#for some reason this time it was way sadder than I remember???

[sheree-says-stuff]

just finished watching brokeback mountain. contemplating ending it all.

[minhosimthings]

The Demon of Destruction || 18+

Synopsis: For the first night of the "Make Heeseung jealous" pact, you spend it with the devil incarnate, Park Sunghoon.

Pairings: detective!Sunghoon × fem!reader

Warnings: Smut minors Dni, dildo use, ab riding, swearing, use of aphrodisiac, mention of alcohol slightly drunk reader, fem!reader, p in v, rough sex, degradation, praise, mention of cheating, creampie, dom!Hoon, reader is called 'angel' and 'sweetheart', overstimulation

A/N: bonjour my babies. This is the first installment of the Lucifer series and I seriously cannot wait to start writing Jayeun's next. Also I am shit at writing riding I realised that whilst writing this so pardon me if you cringe Ii

Series Masterlist

If there was one thing that Park Sunghoon would never have expected to ever happen to him, it was taking one of his best friend's wife to his home with the sole objective of luring her to his bed. Although he didn't have any objection towards it, it was rather peculiar now that he thought about it.

Glancing out the corner of his eye, Sunghoon caught sight of how eerily calm you were. Any other woman would have been biting her lips until they bled. Or perhaps making conversation with him at that point.

But no, you were just...silent, devoid of sound, as if you were a creature mute and deaf.

"If you don't want to go ahead with the plan anymore I'm fine with that." Sunghoon offered, snapping you out of your daze. The bourbon had a greater effect on you than you had thought.

"What—no, of course not." You said, looking at him for the first time since you climbed into his car, "Why would you think that?"

Sunghoon considered you for a while before answering. "No reason, angel."

The nickname made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

Heeseung used to call you angel too.

•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•

"Welcome to my humble abode." Sunghoon whistled, opening the door of the cozy looking house for you. Your expectations of what his house would have looked like, was far different from the house you were standing in now. It was...homelier than you had expected.

"Are you sure you're not married?" You jested, taking off your coat, handing it off to Sunghoon, who hung it up at the door along with his own, "Any sensible woman would be all over this house, and you of course."

"As I said, I'm not that interested in a wife yet." Sunghoon said, guiding you to a small kitchen island, you had to squint in order to see your way through the dimly lit house.

"A drink for the lady?" Sunghoon offered, opening up a cupboard, "I've got whiskey, bourbon, and—" he stopped to look up at you and smirk, "—some special wine."

"What's so special about it?" You leaned against the counter, trying hard to look at him with seducing eyes, "Is it from France?"

"Jake got it for me." Sunghoon popped off the cork of the bottle with a quirk sound, "Apparently it's supposed to work in getting people..ahem-" he looked down, "Into the mood."

Aphrodisiac, you thought, you remembered Heeseung telling you about it once. He had wanted to buy some, before you scolded him, telling him that you were a big enough aphrodisiac for him. Once a laughable memory to you, seemed sadder now.

"Well?" Sunghoon snapped you out of your stupor once again, now nudging a glass of swirling maroon liquid into your hands. You hesitantly took the glass in your hands, inspecting it for a second, before downing it completely.

"Woah angel, slow down." Sunghoon took a sip from his own glass, "It won't work faster if you drink it faster."

Wouldn't it?, you wanted to question him, suddenly becoming hyper aware of Sunghoon's delicate features.

His hair fell perfectly onto his face in stray strands and his figure was strongly built, with slender waist and strong forearms, he almost looked feminine.

"Fuck..." You swore under your breath, holding your head in your hands, causing Sunghoon to look up worriedly. Setting his glass down and quickly walking over to you, he placed his hands on your lower waist before speaking.

"Alright there, sweetheart?"

"Yes I'm—fine." You forced out of your mouth, god did Sunghoon always smell this good?

Turning your body to his, your hands roamed over his stomach, and you could feel evident muscles through his thin shirt. Now that he had taken off his droopy coat, you realised how strongly built he really was.

"See something you like sweetheart?" His devilish smile came onto his face yet again, fueling the fire which kindled in your belly. Sunghoon's arms wrapped around your waist, eradicating the mere inches of air between you two.

One of his hands came up to your chin, his index lifting your dropping head up, as he examined it carefully. You could clearly feel the effects of the wine now, he looked so ethereal, whilst eyeing you up and down. He smirked once more.

"Let's go upstairs shall we, angel?"

|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•

Heeseung wasn't the kind of man to let go of his treasures that easily. So why exactly he had give you up, Sunghoon couldn't get the answer to that question.

It was invigorating to Sunghoon to see you undress for him. Just one look from his eyes and your shirt was on the floor, the faint tear stains on it forgotten, why would you ever remember Heeseung when a much handsomer devil was in front of you?

So there you were, standing in front of Sunghoon in your petticoat, which barely hid the black of your bra and panties. Not that you wanted to hide it anyway, you thought, internally smiling at how Sunghoon was looking at you with bedroom eyes, before walking over to you with slow steps.

"Heeseung's an idiot for giving up such a beauty." Sunghoon said to no one in particular as he eyed you up and down once more, taking in your nakedness with his ravenous eyes.

His hand came down to your inner thigh, your frail petticoat letting him feel the soft skin before he moved to your stomach. He smiled to himself as he lifted your bra up higher, his hand smoothing over the soft warm skin. Sunghoon bit his lip, his eyes looming over your visible breasts.

"Are you already ravishing me without even touching properly, detective Park?" You chuckled, leaning closer to him. Sunghoon raised a brow.

"I never knew Lee Heeseung's wife would be so..." He trailed off in silence causing you to smile.

"So what?" You quizzed his bemused figure, "So... experienced?"

"I was about to say attractive." Sunghoon chuckled darkly, "But then again—" he let go of your waist, striding to his bed and sitting down at the edge, spreading his legs in a way that made your insides unconsciously burn, "Heeseung isn't a man who'd marry some lowly wench, is he Mrs Lee?"

"You're being brave by calling me that." You followed his footsteps upto the bed, promptly settling yourself down on his thigh, he shuffled a bit to make you more comfortable, "You haven't called me by my name even once since we've arrived here. You just keep calling me angel."

"Why shouldn't I call you angel?" Sunghoon smirked, his hands gripping your hips tightly, pulling you down onto his thigh so harshly it made you wince, "Are you not one?"

"Poetic are you?" You scoffed, trying not to whimper at the distance between your lips and his, along with the added pressure of him keeping your clothed pussy firmly pressed to the fabric of his trousers, "Well, I'm no angel if you're expecting me to be one."

You didn't even get to blink an eye, before you felt your back land painfully against the soft matress. Sunghoon's hands burnt into the skin on your waist and his eyes raged with hellfire. He smelled of wet earth and rain on top of you, looking at you with hungry irises.

"Don't be an angel then." Sunghoon whispered, his jaw dangerously close to yours, you could feel his breath on your lips, "Just be a good girl for me yeah?"

Your hands found his stomach as his lips crashed onto yours. He was devouring you in every way possible, his breath coagulating yours, as he moved his sharp tongue across the flesh of your inner cheek. Your hands on the other side, were tracing his stomach. Through the thin cotton threads of his shirt, you could feel his muscles press against your palm as he kissed you, digging deeper with every moment.

"Sweetheart-" Sunghoon pulled away, you lifted your head slightly to catch his lips again, but he was quicker with his words, "-you've been groping my abs since forever now."

"Don't pretend like you don't like it." You scoffed, looking at him with a condescending expression. That devilish smirk came back to his face.

"Then why don't you get on them?" He asked, pulling away from you and instead lying down on the bed. His position was rather inviting, an unbuttoned shirt, (you had no idea how fast he had taken off his buttons), strong legs spread far apart, and a pretty face, illuminated by the faint moonlight.

You gulped heavily, hesitantly going near him, unsure of ether or not to get your ass onto his elysian figure. Sunghoon seemed to sense your nervousness, as he grabbed your arm and, with surprising strength, pulled you into himself.

As soon as your weight fell on his stomach, you mouth fell agape, and your face went down to make eye contact with him. You never noticed how beautiful Park Sunghoon's eyes were, they were always hidden under the guise of his rakish behaviour.

Sunghoon stops you for a second, motions for you to rise up slightly, and pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your dripping cunt to the air.

“Just move your hips sweetheart,” Sunghoon said, his hands on your waist, helping guide your movements. You sighed in pleasure as you started to feel some pressure. He helped your grind on his chiseled abs, until you hit the correct spot, feeling your cunt practically mold onto his tummy.

“Good job, keep going angel.” He said letting you hold his shoulders for support. Seeing your mouth press into an 'o' shape made his carnivorous tendencies ignite on fire.

His hands float to your hips, encouraging you to continue. You drop back down on him, the feeling of your bare clit rubbing directly against the crests and troughs of his abs was indescribable.

Using his firm grip on your waist, Sunghoon pushes you further onto the sharp hills on his stomach, and you quicken your pace, the searing pleasure in your clit overwhelming you.

"Fuck angel," he says, which elicits a whine from you. "you look so fucking pretty like this."

Your back arches slightly at the sound of his praise, your pace quickening even more. His one hand moving upto your hair fists it tight, earning another whimper from you.

“Such a good girl, you're doing so good angel,” He said, now feeling subtle wetness stain his belly button.

“Oh fuck—I-uhh-“ you moan, going faster on Sunghoon's muscled tummy.

“You gonna cum angel?" Sunghoon asks, a mocking tone to his voice that turned you on even more, that his handsome carved face, like the muse of God's scribe himself.

“F-fuck I’m so close, Hoonie” You whimper, your mouth hung open as you breathe hard. Hearing the nickname, Sunghoon jerked his hips up slightly, making you let out a tiny scream at the stimulation on your raw cunt.

“Cum for me angel.” Sunghoon says. With a few more movements, you were cumming, your back arching into his chest as you felt your pussy get drenched.

You nearly screamed as it hit you so strong your body expelled him, along with your wet release. He was quick to move his hips up again, his cum-coated stomach making you feel things you had never felt before, pushing them into you with a loud squelch. Your senses were on overload.

Sunghoon was consuming your entire being. You could feel every inch of him and you didn’t want to stop. Your core began to tingle, feeling another orgasm approach you, reducing you to a blubbering mess.

“Look at what a mess you’ve made angel,” Sunghoon taunted as you came drastically all over his stomach, "messy girl aren't you?"

Sunghoon carefully gripped your waist and lowered you onto the bed, chuckling at how wet his tummy felt. Of all the women he fucked, you were certainly on the topmost tier.

"Wait a tick for me." You thought you had seen him wink at you, but you weren't sure due to the silent darkness, the only noise coming from the rise and fall of your chest. You heard Sunghoon open his bedside drawer, with a creaking noise.

As you relaxed into the sheets, trying to ignore Sunghoon's shuffling around the drawer, you saw him from the corner of your eye, finally taking something out from it. You could see the shape of something easily recognisable in his hands.

"Do you know what this is, angel?" Sunghoon's hands rested flat on either side of your head as he got on top of you once more, waving the dildo in your face, "Of course you do," he answered his own question, "Heeseung wouldn't have let such a good pussy go without one would he?"

"That asshole couldn't have fucked me better even with a dildo." You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "do you just have a market of toys in that drawer?"

"Let's just say a lot of women like the foreplay." You could see him smirk even in the darkness, "I mean if you don't want it, I can put it bac-"

"No that's not what I meant!" You panicked, grabbing his arm. You wondered what about your tone of voice made Sunghoon laugh out loud and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. If anyone asked you later on whether you have felt butterflies or not, you'd had said no.

"Lay down for me angel." His voice was gentler now, a beautiful facade to his internal desires.

Sunghoon places the dildo on your clit and he starts to slowly rub it using the toy while you moan loudly. Moving the toy up and down your pussy, your sinful symphonies become louder, as Sunghoon watched the juices spill from your pussy causing him to groan at the sight. He thrusts the dildo harshly into your walls, and with the slightest touch of the material to your clit, you moan louder than before.

“S-Sunghoon—fuck, I'm-” You moan out as a slap echoes in the room and you feel a sting against your ass cheek. Sunghoon's hand repeatedly thrusts the dildo into your walls, making you wish fervently for his cock to replace it instead. He turns the pace up again as you moan even more while he continues to thrust the dildo in and out of you.

"Aww you want to cum?” he asks, as you struggle beneath him, he wasn't allowing you the pleasure he promised. Your breath came unsteady, fulfilling the reticent desires of Sunghoon's sadistic side.

"speak up, angel, I can't hear you." Sunghoon whispered, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead. You quickly pursed your lips, letting yourself make only muffled sounds. but you didn't last long, as every thrust and every inaudible whimper seemed to forcefully open your mouth from the inside.

"so pretty.." Sunghoon trailed off, laughing at your pleasured pain, "You want to cum hm?"

"Sunghoon-"

"Beg for it, come on." He commanded, "Beg me to let you cum, go on."

You weren't ready to give in that easy, but Sunghoon knew that. With a slick, carefully placed flick of his wrist, the slightly sharp end of the dildo touched you in a place that could have made you reach heaven and come back.

"Fuck—Sunghoon please!" You cried, tears falling down your face at the stimulation, "Please—let me cum.."

"Well if you say so." Sunghoon chuckled as you could do nothing but nod and after a few minutes of using the dildo, he takes it out of your pussy, pressing it in again.

You finish for a second time. You cling to him tight as the euphoria washes over you again. Locking your legs around his hips, you keep your face pressed to the warm skin of his neck as it goes through you.

Your juices coat the top of the dildo as you moan raucously, feeling ribbons of cum shoot onto the dildo, making Sunghoon smirk in evident pride.

Your arms grab his, as your chest arches into his mouth, hot and wet. You feel as his mouth comes off of the swollen bud as he removes the toy from your pussy, giving you pain and pleasure at the same time.

You were a mess at this point-- your hair was all tangled and you were a flustered mess full of scratches and hickeys on your tits where he had taken them into his mouth. Sunghoon placed a firm slap on your ass, which made your dripping cunt clench around nothing.

"Can you take more, angel?" He whispered to you, smoothing your hair out with his hand.

Sunghoon didn’t give you enough time to answer over his words as his lips crushed to yours. His tongue invaded your mouth as his hands roamed over your body. His roaming hand grabbed your hair as he ripped your face off himself. He looked down at you as you breathed heavily from his attack on your mouth.

"Hoonie~" you moaned into his mouth, "Want—your cock—please."

That was all it took for Sunghoon to practically rip off his belt and trousers, now laying on the floor, with their owner on top of you. Your throat went dry at the sight of his cock, hard and pulsing, the head of it angry red, glistening with precum.

He pulled back slightly, positioning his cock at your entrance and grabbed a fistful of your hair, stretching your upper body closer to him, putting you into an unnatural position.

His body was perfect, lean and muscular, strong and sharp features etched onto his body that looked straight out of a painting.Your gaze wandered over his arms, his chest and down his waist, hips and strong legs; every detail and body part burning into your mind.

You pant heavily, gasping for air as his large cock stretches your insides. His eyes are darkened but a cocky smirk remains. Achingly slow he pumps in making your eyes roll back, groaning at the sight of your mouth slack and panting.

His hips were moving slowly, with deep hard thrusts that made you moan with each push. His hips were doing most of the work, the thrusts were deep enough and hard enough for you to melt against the bed but enough to make everything shake under your skin as you were taking everything he gave you.  Sunghoon was not going fast, which made you wonder for a split second if he wished to. 

"Yes….Hoonie…FUCK!" You mewled as he hit that spot inside of you, hearing him growl for a moment as he was still fucking you deep into the mattress. His hand that was holding your thigh was in a tight grip, not letting you faint as you clung onto his back of dear life, feeling your nails almost break the skin as your moans were getting louder and more vocal. 

His rhythm was consistent, not slowing down or going too fast just to drive you insane as you felt that feeling of an intense orgasm come over you again. 

 "I'm c-close, Hoonie—" You were moaning into his neck as he huffed and stopped his thrusts. You were about to protest at him, teetering right on the edge of that pleasurable fall when he moved swiftly once again. 

Still inside of you, he leaned back a bit and scooped you in his arms, bringing you closer to him. You let out a noise of pain as you felt his entire girth penetrate deep inside you.

As you threw back your head and moan loudly, it dawns on you how very fragile-mannered Heeseung has fucked you. Your hips tremble as your body tenses, the ragged breath escaping your mouth cuts through your symphony of whines.

"Hoonie~Sunghoon—I can't!"

"Yes you can." Sunghoon groans as he feels you clench around him tighter than ever, "Be a good girl for me, angel and take it."

 The knot in your stomach tightened and snapped, your walls spasming and clenching around him as you released all over his cock that was buried deep inside of you. You were seeing stars and your body was shaking from the intensity. 

His cock jerks around against your walls once, twice, before he’s creaming, filling you up with ropes of hot cum. He thrusts deeper into you, a melody arising from both your moans as you felt him inside your very soul.

Soft pants and deep breaths invaded the space around you, not a word being spoken. You stayed like that for only a few seconds, catching your breath as you both came down from your highs. He then carefully pulled out, muttering a string of curses and an unheard comment about the the mess you both made off of his sheets.

"Come on angel." Sunghoon muttered under his breath, in a barely audible voice, not that you were listening anyway, "Let's get you cleaned up."

|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•

"Tea?" Sunghoon offered you, your second cup of the night, "People say I make the best tea of all the precinct."

"Alright I trust you." You laughed, taking the mug in your hands and relaxing into the atmosphere of the cozy kitchen island, clad in a robe, you had no idea where Sunghoon got it from.

Calm silence followed, wherein you and Sunghoon sipped tea from your respective mugs. Yours had a 'To Uncle Sunghoon' on it, along with what looked like a child's drawing. You giggled to yourself. A gift from Sunghoon's beloved nephew, no less.

"Can-can I ask you something if you don't mind?" Sunghoon asked, and you noticed, that for the first time, there was no cocky tone to his voice.

"Go ahead." You smiled, "Unless it's about my first night with Heeseung."

"No no." Sunghoon laughed, taking another sup of his tea, his lips stained pink from all the kissing that had taken place, "I wanted to ask—how is it like, being married?"

You were taken aback by his question. Park Sunghoon, perhaps the last person on earth, who would ever think of marriage, was asking you about it? Had the bees stopped producing honey today?

"Well, I can't say," you started, "It's different for each person, you know. And, as time goes on, it changes. Which in my case-" you let out a cold laugh, "-is very evident."

Sunghoon was quick to put his hand on yours, giving it a tiny squeeze, along with a warm smile.

"You know who was really upset when he found out about...ahem.. your situation?" Sunghoon suddenly said, intriguing you.

"I don't know—Jay?" You said, realising you were right when you saw Sunghoon's expression, "Oh. Wait—Jay? You're not joking?"

"Y/N, trust me if you saw how much that man was brooding over it, you'd think he was your husband, not Heeseung." Sunghoon chuckled, downing the last bits of his tea, "Would you like to head to bed?"

Though you fell asleep soundly that night, wrapped in Sunghoon's surprisingly soft arms (now that the effects of the wine was over), you kept pondering over his words.

Jay—worrying about you? It was a heart thumping thought, which made you feel like what warm winter suns felt like. Jay Park, you sighed to yourself, before going off to sleep.

The day after tomorrow seemed too far away.

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[zyk1ng]

I was gonna make this post way way earlier but I forgot lol but Uhm

I have played through the splatoon 2 story fully and am replaying it (for a future post bc a lot of the dialogue is rlly funny) and honestly while I absolutely loved it it makes me even sadder that splat 2’s story mode was kinda tossed aside (for valid reasons ofc) because it’s so Cool.

Excluding the gameplay, I think they did marie so well, because she sells the desperation of someone who’s got nobody she knows by her side. While she of course keeps the sassy attitude of sneak dissing her best friends (agent 3) and also telekinetically telling you to fuck off if you talk to her too much it’s very clear she genuinely cares so much about agent 4 and is so grateful they’re doing what they do.

these are only two screenshots of 8(?) of Marie randomly being really sentimental to 4 because this stranger chose to help her in her time of need rather than just ignore this GROWN WOMAN hanging out on a sewer drain

It’s like heavily emphasized multiple times that Marie could not be more grateful for 4’s help in retrieving not just the zapfish but also her cousin.

But then revealing that 4 knew about Callie the WHOLE TIME (I have a lot to say about this part but it’s mostly hc so) which is so KIND OF THEM???? this random woman recruits them into a secret military agency and hides the fact she rlly misses her cousin but they help anyway bc they WANT TO. (They didn’t even know either of them were famous btw) Marie shows a lot of gratitude toward 4 ESPECIALLY after the big reveal.

(You could make arguments for 3 being similar bc an old kook made them do it but this isn’t about them..)

And it’s not just being grateful for the one time, she genuinely enjoys 4’s company and wants to be better friends with them and chat after the zapfish and Callie are saved 😭😭😭

It’s so cute too, because 100%ing the game and even just being a little nosy is something that Marie picks up on, and remembers way later in the game. (More abt this later)

god I love this socially inept squid woman and her adopted child soldier that likes finding pieces of paper

Speaking of said soldier! I think the way they characterized 4 via the actual gameplay rather than art/statements/whatever is so cool

4 doesn’t have many illustrations besides the chaos splatfest and that one group photo where they’re being funky in the corner (and the apartment) but I feel like the reason for that is the fact that a lot of Marie’s dialogue as well as how splatoon 2’s hero mode is structured/designed speaks a lot about how they wanted to represent 4.

From a realistic standpoint, of course splatoon 2’s story mode has to be more creative both prompt wise and secret wise. But it feels like the reason its that way is because both 4 and Marie are separate types of people from Craig and 3.

The bosses help a lot with this too, being more gimmicky and weird (subtracting stamp.) Octo shower and samurai being bosses where you have to either react well or change your positioning to effectively beat them. (Octo shower is my fave btw I loved fighting it the first time)

The level design also shines in this aspect because if I’m honest I remember none of the splat 1 levels significantly besides the few octoling ones. Splatoon 2’s levels are very detailed (and also insanely pretty) and have some rlly fun puzzles in a handful of them and even the more fast ones are a blast to play through

And then all the little extras (sardiniums and scrolls alike) are hidden so well and you usually have to go out of your way to find them and even the secrets that aren’t either of those things have substance

Small note, a lot of extras are also made so that it flows well with the levels design (like the first dualie request mission) which is also extremely fucking cool.

the way marie touches on those little discoveries is so smart too because it (as I said before) characterizes 4 as someone who loves to look for things even if it’s on a whim especially since the sunken scrolls in the game are so much harder to find than in splat1.

And the fact that unlike splat 1, you can (technically) 800% the game by playing EVERY SINGLE LEVEL WITH EVER SINGLE WEAPON TYPE. to me it feels like it deepens the fact that 4 likes to be really thorough. marie goes “you have a problem.” When you break like two hidden egg crates in this one level and it’s so great.

I love what they’ve done with 4, whether it was intentional or I’m over-analytical.

Nothing gets past them, looking in every nook and cranny whether or not there’s secrets to be found. They’re too nosy and thorough and they like to be around marie after completing missions, they don’t know who the squid sisters are, hate balloons, may or may not be ok, have impulsive secret finding, partake in many extracurriculars, can be needy at times, go with the flow and they apparently smell better than agent 3.

Agent four, of the New Squidbeak Splatoon.

[mountainclimbingnerdynurse]

Since tgr is coming out next week, here's some long random thoughts I have:

-Jean only has a driver's licence so he could travel on away games. Tetsuji took/ locked away Jean's passport when he arrived in the US, but he needed government ID to fly for away games. It is given to Ichirou with the new deal. The perfect court were never taught any other life skills, so I don't see why they would've been taught to drive if they weren't taught to cook.

-When he starts traveling to away games with the Trojans, they find it odd that he doesn't have a passport. This finally leads them to a Google search that leads to a human trafficking page. Then they realize Jean ticks off most of the boxes (name change, no passport, forbidden interaction with the public, forbidden language, deferring to another (Tetsuji and Riko when he was a Raven), physical wounds/ scarring, etc). (I also imagine Jean to have a Moriyama brand on his heel where no one can see who didn't know to look there. . .)

-Jean is 100% an exy prodigy. Tetsuji wouldn't've just bought some random kid from a foreign country. Jean must've been incredible to catch his eye and make the money and the fuss of international adoptions worth it. And that was him as an untrained child. With the training from the Ravens, he's one of the best players in the game. When he plays healthy, unhurt, and supported with the Trojans, I think he's the best in the game. I'd love to see him easily scoring from the backline. It becomes a trademarked move that no one else can pull off. The ERC has to have special meetings at the end of the season to assess if they should alter the official rulebook to forbid backliners from scoring. (They don't.)

-I can't remember who first posted the idea, but I do think that Jean's father sex trafficked him as a child. (One doesn't jump straight to selling their kids to the mafia without building up to it first). Riko finds out and is upset that Jean is 'used goods'. This is what Jean is begging forgiveness for when Riko sends him into the other Raven's beds. (Also for looking at Kevin in the changeroom, obvs)

-Jeremy is just a normal dude with normal dude problems. He isn't allowed out during the week. Maybe his big scandal is just that he's not that academically inclined. If he was into drugs or hard-core partying, he wouldn't be allowed out on the weekends. Maybe he was on academic probation, or maybe his grades just weren't up to his parent's standards. At most there was a sex scandal in his first year when he was in first year and exploring his sexuality, resulting in the 'floozies' jokes. His mum and stepfamily are definitely homophobic, though.

-Elodie's death occurred at vaguely the same time as Jean's first suicide attempt. When he learns this, Jean blames himself for her death. He believes that because he 'forgot his place' and tried to escape his fate as a Moreau, Elodie was punished for it.

-Jean will attempt suicide in tgr. Nora said she'd drag Jean back to life, no matter how much he didn't want it. She also said tgr is sadder than tsc. It will happen for one of two reasons. 1) he's too low now. Being with the Trojans shows him that he is a person and he can decide his own fate. Kevin and Riko don't get to tell him when to live or die. Maybe he realizes that he didn't deserve everything he's been through, and feels trapped by the deal with Ichirou. 2) he makes an infraction against his addendum to his contract with the Trojans. Maybe he is rude to a reporter. Maybe he gets a yellow card (I don't really want any red cards. . .). Either way, he feels like his contract is void and that he'll be kicked off the team, and therefore his life is forfeit, so he decides to beat Ichirou to the punch.

-If that does happen, and if Jeremy does have a sibling who committed suicide, he's the one to find Jean. But Jeremy freezes and panics, and it's up to someone else to call EMS/ provide first aid. And then neither Jean nor Jeremy are in positions to help eachother through the aftermath. Cat and Laila carry them both.

-If Jean acquires a new hobby (other than pottery, cooking, and motorbikes), it should be gardening. That boy clearly loves the outdoors, and appreciates life. He should get to grow some pretty flowers, and enjoy the soil beneath his nails and the sin on his skin.

-The Ravens blame Jean 1000% for their downfall. This results in death threats/ mean letters from Ravens fans. At the regular season Ravens v Trojans, they injure Jean to the point of hospitalization (he plays throught the match and it isn't until a few days later that the team realizes something is wrong. This is when the Trojans realize Jean can't be trusted regarding his health status, and that he was playing every game as a Raven injured). At the championship game, it results in straight up attempted murder. (The Ravens still get knocked out in the early rounds) (I'm not the same as I was by perchancetosleep is probably my favourite fic ever, and goes along with this idea)

-I don't really love the idea of us knowing the person Ichirou is engaged to. However, someone posted that they thought maybe it was Elodie. I don't love that, nor do I think a Moriyama would marry property. However, he might marry someone with more influence, say, a Senator's daughter. If Ichirou marries someone we've already been introduced to, I could see it being Annalise. Because of their slightly estranged relationship, Jeremy had never met his future brother-in-law, and was seeing him for the first time on TV. I don't really think this could nor should happen, but it would make for some very interesting family get-togethers when all the ?Knoxes bring their plus ones. . . (Obviously Jean goes with Jeremy)

-my random headcanon: Jean only really heard other team's fight songs in his time as a Raven. He doesn't understand the floozies' love of TV, but he gets really into music. When he's happy, he sings softly to himself.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Remember that ask with a s/o who had a mech? That one with firefly.

(H:SR Short Fic) Firefly's S/O using a mech

I was going to do something more comical originally, but unfortunately for everyone I just saw Gundam Narrative, which means Firefly isn't allowed to have nice things. Warnings: Angst/No Comfort, just sad robot on robot action (in the beat the shit out of each other way) Word Count: 1.8k

Firefly sat upon the roof, enjoying the peace and quiet as she stared at the stars far above in the sky. However, it wasn't long before the sounds of footsteps approached from below. She turned to the source of the sound, her lips forming into a bright smile.

(Firefly) "S/O?"

(S/O) "Hey, sorry I'm late!"

S/O was panting as they joined her, Firefly moving a little to her left to make room. They sat down close, to the point their legs were constantly brushing against hers, but neither seemed to mind. Instead of looking back to the stars, Firefly's gaze remained on S/O's own smile.

(S/O) "I was just making some final adjustments to the Phenex! I think it'll be ready to fly with you by tomorrow night!"

Firefly's eyes widened at S/O's news, leaning closer into their shoulder.

(Firefly) "Really? That's great!"

S/O beamed at her reaction, nodding excitedly as one hand wrapped around hers.

(S/O) "Honestly, I'll probably end up falling a bunch of times, but I promise, we'll find the brightest stars we can together!"

Firefly's imagination started running wild with images of S/O comically flailing about in their own steel suit, making her giggle. She couldn't wait to actually see what happened.

She opened her mouth to say something, but the words never left as she noticed S/O looked up to the sky, with a much more somber expression despite their lighthearted quip.

(S/O) "...The brightest star, huh?"

(Firefly) "...S/O?"

S/O squeezed her hand tighter as they remained silent for a moment. They seemed to grow sadder with every second that passed.

(S/O) "Did...I ever tell you the reason I even began making the Phenex, Firefly?"

She tilted her head in confusion as her brows furrowed.

(Firefly) "No, you didn't. I assumed you just wanted to be with me whenever I donned SAM."

(S/O) "Well, it was that too, but..."

Firefly felt their thumb fidget against the top of her hand as they struggled to come up with an answer, in which she simply said nothing, giving them all the time they needed.

(S/O) "I wanted to go up into the stars myself, brave whatever awaited me out there, so I could find a way to defy your fate."

Their voice started to tremble as they spoke their reason aloud.

(Firefly) "S/O..."

Finally, they turned to face her, tears welling up in their eyes.

(S/O) "That's what I'll do with the Phenex. I'll become a bird and soar, so that way I can find a way for you to be reborn."

Firefly and S/O said nothing after that declaration, staring at each other before they sighed, letting go of her hand and resting it in their face.

(S/O) "Oh my god, that sounded way better in my head than it did out loud..."

Firefly was only stunned for a few more seconds before she burst into laughter, making S/O pout at her reaction.

(S/O) "H-Hey! I know it sounded bad but you don't have to laugh that much at it!"

Both her hands rested on her stomach as it began to hurt, her laughter barely stopping as she tried her best to reply.

(Firefly) "I-I-I'm sorry! I promise I'm not laughing at you!"

It took her a minute to finally calm herself down, S/O still grumbling under their breath as they waited. Firefly gently wiped their tears away with a finger before kissing them on the cheek.

(Firefly) "It's a sweet gesture, S/O...Thank you."

S/O smiled at Firefly, resting their head onto her shoulders and closing their eyes.

(S/O) "Do you mind if I sleep up here with you tonight? I...Don't want to be alone right now."

(Firefly) "I don't think there's anything more I'd want right now than having you with me."

...

...

Firefly sat alone on another starry night, but this time there would be no one to join her. Her hands rested on each other in her lap while she stared up at the night sky, waiting for her signal.

The planet she was on now was completely different from the one S/O and her shared their last night. Instead of warm city lights, there was nothing but ruins and debris below her.

It was here where the reports of a brilliant golden machine, leaving behind a blue trail around the cosmos was sighted. Many assumed that it was some kind of divine being, or an unexplained anomaly in the universe making itself known.

But Firefly knew the truth of what it was.

Or rather, who it was.

...

...

The last step of the process was to have S/O's mind sync up with the Phenex's system. It was an extremely risky process, as this technology was still experimental and not fully understood.

Apparently, it was something that allowed the person's mind to directly translate into the machine's movements and combat capabilities, which S/O accepted the risk without hesitation.

This would be the power they needed to give Firefly her life back.

And finally settling into the suit, S/O let their mind begin synchronizing with the Phenex.

With barely a second passing, their eyes widened as their body felt a shock of pain growing faster by the second.

Firefly saw S/O's vitals rapidly spiking up and down as the Phenex dropped to one knee, screaming all the while.

(Firefly) "S/O?!"

The golden mech started to twitch involuntarily, its shield-wings shooting out and lodging itself into the facility's walls. S/O's screams were eventually drowned out by the Phenex's metallic joints creaking, almost as if it were roaring.

In an instant, flames materialized around Firefly as she dashed towards S/O, moving to rip them out of their suit. However, as soon as she made contact with them, the machine's eyes flared red and blew her backwards.

Firefly was easily able to catch herself from crashing into the floor, immediately flipping to use the walls as a launch pad as the armor's thrusters activated and she rocketed back to S/O.

The Phenex's shield wings stabbed itself into the ground and made her armor crash straight into it, making her lose course as she spiraled out of control for only a second.

Not wasting time, the Phenex's shield wings flew back behind it, and the machine flew straight up, tearing a hole through it and sped away, eventually out of sight and into the atmosphere.

...

It had been months since the incident, and Firefly was determined to bring them back. If the Phenex was still flying, then that means S/O was still alive.

As if on cue, a blue streak cut across the night sky like a knife, catching her attention and making her heart race.

(Firefly) "..."

She wanted to call out their name, but knew that they couldn't hear her anymore. What she needed to do now was to stop the Phenex.

The wind blowing her hair back was strong since she was standing at the top of a skyscraper. She knew for a fact that the Phenex would be able to detect her no matter what, so might as well choose the location that'd start the closest to them.

It took her a few seconds to stand up from her spot, and she took a deep breath, frowning as her eyes traced the blue streak that flew in a straight line above her, towards the horizon.

One foot stepped in front of the other, letting her drop from the building's edge and fall toward the ground.

Without so much as blinking, the area around her ignited as the armor's thrusters kicked into full burst, the building behind her getting scorched in the process as she gracefully weaved through the city and into the sky after the Phenex.

As elements of her HUD began blinking into view, her eyes remained focused on the blue line of light suddenly veered to her right.

With a simple nudge of her body, the armor tilted and extra thrusters emerged from the skirts of her armor to gain faster speed, feeling her body and suit both begin to heat up.

The Phenex's trail dropped completely downwards onto the streets, trying to lose its pursuer as it began wildly darting in an unpredictable manner, before it eventually disappeared into a tunnel.

Firefly quickly followed it into the temple, still not saying a word as she kept an eye on her suit's motion trackers.

Before the radar could even register the movement, the Phenex suddenly burst from the tunnel's walls, debris scattering everywhere and threatening to crush her.

She simply frowned as one punch completely obliterated the stone that tried to crash into her, eyes still following the Phenex for a split second before it tried to escape behind her.

Firefly's other arm extended outward and managed to catch the leg of the machine, before diverting her strength to fling it into the wall directly behind her, letting the Phenex slam into the stone and temporarily disabling it.

She raised her arm to disable the machine's flight unit before realizing the shield wings it had just a second ago were missing.

Alarms were ringing as signatures were quickly approaching from her flanks, making her extend both arms to catch the shields before it threatened to bisect her, Firefly's teeth clenching from the impact.

The machine's eyes stared at Firefly's helmet, and for a brief moment, its red eyes flashed a blue color.

And though it was hazy, a voice spoke out to her from the corners of her mind. It may have been her imagining things, but that didn't stop Firefly's voice from crying out:

(Firefly) "S/O!"

Seemingly unaffected by Firefly's counter, the Phenex's eyes returned to its natural state before quickly dislodging itself from its position and rocketed out of the tunnel, both shields following after.

(Firefly) "Just hang on, S/O, please!"

Even though time was the last thing on her side, she prayed that she stayed strong, at least for long enough to catch the Phenex. Firefly truly had no idea if S/O was still inside that suit considering how long it had been, but at the very least, she would avenge them by destroying the machine.

Not to mention, this machine existed because of her. It was created solely to help her, yet it seemed to be dragging both her and S/O to Aeons know where.

But she didn't care about where it was taking them, only that she rescued the person who gave their life for her.

Firefly's armor crouched before taking off, denting the concrete below her as it was left scorched by all her thrusters activating, flying after the Phenex.

...

There were many researchers and travelers who spoke of seeing a red comet chasing after a blue one in the skies that night.

No one had any idea what it was, but everyone watched in a mixture of awe and confusion, watching as the comets eventually took off into space, off towards a destination unknown.

[sukisheadlights]

PROTECTIVE TENDANCIES!

tmrminho x wckd!oc

summary: she took care of him all these years in the maze. But will she be there for him when he needs her outside it?

story: maze runner masterlist

rory’s voice mail 🎧: Sooo I'm not that well versed in the lore (that is a sign for re-watch + re-read I know) either way I haven't made any mistakes as far as I'm aware of but incase I missed anything, let me know <3 love you, say it back!

SPOILERS AHEAD OBVIOUSLY

Sadira spins around in her chair as the dark blue light reflects off her glasses; before coming to an abrupt and screechy halt when she hears him yell through the computer screen. She quickly turns and looks over the multiple cctv screens around her in search of minho, until she finds him. Eventually. She messes around with some buttons around her until the 'griever' as the gladers called it, slows down. She sighs and leans against the chair having succesfully saved him the third time this week.

Sadira could confidentaly say that she was the youngest at w.c.k.d. She was 16. She could tell you alot of things, except for what she does in the abnormally technologically advanced building all day. There isn't exactly a job description for saving the asses of the friends you've made through a screen who don't know you even exist. Infact, that probably hinders the consistent experiements being thrown at these children who are her age, heck— some of them are even younger.

Sadira knows that the only reason she isn't in that maze is because she's the daughter of Dr. Ava Paige. I guess even being an adopted daughter has it's own advantages.

That's why she's so careful when she saves the lives of the gladers, if ava finds out both her and the reckless gladers she watched over are doomed. Boy this would be tough to explain if she met them in person, how would she even act around them? Thankfully she doesn't have to worry about that yet. Right?

When Ava turned her away and banished her from coming to w.c.k.d for 'safety reasons', Sadira was MORE than curious on what her 'mother' was hiding. So naturally, when she called her back urgently she ran through the multiple maze like hallways of the building in search of Ava like a mad woman. Maybe in her own way, w.c.k.d was her maze and cage too. just in a non-life threatening sense. for now.

She walks towards the prison cell looking holding room as she stands next to the woman she calls her mother not looking through the window just yet; she should have, maybe she could have ran instead of walking straight to her demise.

Instead she stared gaping mouth at the other girl who happened to step into her peripheral vision. "You remember teresa, yes?" Ava announced loudly, her words ringing colder than the white lights above their head. Sadira could only nod in response; who the hell was inside that room?

"Unfortunately my love, it would be unwise to get into details here. But teresa recently found her way back to w.c.k.d, back to us. And she has been working with us in your absence. It is with a full heart that I can tell you that you will be learning hands on how to talk to a test subject today. Do not worry child, rest assured, you will be safe." She spoke again as teresa walked away, her tone laced with something unfamiliar which, looking back— could have only been something poisonous. "Go on." she nudged again as Sadira walked into the plain white chamber which, looked even sadder from the inside.

She turned around as the door closed behind her and this, mystery inmate. Her heart dropped to her feet. It was him. He was here. Nonetheless, she approached slowly and sat down infront of him. He looked...Terrible.

"Hello," She said blandly, but internally she was nervous as ever. But if she showed it, Ava wouldn't let her talk to him again. How would she help him out then? She should probably slow down but the difference in his character was unsettling.

He didn't say anything in response and only watched her intently, or dazed. She remembered how his eyes looked in the maze, even if they were facing near death every second of the day. And then she noticed how dead they looked this very moment, when this was the one time in life he was truly protected. She looked towards the one-way mirror hoping she was looking directly at Ava. That's when he scoffed. "They can't save you in here."

She looked back at him, eyebrows raised and all. "What would I need saving from, Minho? You won't hurt me." She said confidentally, but not in the sense that she knew he wouldn't. Well, still in that sense but she only showed Ava what was on the surface. Confidence in the sense that she was hiding her fear.

Minho ofcourse, knows that even if he wanted to kill her this very second he would be unable to, considering the shitload of drugs he was put on. She's pretty, it's a shame she's on the wrong side of all of this, he thought.

"Don't wanna talk? that's alright. We'll get you to one of these days Minho. Time is on our side." the words spilled out of sadira's mouth leaving a bitter after-taste. she didn't like talking to him like this, but if she even let Ava catch on to the idea that sadira had...once grown fond of the boy infront of her? she would have lost her chance. for what exactly? she's not entirely sure herself.

silence engulfed the small white room as she watched the nervous bob of his adam's apple before promptly getting up and leaving.

That night, without much shock. She was kidnapped. "Oh, it's just you lot." she said calmly, looking at the faces of thomas, frypan, newt, and gally. All the idiots she saved multiple times. Well, except for frypan— he was always a sweetheart.

The point is, she wasn't intimidated. Instead she laughed when they tried to threaten her. Then, she asked them to untie her and much to everyone's surprise, they obliged.

Not wanting to leave them high and dry Sadira explained everything to them. How she saved their lives, How she knew them, How she saw teresa, And about how she spoke to Minho. She then warned them that as a 16 year old saving them to those small extents was all she could have done and that it would be unwise to redirect their anger from w.c.k.d to her simply because she knew.

She also agreed to get minho out, but that was a given. The only condition she set down was freedom from Dr. Ava Paige. Who she had the displeasure of calling her mother. They sat on the floor that night and all the gladers and Sadira in unison decided the best plan to get minho out of that hellhole. And they settled.

On Gameday, Sadira offered to walk with Janson and pointed out how something looked suspicious with teresa and her guards. Inevitablly, Janson approached the disguised gladers and it was there that they grabbed her as she sneakily snatched janson's all building access card. She was with them under the ruse of a hostage, just so that Ava doesn't get suspicious and look too closely.

When they found out Minho was moved, it was only because of Sadira and another test subject that they could pinpoint Minho's exact location.

However, she should have probably thought to warn him in some way that she was on their side. Maybe then Minho wouldn't have mistakened her for the enemy and slammed her into the wall once they did find him. ouch.

The escape after that was mostly smooth sailing, there were no losses and only minor setbacks. But those don't matter enough to be mentioned here. [Authors Note: I didn't have it in me to kill off newt so don't blame me] Ofcourse, Sadira almost dying while protecting minho doesn't fall under minor setbacks but she would have done that for any glader.

When she woke up in the 'refugee' a few days later, minho was the first person she spoke to. The conversation flowed much more smoothly when her formerly alive mother (that was fun to find out) wasn't watching over them, she joked. And he laughed. And she thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world. So she made him do it again, and again, and again. Until she finally realised she couldn't get enough of it.

They moved fast. From touches, to kisses, to something more. But it was never in the sense that it was too much to handle, Instead it was in the sense that they had waited too long for each other and that they were desperate for this. Needy, even. Which was insane considering he barely knew her. Oh well.

First Kisses and First loves are obviously difficult post-apocalypse but hey, atleast it makes one hell of a story.

[edutainer2022]

A little thing riffing off the concept of Scott, probably, getting mistaken for Alan’s father quite often. It turned out sadder than I hoped.

DAD

The loose end of his scarf got tugged lightly and he swiped his hand low to catch baby brother's palm, without shifting attention from the rows of pasta on a stall. Allie had hop-skipped away to the end of the aisle, mumbling something about waffles for dinner, and now probably demanded his immediate input. His hand grasped nothing but thin air. A scarf, however, got another insistent tug.

The scarf was not an eye-wateringly expensive brand-name cashmere that would usually go with his coat and the "Tracy Industries appropriate" look, but was infinitely more precious. Long, blue, hand-knitted and a bit loopholed, it was a gift from Virgil his last Christmas on leave from WAF. It was rediscovered in one of Dad's drawers on the island, apparently a keepsake of the things the GDF returned to the family after Scott himself was lost in That Place. Now it was Scott's keepsake after Dad... A full circle.

Scott peripheral vision detected a movement of blond and skinny far down the aisle, as Allie was, it appeared, reaching up for his waffles. They were in NYC together. Not only the Tracy Industries Board demanded a piece of him for one reason or other, but Tracy Legal and the family private solicitor required tweaks in the custody documentation. Scott took the opportunity to show pre-Christmas NYC to Alan. The boy was only seven when they visited the last time, bar Dad's massive public memorial service Allie barely remembered, wrought with grief. Scott hardly remembered much of it himself through the blur of shock, pain, doubt, and a kind of fatalistic determination. Anyhow, it wasn't a ten years old Alan demanding his attention now. Scott looked down.

A pair of huge grey eyes regarded him from under a gigantic pink bow. A small hand was tugging his scarf again, like a doorbell string. Up from Scott's height the little girl seemed positively tiny. He folded himself down, not to intimidate the child. Even crouching, Scott was still towering over her.

"Hey, sweetheart! Are you lost?"

Attentive eyes regarded him, then a pink clad arm shot out to point at the general expance of the rest of the supermarket.

"Mommy 'der!"

In between Gordy and Allie, Scott was proficient enough in three year old speak. Johnny, it seemed, was communicating at AP English level all the way back at two, or not at all.

The little girl's mom was, obviously, "there" - but nowhere to be seen down the aisle and behind the shelves. Out of a years ingrained habit Scott kept half and eye on Alan, engrossed in comparative analysis of the various boxes of waffle mix. The prudent thing to do wound be to call a store employee - Scott was aware it would send an alarm if he, all of the imposing 6'4, Armani coat and a Young Jeff Tracy face of him, walked away with a little girl. But the nook of the store was empty of anyone in telltale uniform. Huge grey eyes kept regarding him in expectation of some effective Mom-finding action. An idea occurred. Scott bent down some more and made sure to smile.

"Is it okay if I pick you up, sweetie?"

The child gave it a moment's thought and nodded. Scott sprung up easily, the girl securely in his hold, and propped her up on his shoulder. Tiny pink shoes kicked the air (and his ribs a bit) excitedly. There was some enthusiastic waving going on above Scott's head, well above the shelves, and even more delighted squeeing:

"Mommy! Mommy! Look'er! Mommy!"

That produced a young woman with a shopping basket AND Alan, running to him from the opposite side of the isle. He transferred the eager girl into her mother's arms in a fluid motion and reached out without looking again, to stop Allie from colliding with him full force. Alan bounced in place and looked up at him quizzically. Scott put an arm around the boy's shoulders. He saw the mother's eyes widen in surprise, once she was done thanking him for helping out a lost Polly.

"Oh, is he yours? So big already!"

Scott's hand tightened on Alan’s skinny shoulder on instinct. He could see the boy's face shift from curiosity to confusion. And it could be a matter of seconds before confusion gave way to anger or worse - tears.

Scott himself was used to that. He was getting those questions ever since Mom was gone and he had to pick Allie up from nursery after his own classes. Tall for his age, athletic and marred by grief and way too many worries - he was definitely spawning a "teen Dad" rumor among the pick up line Moms and babysitters more than once. He didn't have the energy to explain to anyone not in the know back then, no more than he had the energy to explain their whole situation now.

"Um... Alan is ten. You have a Merry Christmas, Polly! Don't get lost again!"

He could see the math recalculated in an instant behind the young woman's eyes, as she counted silver threads at his temples, stark in supermarket lights, and dark circles under his eyes towards a higher age bracket she thought he was. He wasn't. Dad's explosion in Zero-X and everything that followed added to the silver That Place wove into his hair. And he hadn't been doing much sleeping anymore. He didn't think he ever would again. Before the conversation could lead any further down those lines, he offered another polite smile and steered Alan away toward the exit.

Scott managed to order a hovercab without breaking a stride. The original plan was to walk back to Tracy Tower, maybe look at some Christmas window exhibits. They spent the afternoon gift shopping for everyone back at home and Scott could tell Alan was getting tired. But the boy seemed exited for their special time together, even if part of it was spent in the boring opulence of the family law-firm. Scott promised to cook dinner, not wanting to foster with baby brother his own habit of take-away Tai and more work crunched through the night.

Now, pressed to the window of the cab, small frame leaning away from Scott (a fact that was sending sharp pangs through his chest), Allie was quiet and listless.

"Are you my Dad now?"

Alan was still looking outside the window.

Scott was seriously dreading that conversation, but the incident at the store, apparently, accelerated the inevitable.

He reached a hand to ruffle soft blond hair. Then landed his palm between hunched little shoulderblades. Alan didn't flinch, which was maybe a good sign.

"Allie! Dad is always Dad. But I am your guardian now, and I will do EVERYTHING to protect you! Just as always!"

Small bony shoulders shifted in a sigh. Alan was puffing fog on the glass and drawing shapes with his finger. The hovercab stopped by the entrance to Tracy Tower, but Scott made no move to break the moment and leave just yet.

"Can I call you Dad sometimes? I told Nikky you were my Dad, back in Kansas. Mom didn't come to pick me up, so I didn't want to not have Dad pick me up too, so I told him you were Dad. Is it okay?"

The words came out a bit jumbled and interlaced with pending tears. Huge blue eyes turned to look at Scott finally, anxious and glistening. His own eyes were burning. So was his heart. His very soul.

"Oh, Allie... Of course it's okay! Always!"

His arms opened invitingly and were instantly filled with a crying child. He leaned down to press a kiss on the top of blond head and hug the boy closer, wrapping his coat around a little trembling body. It took a moment to conquer his own heaving sobs, but he still didn't trust his voice at full volume.

"I love you so much, kiddo! I've got you!"

Scott ended up just carrying Alan, quiet by then, but firmly clinging to him, to the penthouse, while a concerned head of security shift helped out with the shopping bags. Allie was probably feigning sleep - Scott didn't care. He toed off his own shoes, shrugged off the coat, settled against his headrest, the child still in his arms, and shifted to tighten his hold. There would be no sleep for him that night either, but that was just as well. He had been watching over little Allie (and little Gordy) since he was born and a tenfold that after they lost Mom. No name or legal capacity could change much about that, till Scott was breathing.

He wasn't anyone's son, though. Not anymore. Not ever. And that made breathing so much harder.

[heartshapedbubble]

HI HI HI ‼️‼️

I'm so happy the requests are open again (I was waiting for this 😭😭)

I hope exam season went well!!

Anyways,I'm back (if you still remember me smh) with a platonic request!!

Can I just have platonic Jack,Charles Holt (i think you write for him),Percy,and Burke any person of your choice (you can remove or replace some if it's too much/you dony write for them) with a child reader that's really paranoid,is scared of everyone and everything,and has just a deep backstory,for example with bad parents,and like a big brother who is a psychopath or smth (idk I made that up on the spot,you can change it if you'd like!!) kinda warming up to them,following them around like a lost puppy and just crying when they aren't there?

I hope it's not too complicated and made sense,and that you have a fantastic day!!

AHH HELLO FINALLY RESPONDING TO THIS REQ!!! sadly i'm stuck in an endless loop of exam seasons but so far i have all As!! B) partially the reason i've been inactive here, i'm working quite hard on my education this year!

of course i remember and i shall deliver - have a great day! <3

jack, charles holt, percy and burke lapadura with an upset!child reader hcs🎩✈️🧟‍♂️🔨

jack the ripper🎩

he warms up to you quite quickly. in his opinion, you can hide away behind him as much as you want and he'll gladly hold your hand whenever you want him to - just be careful not to cut yourself on his blades

i don't think jack is much of a listener. he just sees you curled up and sad and can't help but pity you, so little and innocent. who could have possibly wanted to harm such a precious little thing like you?

a bit tone-deaf in situations like these, i think he'd even baby you here and there. he's so determined to take good care of you he goes a bit overboard sometimes

as i mentioned before, he's more action-oriented in cases like these. despite the gravity of the situation his manner of speech remains light and even gleeful. in his eyes, now that you're with him there's no reason to worry anymore. he doesn't want to make you even sadder than before!

the type of caretaker to carry you around at all times and pick you up whenever he notices you're upset. in doubt? carry the lil kid on your shoulders

charles holt✈️

this man definetly has some fearful-avoidant attachment thing going on with him. at first he's awfully uncomfortable, seeking every possible moment to avoid you. he's not a bad guy - he just doesn't know how to react in situations like these and copes by escaping them as soon as he gets the opportunity.

on top of that, he has never been good with kids.

he pities you, though :( i think he'd see some part of his younger self in you and that would really rub salt into his wound

he talks to you in the same way that he talks to adults, except the occasional "little guy/little fella" and bends over/crouches whenever he talks so you two are at the same level

also the type to pick you up when he notices you're crying :( in general he's much more responsive once you two get closer, often patting your head and back in an attempt to comfort you

grab his hand *once* and he just follows along with you. no questions asked

he didn't get much attention as a kid so he's kind of projecting in the form of giving you all the affection he didn't receive, albeit shyly

percy🧟‍♂️

percy often uses his muteness to his advantage, playing deaf just so he can avoid the other residents and quicky return to his solitude. he knows it's bad but he literally experimented on cadavers, he's not below that.

yet he can't pretend forever.

something that percy copes the worst with (after his resurrection) is guilt. seeing you so upset, seeking any sort of comfort from the manor residents makes something inside of him break. probably not his heart, rather something more human that he can't exactly pinpoint.

not big on physical affection, instead guiding you with an occasional tap on the back or simply pointing towards something. he also communicates with you with his gaze - it has been, for the most part, drained of humanity, but the way he furrows his brows and blinks slowly makes you think he's trying to push the few remaining bits of empathy through his eyes, in hopes you'll understand what he wants to say to you.

likes going on walks with you after dinner. mostly through the corridors of the manor, straight to the garden where you two sit to catch a breather and appreciate the blooming plants

burke lapadura🔨

probably the most responsible (in a way) out of the four here tbh

the most communicative out of them too - when he's not preoccupied with his machines, he's a solid listener and provides his own insight and advice. often it's a bit too much for you since you're quite young, but he's trying his best ok :(

believes good food can soothe anything! he's not the type to cook hearty meals (do NOT let this man into the kitchen) but he always keeps some cookies in his workshop in case you visit

awkward with any sort of physical touch so he compensates with quality time. if the weather is nice enough he may propose a short fishing trip or flying kites in the backyard

the way he sees it, distracting yourself from your past trauma is the best way to cope with it. never mentions your upbringing unless you want to talk about it - he wants to create as much happy memories with you, even if it means spoiling you with new machines and toys

[ohmotherwhereartthou-if]

No not the breakup ask😭😭😭

Part two to save the sadness (or make it even sadder) RO reaction to finding out that the reason MC really broke up with them was people threatening to harm the RO if MC doesn’t leave, (MC then took care of them, but didn’t want anyone to target RO, so they left for their safety)

Cassandra: She would be so angry at MC she would refuse to even see them if they came back. MC would have to find some way to sneak up on her and then explain very quickly before she throws them out. Once she hears them out she has to pause and think for a bit, on one hand she is really mad at you for not just being honest with her. She is a general's daughter, she is protected by one of the fiercest armies in the land at all hours of the day. Who could of ever harmed her? On the oft chance that MC can properly convey the gravity of the situation of how she was never safe from whoever would have harmed her; she still will not understand why you just didn't say so. She doesn't like having her feelings played with, and she tells MC that very clearly. She will consider taking them back, but things will be tense for a while; MC will have to try and win her back for a long while 100%.

Valeria: Also very mad. If MC somehow got through the townspeople and her brothers unscathed, Valeria will try her best to be cold with MC (and fails because underneath her bluffing, she is really happy they came back). Once MC explains she will probably believe it right away without question, she would have prefered MC had just told her why they have to leave but... oh well! They are back now and that is all that matters to her, her family might not be as forgiving though...

Tomás: In his eyes, you didn't cheat and you came back to him, that is all that matters. When you meet again his exterior first might look cold at first glance, but his eyes are of sudden surprise, cautious warmth, and full of hope when he sees MC. Once you explain to him what happened, he welcomes them back overjoyed and with tears in his eyes. He definitely does not like the idea of MC leaving him in order to try and protect him, he tells them next time just let them come; because he would very much rather die than not be allowed to be with his beloved. He definitely becomes more possessive and fully aware of where MC is at all times as a result from this scare.

-

Ludovica: Not just telling her why you had to leave was a very foolish decision on MC's part, knowing just how much they meant to her. Vica would be in a catatonic state when MC comes back, her mind has suffered too much in her lifetime and losing the one light she had in her life was just too much; even if them leaving wasn't true. Hearing MC's voice definitely stirs her a bit when she first hears it again, but her mind needs time to slowly heal itself. MC would have to stay by her side everyday, just talking to her, for a while until she slowly recovers. When she finally does, it's honestly a coin toss if she even fully remembers them leaving, or if her brain will wipe that from her memory as a sort of coping mechanism. She would just mainly remember the pain as a terrible dream, and is so very happy that it's finally over now as MC is right here with her. Lovingly by her side.

Aurelio: Hm, I wanna say he really isn't the type to hold any grudges or hard feelings towards anyone he had past relationships with. However, since he liked MC so much he might actually just go out of his way to avoid them after the breakup when he can. If MC somehow is able to corner him he will have a hurt look in his eyes when seeing them, all while smiling like there is nothing wrong and giving you some bull loaded line like, "Funny seeing you here!" or something similar. Once MC explains he will plause to think a bit, he might appreciate the gesture of MC tying to protect him but them leaving him hurt way more than he ever thought it could. His lips want to say "It's alright!" or "I understand!" but his heart doesn't. His heart hurts and it want to push MC away and avoid them as a way of trying to mitigate that pain. His brain is so very confused, he has been dumped so many time he honestly couldn't even begin to count. He thought he had gotten used to being left by others, he always knew he liked you; but not so much that he didn't think seeing or hearing little random things that reminded him of MC would make his chest like it wants to split open. Or that he would actually find himself crying randomly throughout his day with little to no warning. He might not realize it right away but what he really feels is betrayal, and while he might want to just forgive you and take you back but it wouldn't be true forgiveness. And he would not want to waste your time,or his, playing pretend as if nothing had happened and you both could just go back to the way things were before. He might seriously be the only RO MC might permanently lose if they leave like that without explaining to him why. Who would of thought?

Elio: Ha! Well in his mind, you both never really broke up in the first place. You always were his and he was yours, nothing changed just because you were pretending like it did. He might look calm and collected but his usually dull eyes are slightly manic and his breathing is more erratic. He might not like to admit it but deep down he was really terrified you didn't want him anymore, that he was being discarded and left without purpose. He hold you tighter, way tighter than before. He is much nicer to you, far nicer than he ever was before. MC practically can't move two steps without him being a step behind, there is no where MC needs to go without him accompanying them. His fear of MC leaving him again might not ever fully fade away after this, he was very scared. MC makes him feel things he never felt before, he doesn't ever want to lose that. Ever.

[sebastianswallows]

It's not like any other love | S.S. | Part 5

— PAIRING: dark!Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

— SYNOPSIS: Sebastian finally gets what he wants, although not in the way in which he expected to. A sacrifice is made, and it's MC making it for him. The Avada Kedavra part of the story.

— WARNINGS: Nothing, unless you count the murder

— WORDCOUNT: 4k

— A/N: Here it is, the final chapter. Thank you for sticking with me to the end, my dears! This one is admittedly very rushed, so I’m sorry about that. I was a bit over-eager to end this story, and I went through a few versions of it in my head (who casts AK, and on whom; some endings were sadder than others). I hope you can find some enjoyment in it anyway 💚

Winter settled all around them. The warm autumn afternoons were long gone and the days grew shorter, the nights longer, and throughout it, Sebastian was as troubled as ever — about his sister, about Ominis, about their friend…

He couldn’t forget the look Ominis gave him as they got out of their beds that morning after his heated dream. When the Gaunt boy realised Sebastian was awake and had gotten up from his bed, Ominis blushed to the tips of his ears, threw a scathing narrowing of the eyes in his direction, and promptly turned away. He avoided him at breakfast too, and it wasn’t until the next afternoon that he spoke to Sebastian again. Feeling guilty, Sebastian didn’t speak to him either, nor to anyone else that day. He felt as if his embarrassing lusts from the night before were dragged behind him like a shadow, however irrational this may have been. And while everyone else might not have known in truth, he was certain Ominis did, somehow. Perhaps he had just been pretending to sleep, or perhaps heard something… His hearing was especially sharp, and the more Sebastian thought about it, the more likely it seemed.

But there was nothing to do about it anymore. If Ominis knew, he knew. And if the girl knew… Well, how could she? Unless she remembered what he made her do while under Imperio.

In between working on homework for Defence Against the Dark Arts, Sebastian leafed through books on Unforgivable Curses and tried to find out how likely it was for Imperio victims to remember what they did. There seemed to be no definitive answer, and it rather varied from person to person. It was an issue which was bound to be confounded — or so said the consensus from magical researchers — by victims who were so ashamed of what they had done that they merely pretended not to remember.

Was that what happened with her? Was she so ashamed? She never sat next to him during classes anymore, and avoided his eyes on most days — although when Sebastian managed to catch her gaze, she always smiled sweetly, bashfully at him. He gave her some time, gave himself some time, and ceased all contact for a while. It gave him the chance to focus on his research into the relic.

To his surprise, it was Ominis who brought her up again.

“Have you two had a fight?” he asked one evening while they were reading by the fireplace.

“Who?”

“You know who.”

Sebastian kept quiet and turned back to his book, already feeling blood blooming in his cheeks and his throat constricting.

“Well?” asked Ominis again. Clearly, he was in one of his more relentless moods that night.

“No, we haven’t,” Sebastian snapped. “Everything’s fine. Why?”

“Just asking,” hummed Ominis, sounding not very convinced. “She’s not upset with you, is she?”

Sebastian gave a trembling sigh that tried to hide his fear but managed only to reveal it. “Why would she be upset with me?”

“I can think of a number of reasons,” Ominis smirked. “I’m sure you can, too.”

“Leave it be, Ominis,” he grumbled. “I’m not in the mood.”

His friend looked like he was about to say something, but took pity on him at the last moment.

Sebastian saw them again throughout the following days: Ominis and her, talking in the corridors, spending time by the windows of the great lake, leaving breakfast together… What they talked about in their little whispers, he could not grasp, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

The only thing that could distract him from his misery was research into the relic, and he was rewarded with a breakthrough in November. His first thought was to reach out to his friend again. She did like her adventures outside of the castle, and this was an excuse to steal some of her time for himself.

“If it’s in this catacomb, I have to find it,” he said as they stood outside, cold air billowing their school robes.

“I’m ready,” she said with calm resolution.

“By the way, Ominis has been asking about you. You didn’t tell him what we were doing, did you?”

“I didn’t, I promise,” she said immediately.

He couldn’t tell if she was lying. Well, if Ominis had known, he’d probably have had a hard time keeping it to himself — for all of his decorum, the Gaunt boy could hardly hide his feelings... But Sebastian didn’t trust them yet, either of them. In fact, the more he studied Slytherin’s notes, the more his suspicions grew concerning his dealings with his friends, as well as their dealings with each other. It was as if a subtle curse was cast over his mind, but Sebastian was certain that once they’d find the relic and put it to use, and Anne was well again, he could leave all this behind and everything could go back to how it was.

“Good. Ominis would be livid if he knew what we were about to do,” he warned.

The catacomb was crawling with spiders, a maze of dusty old bones and slippery slopes and puzzles, haunted at every step by strange noises that echoed from the most unexpected angles, but together, they could reach the end. It was remarkably easy with a few simple spells, and he wondered whether this would have been considered more advanced in the time of Slytherin’s student.

All thoughts melted from Sebastian’s mind, however, once they finally found the relic. He felt as if his heart could leap in his chest, and his friend beside him seemed as convinced as he was that they should take the relic. They looked at each other and agreed, and he felt like he could kiss her, really kiss her…

But they hardly touched the item when they heard someone entering the chamber behind them. The green school robes and tallow hair and red echo of the wand revealed it to be Ominis.

“I’m sorry, Ominis, but I’m taking it,” said Sebastian.

“If you won’t put it back, then I will,” he said.

“Hold on, both of you. Sebastian, please, take a step back.”

“Fine. But Ominis knows, I won’t step back from a fight.”

“Can’t believe this…” the boy sighed.

Sebastian paced along the far wall of the catacomb, so close to his goal, and so close to losing it. He watched his two friends discuss it, catching only fragments of their conversation… It was so like how it used to be when he and Ominis were causing trouble with Anne all over Hogwarts, and yet it was so different now without her. He didn’t wish to fight his oldest friend, but he wasn’t sure he could hold himself back from it if it came to that…

Fortunately, it didn’t.

The girl came back, triumphant if a little fearful, while behind her Ominis paced just as restlessly but defeated, standing back to let them pass.

“What happened back there?” said Sebastian as they made their way out, too shocked to be grateful yet.

“Ominis and I found a compromise.”

He had expected anything else: threats, blackmail, even for her to use Imperio, but not for the boy to fold so quickly. Sebastian was struck at first by envy of the sway she held over his other friend, of the care she must have felt for him to solve this peacefully at any cost, and then the usual suspicions reared their myriad heads of what was going on between the two that he didn’t know about.

“Ominis simply needs a moment with you and he’ll change his mind. Is that it?” said Sebastian with a bite as they ran together out of the catacomb.

“I told him we ought to give you this chance — that the relic is too important to ignore.”

“There has to be more to it than that. Tell me.”

She looked at him and her eyes hid nothing — not her hurt at his suspicion, not the joy that they had made off with the relic, not the spark of affection that was like a reflection of his own.

“We agreed on what was needed, Sebastian. You have my word.”

“How can I know you’re telling the truth?” he frowned. “I can never tell when you’re lying to me…”

“I’m not hiding anything from you,” she insisted, slowing down in their trek up through the tunnels as she held his gaze. “I’ve meant everything I’ve ever said to you, Sebastian.”

Her words circled through his mind the whole way to Feldcroft, and he found himself returning to them for a hidden meaning he sensed in them. That was put aside after they saw smoke coming from the little hamlet, and goblins attacking Anne and Uncle Solomon.

He didn’t regret what he did to protect her, and with his friend by his side, he felt all the more justified in fighting back, but his Uncle didn’t see it that way. A useless coward that couldn’t even protect his niece, couldn’t even protect himself…

And then, Sebastian was banished.

Days trailed by feverishly as he used all his spare time to cross-reference the student’s notes about the relic with books from the forbidden section of the library, and the closer he got to an answer, the more unhappy he was with it: while the relic promised not just a reversal but a complete control of the curse, it would only work back in the catacombs.

Sebastian wasted nights away trying to piece everything together in his head, from the nature of the relic and the sacrifice it required to the injustice of his uncle, Anne’s resentment, and the precarious friendship he found himself in with Ominis and the girl…

Then, an idea slipped into his mind without him even realising he had thought of it again — what she said in the catacomb, about her having meant everything she’d ever said to him… Was that her way of talking about what she did while under Imperio? The things she’d said to him, under his command…? It struck him like a knife in the heart, but of a most pleasurable kind — a sudden and piercing infatuation with her all over again, one that he could never hope to extract and live beyond it.

But what if that wasn’t what she meant? What if it was just another of his dreams, like so many wishful imaginings at night, a growth on the surface of a malignant fantasy…? He wished he didn’t have to wonder.

Sebastian had little time to waste in wondering, however. That could come later. Before Solomon took Anne away to some miserable place far away from him, he had to act fast, and neither Anne nor Ominis seemed keen to help. He realised only once he was deep in the catacomb, surrounded by Inferi, that he should have asked her to join him all along. She could help control the living dead while he transferred the curse from Anne to one of them, as the dark sacrifice demanded. He was so close to curing Anne forever, and all his research was ready to pay off, he just needed Anne to stay with him a little longer…

And just as he was thinking of her again, after days of not seeing her, there she was.

“Sebastian!”

“I told you. The relic is the answer. I’ve been trying to reverse the dark magic that injured Anne, but this will allow me to control it. Just as I can control the Inferi…”

“Control…? I had to fight Inferi —”

She wasn’t halfway done with her reproach when Uncle Solomon arrived, as ill-tempered as a December wind and more furious than Sebastian had ever seen him. The old man’s fear from the day when he cowered, surrounded by smoke and goblins, was gone now. He took one look at the scene around him and hardly stopped to think before he summoned the relic straight out of Sebastian’s hand. Then, with a careless flick of his wand, it disappeared forever.

“No… The relic!”

Sebastian’s body barely caught up with his mind, but by the time it did, it was too late. Another hope for Anne, the last hope he had, vanished before his eyes. The Inferi around them, released from their trance, trained their icy eyes on the three of them immediately, but Sebastian was resolute now. If it was the last thing he did, he would make Solomon pay.

All of his silly duelling practices, all those late nights in the Undercroft, all the books he’d read on dark magic, everything gained a new meaning and purpose and Sebastian focused it on him. His father’s resentful brother, the failure of their family, not good enough to be an Auror, not good enough to be a father, and certainly the worst Uncle he and Anne could have. The man that gave his parents’ death a dual tragedy after it landed the lives of him and his twin in his hands… Sebastian blasted curse after curse at him, and meant every one. He could perform several wordlessly, the spells flying out of his wand as if it were part of his body, an extension of his mind, a channel for his pure desire for revenge.

The Inferi were drawing closer, and his friend did her best to keep them at bay. Sebastian had to fight them off if he hoped to finish that battle, all while dodging curses from Solomon.

Eventually, the battle turned. Encircled by Inferi, Sebastian blasted fire spells at them, and among the scent of dead burning flesh and their high screams, he heard the girl call for his name. She probably couldn’t see him anymore. Distantly he heard Solomon’s angry shouts as well, the same meaningless arrogant chastisement he had learned to ignore, and which today he hoped to shut up forever.

“Crucio!” a high voice called. It was the girl who cast it. With a dull thud and the cracking of bones, his Uncle fell to the ground, his grumbles replaced by harrowed screaming.

By the time Sebastian cleared out the Inferi around him, the girl was standing over Solomon, wand pointed at him, ready to cast it again. She seemed to lose focus of everything around her, her anger of a singular direction the sort of which he’d rarely seen from her.

“Bring back the relic!” she cried to the body of Solomon, huddling in pain. “Now!”

But it was no use, the man was senseless under the curse.

“Use Imperio!” Sebastian called out to her before he had to train his wand again at the Inferi and clear them out from around her.

He had never seen her use Crucio before. That day in the Scriptorium, she’d insisted he use it on her. Before today, he hadn’t thought her capable of it… So he was equally as surprised to see her cast Imperio as well on his uncle.

The old man rose to his feet, slowly, his body sapless under her spell. Even from where he stood, Sebastian could see her wand hand trembling, although he couldn’t say whether it was from fear or something else…

“Confringo!” yelled Sebastian, burning away the last of the Inferi as he made his way to her.

“Bring back the relic,” she ordered in a slow, steady voice.

And sure enough, Solomon raised his wand, presented his hand, but nothing materialised in it.

“You made it disappear, now bring it back!” she cried.

“It’s no use,” said Sebastian with a heartbroken realisation. “He didn’t just use the Vanishing spell. I think he… I think he broke it apart. I think it’s gone forever.”

“Is that what you did?” she asked the man.

“Yes,” said Solomon roughly. “You will never see it again.”

The girl’s shoulders fell, hopeless and tired, and she turned to Sebastian with a sorry look in her eyes. For his part, he felt an anger that was so still and boundless he thought he would never see the end of it, like a sarcophagus cast over his mind.

“I want him dead,” he said out loud. “I want him dead…”

“Sebastian,” she whispered tearfully. “You can’t, it’s… He’s your uncle.”

“And I’m his nephew, and he was ready to kill me. He was ready to kill you too, you saw him! If you hadn’t protected yourself, he would have hexed you to death countless times today.”

“I know, but…”

“And he’s doomed Anne, and I… I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know what to do other than kill him.”

“But how will Anne feel about it?”

“And what about how I feel about it?” he asked before he could think, hands trembling with fury, wand crackling with unspoken spells in his grip. “Because of him, my sister will never heal, and I have wasted everything I had trying to help her, and now he tried to kill you and me, and… and…”

He didn’t trust himself to speak, and he didn’t like to say it again, but he wished with everything he had that Solomon had never entered their lives. The only way to fix what happened, and it was hardly a fix at all, was to get rid of him, forever.

Sebastian raised his wand, looking straight at his uncle. He avoided the pleading eyes of the girl beside him, so small and quiet now that the catacomb chamber was dead all around them. He didn’t wish to see her eyes again and the fear, the disappointment in them. A part of Sebastian knew that he would regret what he was about to do, but there was time for that later. He could not live with himself if he let Solomon free from that place.

“Avada Kedavra!”

Before Sebastian could speak the curse that took his uncle’s life, another voice rang out. The girl had cast it herself. It was the third Unforgivable Curse she had cast that day.

The fat old corpse crumpled before them, and Sebastian turned to her in terror and awe. Her wand clattered on the ground and she covered her mouth with her hands, stuck in a breathless gasp.

“What did you do?” asked Sebastian with wonder.

“He’s dead?” she asked weakly.

“Yes, he’s — how did you know the curse?!”

“I learned it on my own. I convinced Ominis to show me some of the books you’ve read, I thought it would be useful, but… Oh Sebastian, you’re not angry with me?” she asked as she began to cry.

“No!” he said quickly as he took two large steps toward her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “Not at all, but why would you—?”

“I didn’t want you to do it,” she sobbed into his shoulder. “I couldn’t let you be the one to do it. I hated him for what he did to you, I wanted to punish him, I— I wanted him gone.”

“He’s gone now,” he whispered, cupping her head while he looked at the corpse beside them. The girl’s arms encircled him and held on to him tightly.

He never would have guessed that she could do it, that she, who could not even cast Imperio on him, would kill for him, had killed for him… Sebastian did not know what to think anymore.

“Why would you do that for me?” he whispered as he held her. The girl said nothing as she buried her sobs into his neck. Gingerly, he cupped her cheek and pulled her back to look into her eyes. “Why would you do that for me?” he asked again.

“I love you,” she said as if it explained everything — and it did.

Sebastian only realised that he was smiling when she smiled back, red-rimmed tearful eyes crinkling with unexpected joy. He pulled her face toward him, kissed her dry and salty lips, and said what he had long wanted to say.

“I love you too.”

They laughed madly together, giggles echoing throughout the catacombs strewn with bones and corpses — but his mind was far away from all of that, and he could tell hers was too.

“For the longest time, I thought you didn’t,” said Sebastian. “I mean, I wasn’t sure how you felt about me, but…”

“I did,” she nodded. “Love you. For quite a while now.”

“Since when?”

“I suppose since you protected me in the library,” she grinned.

Sebastian chuckled. “I’ve loved you longer, then. Ever since you first beat me in a duel.”

She laughed and shook her head at him, but finally looked at him with the adoration he’d only seen from her in his dreams, an open and vulnerable look that he could feel swallowing him whole, drinking him in, taking him somewhere deep inside her where he could rest. He thought he looked the same way at her…

“Sebastian” she winced, “what are we going to do about— ?”

“The corpse?”

“Ominis said he was going to inform Professor Black that you were here and that you had a family feud of some sort. They could arrive at any minute.”

“Is that why Solomon was here?”

“No, Anne had gone to tell him.”

“Oh Anne,” he groaned.

“We have to do something. Can we… can we…”

Sebastian looked down at the body. It had some signs of combat from when the three of them had fought, but any examination would reveal none of them to have been fatal. That would doubtlessly cause suspicion, and the suspicion would fall on them.

“Here’s what we’ll do.”

They climbed up to a higher ledge from where they could see the whole chamber, and with repeated spells bombarded the ceiling until it gave way and collapsed. Heavy stones fell on Uncle Solomon’s corpse until they could hardly see it. A trickle of blood muddied the earth beneath him, still warm. It would have to do.

“We’ll say he came to find us and we had to fight the Inferi together, but there were too many and he told us to escape. The spells he used caused a tragic cave-in, and he heroically saved Feldcroft from attack by any escaped Inferi.”

“Do you think they’ll believe us?” she asked, arms wrapped around herself in a tight hug. The room was dark and filled with dust as the fallen rocks settled in the room before them.

“It will be the most convenient answer for everyone. Nobody wants to think that a pair of 5th-years know the killing curse, or are capable of anything like it,” he said darkly. Then, turning toward her, Sebastian held her face in his hands and focused all of her attention on him. “You can not tell anyone what truly happened here.”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“This has to be our secret. It will be our secret for the rest of our lives and we will have to carry it together. Forever. Otherwise,” he said, taking a deep breath to gain the courage to say what followed, “otherwise I’m not sure I could protect you.”

“Yes,” she said in a small voice, the gravity of her actions sending a shiver through her whole body.

“But you don’t have to worry about anything,” he smiled. “We love each other, don’t we?”

“Yes, of course…”

“And as long as we have that, nothing bad will happen.”

She swallowed the knot in her throat as she stared into his eyes, her whole body suddenly drained of all warmth. She said nothing, but neither did she deny anything he’d just said. She could not afford to.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll protect you. I love you,” Sebastian said, more of a whisper to himself than something meant for her to hear. The hunger that had built up inside of him all these months — for her affection, for her touch, for her sweet words and gazes and attention — finally had a hope of being satisfied. He leaned in and chastely kissed her cheek, licking the traces of dried tears from her skin. “I love you…”

[heartinportuairk]

I went to the final performance of Macbeth last night and I wanted to make some notes for myself so I would remember some things. I only use this account for lurking but I am making this public in case anyone scouring the David Tennant / Macbeth tags is interested in my musings for some reason.

I had been lucky enough to have seen this production three times already before last night - twice in December and once in January - so I have been able to track its journey and pick out what changes night on night and what doesn't. I have found that fascinating. Any changes were minor and pretty much exclusively found in simply the way a line was spoken. For example, the brilliant Noof Oussellam (Macduff)'s "but I must also feel it as a man" was impassioned and angry the first and last times, but the two times inbetween I found it to be more subtle. More sadness, more despair than anger. I guess it comes down to how the actor is feeling it in that point in time and I think it shows a great understanding of the character that they play them in the moment and don't just mimic themselves night after night.

The other great thing about going multiple times is viewing it from different angles. I saw it from all sides, twice from the stalls and twice from the front row of the circle. Honestly, circle was better, especially for Macbeth's death in the closing moments. You do not get the effect of the blood seeping out from under him from the stalls and I tell you now, that image from above sears itself onto your brain.

All of the actors are incredible and have been from the start, but there were a few times last night where I could feel them step up their game. Like they knew it was the last time they were going to say that line (at least for a while) so they were going to give it their all.

One of those times was Macbeth's "tomorrow and tomorrow" soliloquy which had always been brilliant and very moving, but about which something was a little different last night. The quiet, raw emotion in that speech felt as though it had been ramped up (or down??) a notch and was so palpable that it brought a tear to my eye.

Another moment came from Lady Macbeth's sleepwalking scene. Again, always brilliant and always moving but somehow desperately sadder this time around. I wanted to give that murderous, conniving fiend a big hug.

The Porter:

The porter scene is funny but obviously not as much when you know what's coming. Which is why when somebody in the audience yelled out "who's there?" right before he got a chance to say his "ok seriously do none of you understand the concept of a knock-knock joke?" line last night, it was both a shame and a blessing. I felt a bit bad for the guy!

"Alright, you've seen the show before! That was my favourite-... and it's the final show!"

But what followed was a hilarious bit of improvisation and it changed things up a bit, especially as Laura the sound engineer proceeded to make his job even harder with the timing of the sound effects that followed. It meant I was able to enjoy the porter scene as much as I did the first time, but like I said, I did feel a bit bad that his favourite line got taken away from him! (It wasn't me who called out, by the way.)

David bloody Tennant:

I've not seen much Shakespeare live (I want to remedy that, I have become completely obsessed), but I can believe people when they say David Tennant is arguably the greatest Shakespearean actor of his time. You can tell he feels and understands completely the meaning behind the words he is saying. He's not just reciting, not just reeling it off. The pauses, the intonations, the passion, sadness, grief, guilt behind every line just shows his deep understanding of the character and his innermost thoughts. On that stage, he is Macbeth.

What's more is you can tell he absolutely delights in it. Anybody who knows anything about DT knows he loves Shakespeare and it is glaringly evident when he is out on stage. He puts everything he has into it and it is wonderful to witness.

He is truly an amazing actor and a treasure and I have been so delighted to watch his career somehow continue to hit new highs of late. Everything he touches seems to turn to gold. As many have said before me, this really is David Tennant's world and the rest of us are just living in it.

The bows:

The reception this group of actors received at the end of the performance was phenomenal and no more than they deserved. Everybody on their feet, whooping, cheering. A lot of noise coming from such a small audience. The cast were both playful and tearful. To see some of the actors get a bit emotional was very touching and I hope that was, at least in part, due to the love and admiration pouring out of us and on to that stage.

[saffron0v0]

thoughts on tachihara

The bbg of all time ‼️

In all seriousness though, if we're talking about my in depth thoughts of him, then here we go:

My thoughts on his background:

His life was hell from day one.

He was five when Shūnzen left for war. Five. His family was comparing a five year old to a whole grown ass man.

Just imagine how incapable they are of raising children. No wonder Michizō turned to a life of crime. The only thing they properly taught him was who Shūnzen was, and how much better he was than Michizō. The only reason he probably remembers how Shūnzen looks to this day is because of the sheer amount of pictures his family has on the wall. If I were in his position, I'd become sick to my stomach everytime I see a hint of any resemblance. Anything to remind me of his face that haunts me. The silhouette of his will always loom over me, to remind me of how much of a failure I am.

The fact that Tachihara probably didn't have his ability manifested back then must've made their judgements on him worse; they believed Shūnzen was a golden child, what is an 'ability-less' snot faced five year old against him? I don't think he ever got the chance to tell his parents about his ability, they don't seem like they'd give him the time of day to listen. Even if he did get the chance to tell them, you actually believe they'd praise him for it? They'd go straight to comparing how dull his ability is compared to Shūnzen, or some baseless comparison like that.

He somehow found out about what happened, and how Yōsano was seemingly 'responsible' for his brother's untimely death. She was the 'reason' he's suffering like this. He was probably either too young to understand the concept of suicide, or no one told him the truth, and with the fact that Yōsano blew up the ship, it's solid enough proof for anybody.

He lived in that deprecating excuse of a home for years, and years; forced to become a second version of his brother. He'd dye his hair out of spite, and would go in the exact opposite direction, because he wants to be his own person. He always planned to run away at one point, but then he overheard his parents planning to send him to a boarding school or something— Nope. Fuck this, he's done. He's leaving. He packed a few belongings, stole a wad of cash from his dad's wallet, and ran out the door to meet up with some gangster friends he might have. He lived in constant instability, probably exploited by his gangmates for highstake heists, and giving him this false sense of freedom he craved. That is, until the hunting dogs showed up.

This is where it gets the most fucked imo.

His time with the hunting dogs:

The hunting dogs were no rescue. They weren't there to give him a home. They were there to stop a small time gang from robbing a bank, eliminate them, and then leave. It's a cake walk for them. They just happened to come across an ability user with too much wasted potential. What makes it sadder is that he was aware of it. He was fourteen, and to him, this was his golden chance to proof that he could be so much better than anything his parents imagined, all while being his own person. Them considering him nothing more than a comrade was something he was fine with. They probably told him of the surgeries beforehand, through a little deliberation, and no other options, he agreed to be a lab rat. It's saddening how much he went through for him to just end up being a military soldier like his brother.

He probably developed his reason to live because of some offhand comment made by either Fukuchi or Teruko. I'm unsure of when Jōnō, and Tecchō joined, but I could just imagine Tecchō feeling like his sense of justice is being tested when he allowed a young boy barely in his teens to join their ranks. Tecchō isn't much older than 20, but at least he was old enough to think for himself, Michizō's self preservation is quite questionable on the other hand. Jōnō would–in his own way–reassured(?) Tecchō's guilty conscience, and convinced Tecchō that Michizō had complete control over his decision, and that they didn't force him into anything; they merely gave him options. Tecchō isn't convinced, but he let go of the topic for a while.

Teruko might not be outright about it, but she's come to care for the hunting dogs, having a soft-ish spot for their youngest. She obviously adores Fukuchi, but that doesn't make her care less for Michizō. At first, I think she was indifferent, maybe even mocking, and when they trained together, she never held back; she had to wip this twig into shape. Her overall feelings for him were purely work related for a good while, but she eventually started to care for him. Hc: Whenever they had their monthly surgeries, she'd volunteer to share a room with him, (he doesn't know she's doing this, he just thinks they don't have enough rooms) and would keep him distracted from the post surgery fatigue, and pain by ranting about everything, and anything that comes to mind. After having him train under her for a year or three; she fully recognized his talents, and officially views him as capable enough to be a hunting dogs; she'll never tell him that though. (Their sibling relationship is my biggest comfort tbh.)

I don't think he had any particular hard feelings against the commander, but he could be unsettling under that goofy demeanor; Michizō always watched his step around this man. He'd never imagine himself, never in a million, years going against him, not in the same way he would years later.

Michizō was seventeen, with three years of experience as a soldier under his belt, having already been trained, and turned into an ideal superhuman soldier through medical malpractice, when it was finally time for him to be assigned on his biggest mission yet: infiltrate the Port Mafia ranks.

The Port Mafia mission

My heart self destructs at this one. The thought of him going in with a hardened-by-years-of-training heart, and leaving every month or two feeling softer, and his resolve weakening.

He's building meaningful relationships with so many people; the same people that happen to go against everything he stands for as a hunting dog. Hell, he started calling one of them big sis subconsciously. He has a complicated sort of rivalry with the Mafia's top assassin, but he couldn't say he genuinely hates him. (HE THINKS GIN IS A BOY TO THIS DAY IT'S TOO FUNNY NOT TO INCLUDE) The strongest Mafia executive smiles at him, and treats him with undue respect, which genuinely terrified Michizō at times; just imagining that smile turned into a betrayed scowl haunts him at night.

His periodical surgeries served as a wake up call, he never thought he'd feel so grateful for them before. He leaves remembering he has a mission to complete, ignoring the gnawing guilt in the back of his mind.

That's what kept him together for the two years he's been undercover.

Hirotsu knows there's something behind Michizō, but he has full faith in one thing, and that is when the time comes, Michizō would side with the Mafia, because that's where he truly belongs. He never expresses it, but his worry for the consequences that would face Michizō once he's exposed grows by the day.

More on Michizō:

We've seen Michizō's Mafia 'sona he puts up for the mission, and despite everything, it feels so genuine. He's that good of an actor. However, sometimes, I feel like that facade slips from time to time, and he's either genuinely happy, sad, worried, and angry. It scares him how he's starting to become genuine, and how true his Mafia 'sona is becoming. He's kind after everything, and he'll always care. He might be a 'traitor', but he'll do his darnest for people he cares for. The look on his face when Hirotsu, and Gin were in the hospital just reflected how guilty he was for hurting them. It was what sparked his confliction.

He may be a hunting dog in name, but he's a Mafioso in truth, and will forever have a place in his heart, and memories for both.

He's my blorbo, and I love him. 💕🌹

[justonecitizenoftheearth]

Unspoken and undone

This fic has come to me as a surprise. I haven´t written anything in a while and being hit by inspiration so hard I stayed awake until 2:30 AM to write was GLORIOUS! For some reason I´m back into the Johnlock rabbithole after quite a few years and this is the result. I hope you have as much fun reading as I´ve had writing so far.

Just a quick warning, there is quite a bit of self-loathing and John´s brain being mean to him in this. If this hits home a bit too hard for you, proceed with caution and take care of yourself :) Enjoy!

Summary:

I´m so tired of needing help to exist. And at the same time, I feel guilty for being able to do so. Shouldn´t I be sadder? More … broken? More unable to exist, without him? I´m doing, well, not splendid, but okay, I guess. […] There are so many things I should have said, and asked and done. And now I will never get to do them, and I have still not choked to death on them. How dare I?

John is trying to cope with Sherlocks death, until… Sherlock is suddenly not dead anymore. How will their reunion go? And how will they deal with the consequences that their time apart has had on both their lives? And do they want to go back to how things were before or are there maybe aspects to their relationship that the never cared to discover before?

Chapter one

I´m on the way home from the grocery store. Bag in hand, I unlock the door of my apartment and set the shopping down on the only chair in my tiny kitchen. I blink. How did I get here? I know that I must have walked back to my apartment (not to my home, that does only exist in a different time, a different universe, where he didn´t…), but I have no memory of it. Sighing, I sort the shopping out and put the perishable things in the fridge. I should talk to my therapist about it. But I´m so tired of therapy. I´m so tired of needing help to exist. And at the same time, I feel guilty for being able to do so. Shouldn´t I be sadder? More … broken? More unable to exist, without him? I´m doing, well, not splendid, but okay, I guess. I can do my own shopping, hold down a job. I have daily routines. I sometimes even have a beer with Greg, although none of us knows what to talk about, because the elephant in the room is making it hard to look into each other´s faces. So what if I can´t sleep most nights, or have my gun close at hand, or need a whiskey (or five) to drown out the voice that whispers “You could have saved him, but you FAILED. Because you´re a FAILURE, John Watson, you´re not GOOD ENOUGH!” I live. I function. I´m still here, and he isn´t, and I should remember him better, his voice, his antics, how he likes his tea ( I know that one. It´s how I´ve been drinking my tea for the past couple of … how many months has it been? 18? Christ.), what he experimented with, which pieces he played on the violin. Why did I never ask? So many things I should have said, and asked and done. And now I will never get to do them, and I have still not choked to death on them. How dare I?

There´s a voice in my head that sounds a lot like my therapist, and it whispers, “Survivors guilt”. Is that what´s happening? Again? I thought I went over that once already. But I guess it´s different if your best friend kills himself in front of you, while trying to defeat a criminal mastermind, and you were to slow or to dumb to get there in time, to do something, to be there, to protect him, to help him defeat Moriarty, to … I don´t know what I should have done, but I should have done SOMETHING! I look up. I´m standing in the bathroom, hands clenched around the rim of the sink, looking in the mirror. Once again, I can´t recall how I got here. I don´t like looking in the mirror. My haunted eyes have permanent dark bags underneath them, even I can see that I´ve lost weight and gained wrinkles around the eyes and the corners of my mouth. My best years are officially over. Well, I got a couple more of them than I expected when I came back from Afghanistan, but that was then, when there was someone there to pull me out of my head into the brilliant hurricane of breathless adventure and unexpected turns that is… that was Sherlock Holmes. Another thing that I never told him. Most likely, I didn´t have to, he knew. He could probably read it in the pillow wrinkles on my face in the mornings or something like that. Still, it would have been nice to have said it out loud. Maybe he would have felt more understood. Wasn´t he always getting lost in his mind? Did he really know that I could relate, only that my brain wasn´t struggling with seeing and knowing too much, but with overseeing all the ways that I was letting people down. I sigh again. There is no use. There is no use in any of this. I leave the bathroom and turn on the telly. There is nothing more to do for me here. But I´m alive and he isn´t and I should be crying more, shouldn´t I?

The shift at the surgery is slow. I don´t like those shifts, I like it if there are double as much patients as there are time slots and having to use my whole focus to be as efficient as possible, while at the same time administering the best care I can. I´m good at that. I wasn´t even close to the level of deduction that he could do, but I can listen to people and hear the important bits. I know that I´m good at my job (if only you were good at other things as well, John, for example saving your friends), and it´s the only time that my brain can focus on something that has nothing to do with death or crime or blue-grey eyes that can cut through your being right through to your heart… I like my job. My colleagues appreciate me. I´m vaguely aware that it´s the straw I´m clinging to like a drowning man.

I have taken vacation. I didn´t want to, but the surgery is closed over Christmas and New Year´s. I briefly consider calling Harry and drinking myself stupid with her. Maybe not the worst idea I´ve ever had. Unfortunately, she doesn´t answer the phone, so I guess I´m by myself. I sit at home and watch telly. The walls are closing in on me. I think I hear violin music. Remembering a warm fire in a candlelight living room. Mulled wine. And the damn violin. I turn the volume up. It doesn´t help. Church bells are ringing outside and suddenly, it´s all too much. I grab a bottle of whiskey and my coat and I´m out on the street without remembering that I took the stairs. Of course there is only a light drizzle, we didn´t have white Christmas in a while. I pull my shoulders up to my ears and start walking. It´s a long way and the streets are completely empty by the time I arrive at the cemetery. I find his stone without having to look. I know where to find him.

The stone is cold at my back and the ground is wet, but the whiskey is burning warm in my belly and the world is fuzzy. The drizzle feels nice on my face and I tip my head back to let it run over my cheeks. Like the tears I can´t cry. That are sitting like rocks in my chest and refuse to come out, like the many words I was supposed to say and didn´t. “I miss you”, I whisper to his stone, because that is the easiest of the many things I want to say. “I wish you were here. I wish you were still here. With”, I can barely finish the sentence, even though I´m alone and drunk and there is no one listening apart from the rain and a stone with my… with the bones of Sherlock underneath. “I wish you were here with me.” I take another swig. The world starts to spin quite unpleasantly. “Please come back. Please. Please, Sherlock, please come back…” I don´t remember tipping to the side, but suddenly, all I see is soaked grass and a light coming towards me. Maybe I´ll get arrested for being in the cemetery in the middle of the night. Thinking about Greg´s face if he finds me in a cell tomorrow makes me giggle. The giggle comes out wet. I´m tired. Whoever is there, I can deal with that tomorrow. My eyes flutter close. I faintly hear someone call my name.

I wake with a splitting headache. Groaning, I roll over to the side, my stomach is rolling with me, I know immediately that I will not make it anywhere close to a toilet or a sink or anywhere more dignified than my bedroom floor. Then there is a bucket in front of my face and I hurl into it, loudly and obscenely. The doctor in me notices that I´m only throwing up liquid. When was the last time I ate? I can´t quite recall it. After I´ve spit out, a hand reaches into my field of vision, holding a glass of water. I rinse my mouth and gulp down the rest of the water. Briefly, my stomach rebels again before it settles. The hand takes the glass away and returns it full. A second hand is holding some pills against the headache I assume. I swallow them and lay back, waiting for my head to feel marginally better. “What are we going to do with you, John Watson”, a voice asks. I assume it belongs to the hands that gave me the water and the pills. My eyes blink open sluggishly, and the face of Mycroft Holmes comes slowly into focus. I groan and let them fall close again. Apparently, I´m not feeling shitty enough to not be embarrassed that the ever so posh brother who never even has a speck of dust on his shoes has seen me throw up violently into a bucket. I try to remember how I got into my apartment and draw a blank. What did I do before that? I vaguely remember having been at Sherlock´s grave. In the rain. Blackout drunk. On Christmas eve. Great. Just great. “Don´t you have a family gathering to attend?”, I ask him groggily. My eyes remain closed, I don´t really expect an answer. The exhaustion and possible alcohol poisoning are pulling me under again, I can´t be sure if I´m already dreaming when I hear his voice say, more softly than expected: “I am.”

I try not to think too much when I wake up alone in my apartment, body still weak, feeling cold and alone and ashamed, getting into the shower, for the first time in a long time having to try to keep it together. Didn´t I miss being able to cry just a day earlier? Now I ruthlessly swallow down the tears that are threatening to break free, because I wouldn´t be able to stop now, it would all end, all my carefully built up illusion of normalcy and a part of me is glad that I´m really just pretending, because he deserved better than a best friend who is just okay with a world where he doesn´t exist anymore. I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste copper and then I get out of the shower to make myself a cup of tea. It burns on my bitten cheek, and I know that I will bite the swollen flesh a couple times more before it heals and the swelling goes down. I stay at home on Christmas day, going to bed early, only to wake up choking on a nightmare. It was in Afghanistan, my comrade bleeding out under my hands, his blood staining my fingers and trousers, since I´ve pulled him in my lap, desperately trying to close the wound in his chest. A hand grasps my wrist, but when I look into his eyes, the words of comfort I´m trying to say die on my lips as I meet Sherlock´s gaze, his eyes wide open in shock and fear, clinging to me with all his might and this is my chance, my chance to save him and to have the opportunity to say all of the things I should have said. But before I can do anything more, his eyes glaze over, his hand falls away and I scream, no, no, no, not again, this has happened already, hasn´t it, and I couldn´t save him, I failed, why do I always fail, why am I so useless, why… and then I get shot in the chest and find myself sitting upright in my bed, covered in sweat, breathing hard, utterly alone, deserted, no one there to hold me as I gasp and shudder and try to calm my racing heart.

I´m glad to return to work. The less said about the rest of the holiday season, the better. I throw myself into the flood of influenza patients and sprained joints, since it has finally gotten cold enough to be a traffic hazard. Back at work, the weeks pass by, blurring together to a meaningless mash. Am I doing better? Hard to tell. Do I care? Even harder to say. I´m not drinking myself senseless, that´s something, right? After watching Harry´s descent into alcoholism, I try to not let the incident from Christmas become a habit. Sometimes, I can´t resist the promise of oblivion, sometimes I join Greg who is nursing his own hurts after his wife left him. I understand him, I do. I can´t say as much, but I think he knows anyways. I´m doing okay, aren´t I? I can´t tell. I show up at work. I breathe through my nightmares. I go shopping and clean my apartment. I even work out sometimes, that is supposed to be healthy, right? I stubbornly ignore how often I can´t remember getting somewhere. Or not being able to recall when I ate last. How much of the food I buy ends up in the bin, because I don´t eat it before it spoils. Or which day of the week it is. That´s normal, that happens to everyone, right? It´s not a sign of how incredibly useless I am as a human being. Just a sign of how much better Sherlock deserved.

I walk home, the shopping bag in one hand, looking for my keys in my pocket with the other hand, head bowed down against the wind. Which is why I don´t notice him, before I literally run into him. I bump against someone taller than me, look up, mouth open to apologize. But the words never come. My breath gets caught in my throat as I look up into the face that haunts my dreams and every waking moment, the curling strands longer than I remember, but the same sharpness to the eyes. A smile plays around Sherlock´s lips. “Hello, John.” The bag slips out of my nerveless fingers. I can´t breathe. This can´t be real. This can´t be happening. He´s dead. He´s dead! I gasp for air. I´m losing it, aren´t I? I´ve finally snapped and now reality is bending and breaking around me. The last thing I see is his expression change from carefully smug to worried to alarmed, then my knees give out.

Can be found on AO3

[baldursgat3]

Part 2 of my Enemies to Lovers. 3.1k words this time. Once again. Got away from me. This chapter literally doesn't even contain Astarion physically it's all just Karlach. I just love her I'm sorry but I said slow burn and I fuckin meant it

Part 1

“You mean Astarion?” She looked sadder now, glancing back towards the camp outside your tent. “He's not a monster any more than you are. Being a vampire doesn't just make you a monster.” “Luring countless people to their deaths does, though.” You could see the way it hurt her when you spoke about him that way, but it was true. He'd probably just won her over with his fancy words and pretty lies. “And you're all letting him tag around and play hero! As though he deserves any of it!” Your voice was rising in volume, you could hear it. You couldn't stop it though. It was hard not to let your emotions control you after everything. But you could see the sadness in her eyes at your words and that hurt.

At some point, the comfort and warmth of Karlach’s body as she carried you close to her chest wound up putting you to sleep. You'd tried to stay awake, hoping to scope out how your city had changed but you barely made it out of the palace before her warmth consumed you completely. It had just been so long since you'd felt comfortable and safe like this.

Safe? No you didn't feel safe. Not exactly. Well maybe a little? No! No not at all, you weren't safe with these people. They were all friends of Astarion's, they couldn't be trusted. How foolish was your exhausted mind that you allowed that vile man to convince you to be taken away again? Just because his warm, soft, beautiful- just because his friend said a few nice words?

Your mind tried to reconcile your conflicted thoughts as you slowly woke up. You were in some kind of tent. Nothing fancy, just some blankets and a bedroll, but it was far softer than the floor of your cell. It seemed to be daylight out, though it could've been absolutely any time. All you knew was that it was night when you left Cazador's palace.

Was this their game? How cruel. You were trapped in this little tent. There was only one exit and it led directly to your death. You were stuck in there, at least until nightfall.

You sat for a while, fuming about your new brand of captivity before your eyes fell on a small stack of books near the head of your bedroll. Books? Did you even remember how to read?

You hated the way your fingers trembled as you picked up one of the books. You still hadn't eaten anything, you didn't really feel like holding it, so you sat cross legged and rested it in your lap.

It had been so long since you'd held a book. You had always loved reading, it was the reason your old friends had pressured you into trying to go out more. You spent too much time reading. Well, reading never got you kidnapped and locked away for 200 years.

They weren't books you would've picked, but they were acceptable. Two of them were cheesy romance novels that you read sometimes and only in secret. The one in your lap was some adventure fiction about a dragon slayer or something. Not your cup of tea, but it was well written. And it wasn't like you had anything else to do.

Besides, the more you lost yourself in the book, the more the anger and fear of the day began to fade. It was easy to get lost in a world of grand heroics. You'd finished nearly 100 pages by the time you were interrupted.

The tent flap swung open abruptly - you'd been too engrossed in your book to hear anyone approach. Though it was largely blocked by the figure standing in front of it, several rays of sunlight struck your skin as you hissed and recoiled. You heard a soft “Oh shit!” before the flap closed and the sun was kept at bay once more.

You had never been burnt by the sun before. You hadn't seen daylight since before you were taken away from the world. It had only touched your skin for a moment and you could feel exactly where it had, like an awful sunburn. But still, your heart ached for the light. It was so close and completely out of your reach.

Karlach sat in front of you in your tent, an apologetic look in her eyes. “Sorry, I… kinda forgot you can't be in the sun.”

You were so torn. If it was anyone else you could've been nasty to her without a second thought. But she seemed so much kinder than anyone else you'd spoken to. The part of you that ached relentlessly for companionship, to not be lonely anymore, it begged you to ignore the other part of your mind that didn't trust anyone that was even remotely close to Astarion. You couldn't trust her.

But you still couldn't be mean to her. So you just sighed, throwing her a quizzical look, rather than a bitchy one. “Don't you live with a vampire right now?”

“Oh, well yeah… but…” She seemed hesitant to continue, though you only looked at her, blankly, leaving her no real choice. “Well he doesn't… okay so this is complicated.”

Over the next several minutes she laid out exactly what had been happening, the mind flayers, the cult, the tadpoles. Cazador had just been a pitstop on their world saving mission. It was difficult to imagine someone like Astarion trying to save the world. Karlach? She was hero material. Not that slimy little twink.

More importantly than anything, though, she very cautiously told you that the parasite they shared gave Astarion protection from the sun. Of course it did. He got everything, didn't he? Wasn't he lucky? You only stared longingly at the glow that came from outside your tent, and he was free to frolic about it in however he wished.

She must've seen the anger that flooded your face, as she reached out to try to comfort you. You didn't stop her as she placed a hand on your shoulder. “I'm sorry… For what happened to you. With him. I'm sure it doesn't mean anything from me, but I am sorry.”

“Why does he get to be in the sun? Why does he get to kill Cazador?” You were angry and tired and still so very very hungry. “He ruined my life. He ruined so many people's lives. He deserves to rot in the ground.”

“I… I don't think this is a conversation we should be having. You deserve to talk to him about this. I think you deserve to talk to each other, actually.” Her words were soft. As much as you never wanted to look at him again, she was right. This wasn't her issue, you wouldn't get the answers you needed from her.

You took a deep breath, trying to collect yourself and reign in your anger. When you spoke again, your voice was much calmer, more even and less distressed. “So, then… why did you come here?”

“Oh!” Her eyes lit up and you suddenly realized how much warmer it was in your tent with her in it. “I came to offer you a snack.” She grinned, holding out her hand out to you with a closed fist.

You simply stared at her, looking between her face and her hand, mostly confused why she was taking so long to open her hand and actually give you something. “Um…”

“Sorry, did you not want it?” She pulled her hand back, just a bit. A confused, sad look crossed her face as she looked back at you.

“No, no!” It was the first time you ever managed any kind of excitement as you shook your head. “I do, I just… what are you… giving me?”

“A… drink…?” She seemed just as confused as you were. “Do you not drink blood, like Astarion? I'm sorry, I guess I just assumed-”

“You'd let me bite you?” Your heart lept into your throat. You'd never had anything but a couple rats in your miserable life as a vampire. Even then, that was so long ago and they had been given to you only as such wonderful gifts.

Karlach chuckled, a warm, comforting sound. “If you want to. But I will pull you off if you don't stop yourself and I super promise I'm stronger than you.” She grinned at you and you felt your lips twitch upwards in response. It was the closest thing to a smile you'd managed in over a century. How odd.

You very gently took her hand in both of yours, staring at her as though you were waiting for her to jerk away at any moment. She didn't though, she just smiled back at you. “Might be a little warmer than you're used to.”

Used to. She thought you were used to drinking blood of any kind. It was still a strange concept to you but… if she was offering, it must not be an issue for you to worry about. Not morally anyway.

Ever so gently you sunk your fangs into one of her veins, piercing her warm skin as her blood dripped onto your tongue. It was definitely warm. Almost hot like coffee. It was… sweet though. Not like coffee. Like hot chocolate. A perfect cup of hot chocolate after too long spent outdoors in the cold.

It didn't really occur to you to think about how strange it was to compare someone else's blood to a children's drink, you were too consumed by your hunger. She was delicious, far different than any of the rats you'd eaten. You could feel her warmth as it seemed to radiate through your body.

You really didn't mean to lose yourself, you were just so hungry. Besides, you believed her when she said she was stronger than you. You only hoped she knew when you'd had too much because you were accidentally set to drink her completely dry

She might've been telling you to stop, you really couldn't hear anything over the fireworks going off in your head as you finally ate something. Or - someone maybe.

Still, you suddenly felt her palm against your forehead as she pushed your head away from her wrist. You barely had the strength to instinctively resist her. You were still starving.

“- make yourself sick, mate.” You heard her voice come into focus as you wiped your mouth. It took a moment, but you shook yourself out of your frenzy, glancing up at her with frightened eyes.

“Oh, I- I'm sorry.” You whispered. “I didn't… I really didn't mean to-”

“Hey, it's okay.” Her voice was bright as ever. “Might've been a lot but I doubt they'll need me to whack anything too big tomorrow.”

What was wrong with this woman? Why was she so kind? So happy? How could she smile so easily like this? It didn't seem like her trust even wavered in you at all, despite you barely even trying to resist your hunger. “Why are you doing this?”

Her eyes softened, though the smile always remained on her face. “There's a lot of shit in this world. We've both been through hell, we know what it's like. Why would I want to cause more of that? Especially when I can help, instead?”

You wanted to laugh at her, a part of you was almost angry that she acted like she knew what you'd been through. She was so kind though, you just couldn't find it in your undead heart to be mean to her. Still, you sighed and looked away. “I don't think you understand what it's like to go through hell.”

She laughed. She was laughing at you, why was she laughing? You straightened up, a bit startled and a little irritated that she would do that. She must've seen it on your face, too, because she held her hands up in defense as she stopped laughing.

“I'm sorry, that wasn't nice.” She still smiled. “It's just- it's not your fault but gods, you couldn't be more wrong. I mean I literally went through hell. A personal attack dog for Zariel for ten years. I know you've got time on me but, I mean… front lines of the Blood War? Maybe we call it a draw.”

You stared at her quizzically. There was no way this woman survived ten years in the hells and came out like this. She was so… friendly? “You can't be serious.”

“Dead serious.” She thumped her chest, a loud banging sound echoing out as though she was hitting steel. “Gave me this to remember them by. An infernal engine right where my heart should be.”

It made sense, she ran hotter than anyone you'd ever known. If she had fires from the hells roiling in her chest, that'd explain it. Still, it baffled you. Devils stole her heart from her and she still smiled at you and laughed and bantered.

Her smile softened just a bit, taking on a sadder undertone. “So trust me when I say I know what it's like to deserve better. I understand a lot more of what you're feeling than you might think. You're surrounded by good people, though.”

“I find that hard to believe.” You scoffed, pulling your knees in. Karlach was the exception, but you were positive every other person in this camp was just as vile as Astarion. “You've been harboring a monster with you this whole time, someone must've okayed that.”

“You mean Astarion?” She looked sadder now, glancing back towards the camp outside your tent. “He's not a monster any more than you are. Being a vampire doesn't just make you a monster.”

“Luring countless people to their deaths does, though.” You could see the way it hurt her when you spoke about him that way, but it was true. He'd probably just won her over with his fancy words and pretty lies. “And you're all letting him tag around and play hero! As though he deserves any of it!”

Your voice was rising in volume, you could hear it. You couldn't stop it though. It was hard not to let your emotions control you after everything. Especially now that you've actually got a bit of energy from feeding on Karlach. But you could see the sadness in her eyes at your words and that hurt.

“Astarion was a victim. Just like you were. It was just… in different ways.” She bit her lip, glancing down at her hands awkwardly. “This really isn't a conversation I should have with you. It's not my story to tell. All I can ask is that you give him a chance. Cazador controlled him too. He knows, more than anyone, the anger you feel.”

That was true. It didn't take a genius to figure out what Cazador had been using Astarion and his “siblings” for. It was hard to care how little say he might've had in the matter when your life was still over. It wasn't like you didn't blame Cazador but “Astarion still chose me.”

Your voice was soft now, tears welling up in your throat as you spoke. She wasn't hitting you with any new revelations. You had assumed Astarion had been manipulated or even controlled into fetching prey for Cazador. Various stories of him from your cellmates painted the picture of a man who didn't exactly want to be sacrificing strangers to an evil man but the point remained. He could've picked up any number of people. And he chose you.

Karlach didn't seem to know how to respond. You didn't know the woman too well but you got the feeling she wasn't speechless very often. Not that you minded when she was so friendly. Now though, you both just sat awkwardly in your tent, neither of you quite sure what to say.

Finally, after what was likely only about ten seconds that felt like a year, she spoke again, her voice quieter than you were used to. “He did.” There was no point in trying to make an excuse. There wasn't much sense in arguing. Obviously if he hadn't chosen you it would've been someone else, but what comfort would that be?

You had been miserable, starved and isolated for nearly two centuries. Stripped away from your family and friends, your home, every plan you ever had, everything. You were keenly aware it was selfish to wish such suffering on anyone else but, at a certain point, you stopped caring about your morality. You would've given anything for him to have chosen someone else.

It didn't feel good, when you first realized you felt that way. The recognition that your suffering had worn away at the very core of who you were. Thoughts and feelings you would've never imagined happening filled your mind. Violence and anger and bitterness. A deep, boiling hatred and a desperate longing for revenge. All emotions that you had never been terribly familiar with before all this, not really. Now they consumed you.

“I'm sorry.” Karlach's voice was gentle. Though her eyes displayed a kind of sadness, she still smiled. She still seemed so optimistic. You didn't understand. “Look, I'm not gonna make you do anything, but I think you should talk to Astarion. I'll be there too, if you want, so nobody kills anyone.”

You laughed. It was a short, somewhat bitter laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “That seems smart.” You didn't want to talk to Astarion. He didn't deserve anything from you but… maybe Karlach did. She was the reason you were out of that shitty dungeon. Even if you were stuck in a tent, you hadn't realized how desperately you'd missed the fresh air. “Fine. I'll talk to him. But only if you're there too.”

Her eyes lit up and you could see her body move instinctively for a moment before she pulled it under control. She had nearly lunged out to hug you, before thinking twice about it. You would've let her. “Oh, awesome! Okay that's exciting. I promise, I think you'll feel better after this, I really do. I'll talk to him, maybe you can chat tonight. You know. When you can actually leave the tent without roasting.”

She smiled at you warmly. Clearly she had been banking on you agreeing to talk to Astarion, though you weren't sure why. Her excitement was contagious, though, and you found yourself smiling in spite of yourself. You wanted to hug her, you wished she'd gone for it and hugged you. It wasn't the sort of thing you felt you could go asking for yet though. So instead you just allowed the smile to remain on your face as you spoke. “Thank you. For- for being kind to me. Even though I'm… kind of a bitch.”

“Eh, you've got reason to be a bitch.” She gave your shoulder a playful shove. “Anyway, you need to rest. Finally had something to eat again after all this time, I'm sure you could use a nap.” She chuckled, rising from the ground in front of you.

She moved to the tent flap, carefully opening it this time to keep the sun's rays off your body. You couldn't help staring longingly at the beam of light on the floor, though. You glanced up as she spoke again, haloed now by the light from outside. “I'll go talk to him, you get some rest, yeah? Later!”

And with that she was gone. But still, you smiled. Her warmth still lingered. Besides, you knew she'd come back.

[bloodashre]

I just had a potentially mad thought and I haven't seen it anywhere else, so I don't know if it's already an existing theory or not.

But what if, as Azi often does actually say, the problem is that he's a demon, but not for the reasons we think. Hear me out. It's a long one, so buckle up.

Crowley said he just hung out with the wrong crowd and was in the wrong place at the wrong time and that all he ever really did wrong was ask questions. The show implies that his asking questions led to his fall, that's all very clear.

*But* there's that moment that Azi and him have when meet, where Aziraphale clearly thought Crowley meant something else during a specific line and we all know that line.

There's also a theory that Azi wanted to take Crowley back to Heaven, make him an angel again, and thought they'd be together, as in together together, but also angels.

It's been made clear also throughout the show that Azi isn't like other angels. Most people think it's Crowley's influence, but what if it's not? What if it never was?

What if it was the other way around?

Imagine if the two of them had had *a moment* - *as angels*?

I'm not saying anything truly happened, as angels don't have sex. They may not have even kissed (although that's an offshoot theory).

But if they had even just come close? And what if God didn't like that? What if it was the real reason Crowley fell and he didn't even know it? Imagine if maybe went something like this: warned him against asking questions. He does anyway. But The Metatron said he was *always* asking questions. He didn't just ask a lot. And that takes time.

So, during all this time, what if he becomes friends with Azi? He stated more than once that Azi is his best friend, and it's not like it's any more acceptable for a demon to have an angel for a friend. So, in Heaven, they're friends. Crowley's also friends with Lucifer and a few others. He asks questions all the time. And then he and Aziraphale have this moment. Of the two, Crowley would be considered more of a troublemaker.

On top of that, God most likely would want to punish them both, but making them both fall wouldn't do that. *Separating* them would.

And if Crowley fell *while starting to have feelings*, it might also explain how he ended up being so different from other demons.

What if he remembers? And what if Azi also does, and he wants to have it be the way he thinks it was supposed to be from the get? But Crowley knows that will never happen. And they never talk about it because until the end of season two, they both believe there's no point because it will never happen.

It would also explain some key moments, like Aziraphale's reaction when Shax says he doesn't seem like Crowley's type. It's hard to believe with the things he says that the two of them hooked up at any point, or kissed even.

Which brings me to the offshoot theory I mentioned earlier. Which is what is they did kiss, but as angels? That would have really pissed God off, but could still have been in such a way that Crowley didn't realise that was partly why he fell.

This would also make not only the way they feel and the kiss at the end of two even sadder, but add another layer to Aziraphale's reaction afterwards. Because what if, despite remembering being close and beginning to have feelings, what if they did kiss, but he had forgotten only that, and he remembered because Crowley kissed him?

[omegaremix]

The Great Cassette Purge.

Cassettes are the life of me. I have hundreds of them. I’ve bought them, recorded off the radio with them, made mixes and traded them with friends and people overseas. I’ve experimented with them and fixed them when they jammed, creased, or snapped themselves. They’ve been with me on bus trips to rival schools, on many a ride to Brooklyn and Staten Island, on ferries to Mashantucket and Atlantic City casinos, and as far up as Rochester for a music festival. They been with me through the golden-age of hip-hop, Top 40 stations, nine years of independent radio, and the reason why seasons came to play with personal mixtapes of mine. They are literal time machines. They’ve made me and Ω+.

The arrival of my 30GB iPod Classic and digital music forced my Walkmans to shamefully retire. The tapes have sat on shelves until I have time to digitize them. I’ve seen the format go on life support and now they’re making a comeback, even if only hanging by their own film (sorry). Some artists, especially punks, beatmakers, and d.i.y. artists still sell them. There’s even Cassette Store Day, and Long Island has their own online dealer in Tapehead City located in Long Beach. Cassettes are dead. Long live cassettes.

One summer day in the early Oughts, My insurance agent inherited two boxes of cassettes from a friend of his. He had no use for them, and neither did my agent. He didn’t want to throw them away, so he gave them to his best customer: my dad. Dad thought he was over-paying for his car insurance. At least he got a little something back for it. I come home and he tells me that there’s a surprise waiting for me. Hey, faithful Ω+ readers, wanna’ roll the dice on what that surprise was? C’mon…take a wild guess.

More good news came a few months later when my bro- gave me another surprise: more cassettes. Another boxes’ worth. He found them in the backseat of a car at a friend’s junkyard…which…didn’t sound right? I’ve essentially doubled my cassette library for free in nine months than I did buying them in twelve years. Way better than the trash heaps of big band records, medieval revival, and polka records dad used to bring home. Twice he did that to me. Twice! Of the nearly 175 cassettes I received, about half of them were library gold.

For doing absolutely nothing except coming home that day, I managed to get six R.E.M. albums and four Kate Bush tapes without even asking. Don’t tell Henry Rollins or Killing Joke’s Jaz Coleman about the U2 albums I got, too. And let’s hear it for three Smiths albums, once upon a time before Morrissey became the racist shit-gibbon he’s been for years.

Maintaining that Eighties quotient is essential with industrialists everywhere. Thank the Lord for Depeche Mode’s Black Celebration and Violator. Three from Adam Ant. Two from The Cars? Childhood justified, and Ric Ocasek produced gems with Alan Vega and Suicide. I even got a few midnight treats as well. The Cure, Siouxsie Sioux & The Banshees, and a Bauhaus double feature? I’m sadder as I ever been.

Alternative has always been synonymous with cassettes; plasticky and shelved nice and neat on display in your bedroom like the CDs you purchased from the mall. Those are authentic Nineties flashbacks. Gin Blossoms have been remembered as one of the more modest and respectable groups in the game. A free space for Jane’s Addiction’s Nothing’s Shocking which I unknowingly purchased again on disc later on. Mother’s Milk from the Red Hot Chili Peppers made One Hot Minute the only other album of theirs I need that matters to me.

More classics with two David Bowie titles and The Velvet Underground featuring Lou Reed. Sadly, the Bowie and Reed tapes didn’t make out with each other after the show. Add two from The Doors as well, because having too much Jim Morrison is never a bad thing. And finally, a good windfall doesn’t come without punk. A Fall release that wasn’t I Am Kurious Oranj which is the equivalent of owning Miles Davis’ Kind Of Blue. Iggy Pop, Husker Du, and The Stranglers also arrived. I can also tell you that since then, Public Image Ltd.’s 9 was one of the better free gifts I ever listened to and what made me a die-hard fan.

That’s the good.

The bad? It’s enough for you to question why I’d be doing Ω+. The law of averages dictate that amongst the larger number of cassettes you get, you’re bound to have a few eye-rolls and head-shakers. I ask myself what am I going to do with six Elvis and Judas Priest tapes? Nothing. The New Monkees without David Jones, Micky Dolenz, Michael Nesmith, or Peter Tork? Might as well give me Fakewood Mac, too. It only gets worse from here. Liberace, Thompson Twins, Simply Red: these are legitimate hits to someone’s reputation. Wang Chung? Corey Hart? Rick Fucking Astley? They lead someone to the firing line with no conscience rounds and no common courtesy to be offered a cigarette.

That’s more than enough of the bad.

Ric Ocasek, producer and lead singer of The Cars, passed away just recently. Maximillian and I were cock-fighting over our record collections and made me realize I had some catching up to do. Count on friends to make you feel inferior and incomplete. Every year I do music library audits and even I surprise myself when I re-discover things I thought I never had. Not too long ago, I pulled out doubles I had of vinyl records I purchased before. I’ve been meaning to comb through my cassette library and rid myself of titles I had no interest in keeping or hearing. Now that’s done, I’m deciding on what to do next. I announced to the world of the Great Cassette Purge of 2019 and—

“OMG where did they go ive been meaninn to expand my cassette collection”, chimed in our former program-director Layne like a random gossip queen. M-Ro, another close friend of the station, got a little bit more sly and posted himself without referencing me. “Attention everyone. if you ever run into the problem of not knowing what to do with your unwanted records, tapes, cds, dvds, etc. I will 100% take them off your hands, just putting it out there.” Yeah, how cute of you.

I haven’t decided to what to do with them just yet. Selling them for money to a record-store on on Discogs is not an option. A ton of these things have been made and are not rare. It sounds like I may have takers, but they haven’t asked me directly like gibbering-wreck wallflowers who piss themselves in front of the girl they want to take to the prom. Only time will tell who ends up getting cursed with the fucking Astley and Wang Chung tapes.

Now, the survivors of The Great Cassette Purge:

Adam & The Ants Kings Of The Wild Frontier

Adam & The Ants Prince Charming

Adam Ant Vive Le Rock

Aerosmith Big Ones

Bauhaus The  Sky’s Gone Out / Press The Eject And Give Me The Tape

Cars, The s/t

Cars, The Shake It Up

Charlatans UK, The Some Friendly

Cocteau Twins Blue Bell Knoll

Cure, The Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me

Cure, The Standing On A Beach

David Bowie Fame And Fashion

David Bowie Let’s Dance

Deee-Lite World Clique

Depeche Mode Black Celebration

Depeche Mode Violator

Dire Straits Alchemy (live)

Divinyls s/t

Doors, The Strange Days

Doors, The Waiting For The Sun

Duran Duran Arena

Duran Duran s/t

Duran Duran Seven And The Caged Tiger

Echo & The Bunnymen Reverberation

Echo & The Bunnymen s/t

Echo & The Bunnymen Songs To Learn & Sing

Elvis Costello & The  Attractions, The Best Of…

Elvis Costello Spike

Erasure The Innocents

Fall, The Seminal Live (???)

Gin Blossoms Up And Crumbling

Happy Mondays Pills N’ Thrills And Bellyaches

Human League, The Hysteria

Husker Du Warehouse: Songs And Stories

Iggy Pop Brick By Brick

Indigo Girls Rites Of Passage

INXS Kick

Jane’s Addiction Nothing’s Shocking

Kate Bush Hounds Of Love

Kate Bush Lionheart

Kate Bush The Kick Inside

Kate Bush The Sensual World

Kinks, The Think Visual

Kraftwerk The Mix

Ministry In Case You Didn’t Feel Like Showing Up (live)

New Order Substance

New Order Technique

Peter Gabriel So

Pop Will Eat Itself Cure For Sanity

Pretenders, The s/t

Pretenders, The The Singles

Public Image Ltd. 9

Queen s/t

R.E.M. Document

R.E.M. Eponymous

R.E.M. Fables Of The Reconstruction

R.E.M. Green

R.E.M. Monster

R.E.M. Murmur

Red Hot Chili Peppers Mother’s Milk

Redd Kross Third Eye

Replacements, The Don’t Tell A Soul

Replacements, The Pleased To Meet Me

Sinead O’Connor I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got

Siouxsie & The Banshees Peepshow

Smiths, The Louder Than Bombs

Smiths, The Rank

Smiths, The s/t

Steely Dan Greatest Hits

Stranglers, The Aural Sculpture

Talking Heads Speaking In Tongues

They Might Be Giants Lincoln

U2 Achtung Baby

U2 October

U2 Under A Blood Red Sky (live)

Velvet Underground, The Words And Music Of Lou Reed

XTC Oranges & Lemons