautiously, Vince re-approached the mirror, eyes squinting with hesitation and doubt as he studied it, trying to find the trick in the illusion. “Na-Naboo?” He stuttered, sounding unsure.

“Yes! It’s me, it’s me.” He reassured. “Now listen very carefully - I’m going to get you out of there.”

To be continued...

-

Sorry?? 🙃😇😇😇😇😇🖤💀

[hiyaluronic]

Anywhere Away from Here

A TOG x MCU xover that came from the blurb about Nicky and Joe coming across a beat up Peter Parker.

He knew it was stupid to think he’d ever be able to truly vanish from the public eye.

His Aunt and Happy would never let him completely disappear. He knew they would constantly be on the search for any sign of his continued existence; that’d he’d never be able to stop moving until he found a way to clear his name. He couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t take the chance that the fallout of his mistakes would lead back to those he cared for.

This was his weight to carry and he wouldn’t pass it off onto anyone else.

The whole mess was his responsibility.

Wasn’t it?

It had to be.

None of this would have happened if he’d just had more faith in himself and never handed those stupid glasses over to Myster- no, Beck. If he’d just believed in Mr. Stark’s last wishes and never handed over the glasses to Quinton Beck. 

Peter sniffled and blinked against the blur of tears to try and clear his vision, his hands tightening on his webs as he swung across Manhattan; the low rise apartment buildings and the old fashioned homes passed by below him in a mishmash of color so quickly that he had to focus on the building his webs were attached to or risk slipping when his stomach rebelled at the motion.

He normally loved the rush that came with basically flying across the New York skyline - the blur of the cityscape passing by him was thrill like no other - but in his current state his enjoyment was dampened by the continued chills of his spider sense. The constant low thrum of static keeping his nerves on edge and the irrational feeling that everyone was out to get him settling like an annoying pit in his stomach - left to sour and rot, making him nauseous.

Peter shot another web out and swung, his mind working to assess each new corner he turned afraid that an enemy could be lying in wait anytime he allowed his body a chance to rest. He couldn’t help the fearful feeling when he looked down any darkened street, the muddied shadows stretching out like tendrils ready to pull him in and never let go. 

He had to keep moving. 

Even though it felt like his body was strung tight, his muscles aching to the point he wasn’t sure he could remember what it felt like to relax; but he had to be on alert, aware of his surroundings all the time, ready for the next attack. Even as a haze seeped into his mind, muddling his thoughts and distorting reality with each heavy blink.

It was exhausting. 

And he was just so damned tired. 

Peter cleared the lump he felt forming in his throat and shot another web out to swing down to the inner workings of Hell’s Kitchen. The sound of thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance and reminded him he needed to seek shelter soon - the Feds had ransacked his last safe house - while the grumbling of his stomach begged for attention as well. He couldn’t honestly remember the last time he’d eaten enough to satisfy his enhanced metabolism. 

Peter grabbed at the webbing and swung forward only to realize his web had ended short and missed the connection point on the building across the way.

With a stuttering breath, Peter tried to right the floundering downward spiral of flips and spins he found himself in but couldn’t seem to find purchase on any given surface. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the sick feeling that was surging up his esophagus - his head screaming, or maybe that was him? - from the continuous change in position. Peter fumbled for the release of his wingsuit to help give him some sort of lift in the updraft of air but slammed into the side of a building, his head ringing from the impact and one of his lenses cracking from the blunt force, the HUD of his suit going dark and leaving him blind as he continued to fall. 

Peter cursed and ripped his mask off, blinking against the harsh burn of the early-winter wind and found himself gasping when the rush of air made it hard to breath - a fiery ache settling like kindling in his lungs and burning up his airway.

A rough cough tore through him when he slammed into another window, his head cracking against the smooth glass and sending shockwaves of undulating pain down his neck. Between one blink and the next Peter fell into a tailspin, he tried to twist his body, tried to grasp the balcony that was passing by quickly only to end up screaming when the weight of his body pulled at his shoulder. A scream ripped from him when his shoulder tore from its socket, his fingers slipping useless from the railing, arm worthless and numb. 

The next balcony clipped his temple and sent the world spiraling into a gritty static and by the time an empty car parked in some dingy back alley came upon him to break his fall he was lost to the waking world, the screech of a car alarm following him down into darkness.

o~Oo~O~oO~o

“Nile sent me a picture of the world’s largest ball of yarn. She says Quynh is making plans to steal it and Andy is a grumpy grandma who doesn’t get the appeal.”

Nicky looked up from his book, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at Joe’s dishevelled hair and sleep rumpled pajama bottoms hanging loosely about his hips, abs on full display. Nicky cleared his throat, “Quynh always liked grand displays and Andy is, well, Andy. Though I’m glad to hear Nile is enjoying herself.”

Joe smirked and ran a hand over his curls while shuffling further into the kitchen, headed towards the coffee pot, “And how about us, my life? What should we do to entertain ourselves today?”

“There is a new exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art. I thought we could be tourists today, if you wish?”

The coffee smelled amazing as Joe poured himself a cup, eyes peering through their kitchen window, the rays of the early morning hidden behind the gray of the coming winter storm. He shivered at the imagined chill of the cityscape outside, the frost framing the window adding to the perceived chill of outside. “Perhaps, or we could…”

The sound of shattering glass and the crunch of steel from outside their window stole the rest of Joe’s words with a flinch when the car parked outside their residence crumpled from the blunt force of some unknown object.

“What in the…” Joe set his coffee cup down and headed towards the door, Nicky right behind him. 

The early morning air, crisp with the chill of winter, stole Joe’s breath from him, his toes curling against the frigid pavement of their street, arms rubbing his bare arms as he made his way forward. Nicky by-passed him - having stopped to slip shoes on - and made his way to the car, the garbled shout of someone in the distance lost over the loud and distorted chirping of the car alarm. 

“Nicky?” The rigidness of Ncky’s shoulders had him on edge. “What is it?”

Wide eyes turned to stare at him, his heart falling to his feet when Nicky shook his head at him, a sick feeling roiling through him when Nicky quietly said, “It’s a child.”

He had to ask, even though he knew the answer to the question before it left the safety of his lips, he had to hear it. “Alive?”

Joe watched Nicky lean over crumbled metal and shattered glass to reach for a pulse point, Nicky’s eyes fluttering shut and forehead wrinkling in concentration, his love’s lips moving in quiet prayer.

A beat passed, then two, three - the seconds seemingly stretched on for an eternity - time slowing and allowing a tiny spark of hope to ignite within him before Nicky’s eyes opened once more with a gentle shake of his head. 

Joe sighed and turned to head back into the apartment to call the authorities, disheartened with the knowledge that an innocent had been taken from this world. His hand had barely touched the door handle when a shout from Nicky had him turning. His gaze fell to the wide eyes of Nicky, whose arms were wrapped around the gasping and gurgling form of some tiny wisp of a kid.

Joe gaped, mind reeling at the knowledge that this kid should be dead, and yet… “Bring him inside quickly, Nico.”

Joe winced at the anguished cry the kid made when Nicky hefted the smaller form up and out of the wreckage of the vehicle. 

Joe held the door open while Nicky maneuvered through the narrowed door of their apartment, his mind trying to understand how the child was still alive. The only answer was one that did not sit well within his soul. Surely the gods above would not be so cruel as to bestow immortality to someone so young?