#he died' and then i made it to 17 and felt his death was the most tragic thing that i ever read

[kaledya]

Info's about Serenity:

Q/A's

(old posts about her.)

info: Alastor raises Serenity as his own daughter for 12 years and teaches her everything he knows. Since Serenity has really good singing talent and is a fun humorist, Alastor thinks she will be a good radio host when she grows up.

And these 12 years are really good for both of them. In the first years of adopting Serenity, Alastor helps Serenity overcome the traumas she experienced in her childhood, and Serenity eventually turns into an energetic and radiant child, instead of a quiet, afraid child who cannot trust anyone. +Serenity never learns anything about Alastor's identity as the killer until Alastor dies.

Alastor hides it as best he can because he never wants to involve her in this, he wants Serenity to live a good life) +Alastor still dies in 1933 /Serenity is 17 years old then When Alastor died and went to hell. He thinks that if hell is real Serenity will definitely go to heaven (Alastor had raised Serenity before his death to be a good-hearted lady, despite her wild spirit and a bit of sarcastic humor).

But of course, things don't go as Alastor expected. After learning the truth behind the death of Alastor (a murderer who kills bad people or other murderer), Serenity decides to follow his path but waits to graduate from Medical School and have enough experience before taking action

As the years pass, Serenity continues in her own way what Alastor started, until she dies saving a child in a fight with the many enemies she has made. (died 1955) she was 39 y.o at that time And at the end of all these years, she goes to hell and becomes known as the 'demon of luck'.

her fighting style. and some of her features.

Overlord Serenity:

Her Clan's leader:

Some doodles for her:

she is Bi:

and her human form:

Serenity's biological parents, even though I don't like them, I felt like I had to design them because they are an important part of Serenity's story

her angelic form (I did for swap AU) and Genderswap Serenity:

Serenity and Husk were once business partners. aka Luck Demon and Gambling Demon

[sabertoothwalrus]

hi !! just curious because i was looking at your adventure time episode guide and i love hearing other peoples adventure time takes !! how come you don't like finn's characterisation in together again?

I've talked about it before here and here!

But also I'm gonna say more and share some art I did in 2021 for a rewrite comic that I never got around to doing

So again to reiterate: Adventure Time is usually VERY good at making it feel like time passes, even when you're not watching. It's something about what they don't show that tells you everything you need to know.

Together Again did not do this.

It really really felt like they were avoiding showing Finn as an adult, as if they wanted to leave his post-show life ambiguous. Which, now that Fionna and Cake has shown us literally that, it makes Together Again feel even more wrong?? Like. imagine you have to pick a moment from your life that represents You™ the most. Together Again said that Finn, after living his whole life and dying as an old man, feels most represented by how he was at 17. I do not buy this. I am 25, and I cannot fathom identifying by my 17 year old self. I was a completely different person then, I was still cooking. I can imagine most people feel the same. And ok, so maybe Finn DOES for some reason feel stuck at 17? Explain to me why!! What needed to happen to him that made him feel that way?

And before you just say "it's because Jake died," there's still too much that was left out. How old was Finn when Jake died? What was Finn like, at that point? What else had they accomplished? What was he doing at the time that was on the forefront of his mind? Where/with who did they spend most of their time? Where were they living after the treehouse got destroyed?

It was like,,, it was like the story Together Again actually wanted to tell was about Finn's grief, and how poorly he copes, and how too much of his identity is tied to Having Jake, and how he struggles to move on. But that's not the story we got. I honestly think-- as interesting as it was-- everything with New Death and Tiffany and Lich just did a disservice to the focus, which was Finn trying to get over Jake.

I think Together Again should have gone like this:

Finn and Jake had always planned that whoever died first would wait in the dead world for the other to die so the two of them could reincarnate. Jake dies first. Jake would be able to "watch over" Finn as he lives the rest of his life, so Jake wouldn't miss Finn as much as vice versa, since he'd feel like he's still there with him. Eventually, Finn dies.

Finn's appearance would change with his emotional state. I thought it'd be interesting to show different phases of his life through the stages of grief.

There'd be a room where they could watch Finn's memories. Finn would walk Jake through the events of his life. We SEE exactly how Finn dealt with grief, with heartbreak, with love, with friends, with community. All the good and all the bad.

By the end of it, Finn is quiet. "Jake... when we reincarnate, will we.. lose all of this?" "Well, do you remember anything from any of your other past lives?" "No.. But that's the point. I don't want to forget you." Finn, despite their promise, despite Jake waiting for him all this time, declines reincarnating. He doesn't want to move on, because that would mean forgetting everything. He wants to say with Jake!! He JUST got Jake back!!

“What if— in the future— what if they forget about us? What if they don’t know about all the stuff we did?” We see Ooo in its current state. It’s changed, but it’s clearly been affected by the two of them. Every person they’ve saved, every civilization they helped build, every hero they’ve inspired. They’ve left their touch everywhere. “They’ll know,” Jake says with certainty. “We’ll know.” We see the future, with Shermy and Beth. We see the Finn Sword, and BMO with all their old belongings. Everything stays, but it still changes. Will happen, happening, happened. These have always been the themes of the show. They reincarnate, together.

[milkmejae]

Brisbane '17— s.yj

sypnosis: year '17, after your parents’ bitter divorce, life feels like it’s falling apart. one night, on a rooftop, you're ready to end it all—not until a guy stops you. the encounter sparks an unexpected connection, though neither is ready to admit it.

genre: romance, angst, fluff, tragedy, comedy (?)

pairing: boy next door!s.jy x female!reader

word count: 7.1k

warnings: mentions of su!cide, death, profanity, physical attack (unintentional lol), familial problems, depression

playlist: call me back - chase atlantic, brisbane - youth in revolt, her - chase atlantic, bmf - SZA, love me not - ravyn lenae, kiss kiss - mgk, royalty - enhypen, ivy - frank ocean, august 10 - julie doiron, strangers - ethel cain

a/n: hi lovely reader, this is my first work and idek how to write lol. still gonna edit this but this fic is inspired by the song brisbane by youth in revolt and the aussie boy himself, i hope y'all will like this, mwa! please reblog if u want. not proofread

Year 2017— Brisbane, Australia

The suburban rooftops stretched out under the faint glow of the moon, rows of identical houses and overgrown lawns barely visible in the darkness. The night was cold, and the wind carried the petrichor from the rain, but you really didn’t care. It was eerily quiet, just like you wanted it to be. The edge felt so close—just one step, one moment of weightlessness, and then everything would finally stop. The whispers of your parents arguing still echoed in your mind, even though they already stopped and ended things months ago. Their divorce had been loud, messy, and final. All the abuse and hurting is done, but not on your part. You were still tormented in your own mind. They moved on with their separate lives while you were left stuck in the ruins of what used to be a family.

Your long, black locks whipped around your face as you took a drag from your cigarette. The warmth of the smoke wasn’t enough to chase away the chill in your chest. The metal railing pressed into your palms, the cold biting into your skin. You leaned forward slightly, eyes closing and letting the wind brush against like a silent invitation.

The night became your sanctuary. But tonight, it was meant to be your escape.

You leaned forward slightly, toes curling within the sneakers over the edge. You were on edge. The cold metal railing pressed against your palms as your breath hitched. It would be quick, you thought to yourself. It would be painless.

"You're not really going to do that, are you?"

The voice startled you, sharp and low, like a blade slicing through the silence. You spun around, your heart lurching within your aching chest, breath starting to get heavy.

He was standing in the shadow of a tree across your house, half-hidden in darkness. Moonlight seeping through the leaves, revealing his dark brown hair sitting messily over his forehead, hiding his sculpted appearance. Black hoodie hung loosely on his frame. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and he tilted his head slightly, watching her.

"What the fuck?" you hissed, narrowing your eyes. Strings were pulled within him, producing a low chuckle that's somewhat utterly offensive on your part.

"Who even are you?"

"Someone who doesn't want to see a messy scene," he said, stepping into the faint light. His voice was calm, almost indifferent, but there was something unsettlingly focused about his dark eyes. "It’s a long way down, you know."

"None of your business," you snapped on his words instantly, turning back toward the edge.

"Maybe not," he said, his tone almost lazy. "But I’d hate to see someone ruin a perfectly good night." You froze, gripping the railing tighter. "What do you want?"

The man took a step closer, his movements slow and deliberate. "Just to chill, but you made a scene so it somehow ruined it." Oh, that's not very kind of him.

"Fuck off you dickhead, I'm already on the verge of making my brain scatter on the ground and you ruined it, god—"

"yeah yeah, you good?"

Did he just cut you off?

You were pushed to the edge, you might as well just blow your heads off, right? His voice was annoying, a second away from making your veins pop and destroying whatever's within you.

"Do I look like I'm good?”

“Nope, you look shit.” popping the ‘p’

“Why do you care?" Your voice wavered, betraying the anger you tried to cling to. He shrugged. "Why not? Doesn't cost me anything to care." You glared at him over his shoulder, chest tightening.

"Fuck off."

"Nope," he declined, popping the 'p' again, almost breaking his neck looking up, watching you a few feet away. His eyes stayed on you, unblinking. "But I can tell you’re not as cold as you want to seem." clearly annoying you to get something… typical.

You didn’t respond. "Let me guess," he continued, his voice softer now. "You think this is the only way to make it stop. The pain, the loneliness, all of it." The guy kinda get what you're feeling at the moment, hell, it even felt like he could see straight through the walls you spent years building around. It was disarming—how he spoke like he understood, like he’d been there too. His words weren’t pitying or condescending; they were raw, honest in a way that made your chest ache. But still, it feels like it's an act to go through you, can't really trust anyone these days.

You didn’t answer, but your grip on the cold metal railing became tighter than ever, as if it was not letting him the space to keep talking.

“You’re not the only one feeling this way,” he continued, his voice steady but somehow warm, like the kind of drug you didn’t know you needed until someone offered it. “And I’m not saying things will magically get better overnight. But jumping from a rooftop won’t fix anything. It’s a dumb way to go, you won't even die. It won’t make the pain go away.”

Plain stupid. You didn’t want to hear it. No. Not from some dude living across your house. But still, you couldn’t shake the way his voice felt like a lifeline—a thread you didn’t want to grab but felt reaching for anyway.

“I don’t know what it feels like to be you,” he added, stepping a little closer, his eyes not leaving mine. “But I know what it’s like to feel like everything’s too much. That you’re drowning,” His voice softened even more, almost gentle. “I won’t pretend to have all the answers. But I do know that there’s no point in doing something that takes everything from you. Not when there’s still a chance to find something else.”

You looked down at the ground, at him, heart heavy in your chest. The suburb lights flickered below the guy, a tiny, distant reminder of everything you were trying to do, plotting a cry to escape. Throat tightening, you felt a lump form from within that you couldn’t swallow down.

He took another step closer, his gaze still soft but unwavering. “You don’t have to be alone in this.”

The words hit harder than you expected. No one had ever said anything like that to you—not in the way he did, with no judgment, just nothing.

"So just come down and—”

Shit.

His nose is on period.

You just wanted to shoo him away, not throw an empty pot on his face. Well, you told him to mind his business but he couldn’t. Deserved.

"Listen," he said, as if reading the thoughts in your mind, "Even if you broke my nose, I’m not leaving until you come down from here. And if you try to go back to that edge, I’ll be ready to call the cops on you. I know you probably think I’m just some random guy who doesn’t know a thing, but I don’t wanna be the person of interest if you die."

You inhaled shakily, your breath catching in your throat. It felt like you're teetering on the edge of something—something fragile that you didn’t want to fall into, but something you're so tired of fighting. The pain in your chest had been so constant, so overwhelming, that you almost convinced yourself it was the only thing you knew how to feel.

But this moment, with him standing there, with that soft but resolute look in his eyes, made it all feel a tad less heavy.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he added, his voice quieter now. “Not unless you do.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t want to go anywhere. You felt something you hadn’t let yourself feel in a long time— warmth.

—------

The school bell rang, slicing through the quiet of the early morning. You sat in your usual seat in the back of the classroom, eyes focused on the empty desk in front. It was hard to shake the feeling from last night—the quiet rooftop, his voice, the way his words had made the weight in my chest feel a little less suffocating.

But this was school. This was a place full of people you barely knew, and most of them you didn’t care to. You were fine with the distance, being nonexistent, keeping your head down, interactions as minimal as possible. It’s cooler that way.

You pulled out your notebook, hoping the comfort of your routine would ground you. But as you glanced around the room, your gaze landed on a figure near the door.

With all of its glory, it was the guy.

"Yo! Jake!"

It was loud and playful, carrying a teasing energy that you couldn’t ignore. You turned, just for a second, then glanced at the source of the sound. A guy appeared, tall with messy washed-brown hair and an easy grin plastered across his face. His energy seemed to fill the hallway as he walked up to the guy, clapping him on the back with enough force that the guy nearly stumbled from his seat, but quickly recovered.

Jake...

The name was already lodged in your mind, familiar in a way you didn’t want it to be. And yet, it was impossible to ignore the small ripple of something—something you couldn’t name—that had started when you first heard it. It wasn’t much, just the passing mention of a name. But the way it rolled off his friend's tongue, with that playful teasing and the easy affection, made you realize just how little you knew about the boy who had stopped you on the rooftop.

He was leaning casually against the doorframe, his dark brown hair tousled as always, a crooked smile playing on his lips. He was wearing the school uniform, but it looked effortlessly cool on him, like he hadn’t even tried. You had to admit, the guy’s drop dead gorgeous. And, for the briefest moment, I could’ve sworn he was looking straight at me.

"What’s up, man?" the other guy said with a boisterous laugh. "You’ve been ghosting us again!"

Jake raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face. "You’re one to talk, Hee," he muttered, pushing his friend away in mock irritation. "I’ve just been busy."

His friend didn’t let up. "Yeah, yeah," he said with exaggerated drama, throwing an arm around Jake’s neck and pulling him into a friendly headlock. "Where have you been, huh? Got yourself a girlfriend or something?"

Jake rolled his eyes but didn’t fight it. "Doubt it," he replied coolly, pulling away from his friend’s hold and straightening his shirt. "Just keeping busy."

The guy wasn’t finished. He glanced over at you, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes as he waved a hand in your direction. "Yo, what’s up?" he said loudly, flashing a grin. "You two know each other?"

“oh, fuck.” You cursed under your breath.

Jake stiffened, his body language changing ever so slightly, but it was enough for you to notice. His gaze flickered briefly over to you, but he said nothing. It wasn’t the surprise or curiosity you’d expect from someone who had just met you—it was almost as if he recognized you, but wasn’t quite willing to acknowledge it. You turned your head quickly, pretending not to care, but there was a faint flutter in your chest that you didn’t quite understand.

His friend seemed to take it as an invitation to tease more. "Don’t tell me, Jake," he continued, his voice dripping with amusement, "you’ve got some secret going on here?"

Jake, still with that same calm expression, didn’t flinch at his friend’s words. His gaze remained fixed on the blonde guy, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to entertain the question. "Can you just go away?" Jake muttered, pushing his friend away with a little more force this time.

The guy, unfazed by Jake’s disinterest, just shrugged, still smirking. "Alright, alright. Don’t get all grumpy, man." He turned to leave but threw one last playful look your way. "But hey, don’t be a stranger, okay?" he called out, his voice light and teasing.

You stood there, unsure of what to make of it all. The interaction between the two of them had felt so effortless, like this kind of back-and-forth was second nature for them. It made you feel like you were witnessing something you weren’t supposed to be a part of. And yet, there you were, caught in the middle of it.

Jake watched his friend walk off, but for a moment, there was something unreadable in his gaze. His eyes flickered to you again, but this time, there was a subtle shift—a brief, almost imperceptible glance that lasted a little too long to be accidental. He dragged his seat towards you to be closer, obviously.

It was strange. You could feel it in the pit of your stomach—a warmth, a flicker of something that shouldn’t have been there. But Jake quickly broke the moment, pulling his phone out again and looking down at the screen, his casual indifference back in place.

"His name’s Heeseung," Jake said, as if he were speaking to himself more than to you. "Just in case you were wondering."

You didn’t know why, but the name seemed to settle somewhere deep inside you. It echoed in your mind long after Jake had finished speaking. "Heeseung." You repeated it under your breath, but it didn’t seem to matter. It was the least significant thing in the world, but for some reason, it felt like you’d just learned something important.

Jake, however, didn’t seem to care. He didn’t acknowledge you any further, nor did he make any effort to start a conversation. He stood there, his back to the lockers, his eyes glued to his phone. He wasn’t interested in talking to you, at least not outwardly. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching you. That subtle shift in his gaze, the way his eyes lingered just a second too long. It was like he was ignoring you, but also, not really.

And as you walked away, the feeling that had started to settle in your chest—something between curiosity and discomfort—lingered. You didn’t know what it meant, and you didn’t want to know. But it was there, and no matter how much you tried to push it aside, you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze had felt.

—------

The final bell echoed through the hallways, a collective sigh of relief spreading as students spilled out of classrooms, ready to escape for the day. You, as usual, lingered behind. There was no rush. It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting for you at home, and you preferred the silence of an empty hallway to the chaotic noise outside.

You were zipping your bag when a shadow filled the doorway. Jake stood there, leaning casually against the frame, hands shoved into his pockets. His dark brown hair fell over his forehead, messy yet annoyingly perfect. He had that infuriating smirk plastered on his face—the kind that screamed trouble without him having to say a word.

“What do you want?” you asked, your tone flat as you adjusted your bag on your shoulder. “Good question,” he said, stepping inside with an air of nonchalance. He shut the door behind him, the sound making you stiffen. “I was thinking… you look like someone who could use a change of scenery.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “And you look like someone who’s wasting my time.”

He ignored your jab, taking a few steps closer. “Come on,” he said, his voice light, teasing. “You can’t be always hiding and feeling like shit forever.”

“I’m not hiding,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes. “And I don’t need a pep talk from you.” Jake tilted his head, studying you for a moment. The way his gaze lingered made you shift uncomfortably. Then, with a sudden movement, he reached out and grabbed your wrist.

“Let go,” you snapped, trying to pull away, but his grip was firm.

“No.”

“Yes”

“Fuck no.”

“Not happening,” he said, his smirk widening as he started pulling you toward the door.

You dug your heels into the floor, glaring at him. “What are you doing?”

“Kidnapping you,” he replied breezily. “Don’t worry, i’ll send you home before dinner.” The man winked at you, utterly disgusting.

“Jake, I swear—”

“Relax,” he interrupted, glancing back at you. “You’re too uptight. This’ll be fun. Trust me.”

“I don’t trust you,” you said coldly, but he didn’t seem to care. He dragged you outside, ignoring your protests. By the time you reached the parking lot, you were fuming. That’s when you saw it—a beat-up, ancient bike leaning against the fence.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, staring at the contraption. Jake grinned, clearly amused. “What? It’s a classic.”

“It’s a trap,” you said, your tone dripping with disdain. He swung a leg over the seat, ignoring your comment. “Get on.”

“No,” you replied bluntly.

“Alright,” he said with a shrug, grabbing your bag and tossing it into the rusty basket on the front. “Guess I’ll take this instead.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Jake, don’t—”

But he was already pedaling away, the sound of his laughter carried by the wind.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, running after him.

By the time you caught up, you were at the entrance to the beach. The salty breeze hit you first, followed by the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore. You didn’t even knew that there was a place like this in the shitty place you’re in. Jake was leaning casually against his bike, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Here we are,” he said, gesturing to the ocean like he owned it. You snatched your bag from the basket, glaring at him. “What’s the point of this?”

“The point,” he said, stepping closer, “is that you’ve been walking around like the world owes you something. Thought I’d remind you it doesn’t.”

You stared at him, anger bubbling under your skin. “You’re cringe.” snarling at the boy, smirking at you gracefully.

“Maybe not,” he admitted, his smirk softening into something quieter. “But I know this is better than you staring at a ceiling alone all day.” Before you could respond, another voice called out from the dunes.

“Jakey!”

You turned to see a guy approaching, with a tall and lean frame, skin white as snow. His hair blonde, not a speck of darkness, as if it was freshly bleached, he looks blinding.

“That’s Sunghoon” Jake said, barely sparing him a glance. “Ignore him.” Sunghoon rolled his eyes as he reached you, giving Jake a playful shove. “Dude, I was just passing by and.... who is this fine young woman?”

Jake didn’t answer, his focus returning to you. Sunghoon looked between the two of you, an eyebrow raised, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he gave you a quick nod.

“Shut up, Sunghoon,” Jake muttered, grabbing your wrist again. “I’m not even talking?” Sunghoon was confused at the remark his friend dropped. Yeah, he wasn’t even talking? “Go home, Hoon.” Jake replied, annoyed by the sight of his friend.

“Yeah going home now, was just passing by but got busted instead” Sunghoon fake cried, gripping his chest dramatically whilst walking towards the road away from the sea.

“Come on.” You allowed him to lead you down to the shore, ignoring his friend. The sand cool beneath your feet. The ocean stretched out before you, endless and calm. Jake didn’t say anything, but he stayed close, his presence annoyingly steady.

The salty breeze swept through the air, pulling strands of your hair into your face as Jake led you down to the shoreline. The ocean stretched out before you, endless and restless, its waves crashing rhythmically against the sand. It was nearing sunset, the sky streaked with fiery hues of orange, pink, and gold, casting everything in a warm, dreamlike glow.

You turned to Jake, raising an eyebrow. "Your friends are weird." Jake shrugged, his lips curling into an unapologetic grin. "You’re one to talk."

“Jokes on you, don’t have one.” You crossed your arms, already regretting letting him drag you here. "Alright, we’re here. Now what? Am I supposed to have some kind of life-altering epiphany while staring at the ocean?"

"That would be ideal," Jake said, crouching down to pick up a rock. He turned it over in his hand before tossing it toward the water, the stone skipping three times before disappearing beneath the surface. "But I’d settle for you cracking a smile."

You snorted. "Don’t hold your breath."

Jake straightened and turned to face you, his grin softening into something quieter, almost thoughtful. "You can’t tell me this doesn’t feel a little better than sitting in your room, doing… whatever it is you do all day."

“Being dead is waaaaaay better that whatever this is, I wanna-” You opened your mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. He wasn’t entirely wrong. There was something about the sound of the waves, the cool breeze on your skin, and the way the fading sunlight painted the world in soft, golden hues.

Jake noticed your hesitation and his grin returned, this time more triumphant. "See? I knew it. You’re just too stubborn to admit I’m right."

"Don’t get used to it," you muttered, brushing past him toward the water.

The sand was cool beneath your feet, damp and firm where the waves lapped at the shore. You stared out at the horizon, the sky now bleeding into shades of lavender and indigo. It felt strangely calming, like the ocean was swallowing up all the noise in your head. Jake came to stand beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, as if gauging your mood.

"You ever skip rocks?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"No, why would i?"

He bent down and picked up a flat stone, holding it out to you. "Here. Try it."

You stared at the rock like it might bite you. "Why?"

"Because," he said, his tone teasing, "I don’t think you’ve ever done anything remotely fun in your life."

You shot him a glare but took the rock anyway. It was smoother than you expected, cool and oddly comforting against your palm. Jake stepped back, giving you space as he gestured toward the water.

"Flick your wrist," he said. "Like this." He mimed the motion, his movements fluid and easy.

You tried to imitate him, throwing the rock with as much precision as you could muster. It plunked unceremoniously into the waves, sinking without even a single skip.

Jake burst out laughing, the sound loud and unapologetic.

"Wow," he said, shaking his head. "That was… something."

"Don’t," you warned, narrowing your eyes at him.

"What? I’m just saying, for someone who acts like they’re above everything, you’re surprisingly bad at this."

You grabbed another rock, determined to wipe that smug grin off his face. After a few failed attempts—and Jake’s insufferable commentary each time—you finally managed a single skip.

"There you go!" he said, clapping his hands. "Knew you had it in you."

"Shut up," you muttered, though you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

The two of you stayed there for a while, tossing rocks and exchanging sarcastic remarks. The sun dipped lower and lower, painting the beach in shades of amber and crimson. Jake eventually flopped down onto the sand, leaning back on his elbows as he stared up at the darkening sky.

You hesitated before sitting a few feet away, pulling your knees to your chest. The sound of the waves filled the silence between you, comfortable and unpressured.

"You’re quiet," Jake said after a while, his voice softer than before.

"I don’t like talking," you replied bluntly.

"Yeah, I noticed." He glanced at you, a hint of amusement in his expression. "But you’re still here."

“Aight, I’ll go first.” You tried to stand, not sure how to respond. The man grabbed your wrist immediately, forcing you to stay.

“NOOOOOO,” he shouted in disdain. “I was just playing with you, you’re too dense.”

Jake smiled faintly, tilting his head back to look at the stars beginning to peek through the darkened sky. "You know," he said, his tone thoughtful, "sometimes it’s nice to just… be like this. No expectations, no pressure. Just this."

For once, you didn’t have a retort. The ocean stretched out endlessly before you, vast and calming, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you.

Jake glanced at you again, his expression unreadable. "See? Told you it’s not so bad."

"Don’t push your luck," you muttered, but there was no bite in your words. The two of you stayed there until the sky turned deep blue, the stars scattered like tiny diamonds overhead. Jake stood first, brushing sand off his jeans before holding a hand out to you.

"Come on," he said, his voice quiet but steady. "Let’s head back before it gets too late."

You stared at his hand for a moment before taking it, his grip warm and firm as he helped you to your feet. As you walked back toward the bike, the sound of the waves fading behind you, you couldn’t help but feel… lighter. For a little while, the weight you carried wasn’t so heavy.

—------

The days after fell into an unspoken pattern, a natural ebb and flow that neither of you acknowledged outright but couldn’t seem to break. Jake had a way of weaving himself into your days effortlessly, his presence becoming as routine as the ringing of the school bell.

It started with the small things. You���d find him waiting for you after class, leaning against the wall with that ever-present smirk playing on his lips. At first, you’d scoff, brushing past him with a curt, “Don’t you have someone else to bother?” But he’d fall into step beside you, completely unbothered by your cold tone.

“Maybe,” he’d reply, hands shoved into his pockets. “But you’re way more fun.”

You didn’t notice how often it started happening until it became something you looked forward to. Even when you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t care, the way your heart picked up speed every time you saw him leaning casually against the lockers told a different story.

In the mornings, he’d spot you walking through the school gates and fall in step beside you without a word. By lunch, he’d somehow worm his way into sitting across from you, a tray of food in hand and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You know,” he’d say one afternoon, resting his chin on his hand as he studied you, “you’re a lot more tolerable when you’re not glaring at me.”

“I wanna make you bite the curb.”

“It’s true, you look pretty if you're not glaring at me.”

You scoffed, stabbing at your salad with unnecessary aggression. “And you’re marginally less annoying when you’re not talking.”

“Marginally,” he repeated, grinning. “I’ll take it.”

What surprised you most was how natural it felt. Jake had a way of breaking down your walls without you realizing it, slipping through the cracks with his easy charm and disarming humor. He didn’t push too hard; he didn’t need to. His persistence was quiet, steady, and strangely comforting.

Before long, your walks home became routine. He’d wait for you outside the school gates, kicking at the gravel as if he’d been there for hours. Sometimes, you’d walk in silence, the only sounds being the rustle of leaves and the occasional distant bark of a dog. Other times, he’d talk about anything and everything—his dreams of traveling, funny stories about his childhood, or even the ridiculous antics of his friends Heeseung and Sunghoon.

“You should meet them sometime,” he said once, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “They’d love you.”

“I wouldn't.” You snorted.

“No, really,” he insisted. “You’d fit right in. They’ve got thick skin, so your whole ‘I don’t care about anyone’ vibe wouldn’t scare them off.”

“I doubt that.” smiling ever so slightly which made Jake’s heart skip a beat.

“No way.”

“What?”

“You fucking smiled, bro you-” The guy is now shouting, freaking out from what he had just witnessed. “YOU SHOULD SMILE OFTEN!” Jake is twitching at this point, in his perspective, you look like an angel sent from above.

Your lips twitched, but you quickly suppressed the smile threatening to break free. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

Despite your attempts to keep him at arm’s length, you found yourself relaxing around him more and more. The biting remarks softened into playful banter, and the silences between you felt less like walls and more like bridges.

But with the growing closeness came something else—something neither of you were willing to name. It was in the way his gaze lingered a little too long when you weren’t looking, the way his teasing tone softened whenever you let your guard down. It was in the way your heart skipped a beat every time he brushed past you, his shoulder bumping yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

One evening, as you walked home together, the sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink. Jake was unusually quiet, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“What?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

He hesitated, his usual confidence faltering for just a moment. “Nothing,” he said quickly, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes but felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. The air between you felt heavier than usual, charged with something unspoken.

The days blurred into weeks, and soon it wasn’t just the afternoons you spent together. Jake began showing up early in the mornings, offering to walk you to school. He’d lean against the gate, his dark brown hair catching the light in a way that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“You know, I don’t need an escort,” you told him one morning, adjusting the strap of your bag. “Who said anything about needing?” he shot back, falling into step beside you. “I just like the company.”

You didn’t respond, but a small part of you—the part that you kept buried deep down—was grateful for him.

In school, you noticed how his attention shifted. Jake was popular, with friends who seemed to orbit around him like planets around the sun. But his focus was always on you. Even when he was surrounded by laughter and chatter, his eyes would search for yours.

It scared you, the way he saw through your defenses. You’d spent so long building walls, convinced that no one could—or should—get close. But Jake… Jake didn’t knock them down. He climbed over them, slowly and deliberately, until you weren’t sure where the barriers ended and where he began.

You both felt it—that quiet, undeniable pull. But neither of you dared to say it out loud. Instead, you let it linger in the space between you, in the stolen glances and fleeting touches. Because saying it would make it real, and real meant vulnerable.

And neither of you were ready for that.

—------

The house felt hollow when you walked in, the walls devoid of life. The echoes of the past lingered in the corners, faint but persistent. Your mom sat at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped tightly around a steaming cup of coffee. The weary look in her eyes was enough to tell you something was wrong.

“Sit down,” she said, her voice a quiet plea. You hesitated, the knot in your stomach tightening as you pulled out a chair. She didn’t meet your gaze. Instead, she stared at the surface of the table, as if the woodgrain patterns held answers.

“We’re leaving,” she finally said, her voice breaking through the silence.

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard her correctly. “Leaving?”

“Yes,” she said, exhaling heavily. “I… I decided it’s best if we move overseas. Start fresh without your dad.” The weight of her words hit you like a tidal wave. “Overseas?” you repeated, your voice sharper now. “You mean I have to leave everything—everything I know—behind?”

Her lips trembled as she nodded. “This is what’s best for us, sweetheart. I also got a job there, it’s been so hard here, and we need to move forward.”

You stared at her, your chest tightening. Moving forward? How could she say that so easily? Your mind immediately went to Jake—the boy who had pulled you back from the edge, the boy who had made you feel like life was worth living again. The idea of leaving him felt unbearable.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I can’t leave.”

“I know this is hard,” she said, reaching out as if to comfort you, but you pulled away. “You’ll understand one day.”

You didn’t tell her about Jake. You didn’t tell her about the nights on the beach or the way his quiet persistence had chipped away at your walls. Instead, you stormed up to your room, slamming the door behind you. The weight of it all crashed down on you, and for the first time in months, the tears wouldn’t stop.

And then, just like that, you were gone. You couldn’t even bring yourself to say goodbye.

—------

Jake noticed your absences immediately. At first, he thought it was just one of your off days—you had those sometimes, disappearing for a day or two before returning with your usual cold demeanor. But as the days turned into weeks, the gnawing worry in his chest grew.

By the end of the week, he couldn’t take it anymore. He cornered your homeroom teacher after class. “Hey, uh… the girl who sits in the back. She hasn’t been here for a while. Is she okay?”

The teacher looked at him with surprise, then a flicker of pity. “Oh, she and her mom moved overseas. It was very sudden.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. “Overseas?” he repeated, the word foreign and sharp in his mouth.

“Yes Mr. Sim, overseas.”

Jake walked out of the classroom in a daze, the world around him blurring. You were gone. Just like that. No goodbye, no explanation. The thought of it left a hollow ache in his chest.

That night, he sat at his desk, staring at a blank piece of paper. The silence of his room felt oppressive, and the weight of everything he hadn’t said to you pressed down on him. Without thinking, he picked up a pen and began to write.

From that night on, Jake wrote to you. Each letter was a reflection of the longing that grew with every passing day, a way to keep you close even though you were gone.

Jake kept writing, even as life moved on around him. Heeseung and Sunghoon would tease him about how distracted he seemed, but they didn’t press too hard—they knew he was holding onto something he couldn’t let go of.

—------

Year ‘25— Brisbane, Australia

The streets of your old neighborhood were both familiar and foreign as you walked through them. The years had changed you, healed parts of you that had once felt irreparably broken. But as you approached the park where you used to spend your afternoons, the ache of the past resurfaced.

You saw him then—Heeseung. He was standing by the swings, holding the hand of a little girl while another child played nearby. His laughter carried through the air, warm and joyful.

Your steps faltered, but you found your voice. “Heeseung?”

He turned, his eyes widening in recognition. “You’re back,” he said, a bittersweet smile spreading across his face. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“Where’s Jake?” you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.

His smile faded, replaced by a sorrowful look that made your stomach drop.

—------

Year ‘23— Brisbane, Australia

One rainy evening, Jake was driving home from work, his hands gripping the steering wheel loosely as the rhythm of the rain on the windshield filled the silence of the car. The world outside was a blur of gray and water, the headlights of passing cars distorted like smudges on a wet canvas. The weather had been relentless all day, the kind of storm that soaked through your clothes in seconds and turned streets into glistening hazards.

He had been thinking about you again. Not that he ever truly stopped. You were always there, in the back of his mind, a quiet ache that he had learned to live with. Jake often wondered where you were now, what kind of life you were building in a place he couldn’t reach. Sometimes, he imagined you smiling, truly smiling—something he hadn’t seen often when you were here. The thought brought him comfort, even as it twisted his heart.

His phone buzzed on the passenger seat, but he didn’t reach for it. He knew better than to let his attention waver in this weather. The rain had turned the roads into slick ribbons of danger, and visibility was poor, the windshield wipers struggling to keep up with the downpour. Still, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he thought about what he might say to you if you were here now.

Maybe something stupid, he mused. Something to make you roll your eyes the way you always did, though he’d catch the ghost of a smile on your lips if he looked close enough. He could almost hear your voice, the sharp edges of your words softened by the warmth you tried so hard to hide.

As he approached the intersection, the light turned yellow. Jake slowed, his foot easing off the gas pedal. The rain made the world feel heavier, the weight of the water pressing down on everything, muting the usual chaos of the city.

And then it happened.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it—a set of headlights barreling toward him, far too fast, far too close. There was no time to react, no time to process. The car tore through the red light, and in an instant, the world exploded into chaos.

The sound was deafening: metal crunching against metal, glass shattering into a thousand jagged pieces, tires screeching against the wet pavement. The force of the impact sent Jake’s car spinning, the world outside becoming a disorienting blur of rain and darkness.

When the car finally came to a halt, Jake was slumped against the seat, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. The airbag had deployed, the acrid smell of burnt chemicals filling the small space. Pain radiated through his body, sharp and unrelenting, but it wasn’t the physical agony that consumed him.

It was the thought of you.

His vision blurred, whether from the rain streaking down the cracked windshield or the tears pooling in his eyes, he couldn’t tell. His mind was racing, desperate and frantic. He had always imagined that, someday, he’d see you again. That he’d get the chance to tell you everything he’d never said. How you had changed his life, how you had become the one thing he clung to when the world felt like it was falling apart.

The rain pounded against the car, drowning out the distant wail of sirens. Jake’s breaths came in short, shallow gasps, each one more labored than the last. He could feel his body growing heavier, the edges of his consciousness fraying like an old threadbare cloth.

But even as the pain surged through him, his thoughts remained anchored to you. He pictured your face, the way your eyes would narrow when you were annoyed, the rare but breathtaking smile that would light up your features when you thought no one was looking. He wondered if you’d ever think of him, if you’d remember the boy who had once pulled you back from the edge.

“I hope… you’re happy,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the storm. His fingers twitched, reaching for something unseen. “I hope… you’re okay.”

The sirens grew louder, closer, but Jake’s focus was elsewhere. In his mind, he was back on the beach with you, the two of you sitting under the dying light of the sun, your laughter mingling with the sound of the waves. It was a memory he clung to, a moment of pure, unfiltered joy that had become his sanctuary.

As the darkness closed in, Jake allowed himself one final thought, one final hope. Maybe, somehow, you’d feel it—the depth of what he had never been able to say. Maybe you’d know.

And then, with the rain still falling and the world slipping further and further away, Jake’s hand fell limp against the seat. The sirens arrived too late, the light in his eyes fading as his final breath escaped into the storm.

Even in the end, his heart had been yours.

—------

The world tilted, and you felt your knees threaten to give out. “No,” you whispered, shaking your head.

Heeseung’s voice wavered as he continued, “He never stopped thinking about you. Even after all those years… he kept writing.”

He gave out the stack of letters. They were worn and faded, but the sight of Jake’s familiar handwriting made your chest ache.

You sat on the park bench, the letters trembling in your hands. Opening the first one, tears blurred your vision as Jake’s words came alive once more.

Heeseung sat beside you, his presence quiet and comforting. “He loved you,” he said. “Even when you weren’t here, he loved you.”

Jake's Unsent Letters

August 10, 2017

Hey,

I don’t know where you are or if you’ll ever read this, but I wanted to tell you—I miss you. School isn’t the same without you. No one rolls their eyes at my jokes anymore.

Jake.

September 5, 2017

Today, I went to the beach. It felt empty without you there. I kept looking at the waves, hoping you’d show up out of nowhere and tell me I’m an idiot.

I’m sorry.

December 24, 2017

Merry Christmas. I wish you were here.

I wish you were here with me too.

March 13, 2018

I saw someone today who looked like you. My heart jumped, and I felt stupid when I realized it wasn’t. I hope you’re okay.

“Dumbass.” you muttered under your breath, tears flowing on your face.

May 21, 2019

It’s been almost two years. I still think about you. A lot. Do you even remember me?

How will I even forget you?

June 10, 2020

I told Heeseung and Sunghoon about the letters. They said I should send them, but I don’t even know where to send them.

I’m sorry, Jake.

November 2, 2022

I’m starting to feel like you were a dream, like I made you up. But then I remember your laugh, and it feels real again.

Jake..

March 12, 2023

I’ll never stop missing you, everything about you is good, what we had felt good.

God, please take me back to Brisbane ‘17.

[crowsofdarkness]

Arranged: Chapter Eighteen

*gif not mine. credit to owner*

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, 18+ smut(ch 12 & ch 17), angst, fluff, mentions of death and violence. I will update the warnings with each chapter.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Tags: @sakuracyberhex

I wrapped the bed sheet tighter around my naked body as I sat up in bed to let Steve fill us in on what we missed from his solo interrogation of Daryl. Bucky was still lounging on the bed, vibranium hand rubbing circles on my lower back, in hopes to keep me calm incase Steve told us something I didn’t want to hear. 

“So what did you find out?” I asked. 

Steve remained standing, hands buried in his pockets. “Are you sure you want to know, Y/N?” 

I nodded without hesitation. “I don’t care how bad it was. I need to know.” 

“Daryl was the one that pulled the trigger on your parents.” 

Bucky was now sitting up next to me and left a soft kiss on my shoulder when he felt my body tense at the news. The noises of the room around me faded, ears ringing with the news and I blinked back a few tears. There was a part of me that was relieved to finally know who killed my parents but I still needed to know why.  

“He was hired by someone, he didn’t know who. Someone called him a few weeks ago with a day and time of when to do it and when the caller got the proof of your parents death then Daryl would get paid.” 

My heart dropped. “Someone paid Daryl to kill my parents?” 

Steve gave me a sorrowful smile. “Yeah except he never got paid. Turns out that Daryl fucked up and told a friend about what he did. I guess the caller found out and said that he wasn’t going to pay Daryl.” 

A tear fell but I hastily wiped it away. “So my parents died for nothing?” 

“Did Daryl ever find out who hired him?” Bucky questioned. 

“Yeah but it was an alias.”  Steve sighed. “But he found out where this guy lives and was actually going to head there tonight to get the money.” 

I nodded. “Perfect, let's follow him there and figure it out ourselves.” 

Steve’s body went rigid and gave Bucky a look, who understood immediately. I looked between the two men and let out an angry groan. 

“Did you atleast get the fucking address before you killed him?” I asked. 

Steve snorted with a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “I’m sad that you don’t have enough faith in me, Y/N.”

It was my turn to snort a laugh. “So, when do we leave?” 

Bucky spoke while patting my lower back. “Why don’t we get dressed and we’ll meet downstairs to figure out a plan, okay?” 

I nodded and he smiled, leaving a kiss on my forehead. “Take your time. We’ve got to do something with his body.” 

“Let me guess, throw him to the bottom of the ocean with cinder blocks tied to his ankles?” I joked with a laugh.

However with the look on their faces, I realized that it was in fact not a joke. That was how they got rid of the bodies. 

“I thought that was some kind of mob lore,” I admitted. 

Bucky ignored me and simply nodded towards our closet.

“No peeking, Rogers,” I warned while clutching the sheet closer to me. 

Steve made a big show of covering his eyes with his hands and even turned his back towards me for added measure. 

“Aw come on, just a peak?” Steve teased. 

With a light giggle, I darted across the room and heard Bucky let out a low whistle at my bare form. 

“Bucky?” I gently knocked on the open door to his office. 

Steve, Sam, and him were huddled together closely, muttering something to each other. It seized the second I walked in which earned them a raised brow. 

“Am I interrupting?” 

Bucky shook his head. “Not at all. We were thinking that maybe-.”

I held up my hand to silence him. “Don’t you even think about making me stay here. I’m coming whether you want me to or not.” 

“Y/N, with what happened earlier, I don’t want you to go over the edge,” Bucky said. 

I squinted my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I never wanted you to get involved in this. You’re too innocent-.” 

My loud groan had now cut him off and I rolled my eyes. “Please don’t finish that sentence, Bucky.” 

“All I’m saying is that I don't know what I would do if something happened to you.” Bucky shrugged. 

I walked into his arms and left a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be fine. Especially since I’ve got two super soldiers and Sam watching my back.”

“Gee, thanks,” Sam retorted. 

I merely smiled at him but then noticed a briefcase on the couch. It was closed but it didn’t need to be open in order to know what was in there.

“Why are you bringing the serum?” I asked. 

Bucky tightened his grip around me. “Daryl also mentioned that whoever hired him knew about the serum. So Steve suggested we hide it somewhere that no one knows.” 

“I know a place,” I offered as I opened the briefcase. 

The bright blue liquid in the vials looked so small in the large case which made me wonder how it had such an effect on humans. I played with one carefully between my fingers.

“How do you guys ingest it? Drink it?” I questioned. 

Steve took it from my hand, much to my protest, and placed it safely back into the case.

“It goes in through the bloodstream, the fastest way to take effect,” he informed me. 

“Sam, why did you never take it?” 

“It wasn't something I was interested in,” Sam admitted. “I’m more of a guy in the sky.” 

I sat on the edge of Bucky’s desk, watching him make sure his handgun was loaded before placing it into the back of his waistband. 

“Who were you going to give the serum to? To make your soldiers?” I wondered. 

Bucky gave me a side eye. “Why so many questions? Are you interested?” 

“Hell no. Even if I’m dying, don’t give it to me. I like the way I am.” 

For the next several minutes, I watched as the three of them sorted through the array of weapons that Steve had pulled from the safe and when Bucky handed me a gun, I quickly shook my head. 

“I don’t think I’m comfortable with it.” 

He sighed while opting for a knife instead and he slid it into my back pocket, not before giving a hard squeeze to my ass. 

Our eyes locked and my heart began to beat incredibly fast as I took in the way his eyes shone bright when he looked at me. The way the corners of his lips reached his eyes with his large smile. 

The thought of how he twitches lightly in his sleep when he’s exhausted made my heart beat even faster. Or the way he would leave me notes throughout the house earlier on in my time here and he was busy with work so he couldn’t say those things in person. 

My heart flipped when I remembered the one time we were laying in bed together and I was running my hand over the scars of where vibranium met skin. Bucky had been self conscious of it but I showed him how much I loved it by kissing every inch of those beautiful scars. 

The realization of what all these feelings and thoughts meant slammed into me like a train. 

Oh fuck. 

“Ready?” I asked while clearing my throat, hoping he could read my mind with his super soldier powers. 

Bucky responded with a firm kiss to my lips. “You don’t investigate on your own, okay? Stay with one of us the entire time.” 

The worry that clouded his eyes made my stomach drop. 

“Of course,” I gave him a reassuring smile. 

With Sam leading, I followed him with Bucky and Steve behind me as we all piled into the large SVU. Steve and Sam were up front, that left Bucky and I in the back, who wasted no time in tucking his nose into my neck, working on a mark from earlier. I gnawed on the inside of my cheek in hopes to keep my moans silent but it nearly slipped out when I felt vibranium fingers ghost along the skin underneath my shirt. 

“Bucky,” I whispered while looking towards the front of the car. 

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured. 

My cheeks burned with a blush and forced him away from the skin of my neck to look into his eyes. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen tonight, if we were even going to find what we were looking for. But I needed him to know what had been weighing heavy on my mind for a while now. 

His blue eyes bored deep into my own as I cupped his cheek to leave a kiss upon his plump lips. They tasted like the beer he had finished before we left, some sort of liquid courage. No matter how many times we kissed, it felt the same; like they were made and molded for each other. We slowly pulled away and rested our foreheads against each other. 

“Bucky?” 

He hummed. 

“I know it’s been a rough start with our marriage but I wanted to say thank you for everything you’ve done for me the last couple months. You’ve been a great husband, given the circumstances.” 

Bucky smiled. “Anything for you, doll. I hope after everything we can have some sense of normalcy.” 

“I hope so too,” I agreed. 

My head rested against his shoulder as his vibranium fingers slipped with mine and brought my ring to his lip to leave a soft kiss to it. There was a buzz coming from my coat pocket and I stared at my phone with a puzzled look. 

“What is it?” Bucky asked. 

I gave him a slight shrug. “It’s John. He sent me this weird text.” 

The truth will be known soon. Too bad it had to be this way.

Bright lights shined from outside the car, behind Bucky, and there was no chance for me to warn him as a truck slammed into us, my screams being drowned out by the sound of metal scraping along the pavement and glass shattering. The force from the truck had sent our car rolling a few times and I felt my body being thrown around in the back before I smacked my head against the headrest of Steve’s seat, darkness encased me. 

A cold wave washed over me as I awoke with a loud gasp for air, water dripping from my now soaked hair. I blinked a few times, trying to gain my surroundings but as I tried to stand, I realized that I was tied to a chair. 

“What the fuck?” I cursed, thrashing against it. 

I gazed around the dark room in hopes I could see where I was or who threw a bucket of cold water on me. 

“Sorry for the water. I had to wake you up somehow.” 

My head whipped around so quickly a loud hiss fell from my lips, suddenly remembering how hard I had smacked it in the car accident. 

Oh, Bucky. 

“Where’s Bucky?” I asked the unknown voice. 

A dark chuckle echoed before the light finally turned on, my captor now becoming clear. 

“He’s a bit busy right now.” 

I scoffed. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Walker.”

John smirked. “I was starting to wonder if you ever found out it was me.” 

The sound of metal scrapping echoed in the room as he dragged a chair in front of me. I stared at him for a few moments, tilting my head to the side. But when it all started to finally click into place, I thrashed in my chair in hopes to reach him. 

“Try all you want, sweetheart. You’re not going anywhere. The chair is chained to the ground and you're handcuffed,” John informed me. 

“You crashed into us, to what? Kidnap me?” I wondered. 

He shrugged. “It was the only way to get you alone.” 

“For what?” 

John leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I tried to warn you, Y/N. But you wouldn’t listen.” 

I shook my head, still confused. “Warn me about what?”

“Bucky!” John yelled. “He doesn't deserve you!” 

I laughed dryly. “You’re still hung up on me. Christ, we dated for two months.” 

John pushed himself out of the chair and yanked my head up towards him by the ends of my hair. I bit my lip to keep the scream in my throat. 

“Bucky isn’t who he says he is. He’s been lying to you.” 

I did my best to shake my head in his grasp. “Jealousy always looked terrible on you.” 

John ran a hand over his face and reluctantly let me go to sit in his previous spot. 

“Did he tell you the truth about your dad?” 

“What are you talking about?” I asked. 

While he leaned back into the chair, John wore an amused expression. 

“Your dad was never in the army, Y/N. He ran his own mob gang for years in the eighties before you were born.” 

“You’re lying,” I shook my head. 

John continued. “Your dad and Bucky’s dad were rivals, both of them ran their business on the same block.” 

“Bucky’s dad died in the army,” I informed him. 

John laughed. “Is that what he told you?” 

My shoulders slumped as I began to question what John had been telling me. Every time I tried to ask my dad what he did in the army, he would never talk about it. I only thought it was because he didn’t want to remember his time there. Not because he was lying about who he was. 

I didn’t want to believe that Bucky was lying but with his track record of keeping things from me, I couldn’t help but question it. 

“Do you know the real reason why you two are married?” John questioned. 

I merely shook my head. “I’m guessing you’ll tell me.” 

He ran a finger down my cheek and my body shook with disgust. 

“It was shortly after you were born. Bucky’s dad and your dad were in a shootout where your dad was seriously hurt. He begged for his life, for mercy. In order for his life, he promised yours to Bucky when you two were of age.” 

My heart dropped to the pits of my stomach and I felt the room begin to spin. There was no way my dad would give up my life to a complete stranger, his rival's son, so he could live? 

But I knew it couldn’t be that far fetched as I was making it out to be. Even if he told me it was for a different reason, he did arrange this marriage. 

“You’re lying,” my bottom lip trembled. 

John lifted my chin in order to look into his eyes. “The worst part? Bucky knew this and he was the one that reached out to your dad to remind him of the deal. Your dad was hoping that Barnes' forgot.” 

I yanked my face from his grasp. “I don’t believe you.” 

John sighed before typing something away in his phone and showed me the screen. My eyes scanned the email and felt my heart break into a bunch of tiny pieces when I realized that John had been telling the truth. 

Bucky had sent an email to my dad earlier in the year about the deal between our dads and that he was “cashing in” on it now. I needed to be married to him within the next six months or he would come and do what his father should have done all those years ago. 

Tears pooled in the corner of my eyes and when I squeezed them shut, the tears fell and I could taste the salt from them on my lips. 

“He lied to you, Y/N. Now he has to pay.” 

The door to the room was kicked open as four men were dragging in a man on his knees. I let out a choked sob when I noticed the man was Bucky, who seemed to be out of it. 

“Bucky,” my voice cracked. 

Almost upon hearing it, Bucky looked up with angry eyes when he saw my current state. He was quick on his feet to save me but one of John’s men kicked him behind the knee, knocking Bucky back down. They all held him down, hoping he wouldn’t be a match to the four of them with the serum running through his veins. 

John was standing behind me and I let out a scream when I felt his fingers through my hair yet again, yanking my head up at the ceiling. I looked at him upside down. 

“Where is it?” He asked. 

“Where’s what?” 

John sighed. “I’m in no mood, Y/N. Where is the serum?” 

My lips parted as I stared up at him, everything started to fall into place. “You’ve been the one looking for the serum?” 

“Where is it?” John ignored me. 

“Screw you,” I seethed. 

Another scream erupted from my throat when I felt John’s knuckles slam into my eye, blood pooled to the floor almost instantly. I had been yanked up to face him yet again. 

Even if I couldn’t see, I knew Bucky had been trying his best to fight against the men constricting him. 

“I didn’t want to do that but you’re not telling me the truth. You know I hate being lied to.” 

“Go fuck yourself,” I spat. 

This time John’s knuckles met with my mouth and it was filled with the taste of copper. His fingers gripped my throat and began cutting off my oxygen as he looked at me with hatred in his eyes. 

“Where’s the serum!?” he screamed. 

I spat the blood from my mouth into his face in response. 

John groweld in anger and snatched the gun from his pocket, forcing the barrel of it in my mouth. My body shook with fear as I felt the cold metal burry deeper into my throat. 

“You son of a bitch!” Bucky sneered. “I’m going to kill you!” 

Tears fell from my eyes when John cocked the gun and I knew that this was the end, I was going to die. 

“Boss, we found it!” 

My lungs filled with oxygen when John removed the gun from my mouth and I gasped. 

John smiled in victory as he was handed the serum that had been prepped in a syringe. His gaze bounced between Bucky and I, a disgusting, sinister smile crawling on his features. 

“Your parents died holding onto the serum's whereabouts. They claimed they didn’t know what Daryl was talking about. I told him to shoot them anyway.” 

If my whole world had not crashed down before, now it was buried deep into the pits of hell. 

“You were the one that hired Daryl?” 

John shrugged, as if the mention of the kids name disgusted him. “I should have been the one to pull the trigger. Would have saved me the headache of covering the paper trail back to me.” 

“You son of a bitch!” my voice screeched as I kicked and screamed, trying my best to reach him. “I’m going to kill you!” 

“You know,” John stared with wonder at the serum. “I was going to use this on me but I suddenly had a better idea.” 

He looked at the men holding Bucky down. “Where are the other two?” 

Steve and Sam. 

“They’re locked up in the basement, sir.” 

John nodded. “Good.” 

He then turned his attention back to me. “I hear that you would rather die than have the serum running through your blood. Such a shame, really. What I would give to have this. But what I’m about to do will bring me the same satisfaction.” 

I looked with wild eyes towards Bucky when it became clear what John was about to do. 

“Doll, it’s alright.” Bucky tried to ease my worries. 

“Bucky,” I wailed. “I don’t want this.” 

“I know. It’s okay. I’ll take care of it.” 

His words meant nothing as I felt the sharp end of the needle protrude my skin, the blue liquid disappearing into my veins. My vision had become hazy but yet clear and the strength I had filled me was almost too much and my head fell back as I lost consciousness for a moment. 

“Too bad your husband won't be alive to see the outcome of his greatest invention,” John snickered. 

With a gut wrenching scream, I broke free from my handcuffs, the effects of the serum working instantly. Bucky took this as an opportunity to break free from his captors and I fought them off with him. The power I felt surging through me was nothing I had ever felt. While it made my skin crawl with revulsion, I couldn’t ignore the ecstasy I had felt. 

We had been so engrossed in fighting off the men that neither of us saw John scurry out of the room, dropping his gun onto the floor in the process. 

Once the men lay at our feet and I had come down from this new high, everything that I had been told by John was at the forefront of my mind. 

“Y/N, are you alright?” Bucky tried to reach for me. 

I pushed him away, fresh tears falling from my face. “Did you know?” 

He shook his head. “I had no idea he was going to inject you with it.” 

“No!” I sneered. “Did you know about the deal my dad made with yours in order to save his life? The deal that you were cashing in on?!” 

Bucky stumbled over his feet and swallowed the large lump in his throat. His mouth mimicked a fish out of water as he did his best to think of what to say. 

“Y/N, whatever John told you was a lie,” Bucky defended. 

In one swift movement, I had John’s gun gripped in my shaking hands. The barrel was pointed directly at Bucky, who stared at me with disbelief. 

“Doll, put the gun down,” he ordered with hands raised. 

I had started to sob, tears mixing with the blood from the wound on my eye and lip, and my hands were shaking uncontrollably. 

“What was I to you? Someone to have just to fuck with?” I wondered. 

Bucky shook his head. “Never. I never thought of you that way.” 

“Then why did you send that email to my dad?!” 

He had never been more confused. “What email are you talking about?” 

“Stop lying to me!” I ordered, forcing the gun closer to him. “Did you know about this deal?” 

With a deep breath, Bucky nodded. “My dad told me about it before he died. I didn’t want this, Y/N. But in order to keep my position in the mob, I had to.” 

I scoffed. “So that’s all I was? A way to keep your power?” 

“I thought so but not anymore. Y/N, I don’t think of you like that. From the moment you came into my life, I had been enamored with you. I couldn’t keep my mind off of you.” 

“ENOUGH!” I sobbed while holding the gun tighter in my hands. “Stop lying to me!” 

My mind had swirled with so many different emotions that I was afraid with one wrong word, my finger would pull the trigger. 

Bucky’s hand fell to his side and he had no emotion on his face. 

“Fine. If that’s how you feel then shoot me,” he shrugged. 

Through the tears, his face had become blurry and I didn’t know what to think. John could have been lying to me just to get between Bucky and I. 

Or John could have been telling the truth. I had to be inclined to believe it considering Bucky had lied to me before. 

My finger had bounced from on the trigger to off many times, weighing the decision. Flash images of Bucky and I together last month clouded my vision and the gun dropped slightly when it all became clear. 

I had fallen in love with Bucky. 

But it didn’t matter; he still lied to me. 

The sudden noise of a loud gunshot bounced off the walls of the tiny room. 

[myveryownfanfiction]

Rickmas day 21: heartfelt confessions

continuation of days 8 and 17

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen, @deepperplexity, @smilingformoney

warnings: swearing, death, snake attack, voldemort

I paced the boathouse, waiting for Severus to arrive. Voldemort had sent word to him and left me as bait. I turned as Severus entered.

“professor?” Severus asked as he saw me, a small twitch in his fingers as he scanned the room. Voldemort emerged from the shadows and smiled at the two of us. “My lord.” He bowed his head as Voldemort came to stand in front of him.

“Severus. Thank you for joining us.” Voldemort said. “There have been some…revelations of late. One that involves our lovely charms professor here.” Severus gulped as he looked between us. “I do believe you dared to defy me, saying you’d run away to join the muggles if it meant I wouldn’t find you.” Severus didn’t move, not emotion on his face at all. I bit the inside of my cheek hard to keep my face blank. Severus glanced at me and I noted the glimmer of fear in his eyes.

“my lord…” Severus started but stopped when Voldemort held up a hand, circling him.

“I must say Severus. I never expected you to choose a pure blood. Given your status and the unfortunate choice of a bitch you originally made.” I felt the shiver go up my spine at the mention of lily. “How much do you love our little professor? Hmmm? Enough to die for them?” Severus went pale, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he glanced at me.

“Die my lord?” He asked. “I…what…are you…” I stepped forward and stood in front of Severus. His hand came out to grab my arm, push me out of the way should anything happen but I grabbed his other arm and squeezed.

“you can’t kill him!” I cried. Voldemort looked at the two of us. He laughed darkly.

“I can’t can I?” He asked. “You little bitch, I think you forget your place. Unless you want to die alongside him.” I stood to my full height and stared down the most dangerous man in all of the wizarding world.

“better to die together than live with the pain of losing a loved one.” I shot back. Severus tightened his grip, still intent on pushing me out of the way. ‘Bastard thinks he killed Harry right?’ I thought. The brief squeeze of my arm confirmed it. I took a deep breath as Voldemort raised his arm.

“then you shall die alongside him.” Voldemort warned me. I stood defiantly in front of Severus as we watched nagini come closer. I counted down in my head, pulling Severus into apparition at the last possible second. I pulled him down just outside the boathouse as Voldemort roared with anger. Nagini was hanging off his arm, body falling at the wave of energy Voldemort gave off as the horcrux in the snake died. Voldemort stumbled against the wall as the venom coursed through his body, no horcuxes left to bring him back. I breathed out and leaned my head against Severus’ chest as a tear escaped my eye.

“How did you know that would work?” He breathed out, arms wrapping around me tightly. “How did you…”

“I didn’t.” I said, looking up at him with tear filled eyes. “I just wanted this to end.” Severus cupped my cheeks and kissed me deeply.

“you brilliant idiot.” He whispered, leaning his head against mine. “You absolute brilliant nut case. I love you. So so much.” I giggled and wrapped my hands around his wrists.

“I love you too.” I breathed out before kissing him again. He hugged me to him before rising. “Is he…”

“he should be.” Severus nodded, slowly making his way into the boathouse. He kept a tight hold on my hand as I trailed behind him. “Free. Finally free.” Severus breathed out, tears of his own rolling down his cheeks. “We’re free.”

“oh Severus.” I cried as I covered my mouth. Severus swept me up, spinning me around before kissing me again.

“let’s go. Let Harry find him.” Severus breathed out. “I have a mind to apologize to Minerva and then disappear to spinners end until this all blows over.” Severus looked at me with shining eyes. “If you’ll have me.”

“I’ll always have you Severus.” I confirmed before following him back up to the castle.

[nevermeyers]

Akutami this Akutami that. When Gojo "won" a few weeks ago people complained about Gege being greedy and keeping him alive to keep making money out of him (as if wanting money for your work was a sin). And now people complain about this death being "forced". Yk guys, I just think you're not happy with anything at this point and some people want to spread negativity over an overworked author. The same way people sent hate akutami when he didn't have the time to finish those pages in volume 17.

But I'll say thanks, Gege for creating such a great and complex character, wonderfully written who lived, loved and laughed, grieved and cried. A character so sadly mischaracterized as "just egoist and narcissistic" who had his heart broken so many times, his body literally ripped out, died and reborn as a god, who always gave his best.

I can't wrap my head about Satoru's life. People expecting the best from him, so they probably never actually congratulated him bc that was "his job" and what everything wanted from him. And Suguru being the only one who understood him and saw him as Satoru, not Gojo Satoru "the six eyes brat" just Satoru. His name being pronounced in such a lovely way during season 2 will always break my heart.

Also, Satoru and Toji being counterparts in the sense that Toji was born with nothing, and no one expected nothing from him, while Satoru had everything. Their fight, which was the first time Satoru felt alive and the point from which he became obsessed with being powerful.

Satoru, the funny and cunning teacher who wanted a strong generation. And he made it. He actually accomplished his dream of making a strong generation of sorcerers capable of thinking by themselves. It's all in their hands now.

Grew from a kid to a smart adult who proved he was the strongest of his generation. Maybe he wasn't the strongest of all times, and considers himself to not be enough, but for me? Damn, he is. He's the one who cared about the youth, who prepared them for the future. Who overcame a cursed love and loss all covered in blood, never surrendered, and still managed to stood up for what he believed in regardless the situation. That's what a strong person does.

So thanks Gege. Satoru has accompanied me for three years of my life. I loved him for three years and I will continue to love him in case he decides not to give another plot wist and leave him definitely dead.

I'll love him forever

[jedi-starbird]

Disaster Lineage Timeline and Ages

Here is a Disaster Lineage timeline that actually makes sense and includes all members, plus their relative ages for each event. For all my fic writers who also get a headache trying to figure them out.

I tried my best to keep the relative ages the same as what Canon or Legends gives us with 2 exceptions (Xanatos and Komari). So while the dates may not be canon accurate for becoming a padawan or Knighting, their ages are. The grey cells mark how old the person was when they died.

I've given permission for this to be on the SW Reference wiki. Here!

Enjoy and hope you have fun with it! Detailed explanations for birth-date changes below the cut!

Buckle in Folks.

OK, so Dooku must be aged up minimum 5 years in order to train Rael before Qui-Gon and so Qui-Gon can train Feemor and Xanatos before Obi-Wan. Rael has to be at least 10 years older than Qui-Gon so that he can be knighted when Qui-Gon is padawan age. Canon has Dooku take on Rael at 22 so I kept that cause it's funny and that means Dooku has to be older than his canon birthday of 102BBY to fit both in.

Neither of Qui-Gon's birthdays work if you want to fit the other lineage members in. This is not at all annoying. 80BBY(canon) has him too young to train both Feemor and Xanatos before Obi-Wan and 92BBY(legends) has him being 17 when he becomes a padawan if Dooku trains Rael before him. 86BBY is my magical average that just barely works. I use fanon that Qui-Gon takes over Feemor's training cause it's the only way to fit him in without making Qui-Gon too old, thus domino-affecting Rael and Dooku.

Does this mean the 4 of them are all knighted between ages 21-23? Yes? Is that insane? Yes, but alas it's the only way I could make the timeline work.

Komari is the only birth-date I've moved for non-math reasons, her actual birthday is 62BBY, same as Nim, but that makes her 18 at Galidraan and I felt that was too young personally. (She kills 20 Mandos singlehandedly there. yeah. wtf)

Xanatos's birthday and death date are the same but I made him older when he fell because Legends has him as 16 and that really feels too young, especially since he was considered for the goddamn Knight Trials when he fell and we know Anakin was considered exceptionally young when he was knighted at 19. It makes for some nice parallels between them. Plus all the shit Xanatos gets up to after he runs off, he should be a little older to pull it off.

[chaoticace2005]

Why Sir Pentious got redeemed:

1. He was killed so his soul got re-evaluated (if so what happens to all other Sinners who die?)

2. He got redeemed a millisecond before Adam killed him, the intent of sacrificing himself being enough to get into heaven

3. He was destined to be redeemed when he put his pride away and confessed to Cherri

4. Being in Heaven or Hell is based on whether or not you believe you’re a good person. At that moment his opinion of himself shifted enough to qualify for Heaven.

5. He racked up enough good points to be redeemed, as did Angel, the only reason he’s there and Angel isn’t is because Valentino owns Angel’s soul.

6. Susan owned Sir Pentious’ soul, keeping him tied to Hell. She died at that very moment though, releasing him.

7. Susan is a bad bitch and can’t die. But she saw how stupid he was about to be and was like “I give up”, releasing him.

8. The universe knew that Adam was going to die and there always has to be one Alex Brightman in Heaven. They couldn’t take Fizzarolli because they don’t want to deal with Asmodeus, so they defied their own rules and took Sir Pentious.

9. He didn’t get redeemed. His design was just re-used and this is a totally different Winner, the story just ended like this to give us hope

10. He didn’t get redeemed, this is Charlie’s hope of what did happen because she can’t accept his death

11. All of Hazbin is a story being told by Frank, and he added his boss going to Heaven because that’s what he believes happened (either a conspiracy theory or that’s what the Hazbin crew told him.)

12. Using a war machine to kill people was the last sin he needed to repent for, the fact he was redeemed before Adam’s blast is just luck.

13. Adam’s blast beamed Sir Pentious up to Heaven

14. Adam’s blast is actually a de-Sinner, usually it kills people but because Sir Pentious didn’t have a lot of Sin-juice he was reborn

15. He chose that moment to convert to a born again Christian. He was born again.

16. He sneezed and an angel blessed him

17. This was another “fuck you” from the universe: he kissed the girl he liked and made a family only for it all to be taken away

18. It’s a Good Place situation where he thinks he’s in Heaven but it’s really not and this is just extra torture.

19. He’s in purgatory and this is what he’s dreaming.

20. It’s a test by the higher ups in Heaven “OH you think heaven is good for Sinners? Wrong!” Then they chose a guy who was starting to find happiness in Hell to prove their point that Sinners can’t find joy in Heaven

21. His death was so anticlimactic the universe felt like it had to give him a second chance.

22. Vox is a heavenly official in disguise (the TV is just a mask.) And told him back in episode 2 to kill himself, Sir Pentious sacrificing himself fulfilled that wish, so the universe redeemed him for fulfilling Vox’s challenge

23. Lilith ex-machina came in last minute like a girl boss and saved his ass. Her powers transcend time.

24. That’s Sir Pentious’ clone, which Pentious had programmed to be released the second he died (there may be tons of Alex Brightmans in the world, but there can only be one Sir Pentious.)

25. Charlie learns how to redeem Sinners in the future. She also learns to time travel, so she grabs Sir Pentious at that last second before he died, helps him get redeemed and then chucks him back into the timeline because screw the consequences.

26. Alex Brightman got amnesia and said “H-huh?! Where-where am I?!” during recording. Everyone though he just ad-libbed a line and tried to make it fit in.

27. The Eggs are secretly gods. They blessed and saved Pentious before Adam could kill them.

28. Emily saw what he was about to do and pulled a lever. It was the right lever.

29. Last minute someone realized the play on words with Pentious’ name (Sir Repentious) and added this scene in

30. Alex Brightman was originally not going to return to the show, so Pentious and Adam died. Later things changed and he could return, but most filming had already been done so they took him aside and filmed that final scene separately and added it in.

[panda-wearing-pants]

Reasons for and against each remaining Wild Life member winning (who hasn't yet won a season)

Bdubs: Still has a yellow teammate and has been in the final 6 three times, but hasn't killed anyone yet (other than Skizz once in session 7) and has never made it past 11th in an even numbered season

BigB: The winners usually have an alliance with Cleo in the previous season, but we're not on her team (other than Scar), and BigB was one of the last humans in ep 7 of SL, along with Cleo, he also has an alliance with 2/3 past winners, and is good at surviving, he is also one of the few non-hermits, and the winners have alternated between hermits and non-hermits, but BigB tends not to stick with his allies, which could be dangerous

Etho: Still yellow and has many allies, and has been in every finale, but can't trust his main team to keep him safe, and will likely be trusted less by his other allies due to being on so many teams

Gem: Two out of five winners have won in their second season, and Gem, Joel, and Etho are all still yellow, but Gem and Joel will likely be targeted, due to being two of the best at PVP

Impulse: Impulse is still yellow, has good teammates, and is almost always in the top 7, but he isn't good at defending himself, and gets eliminated because of that

Ren: Ren has the greatest average net change in placement, going from 7th to 2nd to 11th, so, following the trend, he should place very high, maybe even 1st, Ren also got the 43rd kill, and the only two other people to get the 43rd kill were Scott in LL and Martyn in LimL, but Ren did just lose his only teammate, which is not helpful

Joel: Joel is still yellow, has two very good teammates (they are two of the only four players to never miss a finale), is good at PVP, and has been waiting for this for years, he has also been consistently at the top of my statistical predictions, unfortunately, Grian's teammates don't typically survive long (Scar placed second, but was red by episode three), and Joel often gets reckless in finales

Tango: Tango has doubled his total kills, and is good at surviving, but his survival skills typically get worse once he turns red, and his final deaths are known for being stupidly avoidable

Cleo: Cleo won Real Life, has good teammates, and hasn't made many enemies, but they have only been in the top 7 once, despite almost always making it to the finale

Other things:

Bamboozlers: I felt like Jimmy and Lizzie had similar reasons, so I put them together. Jimmy and Scar are tied for the most kills out of all living players, Lizzie is good at surviving, and Scar and Lizzie have both had a teammate make the final 2, despite only having a combined total of 8 teammates (not including WL) over a combined total of 7 seasons. The bad news is that the three of them have only ever outlived 1 of their combined 17 teammates (Bdubs in LimL died before Scar), and Lizzie and Jimmy have never been in a finale.

Reputations: Gem's first ever episode was titled "I have a reputation," which may be the reason she can't win. I think people are going to be too afraid of the Family and the G's to let them live, which leaves basically the Tuff Guys' and Bamboozlers. People in 3L were more afraid of Scar and Ren than Grian, allowing him to get to the final 3 while yellow, Scott wasn't a threat in LL, due to placing 10th in 3L, Pearl and Scar were alone in their seasons, so they managed to survive (I guess this probably doesn't apply to Martyn)

Yellows: Grian and Pearl started on yellow in the finales they won, Scott had just turned red at the end of the penultimate episode, and everyone started on red in the LimL and SL finales, so Gem, Joel, Etho, and Impulse are in good positions.

In my opinion, Gem, Joel and Impulse are likely to win, followed by Cleo and Ren, then Etho and BigB, and Bdubs, Tango, Lizzie, and Jimmy at the bottom

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

The Wall Street Journal is reporting that a message from Yahya Sinwar (the Hamas leader inside Gaza) was passed to Hamas leaders who live outside of it, and the essence of that is not to worry, because Sinwar believes they have Israel exactly where they want it. In other words, when Hamas is estimated by Israel to have at least 12,000 of its terrorists killed, and despite the fact that they could stop the death of Gazans by releasing the Israeli hostages and surrendering, Sinwar doesn't see any issues with where the war is at. I think the most important part is this: "According to the report, Sinwar also told the Hamas officials that the terror group is prepared for Israel’s expected operation in Rafah, the Gaza Strip’s southernmost city, and is relying on the high civilian death toll reported by the Hamas-run health ministry to cause enough global outcry that Israel is forced to withdraw" (my emphasis). At what point do people realize that they are serving the interests of Hamas' mass murderers, kidnappers and rapists?

A few days ago, I wrote about the attempt to allow aid trucks into northern Gaza directly from Israel, instead of bringing it to the south, and waiting for Gaza-based elements to deliver it to the north. This means an escort of Israeli soldiers is accompanying the trucks. This is the route the aid trucks cross:

Today, these aid trucks were stormed by a huge crowd, and according to the IDF, many people died from pushing and trampling (at the link you can see aerial video footage of the stampede), not an unheard of phenomenon when a huge herd of people all rush in at the same time. On top of that, some Gazans were also advancing at the soldiers securing the aid trucks. The soldiers felt undr threat, and they opened fire at those charging at them, but according to their estimate, this accounts for only 10 of the dead. Still, you can count on the anti-Israel crowd to adopt a narrative that, immediately and without investigation, calls this a massacre and blames every single death on Israel, not on Hamas, which started the war that made even aid supply into a dangerous and complicated situation.

Here's a reminder that even in the middle of the war, when no one is paying attention to it, Israel continues to demolish illegal homes built by Jews. But you're never gonna hear about it, not even during more normal times, because it doesn't fit the anti-Israel narrative, so anti-Israel sources will only ever tell you about it, when Israeli demolishes illegal homes built by Arabs.

As threats to British Members of Parliament (MPs) are rising due to threats from the anti-Israel crowd, the UK has allocated bodyguards to some of them, along with 31 million pounds designated for the security of British democracy. If some of the most powerful people in Britain are that scared, what do you think Jews there are going through? Indeed, today we heard that 72 million pounds are meant to help secure Jewish centers and institutions in the UK. The problem is that until the root of the problem will be tackled, this is just taking care of the symptoms, instead of curing the disease.

Israeli security forces have stopped two Palestinian cousins, one 17 years old and the other 29 years old, from carrying out an independent terrorist attack. I refer to such attacks as independent in order to point out that they're not a part of some greater plot, unlike every single terrorist attack on Oct 7, which were all interconnected, and rocket attacks since, which are launched as a part of the war that Hamas started waging against Israel. However, some of these attacks ARE connected to Hamas. Apparently, these two cousins contacted Hamas in Gaza to get help in committing their intended crime.

This is 59 years old Michel Nissenbaum.

He made alyiah on his own from Brazil when he was 13 years old. Friends say that coming to Israel saved him. He worked in hi-tech, as well as a tour guide, and volunteered with Bedouin kids. Here he is with one such group:

On Oct 7, Michel heard that the Re'im IDF base was under attack from Hamas terrorists. Knowing that his granddaughter was there, visiting her dad, Michel decided to go there and get her out. While he was making his way to the base, he stopped responding to messages. His granddaughter was rescued from the place hours later, but Michel himself had disappeared. He's believed to be kidnapped in Gaza, but his family is scared, because he wasn't spotted in any of the pics or vids released by Hamas.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 17

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

(Farewell, Roger…)

A gunshot was heard.

Red scattered before my eyes like rose petals.

—The man in the black hood who held a gun to my head fell to the ground.

(Huh…?)

One by one, the other men fell to the ground. Through the gunpowder smoke, I saw—

Kate: …Ro…ger.

Roger: Kate, you hurt…?!

Roger ran over and cupped my face in his hands. He stared at my face before running his hands along my body, checking for injuries.

Roger: Your arm’s bruised from when that guy grabbed you, but it’s not broken.

(...It really is…Roger)

Roger: …Kate?

When his eyes returned to my face, the tension within me snapped.

Kate: …Roger, Roger…

I clung to his shirt and buried my face in his thick chest.

Roger’s large hand patted my back, the warmth of it making my heart ache.

Roger: …That was scary, wasn’t it?

Kate: …It was…Ugh, I couldn’t…

Roger: That so.

His calm voice soothed my heart, and when he held me tight, I felt happy to be alive.

Nica: Ah, you lived. So, did you shoot them all? You’re a very merciless doctor, aren’t you?

(...Why is Nica)

Jude arrived after.

Roger: Look here, only missed a vital spot on one.

Nica: Ah, he’s close to death, no?

Jude used his foot to tilt the face of the man suffering from a gunshot to the leg up.

Jude: You’re gonna spill everythin’ ya know.

Man in black hood: …If I’m going to get killed anyway…

The ground instantly turned red.

(...)

The man lied motionless, as if drowning in the blood gushing from his neck.

Nica: Ah, he died before we could get him to spill anything. Too bad, we lost a valuable source of information.

Jude: …Tch, ya kill then run away by killin’ yourself. Disgusting.

Roger: …Kate, don’t look.

As I stared at the corpse in a daze, a large hand blocked my vision.

My face was pushed against Roger’s chest and I found myself being lifted up.

Roger: …Let’s go home.

All I could do was give a small nod in response as I tried to hold back the emotions rising within me.

--

After taking all the kidnapped youths back home and returning to Crown castle, Roger saw to my swelling wrist.

By my feet, Ale ate away at his reward meal.

(Why did Roger bring me back to his room and not the lab…?)

But the moment I thought that, I had my answer.

(Ah, I see…I was in a dark place just then, so he’s trying to make me feel less scared)

Roger: Oh right, Kate. See that square door on the floor there?

Kate: Square door? …Ah, there really is one!

While rubbing an ointment on my swollen wrist, he nodded over to the handle sticking up from the floor.

Roger: That’s actually a hidden door—Leads directly to the basement lab.

Kate: Wow! I didn’t know!

Roger: Wasn’t originally part of this room when Victor gave it to me. I made it.

Kate: …You made it? So you just made a hole in the floor…?

Roger: Yeah, if anyone finds out, I’m gonna get a good tongue-lashing. It’s a secret between you and me.

I couldn’t help but laugh at Roger’s own mischievous smile.

Kate: Pfft, ahaha…Geez…Just how much do you value efficiency?

Roger just smiled and, as if to shut the lid on something scary, slammed the medicine box lid shut.

Roger: …You’re finally starting to return to normal.

(Ah…I laughed…)

Roger: Alright, I’m done treating you. You should get some rest.

(I’m only able to laugh like this because of Roger’s help)

As soon as my stiff expression relaxed, I felt all the fear and anxiety slowly melt away.

…Now there’s just the guilt in my heart.

Kate: …-ry. I’m sorry, Roger…

Roger: …? I’d like to hear a “thanks”.

Kate: Sorry…

Despite what he wanted, all I could do was let out my feelings of guilt.

Roger: …Kate?

Kate: At the time…I wanted to kill them. But…My finger, it wouldn’t budge.

They were sinners who have killed, and Crown would have condemned them without any hesitation.

(...I knew that, but still hesitated to take a life)

(I was scared)

Kate: So…I ended up…

Roger: Ended up?

Kate: I ended up…making you kill those people.

Roger: …O_O

(The sin should’ve been mine to bear)

Roger: Kate, though I’ve never killed in front of you, it’s not my first time. So what you’re fretting over is— 

Kate: But…there’s no way you get used to killing people?

Roger: …

Kate: I told you I’d get strong, and I’ve been doing my best, but… But…I’m still weak…

(I couldn’t even run up to and hug Roger on that rainy day)

(I want to be able to support Roger, who’s trying to be strong, even just a little bit)

But I’m still as weak and pathetic as ever.

Roger’s always been the one supporting me.

Kate: Roger, I’m sor…

I couldn’t get the rest of my words out.

Because Roger’s lips had taken my breath away.

Kate: …Ro…Mnnn

Roger: …

When I was about to part my lips to speak, they were sealed again, entwined tongues snatching any thoughts I had away.

Before long, wet sounds could be heard from our lips.

Kate: Mnn, nn…nnn

(My mind’s gone numb…I can’t say anything…)

Anything I was about to say had melted away with the heat of the kiss.

But being hugged close to his broad chest and receiving kisses, as if telling me “that’s enough”—It felt as if all was forgiven.

When our lips finally parted, Roger’s face was so close that I could barely focus on it as I stared.

Roger: Kate, I’m glad I got there in time to shoot them.

Kate: …Huh?

Roger: I’d have to live with leaving you with a permanent scar if I let you kill someone. I’m glad you didn’t kill…Also I’m glad you’re alive, partner.

Kate: Part…ner…?

Did you just say partner? +4 +4

Don’t spoil me.

Am I still your assistant?

Kate: Did you just say partner?

Roger: Partner comes after assistant, doesn’t it?

However, I looked down, unsure if I qualified for it or not.

Roger: I know you were desperately fighting against your own fears to protect the others that got kidnapped. You stood there to protect them instead of yourself. I don’t think someone who fights for the sake of others is weak…Hence the promotion.

Kate: …

And so Roger has saved my heart again.

He allowed me to be myself and cheered me up with a smile of encouragement.

(...I was trying to not cry because I didn’t want to look weak)

Kate: …Uuuuuu

Roger: Oh, what’s up? You’re groaning.

Kate: …Huhu…

Roger: Ah…you’re trying to hold your tears back.

Kate: B-because…You’ve acknowledged me as your partner…I’ll ruin it if I cry.

Roger: Pfft…

Roger burst into laughter.

Kate: Besides, I know my crying face makes you happy.

Roger: Pfft, ahahahaha! You…You’re really…

You’re so damn cute!

The moment I was allowed to expose my weakness, the dam burst and tears spilled out.

Kate: W-waaahhh~ Roger you bully!

Roger: Ahhh, you’re crying. So cute. Pfft, haha…

As expected, Roger smirked as he stared at my face, but…he held my hand the entire time I cried.

(I said I’d never confess because I didn’t want it to be unrequited)

(But I admit it. I like Roger)

(I fell in love with this person)

Roger: When you’re done crying, let’s go out to eat. Your treat.

Kate: I’ve been promoted to partner, so you should treat me…Hic…

Roger: Alright, alright.

The next day, after having a delicious meal and beer with Roger and feeling so happy to be alive—

I visited Victor’s office to report on the incident.

--

Kate: Excuse me.

Victor: Yes, enter.

William: …

When Victor gestured for me to sit on the sofa, William, who was already sitting there, smiled at me.

Victor: First, I would like to apologize for putting you in danger.

Kate: Why are you apologizing? It’s my fault for being cautious. I’m really sorry. And thank you for saving me.

Victor nodded silently and I could see the sympathy on his face.

I was told that he sent out teams to search other locations as well when I got kidnapped.

(Everyone was worried about me…)

I bowed deeply again to express my gratitude to them.

William: Kate, with the criminals dead, your testimony will be an important lead. But speaking about it will be like digging up old wounds, so we won’t force you.

Kate: If any information I have will be of use, then I’ll tell everything I can. This is also part of my job as Fairytale Keeper.

—I told the two everything that happened.

Victor: It seems that the criminals were working for someone that wanted the bodies.

William: Your testimony has helped narrow down who they were. The criminals who kidnapped you—they’re a group of funeral directors.

Kate: A group of funeral directors?

William: As the name suggests, they’re a group of people who conduct funerals as their occupation. It seems that they realized the value of corpses, and started doing evil.

Victor: This group must be condemned. No exceptions. And now—Here lies a problem.

Victor’s cold voice caressed my cheeks as he spoke.

Victor: Just who was their employer? They were someone who instilled enough fear for them to prepare corpses and commit suicide.

William: …Fear isn’t the only method to control others, the reverse is also possible.

(The reverse…?)

I didn’t understand what William was muttering to himself.

Victor: We’ll take care of the rest as we’re already investigating it. I won't let this continue on—Absolutely not.

--

Roger turned toward the sound of the door to the basement opening.

Roger: …Ah, Kate. Just—

Alfons: Unfortunately for you, it’s Alfons, not Kate. These documents here are from Victor. At any rate… It’s quite unusual for a man with hearing as good as yours to mistake one person for another, isn’t it?

Roger: Kate’s the only one that comes down here these days.

Alfons: Speaking of, did you know? It has been almost a month since Kate has become Fairytale Keeper.

Though he knew that, some sort of surprise arose in his chest.

Roger: Yeah, it’s...already been a month. Time flies by when you get older.

Alfons: So, how is there any progress to proving that romantic love exists?

Roger: You could say that there’s still not enough research. —However, there’s one thing I noticed.

Next

-

Another cliffhanger :D

[very-straight-blog]

Many things in this fandom and show puzzle me, but one of the most odd ones to me is the reaction the general public had to Lucerys' death "He was just a baby! Aemond is such a monster! Lucerys was literally just an innocent child!"

Like- I mean, I consider myself team black ig, and I was sad for Luke's death but also ... Aren't these kids kind of all of the same age?

Now, correct me if I am mistaken, but isn't Aegon around 19 (some sources on the internet say even 18? Which seems a bit too young to be believable with the actors-), which makes Helena around 17 which then makes Aemond like 16? Like- yeah Luke was 14, but a mere 2 years difference doesn't seem enough to me to proclaim one a "defenceless innocent baby" and the other "a full grown adult merciless murderer".

I literally had classmates who were 2 years older than me when I was 14/15 because they were repeating the year or whatever, truly, a couple of years don't make THAT much of a difference in maturity. Like yeah, maybe visual wise, the actors look to have a much bigger age gap, but just because a teenager looks "older" physically doesn't mean he is any less of a teenager.

I also don't like the insistence of making Lucerys a "child". Like- yeah, he totally was, but also, is kind of hypocrite ppl then go around claiming that Aemond "deserved it" when he got his eye cut out (and he was even younger than Luke!).

"oh but Aemond stole Vaghar!"

Is literally impossible to STEAL a dragon, especially the biggest dragon alive! If she doesn't like you, she will burn you to a crisp, you cannot force her to do anything at all. Would it have been more "tactful" for him to wait and to claim her in the morning after warning the adults? Sure, but he was also A CHILD? A bullied one at that, ofc he saw his opportunity and he took it! You cannot blame a child for forgetting to be "tactful" or acting on a whim.

Also, people are acting like Lucerys' is the sweetest angel ever. Did we forget he also made fun of Aemond? "Oh but he was just a little kid copying his older brother, cannot blame him for not being tactful" But Aemond, also a child, doesn't get the free pass for not being tactful! I was also a child, and I never made fun of anyone, even if I saw others doing so. Did we forget he literally cut his eye out? Yeah, it was in defense of Jace, but also, is not like after doing it he felt regret or remorse for it. He could have pushed Aemond, or punched him, or kicked him, yeah it wouldn't have taken him down, but would have been enough for him to drop the rock.

Tho, I understand we cannot blame a child for acting impulsively and without tact. He was merely copying the defending the big brother he loves so much.

THEN WHY DID HE LAUGH AT AEMOND'S FACE DURING THE DINNER? Jace was trying to be civil, why wasn't Lucerys copying him then? Now he is old enough to understand bullying is wrong (especially considering he should relate to Aemond? Considering how inferior he feels due not feeling up to standard as lord of the tides). He is also old enough to understand maybe cutting out his eyes warrants some kind of apology-

But NOT- he just laughs at his face! And then gets offended when called a "Strong boy"! And ppl justify him as if he never did anything to warrant Aemond's dislike of him!

Make it make sense!

Sorry for the ramble lol

I can't say for sure if you're right about their age, I don't think the screenwriters themselves know how old their characters are lol.

You know what the problem is, everyone can "just be a kid." Everyone can make mistakes, act on emotions and make rash decisions. Everyone, but not Aemond. If four children are the first to attack one, knock him to the ground and kick him - oh, but he was rude to them, and the girls' mother died, they could be upset! However, Aemond couldn't be rude without thinking, when he had just claimed the world's largest dragon and felt (for the first time in his life) stronger than his abusers. No, he did it on purpose! If Luke cuts out Aemond's eye, it's just a mistake, he was protecting his brother! But Aemond, of course, wanted to kill them (all four of them, yeah) in cold blood with a stone, and not defend himself. It always works only one way.

And Luke wasn't a child at the time of his death, not by Westeros standards. He was literally sent to negotiate like an adult. If you want to judge by modern standards, they were both teenagers.

Some TB fans like to howl that we love the characters because of their looks, but it's amazing how quickly big eyes and a plaintively open mouth can make them forget what a person has done.

[cactusisconfused]

Hi, I wrote a fic :)

Summary: Ghost spirals and gets stuck in his head, Soap helps him out.

-Eternal Ages of Then Now and Again -

-

He said that he would join his life four hours ago. To lay down and give his body rest. Worried was his life for him. “You’ve worked yourself too hard again.” The Scottish voice had said. “When was the last time you took a break?” The voice had asked.

“Ages.” Death would respond.

Ages ago before he was young and before he was old.

Ages ago before he understood the concept of mourning and rage. 

Ages ago when death thought he could bring life.

It was ages ago when he learned otherwise.

Ages ago his father had beaten him.

Ages ago his family dies.

Ages ago Roba finds him.

He’s trapped in that cell for ages.

Touched for ages.

Locked in a box for ages.

Walked the same desert for ages.

Felt like he was falling for ages.

Then it starts again. Always. Forever. Repeating for ages.

His father berates him, beats him, kills all innocence.

His family dies, their bodies drenching the bright pine tree in a least festive red.

Simon runs away.

Ghost takes his place.

Roba finds him.

Roba uses him.

Roba buries him.

Simon stays in the coffin.

Ghost climbs out.

His legs give out once he reaches the Texan border.

Again his mind plagues him. 

Ages has it been since his mind rested. Because for now and every blink, every idle thought does the ages of death fill his restless dreams. Ages do they fill his tired bones and squeeze and push into the corners of his muscles and make a home in his pupils, finding the next life to meet death.

It doesn’t stop. It never stops. It’s been happening for ages. It’s been happening again. And again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and

again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and

again and again and 

again and again and

again and again and

again and again and-

“Simon?” A voice from the bed a few feet, a few miles, a few inches away, speaks from the bed. The voice is Scottish, one deepened and raspy from sleep. A voice that throws a punch to his shoulder, a confident grin under a flirty tone. One that death will find and will swallow his life up whole. There’s a quiet, knowing sigh.

Ghost doesn’t respond to Johnny calling his name, admittedly he’s not even sure if Johnny’s voice was even real. It’s just another voice again. Again one to follow him, again one to torment him again and again and again and again and again and again an-

Careful arms wrap around his shoulders from behind him, rough stubble meeting his neck. “It’s a nice night out, no clouds, nice and cool.” Life says with a small smile, his warm hand guiding Ghost’s face gently to look out of the window. The moon is bright, watching diligently and elegantly over this sleeping part of the world.

“I used to sneak out with my sister when I was younger to see the sunset, soon then afterwards, would we gaze at the stars. She was 17, just got her first car. I was 13, she’d offered me to tag along, get out of the house.” Says the warm body around him, eyes glancing at the stars.

“We’d stop by a small bakery that a friend of hers worked at, grab a bite or two, then head out in her car. Beaten up was the poor machine, but it was hers and she treated it as though it were made of the finest gold and porcelain.” Ghost isn’t sure when time stopped moving in circles, when he stopped seeing the images of the lives he’s taken that took to hanging and dancing around in his sickened mind. Quietly MacTavish spoke, the words a vine of brilliant strength for death's parasitic arms and failing arms to cling to.

“We found a good hill away from Glasgow, near the ocean. Sometimes we’d talk about our troubles, our fears and doubts.” Life’s voice trailed off, the sound mixing and stilling with the darkness surrounding them, turning it into an embrace; no longer was it the tight void it once was. 

Johnny’s eyes move to look at ghost from the side of his eyes. Bright and lively powder blue meets dark whiskey brown.

“She would say that under the stars, whispers of the daring, of the lost and of the damned would guide amongst its cooler winds, drifting into a whistling tune that no human could make out but in some way, always understand. Sorrows and joy to merge together for no one creature but all to know.” A warm, tired smile forms on the Scot’s face before his head moves to lean on Simon’s own.

Simon isn’t sure how long they stayed like that, Simon in Johnny’s arms as they gaze out the window, the sound of quiet wind outside blowing against the glass window. How long Johnny talked about this or that.

Ages has it been since Simon found himself relaxed. 

Now, he finds his eyelids falling on themselves as his buzzing nerves fade. Simon knows that death does not belong in life’s arms, but for this moment, as never once before, he’ll allow himself a moment of respite.

“Couldn’t stop thinking?” The scot asks after a silence fell between themselves and the world for a long moment. Simon could only nod. This wasn’t the first time he had ever spiraled, nor would it be the last. But instead of the whirlpool they became on his own, ones with mountain tall waves and drawing currents, they became loose streams lapping at his feet, the sea foam bubbling then receding back to the powder blue. Johnny nods back in understanding.

They find their way to bed together, Simon on his back and Johnny laying at his side, his tanned hand resting over his heart. Ghost’s mask is discarded somewhere on the floor.

“I…” Simon starts his voice giving out, unsure of how to start. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to bed sooner. Didn’t mean to leave you in the dust.” His chest rumbles with the grit of his voice, his eyes staring only at the ceiling. “Jus’...started thinking, then started hearing and seeing and…I thought I’d gotten better at stopping it. Still sneaks up on me..” Johnny kisses Simon’s pale cheek softly. “You have nothing to apologize for, Si. You know I’ve fallen into my own head time and time again, and always, you were there to fish me out. It’s only fair that I do the same, what with trying to be a good boyfriend and all.” A pause. “We’re both a bit fucked but that is what makes us fun, no?” There’s a smile in Johnny’s voice that Simon can’t resist, his own scarred mouth stretching slightly in a small content thing as his eyes glance down to look at his lover’s face.

 “Plus I'm MacTavish,” The Scot says, shifting to lay more against the brit. “We take care of the things we love like the finest gold and porcelain.”  Something about the way Johnny’s eyes look up at Simon is filled with such an adoration that Simon almost has to look away. Yet, his eyes linger on the man next to him. 

Never once had death thought he deserved to be looked at this way, to be looked after this way. To be loved and cherished for now and ages to come.

But then again, what is death without life and life without death. Intertwined should they be, for all the ages that pass eternally by.

-

If you would like to leave kudos at all or just want it, here’s the Ao3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62062321

[ghostie-sam]

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Cw: Death is mentioned ALOT like this is the main theme of it

Before we start I give a date and it’s kinda odd since the musical it says it takes place in 67 but I’ve heard that the events take place in 65 so I’m going with that! I also am sorry for advance if this is written weird 😭🙏 I did this in SCHOOL.

After Johnny and Dally die, things are odd for a bit; everyone’s a little bit closer and a bit more protective till the grief dies down (but never fully goes away). Pony finishes “The Outsiders” and gives it to his English teacher, who then helps/pushes him to publish it, and everything starts to look up for the gang of Greasers.

 

Then in 1967 the worst thing happened: just a bit before Soda's 19th birthday, he got drafted. Steve almost immediately enlisted but told everyone he was drafted too. The following year, Soda died from a bomb that went off, got mostly his arm and leg, but he bled out while Steve held him, unable to get him back to med in time. The year after that, Steve got shot and killed. Everyone said after Soda passed, Steve became reckless and reminded Pony of Dally and Johnny a painful amount.

 

Everything goes back into routine; sometimes it’s almost like the gang never existed, that it was always just a very distant trio. As Pony grew up, he eventually became older than his best friend, older than his brother, older than they’ll ever be. He started to forget more about them; they weren’t on his mind every second. He didn’t see them in everything; they became a background thought. He’d only remember every now and then.

 

Pony managed to publish The Outsiders, and it got popular quick, changing the way a lot of people in Tulsa saw them, and whenever Pony would see any of the gang members names or the “stay gold” quote, it made everything feel a bit better, like this was the way things were supposed to be.

 

Then in 1988 they lose another member, Darrel; he dies in a work accident. Pony and Soda used to joke that work would kill Darry one day, and if only they knew how true that’d end up being, maybe they wouldn’t have joked about it so much. Darry was 43 when he died, and Pony was 37. It hit Pony like a truck; suddenly he was 14 again, crying and not eating. Suddenly it felt like he was 17, grieving Soda once more, but this was different; this was his LAST family member.

Pony then contacted Two-Bit for the first time in years. He was 41 and as sharp-witted as ever, still drinking and still in love with Mickey Mouse, and they started spending time together again, and it was like they were teens again, having playful banter around their Curtis brothers house while Two-Bit and Steve shoved cake in their mouths, and it helped Pony manage his grief better this time.

 

But like everything else in Pony’s life, nothing stays. Two-bit eventually dies from liver failure in 1999. Longer, anyone thought his drinking would let him live since he made it to 52, and he died alone in his house with Mickey on the TV and a slice of cake on the end table. Pony found it poetic that the loudest of them was the only one to die alone. Johnny had Dally and Pony; Dally had the gang; Soda had Steve; Steve had the other soldiers; and Darry had his work crew around him. 

 

Pony focuses on himself and his family after this. He watches his kids grow, and they watch his brown hair turn grey slowly yet surely. Eventually, after a while, Pony starts to tune into Mickey; every day on the hour, he’d ask for chocolate cake every now and then, and he’d put grease in his hair. He’d go and watch rodeos, and he’d re-read Gone With The Wind over and over again.

 

One day his kids come to visit him; it’s 2021, he’s coming close to his 70th birthday, and his kids have the intent to show him the impact his book has on newer generations, making people feel like they belong, but when they get to the nursing home, Pony’s sitting on a very old recliner, Darry’s old one that he saved for when he got this old; he’s watching Mickey and turns to his kids, an almost childlike smile on his face; he tells them the gang should be here soon and to come sit, but when Mickey finishes, Pony’s already gone, that faint smile still on his face.

 

The gang is finally whole again, and they have no intention of leaving each other ever again.

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Part 17

Summary: Wolffe's wife suddenly dies, leaving him a single father in the middle of a war.

Pairing: Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Characters: Wolffe, Fox, Comet

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, grief, hurt/comfort, family fluff, funeral

Word Count: 2.1k

Author's Note: Y'all, we are only a few chapters away from meeting Lilith! I am so excited to introduce her! I don't want to say things are going to happen quickly from now on, but the pace is definitely going to pick up. The foundation has been set, and now it's time to get moving with the plot. And who better than Fox to help move us along? This is another chill chapter with lots of brother-time, so no one should be doing any crying... I hope. As always, please enjoy 💚

Beta: @/beating-a-dead-plot

Part 1 || Prev | Next

Series Masterlist

The morning came quickly–too quickly–as Wolffe woke before the sunrise. With the time he spent in space, his body never followed the rising or setting of the suns, but rather a clock that ticked deep within his biology. It was both a blessing and a curse in his mind. On one hand, he never had to set an alarm, but on the other, sleeping in was never an option. Cara was still asleep though, resting against his chest under the protective covering of his arms. It would be a bit before she awoke, but that gave him time to think about his mission for the day.

He stared silently up at the ceiling and reviewed every step he needed to take to ensure she was cared for while he was gone. He only had one rotation to accomplish it all, seeing as he would be departing before sunset on the next rotation, so there was no room for errors or setbacks. He had to be calm, calculated, and resolute. Most of those traits came naturally to Wolffe, but when his daughter was involved, a lot of who he was as a commander fell to the wayside. It felt cruel to shove part of her out of his mind, but life was also just as cruel.

It was only an hour before Comet found his way to their room to relieve Wolffe. Ever the cautious man, he poked his head into the dark room to make sure it was safe to enter. Wolffe watched him with amusement, the light from the hall outlining Comet's form, and he would've said something, but he didn't want to wake Cara. The last thing he needed was for her to get clingy before he left for the diner. She knew he would come back later in the day, but it didn't matter to her; leaving was leaving. For Wolffe, a silent hand-off was a lot easier.

Besides, she liked being with Comet more than she liked being with him. At least, that's what he told himself when he had to make the tough decisions that made his daughter cry. Justification wasn't the right word for it, but it allowed him to be the bad guy when he needed to be and allowed Comet to remain the good guy that she needed in life. Even though Comet left when Wolffe left, in Cara's mind, Wolffe forced Comet to leave. She might not understand how the hierarchy worked, but she did understand that when Wolffe spoke, the others listened.

Carefully, Wolffe slid himself off the bed and placed Cara back down onto the indent his body made. Both men held their breath in anticipation, but she must have been very tired because she stayed asleep and barely stirred at the swap. In the dim light from the doorway, Wolffe and Comet exchanged silent words with the same hand motions and gestures they used on the battlefield when vocal communication was impossible. It was clunky, but effective, and got the job done. Once Comet was briefed, Wolffe changed his clothes and left for the diner.

His journey to the diner was uneventful, practically quiet. It was still early in the morning for Coruscant's surface layer to be fully awake, but the subsurface layer was still bustling from the nightlife and now busy setting up for their daytime clientele. The diner wasn't a fancy place, but it was clone-friendly and served good food at a reasonable price. Most clones visited the bars and enjoyed the revelry late nights, but any level-headed, seasoned commander would rather sleep all night and eat a hot breakfast than get a cheap lap dance and a wicked hangover.

It was also rare for multiple commanders to be on Coruscant at once, however at least one was always there–Fox. When Wolffe entered the diner, he knew exactly where to go; left and down to the last booth against the window. It was their usual booth, but usual meant they did this often, which was far from the truth. The last time they met up was during his last leave, months ago, and before that, it was nearly a full cycle. It's not that Wolffe chose to ignore his batch brother, but if he had to choose between seeing his family or seeing Fox, he would choose his family every time.

As Wolffe approached the booth, he chuckled. Fox looked as tired as always, but perhaps a touch more than usual. Fox held the rim of his mug against his lips, the steam wisping up in front of his half-lidded eyes, with his elbows resting on the table, and a blank expression on his face. It almost looked like the mug was holding Fox up, instead of the other way around. If Wolffe didn't know any better, he would've thought Fox was asleep with his eyes open, but he did know better–that was just Fox in his normal resting state.

Wolffe slid into the bench seat across from Fox and stretched his arms over his head before picking up the mug of caf his brother ordered for him. He inhaled the warm and bitter fragrance before taking a sip and then hummed in satisfaction with the familiar brew. There was nothing like a diner caf. No offense to his wife's caf-maker, of course, but something about a cheap diner caf made him feel like a real man. It was leagues better than what the GAR gave them, but not as good as the caf from the surface layer. It was a wonderful middle brew.

"So," Wolffe said as he placed his mug down. "How's the wife?"

"Fat and ugly," Fox answered nonchalantly, then took a sip of this caf. "At least that's what she says every time I ask, which apparently is too many times."

Wolffe laughed. "When's she due?"

"Couple more weeks," Fox said.

"Are you nervous?" Wolffe asked.

"Kinda," Fox said with a shrug. "The pregnancy's been rough on her."

"She didn't get better?" Wolffe asked, then took another sip from his mug.

"Nope," Fox sighed. "She got sick in the first trimester and it's been downhill ever since."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Wolffe said. "It's a good thing she has you to support her."

Fox huffed. "Yeah, support…" He took a long sip after that comment. "The only support she wants from me is to stop breathing so loudly. Some days I think she actually wants me dead."

Wolffe raised a quizzical eyebrow. Fox looked more like he was taking shots of his caf as if it was a cheap whiskey, rather than savoring it. "Are you okay?"

"Just tired," Fox said, then set his mug down and rubbed his face. "She doesn't sleep, I don't sleep, we don't sleep."

"The baby won't sleep either," Wolffe said. He chuckled knowingly to himself with a smile hidden behind the rim of his mug.

Fox shot him with an unamused look through his fingers.

"Sorry," Wolffe said. "But I've got some experience."

Fox waved his hand to dismiss the apology. "Anyway, we're here to talk about you, not me." He paused contemplatively. "I'm sorry about Maria."

Wolffe bit his lip and set his mug down. He stared into the dark liquid and fidgeted with the handle. "I… I don't want to talk about that."

"Okay…" Fox said softly. "Then what do you want to talk about?"

"Cara," Wolffe said without looking up.

"What about her?" Fox asked.

Wolffe tapped his finger against the table as he thought about how he wanted to ask what he needed to ask. "I'm redeploying tomorrow night."

"Already?" Fox asked. "She must be having a hard time with that. You know, since…"

Wolffe tapped his finger faster and harder against the table, the silence getting awkward.

"You did tell her, right?" Fox asked.

"It's better this way," Wolffe said, deciding not to answer the question directly. Keeping the actual words in his mouth made the idea of not telling Cara more palatable for him. Selfish maybe, but he didn't want to handle any more emotional drama. He wanted just a bit of normalcy before he left and then a clean break to harden his mind. It was better that way.

"For who?" Fox asked.

"Listen," Wolffe sighed. "I didn't come here for a lecture. I need your help."

"Wolffe, I know what you're gonna ask," Fox said. He shook his head. "And the answer is no."

"Fox, c'mon," Wolffe pleaded. "You're the closest thing I have to family."

"I get that," Fox said. "But my hands are tied. Between my duties to Guard and my sick, pregnant wife, who can barely take care of herself, we couldn't possibly look after her too."

Wolffe closed his eyes and threw his head back against the booth cushion. "Kriff."

"Besides," Fox said. "Cara doesn't even like me."

"That's only because the gray in your hair scares her," Wolffe said without opening his eyes. "Maybe you should dye it."

Fox huffed and crossed his arms. "My wife likes it and as long as it turns her on, the gray parts are staying gray." He grinned smugly. "She calls me her silver Fox."

Wolffe leaned forward and twisted his lip in disgust. "Oh, gross. Please keep that stuff to yourself."

"But seriously," Fox said, changing the subject back. "You know my situation. If anyone found out about my wife… my kid, it would all be over. I can't risk it. Not even for you."

"Thorn?" Wolffe asked.

"Nope."

"Hound?"

"Not a chance."

"Thire?"

"Never."

"Stone?"

Fox snorted. "I wouldn't trust him to keep a plant alive."

Wolffe groaned and hung his head in his hands.

"I know you have your beef with the Jedi, and I get why you don't want her in the Temple, but what about a nanny?" Fox asked.

Wolffe lifted his head and looked at Fox in confusion. "A nanny?"

"Yeah," Fox said. "We're hiring one for when the baby comes."

"What does it do?" Wolffe asked.

"Well, there are different types," Fox said. "Some work part-time and come to the home on certain days, and there are some that work full-time and live in the home. They do pretty much anything you want–the cooking, the cleaning, the shopping, the laundry."

"Really?" Wolffe asked. He crossed his arms, intrigued by the idea of a live-in nanny. "How much does it cost?"

"I don't know," Fox said with a shrug. "Her parents are paying for it since they physically can't help us with the baby. I guess we got lucky with that."

Wolffe huffed. "Yeah. Real lucky."

"Easy, vod," Fox said. "I'm not trying to rub this in your face."

Wolffe sighed. "I know."

"Here," Fox said, then grabbed a napkin and started to write on it. "This is the name and the coordinates of the agency we're working with. They're not that far from here, so go take a look for yourself."

Wolffe studied the words on the napkin, then looked at Fox. "You sure they're legit?"

Fox looked offended. "I'm the Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guard. Don't you think I'd do background checks on every employee before I let them near my son?"

"So, it's a boy?" Wolffe asked, a smirk turning up on his lip.

"Yes, it's a boy," Fox said.

"Got any names picked out yet?" Wolffe asked, still smiling.

"Well," Fox said, "I wanted to call him Aran, but she wanted to call him Eli, so we compromised and his name is Eli."

Wolffe laughed heartily.

"It's not funny," Fox said, but he couldn't help cracking a smile himself.

"Why are we so bad at naming children?" Wolffe asked. "Maria insisted on naming Cara because she was afraid I'd pick out something stupid like, tooka."

"I mean, that's just normal clone naming conventions," Fox said.

Wolffe hummed, remembering back to when he and his wife discussed baby names. "But babies aren't clones."

"No, I guess they're not," Fox said.

Wolffe and Fox continued their conversation as they ate breakfast with both men reminiscing about simpler times and trading stories of newer times. It was more than Wolffe could've asked for. Although he would never admit it, he felt a touch lonely since his wife's passing. The men under his command were his brothers, but Fox was his equal, someone who could talk back to him, set him straight, and be honest. It was a rarity among the ranks with the commanders spread thin. He missed his batch brothers, and it was good to catch up with one.

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[yawarakaizai]

pmzai with an equally miserable s/o fem reader

ⵌ IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT

SENDER Reader (Fem) RECIPITENT PM Dazai Osamu (BSD) CONTENTS You sit and stare and wait for him to return to you. You've been bad and you've been good. There's nothing and no one that gives you purpose like he. NOTE reader+dazai are 17/18, implications of s/h, slight misogyny, death of parent, it's kind of angsty.. , soft couple, miserable couple, sui/cide mention+ideation COMPANY I'm Not Human At All

A/N ʚ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ɞ th is wa s har d to make b ecause i h ad sOOO OO m any ide as an d my playli st wa s feelin g good an d kept pla y ing song s th at g ave me diff fic ide as ;; th is is sad ,,, i do nt like sa d fics bu t ,,, this is kin d of a ven t? hehe FEE L FREE TO REQ UEST MOR E!

Your tender heart would care for an injured bunny rescued from a bear trap.

You'd nurse the animal as best you could yet it would always die.

Your father was a hunter. He earned your living costs by selling animal hide and what meat he'd have spare after covering what you'll need. Your mother died when you were a little girl.

You were as sweet as your mother.

Your father would tell stories of how She would gaze out on the winter sky and say to Herself, "My daughter will be as snow. Gentle and graceful, yet freezing to those who demand more of what perfect she is already."

When your Mother died, they put Her in a box full of pink carnations and orchids. Surely to counteract the smell of Her decaying corpse, to display Her flesh as something beautiful before her descent under soil to where Her bones will return and fertilise what surrounds.

Rural life in Japan was not for the weak. Which you were.

You picked up what your Mother left behind.

Tending to the chickens in their coops and shearing the sheep, you'd milk the cows and free the rabbits when Father wasn't looking.

Your hands plush with baby fat would clench around your rosary every night and pray like a good girl.

By the time you reached puberty, your features resembled your Mother more than ever before. Your figure changed and as did your father.

He'd sneer at the dress that fit you perfectly just two years ago. You'd become defiant and bold, a rebellious child.

" Father, but why? "

Your protests and argumentative nature would anger him. And now, you weren't a good girl.

Shouting battles always left you sobbing into thick pillows until your throat hurt.

It was at the age of fifteen did you find out what lies beneath your thin flesh and blue pulse.

You are made of bright crimson and spite.

At sixteen, you ran away.

It was impulsive. You forgot how and what happened. You don't want to remember.

Your calves ached and your feet blistered with pain from trudging up and down hills and farms.

You are a mixture of love and loss.

Everything is a blur, and sometimes you question whether running away was the wisest thing to do.

You had collapsed the moment you stepped foot into the city.

A sad, lost soul who ran away from her father.

You had been a..

" Very bad girl. "

The voice startled you enough for you to spill the batter all over your clean white apron.

" Osamu! " You cried out in disbelief, the boy laughing hysterically. " That isn't funny, knock it off. "

In a way, Dazai reminded you of those bunnies you'd rescue in your youth. He was caught and wounded by the claws of Life. And although you may cup his cheeks into your hands and tell him 'You're alive', he had already died before you were able to cradle him to your chest.

" I told you not to wake up early, Y/N! I should have known to not mention my fondness of crêpes to you. "

You felt untamed, wild hair brush against the bare of your neck before soft lips made contact with your jawline. A soft kiss pressing into what was cold. He was grateful to have you in his sad miserable life.

And even if you two were not perfect for each other, you'd both die to watch the world burn.

" I did it on my own accord. " You lied. " You did not. " He calls your bluff like air. You huff in surrender.

Setting down the metal bowl of paste, you turn to face him. You think of the horrors that his empty, black eye must have seen. His other eye, obscured by bandages, was a mystery to you. You respected him enough to not budge him about it.

" I wished to make you something special. "

You confess, certain he already knew your intention. Your boyfriend was simply smarter than many.

" I don't need anything. Coming home to you is enough, bella. '' His hand stretches to you like death.

Your eyes were not as bright as they were when you were little. They reflected the bad girl that you've become. The one that left her sickly impoverished father in treacherous conditions alone because her feelings were hurt.

" Belladonna. "

He'd pull you back into reality when he'd notice you slipping.

" 'samu. You've barely been coming home anymore, okay? Let me do this, just this once for you. " You snaked your arms around his waist and he mirrored your action, twirling you both out of the kitchen.

Dazai was inexplicable to you. He was a man your father wouldn't like. A man your Mother would hate. A man your younger self would despise.

You willingly moved into a shared apartment with the mafia executive after a few months of living in Yokohama. It was him to have picked you up from the streets. Sensing you were worth more than the muddied appearance you showed at that time.

Your one-time use turned into a second-time use, and your second-time use blossomed like a flower in Spring. You interested him.

You both intoxicated each other. Dazai was able to make you feel light. You felt weightless and as fragile as a butterfly. Weak, small and at his mercy.

" Then don't hide yourself away from the kitchen when I'm right here, love. "

By the time your spinning head focused on what was around you again, he had toppled you both onto the living room couch. He loomed over you, fully dressed in his mafia uniform, his stupid tie obscuring your vision until he tucked it between the buttons of his revere blouse.

" What would you do if I were to die? "

" Osamu. Stop that. "

You muttered.

You feel his life. The warmth of his body, the tender flow of blood heating his body as his finger traced patterns into your cheek. Your heart keeps beating.

" Answer me, Y/N. "

You didn't enjoy thinking of your partners demise. You wouldn't mind if you were to die.

The problem was, you didn't want to be alive for your boyfriends funeral, yet you didn't wish for your boyfriend to be alive for yours.

You loved each other to the point it became hate. Hate for how the other made living seem worth it.

Dazai had an eventful life. You did not.

You had no education whatsoever. According to the government, you did not exist. You had no birth certificate. You were no one. You lived hidden in this cramped apartment.

When Dazai was away, it was only you and your thoughts. Your thoughts were a dangerous thing.

" I think I would kill myself too. "

Your voice caught up on an unexpected crack. You were puzzled until your vision became glassy.

" Pretty baby. I'm sorry. " His apology was belated as you'd already begun to sniffle, he lowered his weight on you, turning to lay on his side as he pulled you in close, coaxing you into silence.

" Don't die, 'samu. Not here, not now. " Your sad little beg mused him.

Dazai was all you had left. You were most certain that if you were to part, you would die.

With Dazai, you were still inadequate. Without Dazai, you truly were nothing but a walking corpse.

He thinks that you are something weak and soft, with a fire raging in you that cried to be extinguished before it could spread.

You hush yourself to enjoy the feeling surrounding you. You feel Dazai's ribcage rise with each steady breath he takes. The beating of a heart is somewhere far deep in, and yours is jumping in your throat.

" Not now. " He repeated after you, and part of you wished to believe it.

There was something mystical about Osamu.

Something that warned you to not feed coal to the flame.

And that if you reached your hand in, you'd burn yourself on what was forbidden.

©yawarakaizai 2023 ﹒﹒ reblogs appreciated! requests open :3