#he would have been able to do the repairs and would probably have made a fair price as well

[usodeshou]

yay, I just broke my 3ds xl! 😬 *does the world's worst breakdance* i've had it for 7 years and I drop it one (1) time right next to my carpet on solid ground and the inner display seems to be cracked because half of my screen is just gone *twirls* the upper screen is literally the most expensive part to have fixed *backflops* it's christmas and the end of the year so I will not be having that fixed now lol *spins like a very wobbly spinning top* i still have my old 3ds but you can't transfer shit back from the new 2ds/3ds line once you've transferred to it *air guitar imitation* the console at the price that i bought it for would've been only slightly more expensive than the repair but prices for it have more than quadrupled *giggling and kicking my feet as an ill-fitting coping mechanism* i don't have the money for any of this right now and i am frustrateeeed~~ *sings* 🙃

[cookieclover]

"Mute B-127 AU" part 5 (TW: Blood)

What if B-127 was a little more annoying, and talked a little bit too much? Part 5 of the "Mute B-127 AU", where I made Sentinel rip out Bee's voice box vv

This is probably the last part for now, unless you would like me to create some kind of an epilogue, or for example act 2 of Bee, dealing with the PTSD of losing his voice box/learning about D-16. I haven't planned out for that yet, so lemme know in the comments!

Thank you so much for every nice comment and re-blog, I was not expecting such an overwhelming response! I love you! < 3

First >> Prev >> Next

Some explanations under the cut ^^

In most transformers media after losing his voice box, Bee is basically immediately on the verge of dying, but because I wanted him to get one last interaction with Orion, I delayed that a little. He's very much dying, don't get me wrong, but I thought his body might have been able to do some basic repairs in that moment, just to keep him alive - hence the mask, that appeared automatically, sensing danger.

For the people who didn't read the IDW comics, the "chirolinguistics" is a real thing in the Transformers universe, and almost every bot knows a little bit of the "hand language". Here's a screenshot from the MTMTE comic #28 that inspired me:

3. Because my comic had been stolen already, I've put my watermark over few panels. I hope they were not too distracting ^^

[back2bluesidex]

Slide - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader 

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 2k+

Summary: 

"I can see the pain in your eyes I don't wanna say that I'm God, but I'll take you to heaven if you die"  

Alternatively, 

You would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timeline.

Warnings: implied smut, explicit smut, emotional sex, very sad (don't underestimate the angst huhu), depressed yoongi, reader is pining so hard lord!, creampie, unplanned pregnancy, NSFW!!

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon

A/N: Lemme know if you want a part 2? (even though I already know the answer hehe).

Arrangement.

You would rather call it an arrangement - the thing that is going on between you and Yoongi. Anything you have been feeling for him, outside your usual practice, is your, solely your decision or more likely… fault. 

Hence, it’s a given. A given that you shouldn’t feel your heart dropping to your stomach, crashing on whatever is available inside your body and shattering into a thousand pieces, when you find Gyuri walking inside the room. 

Beside you, Yoongi tenses. His body goes rigid as the air inside the room thickens beyond repair. And all of a sudden you can’t breathe. 

Now you understand why Namjoon has been avoiding to reveal the name of the artist all along.

Lee Gyuri - One of the most successful solo artist as well as Min Yoongi’s one true love, who had left him broken so bad that you once found him on the street, unconscious, vomit all over his clothes - is now back in his life… in your life, which has been revolving around him. 

Where she left - You started. 

You picked Yoongi up, put him into pieces, not that you were able to heal the cracks but you at least conjoined it all together. 

And just like that - one night after a long heart to heart talk and a few beers, you found him seethed deep inside you. Yoongi chanted your name again and again as if it’s a mantra that will heal the cracks of his heart all while he rutted in you like a mad man. 

It started from there - the arrangement. 

At the end of long days and even longer nights, whenever both of you were too exhausted to go home, you spent the nights crammed together on Yoongi’s studio couch. 

Quiet whispers, curse words, wandering hands, secret body parts slick with arousal - everything had made your existence dwindle dangerously through his fingers. 

Yoongi always fell asleep right after but you stayed awake, tracing the slope of his nose, bow of his lips, map of his pale skin glinting in the dark. 

You had made a mistake. 

You fell in love.

Now as Gyuri slides inside the room with natural elegance, you hear Yoongi’s breathing getting quicker in pace. 

He is anxious. 

You place a hand on his knees, under the table. It’s a practiced habit that you adopted over time. Your fingertips help to calm him down. 

Everything is the same. 

Except this time, Yoongi doesn’t relax under your touch. 

“Yoongi, can we talk for a moment?” Gyuri requests with a timid voice at the end of the meeting. Her eyes quickly lock with yours for a fraction of a second. 

You half expect for Yoongi to say no. You pray to the universe for his answer to come as negative even when you know –

“Yes. Sure.” 

That Yoongi never stopped loving her for a moment. Yoongi loved, loves and will love only one woman - and that’s not you. 

Even though you don’t feel your legs anymore, you stand up. You choose to take the stairs to exhaust your body so that your sadness can be masked. 

But even as you climb down floors after floors - your heart stays confined in that room locked with two lovers. 

“She said she wants to work it out this time. She has been missing me terribly... she said.” Yoongi doesn’t look away from the blaring computer screen. 

He probably doesn’t have the heart of looking into your eyes. 

Somewhere he, too, knows of the deepest secrets you have been hiding from him. 

“And? What did you say?” You chew on the inside of your mouth, again praying for him to answer something of your liking. 

“That I will think about it.” you knew he would say that. 

“What is there to think about, Yoongi? You still love her.” you force the words out of your mouth even when your throat closes up. 

Tears threaten to spill from the corner of your eyes but you blink those away.

Yoongi finally looks at you, his own eyes glinting with moisture. 

“But what about you?” The question is rhetorical - metaphorical. 

“Me? I will go back to where I started from.” you lie, heart threatening to leap out of your chest. 

You would go back, but not where you started from, you would go back to the night when you picked Yoongi up from the street.

In simpler terms, you would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timelines. 

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, pretending not to hear anything at all. 

Even though you have to summon all of your willpower to do so - you stay still in your bed. 

Your tears though - keep falling, rolling down the apple of your cheeks and making a small puddle inside the curve of your ear. 

He keeps rambling on the door. 

Sometimes the knocks are steady, sometimes infused with anger but his voice stays low. You wouldn’t hear him calling your name if you weren’t attentive enough.

“Y/N! Please open the door.” Yoongi requests again. Through the wood of your door it sounds like a whisper, “Please. I- I want to see you once.” 

Every pore of your body woozes out the desire of letting him in, taking him inside your arms and never ever letting him go. 

But you are afraid. 

He has never once visited you by his own will. 

He only tagged along when you asked him to. 

So you are afraid. 

Afraid of what he might say. Afraid that he might say what you don’t want to hear. You already know everything - know enough - if he points it out now that he is going to leave you behind as the love of his life is back then you might as well break down, which you definitely don’t want to do. 

You have always appeared to be nonchalant before Yoongi about this arrangement, about his kisses, his marks, his simple ignorance - and you want it to stay that way. 

However, your resolve breaks when you hear a sob, muffled by the door. 

Is he crying? Why? Why is he crying at your door? 

So you get up, pad towards the door and swing it open. 

Yoongi’s head shoots up and you look at his face. 

He is a mess - a mess that you love. 

With dark hair all disheveled, face smeared with tears, lips chapped, Yoongi says, “I am here to end things.” 

This. You were afraid of this. 

Your insides churn and mold into a ball of nothingness. There are words sitting on the tip of your tongue but you choose to stay silent as always.

“Okay.” you reply, holding the door knob again ready to shut it on his beautiful face for once and for all. 

Yoongi forces his hand at the edge of the door, preventing you from closing it. 

He steps inside your apartment and within a few moments, you are being pushed to the door, closing it with the force of your back. 

Yoongi kisses you with everything he has left inside. You kiss him back. 

You don’t know what is happening but if this is for one last time, then you will accept it. 

Your hands wrap around his neck on their own accord. His chapped lips mold perfectly with your moisturized pair. 

They move in perfect sync, perfect rhythm - the rhythm of destruction. 

“Y/N” Yoongi whispers in between the kiss, “I am sorry.” 

You don’t pay his words any mind, rather you let your fingers get lost in his long dark hair. 

The kiss grows hungrier by every second you spend in each other’s hold. 

Yoongi starts directing you towards your bedroom and your small apartment space takes no time to be crossed. 

You soon feel the edge of your bed behind your knees. 

When you fall back - Yoongi falls with you. 

He looks into your eyes, his own eyes telling a thousand different stories all together. But tonight, you don’t try to read those. 

What’s the point when your own chapter is ending? When memories of you will be left to collect dust on the surface? 

What’s the point when he knows he is going back to the one he has always loved? 

His rough calloused hand comes in contact with your cheek. 

“I’m sorry.” he whispers again as he reaches down to place a kiss on your forehead. 

“I’m sorry.” he kisses your right eye.

“I’m sorry.” he kisses your left eye.

“I’m sorry.” this time it’s the tip of your nose. 

“I’m sorry” and lastly it’s your lips. 

You have never seen Min Yoongi this emotional. 

After Gyuri left him, he became numb. You were never able to thaw the frozen parts of him. 

But tonight you see a completely different Yoongi. Is this Gyuri’s magic? Has her return made him a human again? 

Yoongi - who never touched you or kissed you more than it’s needed, is now apologizing while kissing every small part of your face? 

You take a sharp breath and reply, “it’s okay.” even though you don’t know what he is apologizing for. For not being able to reciprocate your feelings? For using you when you let him? For leaving you behind after tonight? 

He has already started placing kisses around your jaw, throat, collarbones. His hands fist the hem of your pajama top and he pulls it up revealing your naked chest. 

He doesn’t waste time diving down and taking one of your perked nipples inside his mouth. 

He sucks on it softly, sweetly - like a lover. Your tears start spilling from your eyes finally. But you completely lose it when you feel his own tears on the mound of your breast. You let him sob, as you sob quietly. 

It doesn’t take much time for your clothes and his clothes to join as a hip on the floor of your bedroom. 

Yoongi pumps himself, preparing for one last time to enter you. When he lines his cock on your entrance, he takes a quick glance at your face, as if asking for permission. 

Your tear stained face lights up in a small smile - it’s not fake. 

He enters you, takes up every corner of your walls, fills you with himself - both of your body and heart. 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything anymore. He pushes himself inside you, pounds into you with an unusual pace. 

His face comes to rest on the crook of your neck. You embrace him to stay there, stay with you as long as it lasts. 

For the first time ever, Yoongi doesn’t fucks you - he makes love to you. 

The realization makes you shudder. 

Why now? Why now out of all the time? Why now when everything is ending? 

His breath starts getting labored, you feel yourself hanging close to the edge as well. 

And after a few more thrusts, you let go. He fills you up following your invitation. 

Both of you stay like that even after the deed is done - for a moment, an hour? You don’t know.  

You feel his disposal running down your inner thigh, when he finally slips out of you. 

You sneak a glance in his dark orbs for one last time. With a sore throat and an equally sore heart you whisper, “Be happy, Yoongi.” 

You see one last drop of tear slipping down his eyes when he dips down to cage your lips in his for one last time. 

It’s been a month since that night. 

It’s been a month since you last talked to Yoongi beside work. 

It’s been a month since you last saw Yoongi outside work. 

It’s been a month since you withdrew from Gyuri’s project.

It’s been more than a month since you had your last period. 

As you stand in your bathroom, with the tiny testing kit, those two red lines mock you. 

You thought that night was the last time? But this after effect - where will you go with this? Who will you confide in? 

It can’t be Min Yoongi - can it? 

You have let him slide through your fingers after all. 

Permanent Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @purpleanchorcrown

Requested Tags:

@ktownshizzle @ilys00ga

[keferon]

My friend is urging me to resubmit this because they're sure it must have been askbox eaten, my deepest apologies if this is a repeat.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Jazz breathed out. He’d been screened, and the chance of him collapsing into a complete, insane mess was very, very low. He kind of wished that they’d tell him exactly how low. That would be nice and reassuring, unless it wasn’t, at which point he would… go ahead with it anyway, because what else was there to do at this point?

One motion jacked in the last cable, and then there was… something. A sensation, like electricity and like opening. There was something outside of him, on the edge. The mech, probably. It wasn’t like there were testimonials about this. Yet. Maybe he should write one, when this was over, so that baby mech pilots would know what the hell to expect. So long as he was able to do that.

He was stalling.

Jazz breathed in, and pushed outwards.

Then began to run out of himself, spilling to fill the new space that he’d found. It was a strange sensation, like water and electricity flowing out of him. He blinked, and shook his head, filing the thought for a song or something. Always important to save lines when you thought of them.

Jazz blinked again. Oh. This wasn’t the inside of the cockpit. This was the inside of the hanger. That was… good. That was good. And now that he checked, he’d backed that line up to some kind of electronic memory. That was probably meant for recording encounters with the monsters, not for keeping up with the poetical ideas of the pilot. Ah well, his idle thoughts probably wouldn’t take up enough room for anyone to notice or care. He put a lock on it anyway. If they asked him to explain it, he’d just wink at them and say that they didn’t want to know everything that he thought.

Carefully, he flexed his hand. It was different, but not bad different. His connections and struts communicated feedback to him, telling him how much strain they could take, what materials they were made of, how far they could bend. It was kind of cool to have this level of detail about his body.

Checking the power levels, Jazz was made aware that his human body would shut down far before his mech one. There was enough auxiliary power in here for two weeks- oh, and there was a storage cache in here. What was that supposed to be for? It was airtight, he knew his own seals. Big enough for food, water, and medical supplies, as well as some mech repair tools and materials. Fuck whatever it was supposed to be for, it was gonna be his don’t die cabinet. Closet. Pantry. Whatever. Supply room. That was better. He added the new designation to his mental map. It slotted right in, nice.

There was actually a lot of empty space in here. He should get some tape and ties and bundle the cables in some of his limbs so that they didn’t rattle around and tangle. They could even get unplugged if they got tied up enough, which was a hazard. Who had built this thing? Having an actual person to make complaints to about how his body was built was going to be nice.

Wait.

Okay.

Jazz needed to get back to himself. This wasn’t his body. He had done the basic checks. He needed to unjack the cable and check that he was alright.

He reached up, and the mech hand moved.

Okay. Don’t panic. Panic is not useful. Panic is bad. He could feel his fans- the fans of the mech kicking up. It thought that he was in a fight, and was preparing. It wasn’t exactly helpful for what he was trying to do. It made him feel more present and alive in the body that wasn’t supposed to be his body.

Jazz offlined his optics that weren’t supposed to be his, and tried to retreat. Tucking himself back in, becoming small again. It hurt, and he cringed back outward. Why was he hurting himself? Because he needed to. He crunched down harder, forcing himself out of his own (NOT his own) systems. Pressing himself into that small organic core again.

Finally, he brought up a human arm and unplugged himself.

The face was damp. Why was it damp? His face was damp. He had been crying. Probably from pain.

Was being human supposed to hurt? Being a mech hadn’t hurt at all. Inhabiting. Using. Using a mech hadn’t hurt at all. Vocabulary. Word choice. Very important, he’s written enough songs to know that.

He’d thought of a good line during that, hadn’t he? But when he tried to access it- remember it- ah. It was in the mech. Which he wasn’t in right now. Well, he was in it, but he wasn’t it. Because he was a human and wasn’t a mech.

Jazz breathed in, staring at the cable in his hands. It would be so easy to plug it back in, just to get to the line.

It would hurt so much to be human again.

Jazz breathed out, put down the cable, and began the process of getting himself out of the mech.

OOHHHHHH WAIT I HAVENT SEEN THIS OH MY GOD OTROKRKGKEL

[onceuponapuffin]

Ineffable Bureaucracy and Ineffable Husbands

So, especially in the early days after the release of S2, I saw and heard a lot of people comparing these two as if they were the same. There were fan comics and fanart and fanfiction that included dialogue that was something along the lines of "why are they so healthy after only a few years and we aren't?" or "why do THEY get a happy ending and we don't?" And I mean, I haven't seen any of that in a while so maybe people have come to this conclusion on their own, but just in case, I wanted to point out

That they are fundamentally different. They are not the same.

And the reason why comes down to this conversation from 2x3:

So, hold this conversation in your brain while we go through this.

First of all, we have our Ineffable Bureaucracy, Gabriel and Beelzebub.

So these are the ones who, figuratively speaking, were born in a castle.

Gabriel was the Supreme Archangel for however many millenia, and Beelzebub was the Grand Duke of Hell for the same, roughly speaking. They are equals in positions of power.

So, when they fall in love, you have two supernatural authorities who have lived their existences believing that they can reasonably expect to have and keep whatever they want. After all, that's exactly what their lives have been (with the one exception being Beelzebub's Fall) - they want something, they get it, they keep it, and no one tells them no.

The biggest risk is to Gabriel. If Heaven were to find out, he would Fall. I can imagine Beelzebub being a bit concerned, but "Oh no," Gabriel probably figured "I Fall to Hell, and straight into your arms!" And I could see Beelzebub with a little smirk saying "I'd look after you, babe," in response.

The only time Gabriel actually worries is when he finds out that there's another punishment that he didn't realize was a possibility.

Falling to Hell is one thing, but having his memories erased is an actual threat, and possibly the first time he's ever been told no. This is when we see him panic, and leave Heaven in a mess, storing his memories away to keep them safe from the Metatron. We find out later that he was on his way to Hell anyway and just forgot halfway there and got lost.

And so, we have two beings who were always told they were Good Enough, who approached each other knowing they were able to have whatever they wanted, and were therefore able to communicate and fall in love in a healthy way. They didn't need to tip toe or hide, because they had no reason to believe anyone would ever tell them no until someone did. Their risk, because of their positions of authority, wasn't nearly as great as Aziraphale and Crowley's risk.

So now we come to our Precious Ineffable Husbands

Crowley and Aziraphale start off in much lower positions on the Celestial Food Chain. We know that they have to be very careful about their relationship to avoid the repercussions. They can't mention The Arrangement out loud, they can't put their feelings for each other into words. It has been made clear to them that they are always being watched, and anything they have can be taken away from them on a whim.

So how can they communicate safely when they've spent millenia living on eggshells and tightropes? Of course they won't, and of course it's going to be much harder for them to believe they can once they finally are safe. I definitely believe that they will get there (for my own wellbeing I have to believe that their love is stronger than anything), but they will need to fight tooth and nail in a way that Gabriel and Beelzebub didn't. All because they aren't figures of authority.

It might honestly be another good argument for Crowley taking the Grand Duke of Hell job (even though I reeeeaaaally don't want him to). It would put them in the same position as Gabriel and Beelzebub, and might give them the footing to actually escape the system (even though I think it's more likely that they're going to dismantle and/or repair the system in s3, but that's my own opinion).

These two pairs aren't mirrors of each other. Rather, they illustrate the problems with inequity that Crowley was pointing out in Edinburgh. And if S2 showed us that, I'm hoping S3 will show us possible solutions for it.

[percyluvr]

hi! i loved u recent pjo angst fic, n maybe (if ur willing to write pt2!) (a bit of a back story (for the prompt) before i rq, reader & percy have always met up like every 2 weeks in a spot, n he usually forgets so reader stops coming.) reader gradually gets over him. and one evening percy & annabeth have like... an argument (on the today he and reader used to hang out on) so he goes there expecting to find her there but instead it's her n another character? (probably grover since he's also percy's best-friend, it can be another character if you wish!) n he gets kind of jealous cs their getting along more n like giggling teasing stuff and percy gets kind of jealous? (it can still be angst or fluff if you prefer.) tyty

percy jackson x reader, jason grace x reader summary: when percy's relationship ends, he goes to you hoping to get a second chance to be with you, but finds you happy and in love with someone else wc: 1714 pt 1

When Percy, whom you considered to be the love of your life, got with Annabeth, you thought your heart had shattered beyond repair. Watching them be happy, while you were completely alone, ignored by the one person that you thought understood you, had completely broken you. You found yourself at a new low, thinking of how they were probably hanging out and kissing, while you were sat at the place you and percy used to hang out, alone for the nth time. You couldn't blame Percy for forgetting, or purposefully ignoring your planned hangouts together when he had her, his dream girl. 

Eventually, you realized that your and his friendship was most likely beyond repair, and you stopped coming to the spot, I mean, it wasn't like he would notice, right? But you were wrong, he did notice. He didn't start going again, but he did realize when you were with the rest of the campers at the time the two of you would usually go to the spot to hang out, and it made him realize what he had done to your friendship. Though he now knew it was him that ruined the friendship, he tried his best to put it at the back of his mind and focus on his relationship with Annabeth.

Meanwhile, you had met Jason, or rather, began hanging out with him more. It's not like the two of you had never met before, but you'd never really clicked or anything, so the most you two did was give each other a little smile when you crossed paths, but now, it was different. You thought that this friendship was even better than what you had with Percy. Jason really understood you, he knew what it was like to lose someone that you cared so deeply about at one point in your life and have to watch them be happy with someone else, while you sit alone, thinking about all the great memories the two of you had shared.

At first, you thought you would never be able to get over Percy, even if you met someone else. 

"Jason, have you ever loved someone so deeply that you thought you would never in a million years be able to get over them?" You asked him one sunny day, as the two of you sat at the spot near the river that you and percy used to hangout all the time.

"Yeah, a few times. Only one of them was in a romantic way, though. I really thought I would never be able to get over her, but here I am now," he said, a small smile gracing his face, which was quite handsome you realized. The thought came as a surprise because you'd never really found anyone attractive when you had been completely infatuated with percy. 

"Do you think you've completely gotten over her?"

"Yeah, I think so. She's still my friend, so if she's happy, then I am, too," he says, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"Do you think there's any chance for me to get over Percy completely?" You inquire.

There was a long moment of silence before he finally spoke again, "Yes, I do. and I think you know it, too."

And you realized he was right. You hadn't thought about percy in days.

The two of you continued talking, and you realized that you really were getting over Percy. It was all happening excruciatingly slowly, but it was happening nonetheless, and the more you thought about it, the more you realized that you were beginning to develop a crush on Jason.

While it was nothing in comparison to how you had once felt about Percy, you thought that maybe, just maybe, this could be good for you. Contrary to how you once felt when Percy looked at you and you saw nothing but platonic love for you in his eyes, when you looked into Jason's eyes, you definitely saw something else. Not quite love, but he was definitely interested in you, and that made you feel better than you had ever felt in your life. for once, you felt adequate about yourself. 

As you and Jason continued to hang out, you slowly realized you were falling in love, and you desperately hoped that he was too. Every lingering gaze, every lingering touch, and every word on the tip of his tongue that was left unsaid had you praying every night that he truly felt the same way about you that you felt about him.

"Hey, has anyone ever told you that you're gorgeous?" He asks you randomly one day, causing you to move your head from its place on his broad shoulder.

"No, actually. Why?" 

"Because," he takes a deep breath. "You are gorgeous, and I just thought that if no one had told you, I would want to be the one to make you realize that you are," he finally says, his hand softly running up and down your arm.

"Really? I mean, you're not just saying that, right?" You ask, turning your head down in a failed attempt to hide your flustered state.

"Of course not, I don't say things I don't mean. You are pretty and you should know that. anyone that doesn't see that is just plain stupid," he states matter-of-factly, making you smile.

"Thanks sparky," you playfully say. "If it means anything, I think you're very handsome too."

This statement, and the endearing nickname, causes all the blood to rush to his face, and you hear the way his heartbeat speeds up immediately after you say it.

You felt that this moment was what marked the start of a romance for the history books between you and Jason. And while yours and Jason's romantic journey was just beginning, Percy and Annabeth's may be ending. 

At first, their fight wasn't anything serious, but it quickly escalated as Annabeth slowly got more and more annoyed by how incompetent Percy had been acting lately. Deep down, she knew that something was up with him, and that something had to do with you, and she was almost 100% sure of that. She knew something was up, she just didn't know what.

It had started when she noticed Percy staring at you and Jason whenever you two were in view, and continued from there. Annabeth felt that he wasn't paying as much attention to their relationship, or literally anything but you and Jason for that matter, and she had enough of it, telling him to fix his priorities and quick if he didn't want to lose her.

This argument led to many others of the same variety, all of which were contributors to the inevitable breakup. He saw it coming, but didn't do anything to stop it. All he could think of was how he ruined a beautiful friendship by not being able to balance a relationship and a friendship, and now the two of you were more distant than ever. He knew that you and Jason were getting close, he just didn't know how close, and now he was experiencing the insecurity and inadequacy about himself that you did while watching him and Annabeth fall in love. 

Watching you and Jason was probably the most painful experience Percy had ever gone through in his life, which anyone would find insane if he ever told them, because really, he had been through so many things that he should consider to be more painful, but he somehow didn't.

Now, Percy wasn't a stalker or anything, but he couldn't help but notice the small things that you had once noticed about him and Annabeth when they were falling in love.

He noticed the way the two of you shyly looked at each other, you giggling and something Jason had said, which probably wasn't even that funny, Percy thought.

To say he was jealous was an understatement. The once happy and sarcastic boy was now a heartbroken, jealous, and bitter boy. He wasn't sure if he was heartbroken over his breakup with Annabeth, seeing you with Jason, or a strange combination of both, but he did know that no matter what, his heart was so shattered that he would probably never feel happy again.

This point was pushed even further when he saw the two of you happily cuddling at the campfire one night. He saw the way you were looking up at Jason, body completely leaning on him, and whispering things that must've been flirtatious judging by how Jason's face went up in flames. You two acted like you didn't care who or if anyone saw you. if it was even possible, Percy's heart broke even more.

The universe seemed to be playing a cruel joke on Percy, as your positions had now switched. He'd been going back to your hangout spot on the days you two would've hung out, and was severely disappointed each and every time when you didn't show up. 

That was, until the time you finally were there, but to his dismay, you were not alone. He didn't want to be weird, but he couldn't help it when he acted on his thoughts and hid behind a tree, intently watching the two of you interact. When he saw the two of you share a sweet kiss, he wished that he hadn't been watching, and he wished that he hadn't even come at all. He didn't know why he expected you to be there alone, not when you weren't there any of the other times. He didn't know why his heart broke more in this moment than it did when he broke up with Annabeth.

Until he did. He realized that he was in love with you, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it, because you looked at Jason like he was the only person in the world, and Jason looked at you like you personally created every good thing on earth, and there was nothing Percy could do to get in between this love, not when you finally looked happy with yourself. Not when you were happier than he had ever seen you in the 10 years he’d known you.

Not when you were more in love with Jason than you had ever been with Percy.

a/n: i went a littleee crazy with this & ik it wasn't exactly what u req but i hope u'll like this idea too!

[champagnefountains]

So...Alastor went missing for a while after the extermination right? Would you be open to a story where the reader is taking care of Al after he gets back? Maybe still a little mad at him for vanishing, more worried about him being hurt...just the fall out that comes from not knowing if he was alive or not? Your first Lucifer story was wonderful!! You really have a solid foundation for this and I'm excited to see more from you!!

Aw, thank you so much! I'm really, really glad you enjoyed the Lucifer story! And omg, I love this idea...I live for angst so here's some more~!

ALASTOR - H.H.

A/N: They probably were able to rebuild the entire hotel in less than a day, but just to make it more dramatic, I made Alastor's disappearance two days long. Also, I'm not exactly too happy with the pacing here...so I apologise in advance ;-;

Word count: 2.8k+ words (I need to control myself...also unedited, sorta). Genre/other tags: Angst with good ending. OOC Alastor (I think?...sorry...). Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of blood. Talk about loss/death.

After the cancellation of this year’s extermination and Hell's victory against Heaven’s forces, Charlie and the team had spent the next couple of days repairing the damages caused. The team’s morale was as high as ever as they busied themselves reconstructing and making significant renovations to the hotel, their spirits brightening at the prospect of the potential influx of evil-doers to their establishment. There was no doubt that the hotel’s popularity had boomed, as there wasn’t a single soul in Hell that didn’t know about their contribution towards the annual culling. 

However, there was one thing that had been plaguing your mind since the end of the bloodshed: Alastor's whereabouts. Everyone, including yourself, knew that the Radio-Demon was more than capable of looking after himself, considering his high-regarded reputation in all the Nine Circles. However, it’s been two days since the battle and there wasn’t a single trace of him anywhere. And as his significant other, it bothered you to no end. And it wasn’t like you could call him either – Alastor strictly refused to use a mobile phone or any electronic device, no matter how much you pried. He didn’t even make any attempts to reach out to you, whether it be from your own portable radio that he gifted you, or even a small note or letter. Absolutely nothing.

Currently, the hotel has just completed its final transformation with big thanks to Lucifer and Charlie's magical powers and sorcery. With your distress multiplying with every passing second, you couldn't bring yourself to be as excited as the others. You silently excused yourself from the group by the main entrance, wandering off to the furthest side of the building and turning the corner. With a trembling sigh, you leaned against the wall, covering your mouth with your hands as a sob wracks through your body.

You hadn't felt as anxious as you were, in so, so long. It must've been the build up from the months-long preparations made to fend off Heaven to now, that had you overwhelmed. Yes, there was no doubt that Alastor was powerful, but he fought Adam head on – the very first man – which you were able to only catch minor glimpses of in the midst of battle. And that was probably the last time you saw him.

You didn't want to think about the possibility of loss. Because there's no way, right? ...Right? The others were also quick to reassure you plenty of times, sensing your growing unease with each passing day. But it did little to nothing to help ease your nerves. Preoccupied in your own despair, you failed to sense an approaching figure among the shadows.

"'Cher? What are you doing, hiding all the way down here?" A static-like voice called out, causing you to stiffen, "you should be celebrating with the others! You wouldn't want to miss out on such an exciting time!" Eyes widening, you swiftly pivoted yourself to face them. Low and behold, the source of your worries stood before you, all in one piece, smiling down at you with his usual Cheshire-like grin.

"...Alastor?" You weakly called out. Your wavering tone caused the Overlord to raise a brow, mild confusion taking over him. "Yes, my dear?" He asks with a tilt of his head. But it wasn't until he took a closer look at your distressed features that his expression softened a faction. "Darling, you're upset...why are you crying?"

Despite your immense relief, you couldn't help but send him a baffled look. "Wha-Why am I crying? Are you serious, Al?" You spat back incredulously. "You've been gone for two days! Two days! And I didn't know where or-or how you were! Can’t you even imagine how I must've felt when I couldn't find you after the fight?” Alastor only blinked at your sudden outburst. “And you don't even think to tell any of us where you've gone off to! I thought...I-I thought..." Your voice died down as a sob threatened to leave your throat. "I-I thought you were gone."

"Oh, dear, don't be silly," Alastor softly chuckles, fixing his monocle, "it'll take more than those pesky, little angels to get rid of me!" His lanky legs strided towards you, his head shaking in mild amusement. He stops just before you, leaning forward to pat your head reassuringly. Sniffling, you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his waist, burying your head into his chest. It gave you the reassurance you wanted and needed – it was proof that he was here with you, physically. However, the action unexpectedly causes Alastor to stiffen. You furrow your brows, lifting your head to send him a questioning look.

"...Al? Are you okay?" You worriedly ask, slowly unwrapping yourself to inspect him. Usually, Alastor didn't mind whether you initiated physical contact and vice versa, especially considering that you had been together for a while now. You then glanced behind him and your surroundings in caution – there didn't seem to be anyone watching either, knowing that he wasn't as fond of PDA. 

As you pan your eyes towards his face, you were surprised to see a tensed expression. "N-Nothing to worry about, darling," he says through a forced smile, waving his hand dismissively before sharply pivoting himself the other direction. "Now, shall we go join the others now? They're probably wondering where we've both gone!" Nonchalant, he begins walking off with his hands crossed behind his back. That was...strange. Something was clearly wrong, you think to yourself.

"Al, wait!" You jog towards him, passing and stopping him in his tracks. "Is...is there something wrong?" You worriedly ask. "I just...I feel like you're not telling me something. I-If I made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to–"

You felt your words die in your throat as a noticeably large, wet patch began to form against his dress shirt. You let out a startled gasp. "Wha–you're‐you're bleeding!" You cry in panic, hands raising and twitching in front of you with uncertainty. His expression darkening, Alastor stubbornly shook his head, gently pushing you aside by the shoulder, "Like I said, it's nothing to worry about. It's not but a small scratch! I'll be fine, dear–"

"No, you're not fine!" You interjected, eyes blurring in tears and wavering. Your hands shook as you gawked at the growing stain on his shirt. At that, you didn't miss the way Alastor's lips twitched in presumed pain, as small beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. Gritting your teeth, you reach out to grab his wrist, preparing to pull him towards the hotel's entrance. "Come on, Al. W-We need to get you cleaned up–" A firm squeeze in your hand stopped you in your tracks as you turned back to face him, distressed.

"[Name]. I said I'll be fine," he sternly says, his voice contorting in static. Despite the sinister grin he displayed, it left you unfazed. You pinched your brows and balled your fists in frustration, staring at him in disbelief. "...What the hell is wrong with you?" You hiss at the deer-demon, "You're clearly not fine–you wouldn't be fucking bleeding right now if you were fine!"

Alastor clicked his tongue, "Darling, you're exaggerating too much, don’t you think? You don't need to fret—"

"Shut up! I-I don't give a damn who you think you are! Strong Overlord or not, I'm worried, okay?! I-I'll always be worried about you!" Angry tears began pouring from your eyes. "I was scared for my life when I didn't hear from you the past few days! I didn't know what happened to you–if you were okay or even alive! I-I couldn't even get a single blink of sleep last night, so don't fucking tell me to not worry!" Alastor's egotistical and prideful personality was not news to you and everyone else – you knew how stubborn he could be, and now was no exception. It was absolutely infuriating.

Alastor's grim expression eased at your growing distress, his stomach twisting uncomfortably as he watched you messily wipe your face. You took a brief moment to compose yourself, your breaths shaky and uneven. "Look, just–I don't want to argue right now, okay?" You hiccup, "i-if you don't want the other's seeing you like this, just...I-I don't know, teleport us inside the hotel somewhere. Just anything, so I can stitch you up properly."

Begrudgingly, Alastor manifested his microphone from thin air. He didn't have any room to argue with you here. He then softly taps the ground with the bottom of the stand twice, casting a group of black shadows from the ground. They surrounded you both in a circular-like motion, completely filling your sights with a black void. There was a brief gust of wind and it didn't take long until they dissipated, the both of you now standing in what was assumed to be your new shared room in the hotel – it was nearly identical to your previous one before the reconstruction, save for the new wallpaper.  

"Remove your shirt. I'll get the kit," you immediately order as you point at the bed, gesturing for him to sit. You then disappear into the bathroom for a brief moment, grabbing the small first-aid kit under the sink before returning to the bedroom. Alastor had already sat himself down the edge of the bed, his dirty button-up and coat neatly folded on the floor, and his chest bare. You grimaced as you eyed the massive, fresh gash across his scarred chest, that was somewhat tended to with poor stitching.

You let out a disapproving sigh. "I expected your patching to be a little better than this,” you comment as you set the kit beside him, taking out some gauze and alcohol. Alastor rolls his eyes. "It's not everyday you get struck by an angelic weapon, dear," he shoots back sarcastically. There was a small stagger in your movement, your jaw clenching as a deep frown settled on your lips. So it was because of Adam that he's in this state, you sourly think. You try to not let the thought affect you too much as you begin disinfecting his wound.

While you were fixing him up, the both of you remained in complete silence. You actively chose to ignore his piercing gaze in the meantime, which practically burned through your skull as you maintained your focus solely on his wound. Your earlier frustrations didn't seem to simmer down either, deciding to keep quiet to prevent another one-sided shouting battle. As much as you loved Alastor, his lack of understanding towards your concerns vexed you to no end. Because, hypothetically speaking, what if he had actually died during his fight against Adam? If his body went missing, you were never going to find the closure you needed and were probably gonna go on with your life not knowing of his whereabouts. Your life would've been completely miserable with the constant grieving. And like Alastor smartly said, it wasn’t everyday that he’d be fighting a divine opponent, so definitive defeat wouldn’t be completely off of the table despite being quite powerful himself. 

The mere thought brought fresh tears to your eyes, which you were quick to blink away. ‘No…there’s no point dwelling in the past and what-if’s,’ you reprimand yourself. Alastor’s here, after all. That's the only thing that matters right now. But regardless, you still remained upset.

After a while and now satisfied with your craft, you neatly applied a bandage around his chest and waist. "...Don't put too much pressure on it for a while," you quietly advised as you began packing the equipment away. You continued to ignore his gaze, knowing that you'd lose your composure if you were to look at him. Without sparing him a glance, you lazily chucked the kit by the bedside table and made your way towards the door. Shortly after, you left the room without another word.

You found yourself aimlessly walking on the balcony facing the bar, near the main entrance. There, you saw Charlie walking up the stairs adjacent from you, who was quick to catch your approaching form. "[Name], there you are! I was just looking for you!" She cheerily says, skipping towards you with excited steps. "Everything looks so, so amazing, can you believe it?! Oh, oh! We all saw Alastor, by the way! I told you he was going to be fine–erm, [Name]?" The Princess forced her banter to a halt upon spotting your swollen, red eyes.

"Hey, hey, what happened?" She softly asks, coming forth to rub your back. You open your mouth to speak but consciously stop to think your answer through. You knew not to speak a word of Alastor’s state at the moment, knowing it would desecrate his persona. So you decide to keep it short and vague. 

"Alastor and I...we, uhm…had a small fight," you briefly explain with a tight-lipped smile. Charlie’s eyes softened in understanding. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did...do you wanna talk about it?” She kindly offers, holding your hand. You shake your head, “It’s alright, Princess. I’ll be okay in due time.” You didn’t want to dampen the overall mood and atmosphere, after all the hard work and sweat shed for this very moment. “Well, I mean, if you’re sure…” she hesitantly replies, giving you another quick look-over. “Say, how about we get you cleaned up a little and we head down and join the others? It’ll help clear your mind a little bit, yeah?”  

Bless her heart, you think with a small smile. With a nod, Charlie dragged you to the nearby restroom, where you splashed your face with water and did minor touch-ups to look somewhat decent. Shortly after, you joined the others by the main lounge, who all cheered and welcomed you with open arms. All the while, your mind automatically wandered to Alastor, who you knew was dwelling somewhere within the hotel. 

After a couple hours of celebration, you all decided to retire for the night, exhausted from the day's work. Charlie had sent you off with a small hug, wishing you luck as you slowly made your way back to your room. You felt your heart thump loudly against your ears as you spotted your room number in the distance, which only intensified as you reached for the knob and opened the door.

With a deep breath, you entered the room and to your surprise, you found Alastor where you had left him. However this time, he was already in his night-wear and was comfortably sitting upright and against the bed frame, legs under the covers and reading some book. He made no effort to acknowledge your presence as he hummed a random, sweet tune, licking a finger to flick a page of the novel he was supposedly engrossed in. You didn't know what would've irked you more – the fact that he wasn't addressing you right now or alternatively, if he were to go on about his day in his usual chirpy-self, and not bring up what had happened. Reciprocating his behaviour, you wordlessly went to the bathroom to do your usual night routine and changed into a comfortable set of pyjamas. When you were done, you beelined towards your side of the bed, stiffly slipping under the covers with your back facing him and pulling the covers close to your face. 

The tension was dripping as the room filled with an uncomfortable silence. You unconsciously found yourself pacing your own breaths, as if you were worried that you were breathing a sound wave too loud. You also didn't move a single inch from your spot, remaining stagnant like a statue. It remained that way for a short while, unable to find a single blink of sleep or tiredness, just as you did the past couple days.

“Darling, I know you’re awake…” Alastor says, finally breaking the silence as he shuts his book with a soft thud, placing it by the bedside table. There was a brief pause, as if he was waiting for you to say something, but you didn’t. You listen intently in silent anticipation as you dug yourself further into your pillow.

“I…I wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. It wasn’t in my intentions to upset you,” he continues, “I didn’t mean to carelessly dismiss your concerns the way I did. I understand that you’re merely worried for me. After all, if had it been you in my place instead, I would’ve acted the same way, if not more. And I’m sorry for troubling you these past few days. It was due to my carelessness that made you disregard your own health and caused you so much distress. With that, I want to express my utmost gratitude to you for looking after me despite it all. I…I hope you can forgive me, darling.” 

It was simple and straight to the point. And yet, his words struck a chord with you, causing a new onset of tears to flow and dampen the bed sheets. Alastor wasn’t one to easily admit his faults and apologise the way he did, so his words had so much of an impact on you. Though you had your own few questions to ask him, you suppose that this was enough for the time being as you didn’t want another day to go by, remaining in conflict with each other. You turn yourself to face him, sitting up and tearfully looking up at him. Silent, Alastor looked back down at you in a hopeful manner, his usual grin on his face. “O-Of course, I forgive you,” you quietly replied as you carefully hugged his side, “I-I just…I want you to look after yourself better. I-I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself if I had lost you then.” 

Huffing in relief, he softly snickers into your hair, running one of his claws through its strands. “Like I said, you won’t lose me, my dear. I’ll even wreak havoc across all of Hell to get back to you,” he cheesily coos as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. You wetly chuckle at his remark, leaning into him closer. “That’s quite a huge commitment to make, Al. You promise you gonna keep your word for it?” you jokingly reply, playfully poking at his chest. Grin widening, Alastor boops your nose with a single digit, “that’s a guarantee, darling.” 

[talesofesther]

what once was mine | ch 8

Loki x Reader

Series Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: Yes, this is long overdue and I'm sorry for the long wait; but now it's finally here and I hope you can enjoy it, we're nearing the end :'). If it's been too long since you've read the other chapters, I'd maybe recommend checking them out again because we're picking it up right where we left off. The next chapters will be posted soon <3. Also, Mobius plays cupid here and we love him for it lol.

Masterlist | Read ch 7 here

You kept your head down as you walked, not particularly looking at where you were going. Rogue tears were falling onto TVA's hallways with each step you took, a hand covered your mouth to stifle the sobs. The sight of your rapidly moving shoes became more unfocused by the second.

You needed an out, you needed to breathe. And you didn't care that the bathroom you rushed into was a communal one, you slammed the door shut behind you and turned the lock, praying that the stalls were empty.

Silence hung in the air, the only sound being your heavy breathing. Gulping back a massive lump in your throat, you leaned back against the closed door. The smooth wood was cold, feeling going past the fabric of your shirt and raising goosebumps on your skin. With the back of your hand, you tried drying your tears.

Would this be it? Were you truly broken beyond repair?

You wanted to shout apologies in the air; for the Loki you'd just found, he deserved it, he did nothing wrong; for yourself, for the bruised heart beating in your chest that you'd promised to mend.

Part of you also wanted to berate yourself for being overly sentimental and utterly incapable of processing your feelings. For being stuck in this limbo.

You pressed your palms to your eyes, feeling them dampening, fingers shaking.

His touch had been like a bonfire on a cold night—a strange metaphor, given the fact his skin was usually colder than yours; yet it held truth—it enveloped your heart in a warm and familiar embrace, the most blissful kind of pain. It hurt, you couldn't quite place why, but it did.

Maybe it was the fear of knowing you wouldn't be able to live through another loss.

There were telltales of a steady rhythm thudding beneath your skin and through your veins; the ghosts of it tickled your fingertips and called out your name. His heartbeat, as real as you'd pleaded for in countless sleepless nights.

And when you finally held it in your hands again…

'But you're not him.'

You regretted it, probably as soon as the words left your mouth. Because… they were a lie. A lie you told yourself for fear of losing him, again.

Yet now, you couldn't help but feel like you just did.

─── ·❆· ───

Thor had once told Loki about the red string of fate—when the god of thunder had been strangely obsessed with Midgardian folklore in his teenage years. A red string that connected soulmates, it could stretch and bend as the two souls drifted apart and then met again, however, it would never break.

Now, as Loki heard your steps getting further and further away from him, he couldn't help but hear a snap.

Maybe he was the one who fucked it up, maybe it was his fault. You weren't his to have or to lose anyway. As much as he wished you were.

Loki stood awkwardly by your desk; he felt almost as if he was invading just because this was your space and, as you'd just made abundantly clear, you wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

He took advantage of your secluded nook to brush off the tear tracks on his cheeks—he didn't need anyone asking questions he barely knew the answers to—before running a hand through his hair, straightening the collar of his jacket, and taking a deep, hopefully steadying, breath.

For the first time, he felt utterly lost, without a north to guide him. He stalled by neatly organizing the mess that was your desk, thinking maybe you'd have a change of heart and come back to him. He stacked documents, organized pencils, and even folded a cardigan of yours that was hanging on the back of your chair.

Loki stalled the longest he could, until there was nothing more to tidy and no hope left. When you didn't come back, he walked up to the elevator, and now stared at the many buttons without knowing which to press. Truth be told, his mind was miles away; focused on the feeling of your soft skin against his and the sweet perfume of your shampoo. Would he ever get to feel you so close again?

"Hold it, please," Mobius called from a few steps away, hurriedly walking towards Loki. The god extended a hand to hold the doors open for him.

Mobius skipped into the elevator with a big sigh, clutching a rather large stack of documents to his chest. "Thanks," he breathed, shooting a glance at Loki. A beat passed and he did a double take, with a frown as he looked Loki over, who still glared at the buttons in front of him, all puffy eyes and pouty lips. "… What happened?" Mobius' voice held the tone of someone who probably already knew the answer he'd get. He reached past Loki and pressed the button that led to the cafeteria—a coffee break couldn't hurt.

For long seconds, Loki kept silent, contemplating whether to lie or be honest. He felt too drained to come up with a lie. "I… believe I messed it up."

Mobius didn't need names. He raised a hand to pat Loki's shoulder. "She'll come around, buddy."

Loki's eyebrows softened, he had a faint, bittersweet smile on his lips as his eyes welled up with tears again. It stung, bitterly. Perhaps he was never destined for happy endings. It was okay, he decided, he'd be okay with loving you from afar; so long as he got to love you at all. He already counted his lucky stars that the slim odds were in his favor and he got to meet you. "I don't think she will."

The weight of his words didn't go unnoticed by Mobius, who turned to Loki with a rather bewildered expression. "You really do like her… Don't you?"

Loki lowered his head, lips parting in a futile attempt to try and word his feelings. All he managed was a defeated sigh as he brought a hand up to rub one of his eyes. That was answer enough.

─── ·❆· ───

It's been a week. Or at least what would be the equivalent of a week in the TVA. You didn't know if you were the one avoiding Loki or if he was the one avoiding you. But you haven't seen each other ever since you said those hurtful words to him.

Your spoon clicked against the ceramic of your mug, stirring a coffee that had probably already gone cold. You stared off into space, watching from a secluded corner table as a few of your colleagues walked by with their own coffees, yet not actually seeing it. Your mind was elsewhere, drifting between what-ifs.

It's been like this, for this past week. Your mind mostly numb, stuck on auto-pilot. You couldn't stop thinking about him, couldn't stop missing him; his presence had become such a constant in your life these past couple of months that now that you didn't have it, a part of you felt hollow and empty. There was always a vacant chair beside you that left you feeling perpetually cold and alone.

The last few nights had been more sleepless than not, guilt ate away at your insides and kept you from diving into deep slumber. You wondered if the few grimaced smiles you received from your colleagues today were because you'd forgotten to hide the faint dark circles under your eyes.

"Good morning sunshine," Mobius slid into the chair next to you, placing his steaming mug on the table along with a single donut on a small plate. He took a momentary glance at you and his smile dropped a tad, "or maybe not so good."

You tried giving your friend a decent smile but you could tell by the look on his face that it didn't reach your eyes.

"I'll probably regret asking," Mobius pulled his chair closer, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing, "but what's wrong?"

You've never liked it when people asked you that question, it made you wish that your problems really were simple enough to be put into words. You avoided his eyes, something akin to shame and timidness twisting your stomach. "I'm- I'm not sure," a frown came to your brows, as if you were finally seeing past the fog. You shook your head softly, "I think I messed up."

"So I keep hearing," Mobius sighed. It wasn't condescending, no; it just looked like he was in on a secret you didn't know.

"I'm just… I'm so scared, Mobius." There was a sway to your voice that wasn't there before, with your heart on your mouth beating as raw as the wound you'd carried for so long. "I'm-" You hesitated, words heavy as you closed your eyes briefly. "I'm scared, and I'm still so confused."

You could feel the familiar sting of tears building behind your eyes. "I've wanted him back for so long, and seeing him again like this, it just-" Your lips hovered, trembling. You felt a warm touch landing on one of your hands, reassuring. You squeezed Mobius' fingers in gratitude. "… Now I have memories with him that only I've lived, and part of me still doesn't know what to think, what to do. And if I ever were to lose him again, I- I don't think I could…"

With a gentle nod, Mobius took hold of both your hands, he spoke slowly, "I understand… Well, maybe I don't," he chuckled, and when a small and genuine smile crept onto your lips, a proud glint came to his eyes. "But don't you think that, sometimes, we complicate things too much?" He asked, voice tender and drowning out the increasing hustle and bustle of TVA's cafeteria.

"You got him back." Mobius gave your hands a gentle shake to accentuate his words, voice low yet dripping with hope and excitement; "Yeah, maybe he comes from a little before you two met, but it's still the same Loki." He tilted his head with a tight smile, urging you to take his words to heart. "The one thing you wanted ever since you got here, don't you see how lucky you are? Maybe you should just let yourself be happy about that for a change."

For long seconds that felt like hours, you stayed silent, only feeling the bruising beating of your heart against your ribs. The air left your lungs and you had trouble pulling it back in.

He was right, wasn't he?

Maybe you could allow yourself to be happy after all this time. Maybe you could finally go to where your heart had been trying to lead you to. Maybe you really did get a second chance.

Yet, like freefalling into a frozen lake, the last words you'd said to him came rushing back. "I hurt him, Mobius." You winced at the memory, at the desolate look that had painted Loki's eyes as soon as you uttered the words.

'But you're not him.'

Oh, you couldn't have been more wrong then. Because when he looks at you with that same shine to his gentle eyes that had captivated you since the first time you'd met him on the grounds of New Asgard, when his voice takes on that special tone that's kept for you only, when he touches you with the same delicacy you'd always known, when he has the same bashful smile, laughs at the same jokes, drinks the same tea. How could he not be your Loki?

"It was the last thing I wanted, and it happened, and now I- I don't know if there's a way back from-"

"Listen to me," Mobius cut you off before you could go downhill into a pity party, "he's miserable, okay?" He spoke matter-of-factly, to which you only raised your eyebrows. "I'm serious, you should've seen him this morning, looked like a kicked puppy. Trust me when I tell you you're hurting him more by staying away." He added with a smirk; "and you two are killing me with all this 'will they, won't they'."

A small laugh escaped you as you raised a hand to dry your eyes and squeezed Mobius' ones with the other in a gesture that you hoped conveyed the immense gratitude you felt for him.

You missed Loki. You missed him so much it felt like a part of your soul had been torn out.

"Do you have any idea of where he is right now?"

─── ·❆· ───

You stepped into the smoked glass doorway as if you were walking a tightrope that might snap at any second. You held your breath as you went through, eyes closed, and hands clammy.

A familiarity lay heavy in the cold and fresh air, it has brought you peace many times before. The frozen grass crunched beneath your feet and the rustling of leaves did little to drown out the loud beating of your heart. You didn't need to open your eyes to know where you were, but you did anyway.

The clearing was the same as it's always been, with a few trees on both of the far sides, a clean and starry night sky that adorned the beginnings of the spectacle that was the northern lights, and finally, the lonely wooden bench in the middle.

Loki sat on the far right side of the bench you once shared. The night was cold and he only wore a simple dress shirt, for a second you wondered if he was not cold, before remembering his origins.

The moment feelt intimate, precious. You wondered if he knew you were there and chose to stay silent, or if he was too lost in his own what-ifs. You wondered if he's missed you as much as you missed him.

Your feet were glued to the ground, you noticed. Hands closed tightly into fists and mouth dry. A part of you remained so afraid still, as if, now that you're here, it might be too late.

From afar, you admired how Loki's hair flowed effortlessly with the breeze, coming loose from behind his ears and making you wish to run your fingers through it. He had his left hand lying beside him, fingertips touching the wood of the bench; as if reaching for something, someone, who's not there.

You caught it then, how, with the corner of his eye, he finally noticed your presence. You caught it by how his shoulders immediately tensed up and he looked straight ahead as if bracing for something.

No turning back now. You took the first step towards him.

��* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Ch 9 coming soon.

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[maidragoste]

Chapter Two: A United Front

The Hunger Games AU

Katniss!Jacaerys x Peeta!Reader

Chapter One Chapter Three

First of all, thank you very much for all the support that the first chapter had! It made me really happy to see every comment and reblog, it really motivated me to continue writing 🥰🥰

Please let me know again what you thought of this chapter in the comments, as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated too 💖💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Jacaerys was irritated. Firstly, because it is evident that you had already begun to play in front of the cameras since when you two arrived at the train station you did not bother to hide your tears, you probably thought that perhaps this way you could get a sponsor or else your strategy was to show yourself weak and like an easy prey to later fight in the arena. That's what Sabitha Vypren, from District 7, had done in her games.

The second reason for his irritation was his uncle. Larys hadn't said a word to him since before the Repair or even now that they were on the train heading to the Capitol. This was supposed to be the time for them to prepare strategies together, for Larys to give them advice on surviving the arena, but his uncle seemed more focused on enjoying the pork chops and mashed potatoes. Jacaerys was also eating, he was ready to eat everything he could to gain the most muscle mass before the games started, but now and then he would stop and stare at Larys hoping that at some point his uncle would decide to speak.

“So, what do we have to do for Jacaerys to win?” you asked, breaking the silence and making him choke.

You were the first to react, you quickly got up and started hitting him on the back until he finally spit out the piece of meat. Effie looked at him with disgust.

"Are you okay?" you asked, looking at him with concern and now caressing his back. Jacaerys noticed how his uncle looked at the two of them with interest. He had no idea why, neither of you two had done anything extraordinary, he made a fool of himself by choking and you ran to save him…Well, I had to admit that your action was striking, someone else would have let him die by drowning to have one less competitor in the arena, not only that but you just said that you wanted to help him win. It didn't make sense… Unless it was another strategy to gain his trust only to then stab him in the back in the arena.

"I'm fine," Jacaerys responded, putting his hand on your arm to stop your caresses. You blushed and moved away from him as if you had been burned by his touch. “What do you mean by that you said earlier?” he asked you once you sat back down.

"You have a chance to win, Jacaerys," you declared as if it were obvious. Evidently, he couldn't hide his confusion because you continued talking "You know how to hunt and you have good aim. Every time my father buys you squirrels he says that the arrow always hits the eye, you never ruin the body" the boy felt the heat rise to his face at your words and he was sure he was blushing because suddenly you seemed to be stopping yourself from smiling. "So if either of us has a chance of winning it's you. I'll probably be one of the first to die but I think I can be of help in the interview" you said the last thing looking at Larys.

Jacaerys felt his appetite disappear. It didn't sit well with him to hear you talk as if you were already resigned to dying. "She's got a good right hook," he said, looking at his uncle. He couldn't let Larys give up on you quickly, if you lost his interest then he surely wouldn't bother trying to help you win. "Lucerys told me. She hit a boy who was bothering him and gave that idiot a black eye."

"Jacaerys, I won't be able to win just by hitting people. Besides, there are surely tributes even bigger than that boy, they will attack me before I can even land a hit on him."

For a moment he had the image of an unknown tribute mercilessly attacking you with a sword before you had the chance to defend yourself. His stomach fluttered at the image of your broken body.

"You, on the other hand, can attack from afar with your bow. If you hide well you can have an advantage" you continued and went back to eating without realizing that your companion was looking at you with a frown.

Your attitude was irritating him. You should have been trying to impress Larys by saying what other things you can do but instead, you keep talking about him. It did not make sense. It had to be a strategy or maybe you were thinking it was a lost cause to try to win the games by having him as a district partner and his uncle as his mentor. You probably believed that Larys would choose to put all the chips on him just because he was his nephew. That made him furious.

"She can lift weights. I saw her lifting sacks of flour"

You suddenly dropped the cutlery sharply on the table. "Enough, Jacaerys," the annoyance was evident on your face and in your voice. "Don't try to make me feel good just out of pity, please. I know I'm going to lose. Everyone knows that." "You made a gesture with your hand to let you continue talking when you saw him open his mouth." Do you know what my mother told me when she came to say goodbye to me? There may finally be another winner in 12. She wasn't talking about me" you said looking into his eyes.

Everyone knew that your mother was a witch but Jacaerys never imagined that she would be one with her own daughter. It was cruel to tell you that when perhaps it could be her last talk. She should have faith in you. Or at least give you the benefit of the doubt. He wanted to comfort you but he had no idea what to say. Besides, he didn't think his uncle would be happy if he saw him being nice to you. He would tell her that he was weak and that he didn't come here to make friends.

So Jace settled for looking into your eyes, hoping that you could somehow understand that he didn't want you to give up.

"Oh, darling, that's horrible," Effie said, breaking the tension between the two of you, placing a hand on her heart, she seemed genuinely moved. "I think you should try hard to win and prove your mother wrong."

You didn't say anything, you just gave a sad smile to the district escort. A moment ago Jacaerys felt bad for you but now he can't help but think that maybe you only told your last conversation with your mother to gain Effie's sympathy and get her to talk about you to her friends in the Capitol. He hated analyzing everything you did but he couldn't let his guard down with you if he wanted to go home to his brothers. He was sure that if Lucerys was with him and could see what was going on in her mind he would tell him that he was being paranoid. But maybe it wasn't wrong for him to doubt you, Jace thought when he noticed that Uncle Larys seemed to be evaluating you with his gaze.

“Let's start to see who his competitors are,” Larys finally spoke, ending the dinner.

Jacaerys was relieved to see that your stylist had put you in an outfit just like his, at least if he ended up making a fool of himself at the parade he wouldn't be the only one. You're wearing the same shiny leather boots and the same full-length black leotard with the cloak that flutters in the wind. The only difference between the two of you was that your suit seemed closer to your body, highlighting your curves.

As you are taken to the lower level of the Renewal Center, Portia, your stylist, along with her team can't stop talking excitedly about what a sensation you two will be. Cinna, Jacaerys' stylist who came up with the idea of setting their outfits on fire, seems tired of the congratulations. Jace couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he, too, was nervous that it wouldn't work and would end with them dead. You didn't look nervous, which shouldn't surprise him considering you were probably used to fire since he worked at the bakery.

Once they arrive, they basically find a giant stable. The opening ceremony is about to begin so the stylists are having their tributes ride into carriages pulled by a group of horses. Cinna and Portia lead you and Jacaerys to their carriage, both of them carefully arranging the posture of the two of your bodies and your cloaks before stepping aside to talk something between themselves.

“What do you think of the fire?” Jacaerys asked you in a whisper. He tells himself that he's just talking to you to distract himself from his nerves.

“At least we're not naked,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. Jacaerys grimaces as he remembers those poor tributes who had to parade naked covered in black dust. It had happened years before his uncle became a victor, the only reason why everyone knew about that incident was because whenever the games approached on television they did a recap of the best kills, the best dressed as well as the worst deaths and the worst dresses. In the latter, those poor tributes always appeared.

“Uncle Larys definitely wouldn't have let that happen. He probably would have hit them with his cane as soon as they told him that idea,” Jace said with a small smile as he imagined his uncle hitting the stylists and scolding them. You must have imagined the same thing too because you started laughing. Your laughter was contagious so he soon joined you, feeling his nerves disappear for a moment as well as the heaviness in his shoulders. Cinna and Portia will probably be upset that you two lost your posture but neither you nor Jacaerys seemed worried about it.

"If something goes wrong I promise to take out your cloak while you take out mine," you said trying to get serious again but from the corner of your lips, it was evident that you wanted to smile.

"Deal," he agreed with a small smile.

Jace's calm demeanor disappeared the moment he saw his uncle. He tensed as he watched him walk towards the carriage, ready to feel his eyes judging him and scolding him for acting like a child. His uncle was right to be angry, now the other tributes would see them as weak and stupid.

"I want you to present yourself as a united front," Larys said, surprising his nephew.

"What?"

"If you want to win then you have to do everything I say" the mentor reminded them "So you will go out, hold hands, and greet the audience" In his tone of voice there was no room for discussion but Jacaerys had many questions. He couldn't do any of them because when started playing the opening music Larys headed for the exit.

"Come on, don't look so upset. It's not like I have scabies," you nudged him. If he hadn't been focused on seeing the tributes from District 1 in his glowing robes then he would have noticed how the sparkle in your eyes seemed to have dimmed.

It's not many minutes before you and Jacaerys are near the doors. As the District 11 tributes leave, Cinna appears with a torch. You and Jace don't have time to back away when the stylist turns on both of your cloaks. The three of them sigh in relief when they see that it worked.

“Remember head up and smile. Oh, don't forget the most important thing, hold hands. They're going to love you!" Cinna quickly tells them before getting out of the carriage.

Jacaerys hesitates before taking your left hand. Unlike him, you don't hesitate to intertwine your fingers with his. You give him one last smile before his carriage enters the city. The crowd seems alarmed at first when they see the fire but then they soon begin shouting both their names. Jace can't help but feel overwhelmed by the feeling of everyone's eyes on him so he focuses on staring at the screen. For a moment he is breathless, the two of you look wonderful, especially you look brilliant as you wave and blow kisses to the crowd. In the low light of twilight, the fire illuminates both of your faces and your cloaks seem to leave a trail of flames behind. Cinna got what he wanted and gave you both a chance, no one would forget about you two, you really made a sensation.

You squeeze Jacaerys's hand and remind him under your breath to “Smile.”

Then he tries his best to give his best smile and starts greeting you. Someone among all these people must have wanted to sponsor him. This was an excellent opportunity to win over the audience and he had to take advantage of it. He remembers the words of his uncle Larys, so he raises their joined hands, making the screams increase even more. When they enter the City Circle they lower their hands but neither you nor Jace try to let go. During President Snow's speech, Jacaerys is distracted by feeling you caress his skin with your thumb, he tries not to think about it too much, he tells himself that you must be nervous and you do it unconsciously. Luckily it doesn't take long for the national anthem to be heard and the carriages travel around the circle for the last time. Jacaerys notices that the screens seem to show you two more than the other tributes.

He finishes confirming that it was not his imagination once you arrive at the Training Center and get off your carriages. As Cinna and Portia remove their cloaks, you and Jacaerys notice the angry glances of the other tributes, especially Royce Baratheon, the burly boy from District 2 who volunteered, and his district partner Agatha Durrandon.

Jace notices that the two of you are still holding hands so he lets you go.

"The flames suit you well and you have a beautiful smile" you declared with a smile making him blush.

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[mindbreak]

Destrudo - One Shot

2.9K Words

Tw: noncon, sadism, dacryphilia, stalking, obsession, mention of rotting limbs (shigi takes your leg on accident), blood (reader bites Shigi), light mindbreak if you squint.

Tags: Shigaraki x Reviving Quirk! Fem! Reader

This is a pure work of fiction. I do not condone any of the actions that take place within this fiction in real life. Minors DO NOT interact. No Age in Bio will be blocked.

There’s something about you that makes Shigaraki’s skin itch. From the moment he saw you, there was the urge to destroy. Like a trigger, you set him off. Maybe it was your smile, or the way you stood so high and mighty as you called yourself the ‘hero of heros’, or maybe it was how quickly you had risen in the ranks earning yourself a place at AllMight’s side. Whatever it was, one thing was clear;

He wanted to break you.

He could recall the first time he feeling it, the insatiable urge to break you down. You had called yourself “Revival”, a rather corny name he had thought but one that seemed to describe your quirk well. Your quirk that seemed to directly oppose his own. He had done his research on you, your mother having been born with the ability to heal and your father born with a quirk that involved repair, you had somehow been gifted the powerful mixture of both. You had initially made a name for yourself in the recovery and rescue fields, with your most notable feat being the recovery of burned down Forrests. However, after an incident where you were able to completely reverse the effects of one of his victims, people regarded you as a top ranking hero who was ‘immune’ to the Leader of the League of Villains.

People loved you. You gave them hope. Even All Might regarded you as a great and powerful hero and, that made his skin crawl.

His hatred had quickly become a fixation, and he began to behave more recklessly to garner your attention. Attacking civilians with hopes you’d show up, destroying buildings, and Forrests to test the limitations of your quirk. He would never truly leave the scene of the crime, always just a ways away, watching you.

Sometimes he’d go so far as to follow you afterwards, his skin crawling as All Might would place his hands on your shoulder after a long day, laughing about how amazing you were.

Were you fucking him? Disgusting. You’d probably fuck anything if you were fucking that old bat.

He hated watching others touch you, sometimes he’d find himself biting his lip until it bled while you laughed at a table full of hero’s, all of you gathered and drinking together. So fucking chummy with one another.

What would your face look like if you knew he were just a mere few feet away? What would your reaction be if he were the one touching you?

When he voiced his thoughts to the other members, they didn’t seem to understand him in the slightest.

“Aww, Shigi you’re in love!” Toga exclaimed excitedly. Twice seemed to agree, before calling him some insult in a separate voice. “You should just fuck her already and get it over with.” Dabi notes, nonchalantly.

“Don’t be such a brute, he should try and buy her flowers. I’m sure she’ll love it.” Toga adds, blushing crimson as she begins to go on and on about how good being in love feels.

“I don’t love her…” Shigaraki gripes, trying to silence the now rowdy bar as they all descend into their usual chaos. Dabi, the only sane one at the moment, shoves his hands in his pockets before leaning against the counter next to Shigi. “Listen, I don’t care about whatever feelings you have towards that hero but, it’s getting creepy how often you talk about her. Whatever you want to do, just get it over with so we can get back to the mission. I’m not here for any love fest.” He advises.

That’s how he ended up here, in your home, sitting on your couch and waiting for you to come home, like some crazy obsessed boyfriend.

At first he was uncertain, he had followed you home many times but, he had never actually broken in.

However, it quickly dissipated and was replaced with hatred as he observed the various pictures and certificates along the walls. You had pictures with your family, and awards from various parts of your life. It reminded him of just how much he couldn’t stand you. You, the ever-so-privileged, to be fortunate enough to live this happy little life of yours.

He wanted to snatch it all away from you.

The faint click of the door alerts him of your arrival, and his head snaps up to find you staring back at him in horror.

The next set of events are a bit of a blur, as he immediately stands to his feet to chase you down, somehow knocking you too your feet and slamming the door shut, and locking it behind him. You had tried to fight him, but the moment his hands grabbed your legs, it was over. You could only scream in agony as your leg began to rot and fall away.

Shigi was stunned for a moment, his eyes wide as he watched the tears stream down your face as you mourned your now lost limb. He had known he was fucked in the head, but right now as he watched you try and crawl away, his cock twitching in excitement, he knew something had been very wrong with him.

"So you aren't completely immune to me..." He says, more to himself than to you with an amused grin on his face.

He doesn't chase you, you're too hysteric to think logically, immediately trying to bring back your own leg when you realize that the rotting is spreading further and further, reaching your knee.

While you make quick work of bringing back your leg, he digs in his pockets for his gloves, sliding them on his hands while humming casually.

"W- why are you doing this?" You ask, confused and distraught.

He doesn't answer, only reaching for a syringe that he bought with him with a newfound sense of pride.

"Try not to fight to much..." is all he says, before sticking the needle into your neck, and everything fades to black.

When you come to, it’s pitch black inside your home. Not even the moons fluorescent light shines through the void that engulfs your living space. You can tell you’re in your room though, as the familiar firmness of your mattress keeps your warm from the otherwise chilling air.

If not for the throbbing feeling in your leg, you’d have assumed the prior events had only been a nightmare, but, unfortunately for you this all was very very real and the man who lay watching you with his arm across your abdomen and his crimson eyes boring into the side of your face was no figment of your imagination.

“You’re awake? Finally, I was starting to thing I had injected you with too much…”

Is all he says as you try to pry him off of you, only for you to realize that your arms and legs are tied to the posts.

“Please…whatever it is I did to end up on your bad side…I apologize.” You say, eyes watering in a desperate attempt to pull sympathy from him. You may have been a hero but you healed, helped rebuild buildings, and worked on rescuing civilians. Your quirk wasn’t built for combat, Allmight had sought you out for your abilities sure, but as a sidekick, you were still just learning the ropes in terms of fighting bad guys! You were in no way capable of handling the league of villains leader, at least you thought so.

Your tears only served to excite him

“Yes, this is exactly what I wanted to see..” he uttered in complete fascination, “Cry harder for me, sweet girl.”

Your body physically recoils when you feel something firm pressing into your side.

Was he getting off on this?

“You..You’re sick!” You spit at him, a wave of disgust and anger washing over you as you seethe at him through hot tears. “Let me g- mmh!”

You’re silenced by his mouth pressing against yours, a gloved hand gripping your throat tight enough to block your air ways forcing you to instinctively try and gasp for air.

He makes an attempt to slip his slimy wet tongue into your mouth and—

CHOMP.

“Fuck!” He hisses, pulling back from you. “I’m bleeding..” he announces to you, annoyed and angry as if he weren’t literally trying to force himself on you.

You want to make a smart remark but before you could say anything his hands were in your pants, prying you open with his fingers.

“I was trying to be nice to you, ya know. Wanted to ease you into it.” He gripes while you bite at your lip, trying to close your legs but to no avail.

“But if you keep acting like a little bitch, I’ll just rip you open. I can make this feel good for you or painful..I’ll cum either way” He threatens.

You can’t hide the way your face twists in disgust, nausea overtaking you as he starts to massage your clit sloppily and unskilled. Was this some kind of sick joke? There was no way he’d make you feel good no matter how gentle or shitty he was to you. Still…you weren’t foolish enough to pick a fight with someone while you had no way to defend yourself. You could only hope that one of your hero friends would stop by to save you.

Shigaraki takes your silence as an agreement of compliance (it is) and makes a second attempt at kissing you, this time the taste of metal invading your senses as his blood gets in your mouth. He doesn’t remove his fingers from your heat, only adjusting them so they’re not so uncomfortable.

His movements are slow and methodical, shifting every so often while he watches for a reaction from you. His fingers twist and curl until he finds a particular spot that makes you moan in his mouth.

“Cute..” his whispers against your lips, his face just a few centimeters from yours as he rubs against that same spot a few more times. “Can you hear that?” He asks, drawing your attention to the wet sounds coming from below your waist, “You’re so wet from just a few fingers.”

You turn away from him, biting your lip to try prevent yourself from making anymore involuntary sounds. “I-it’s a Biological response. That…that doesn’t mean I’m enjoying this.” You try to explain. But the smirk radiating off his face, tells you that he doesn’t believe you…or care.

He starts to press into that spot harder, kissing at your neck and leaving little bites on your shoulder. “I guess I’m not the only sick one. You claim to hate this, but you’re dripping down my fingers.” He taunts, “How would your precious Allmight feel if he knew you were getting off on his enemies fingers? Do you think he’d get rid of you?”

You don’t answer. Instead you try and place your focus anywhere else, on anything else. But his constant chatter won’t allow your mind to wander for long.

“Fuck, I want to feel you…”

His hand leaves your sex, and for a moment there’s shuffling beside you. The sound of zippers and clothes dropping being the only thing to fill the otherwise silent room. You had hoping if you just let him do what he wanted, he would get it over with quickly.

But Shigaraki had no intention of letting you stay silent the entire time. He slipped his gloves off, making sure he was in full view and your heart rate picks up instantly as the thought of him touching you fills you with newfound paranoia.

He’s careful this time though, letting his fingers graze over your clothes and watching as they disintegrate beneath his touch, leaving only a cool sensation ghosting in their wake.

You whimper when he’s got you down to your underwear, shuddering in the silence while he plays with the hem of your panties. You flinch at the contact, and he almost laughs.

“Careful, if you move too much, you might lose your leg again..” he warns playfully, though you don’t find anything about what he says to be funny at all.

He observes your lower half for a moment longer before speaking again. “Your leg did heal nicely though. I wonder…if I were to keep breaking away at you, could you keep putting yourself back together?”

His curiosity was scaring you. You didn’t know yourself and you didn’t want him trying to find out the answer.

“T- Tomura…”

His eyes seem to hone in on you, he never expected his name to leave your lips, but he liked the sound. Something he made a mental note of for later.

Ever the oblivious to your future misfortune, you only cared about placing his mind else where. “A- Are you going to put that inside me?” You asked, raising your head, only to take in his naked form. He was a lot more muscular than you had expected, still fairly thin but in a lean kind of way, as if he had been training.

There were scars along his pale skin, ones that trailed down his abdomen leading to his���

“Do you mean my dick?” He says, a little too confidently as he places himself between your legs.

You only nod in reply, disgusted with yourself.

If the circumstances had been different, you would have rolled your eyes...but this was a moment of desperation. If you didn't keep him entertained, he would clearly find ways to entertain himself. Horrifying ways that would only end in suffering for you.

"I want to hear you say it...ask me to put it in." he says, his mouth getting closer to your loins, kissing at your inner thigh.

A larger part of you wanted to pull away, but you knew better. He had slipped his gloves back on, somewhere in the midst of your little interaction, and had his lips kissing dangerously close to your pussy. It was better this than him testing the limits of your quirk.

"Go on...Beg me for my dick..."

He swipes his tongue up your bare slit, it's warm but leaves a cold and wet feeling after. He doesn't stop there, his cracked lips kissing your bundle of nerves, before he circles it with his tongue.

Its foreign feeling at first, and strange, but you can't stop the way your breath picks up as he licks at your most sensitive parts. The fact that you're even giving him a reaction fills you with shame. You just want this to be over.

"Pl-please put your dick in me.." you say, your own voice just barely above a whisper in an attempt to mask the fact that your voice sounds a little less like your own right now.

"Hmm? What was that? I didn't hear you..."

You were embarrassed and overstimulated, and there was a strange feeling starting to build up in your tummy from his tongue on you. As sloppy as it was, he was learning your body quickly, and that was terrifying.

"Please...Tomura...Put your dick in me.." You say, louder this time.

"You want it?"

"Y-es.."

He smiles a genuine smile, and had you have known what he was thinking, you may have fought him a little harder.

He brings his face back to yours, his hands on either side of your head and his length nestled between your folds and twitching in excitement. "Kiss me..." He commands, but he sounds breathless, needy almost.

You do as you are told, despite your skin crawling, despite the bile that's building in your throat, despite the alarm bells going off inside your head.

The kiss felt different than the first.... the first was experimental, curious. This one was greedy, like he intended to take something with it.

"Mm..MM" Your wrists twist at the restraints as the tip of his cock pushes past your folds, pressing into your innards and spreading your walls apart.

"Relax a little for me baby..." he growls, hips stuttering as he feels how tight you are. He groans when his balls finally slap against your cunt, bottoming out inside you.

For a moment you're in disbelief, you try to scan through memories, trying to find something that would make sense of the situation you're in right now. Searching for anything that would explain why he was doing this to you.

Meanwhile, Tomura was pulling back his hips to fuck into you again. You moan as he sets a slow pace as if he's savoring the feeling of you.

You're made to feel every inch of him as he pressed into you deep. "Fffuck.." you curse under your breath, as the girth of him grinds into your gspot.

You can feel the build in your stomach again, and your walls start to spasm around his dick.

"That's right, cum for me pretty girl..." he says, picking up his pace, snapping his hips forward. You can't think anymore, not that you want to anyway. He thrusts once, then again, and suddenly your coming undone, your limbs shaking as an orgasm wracks throughout your entire body.

He talks you through your orgasm, whispering about how good of a whore you are, about how your body was made for him, how you were made for him, about how he's known all along that you were his.

It scares you when he says those things but, it scares you even more that you're starting to believe him.

______________________________________________________

Authors note: Hope people like the one-shot. Again english isn't my first language so I apologize for any grammar or spelling errors. This isn't meant to be anything serious or align with any part of the recent storyline in anyway. Just something I wanted to write. If there needs to be more tags or warnings, I'll be sure to add them. Hope it is well received. Again, I don't condone any of the acts depicted here in real life. Minors DO NOT interact or Follow. No Age in Bio will be Blocked (I'll get to checking my following soon). Thank you to anyone who does like the stuff I write.

[helenofsparta2]

Rick did Jason Grace so dirty in HoO

Before I explain, I think I should establish that I really like Jason as a character. While he isn’t one of my favourites, he has really grown on me over the last couple of years. But he never really had a shot with the fandom, after his introduction in The Lost Hero, and after Son of Neptune and a lot of that has to do with the way Rick set him up for failure from the very beginning with a variety of writing decisions. The odds were really stacked against him.

Let’s first recap the very base of who Jason Grace is. He had an unstable mother, who gave him up to Juno when he was two years old, so that she could claim him as her champion. He is the only demigod child of Jupiter, and grew up raised by wolves, then later raised in a relatively strict military hierarchy since a very early age without any knowledge of his mortal family. He had to deal with all the pressure and expectations that came with who his father is. Over time he managed to become one of the two leaders of said hierarchy and has been committed to change its society for the better ever since. He led Camp Jupiter in the titan war and managed to defeat the titan Krios with his bare hands,  He is the long-lost brother of Thalia Grace, one of the more popular characters from the PJO book. He is extremely kind, protective, and loyal, and one of the most powerful demigods in the Riordan verse.

This should have easily made him into a fan favourite character. But what happened instead was for him to become the least favorite member of the seven, to be considered boring and skippable by a lot of fans, and to even get a lot of haters. (I know especially here on tumblr a lot of people really love Jason, but I’m talking about the more general part of the fandom, and I don’t think anyone can deny that Jason gets quite a lot of hate there.)

So, what went wrong?

I think there are three main reasons for the dislike he receives.

Telling, and not showing on part of Rick’s writing

A constant forced comparison with Percy

A lacking character arc in the hoo books

Let’s start with the first one.

Telling, and not showing

Piper’s and Leo’s POVs did him a huge disservice in that regard in the lost hero. During the entirety of the book, Piper wore rose-tinted glasses when it came to him. There is barely a chapter without her glazing Jason, or commenting on his looks or generally how perfect he is. Leo deals with a lot of insecurities and, while not as extreme as Piper, puts Jason also on a pedestal in his chapters. This was, for one, quickly becoming repetitive, but also put a lot of expectations on Jason, which are impossible to meet for any character.

It doesn’t help that Jason didn’t achieve all that many impressive feats in The Lost Hero. He didn’t do nothing, but in comparison to Leo and Piper, he gets a bit overshadowed.

Leo pretty early on established himself as a mathematic genius. He repairs Festus, saves Piper and Jason from the cyclops, and fights against Khione at the Wolf’s house.

Piper uses her charm speak to convince Boreas and his sons to let them go, frees Leo and Jason from Medea’s control, breaks Hera’s cage together with Leo, and is able to revive Jason after he accidentally looked at Juno in her divine form.

Jason, meanwhile, defeats a venti at the Grand Canyon and saves Piper’s life, defeats Lityerses and Midas, and defeats Encaladeus with the help of Zeus.

Don’t get me wrong. Those are great accomplishments and put Jason at the very top of the demigod power hierarchy, but with the way everyone talks about him, and with the standards we already have for children of the big three as readers of PJO, he just falls a bit short. Especially when you focus on top of that on other moments in that book where he gets knocked out by the cyclops or looks unprompted at Juno in her divine form, to list a few examples.

Despite this, his actions and abilities would have probably still made him into a fan-favourite character, if there wouldn’t have been this constant comparison with Percy.

A forced Comparison

Jason and Percy are getting compared in the hoo books in a very obvious way. They are set up as equals by Rick with its entire premise in the first two books and the weird rivalry thing he wrote in Mark of Athena, which is, I think, the main reason why Jason is so disliked.

Percy Jackson is probably the most popular character within the Riordan verse. The only characters who even come close are Nico di Angelo, Leo Valdez, and maybe Annabeth Chase. He is the main character for the entire prequel series, and had much more time to develop and for the readers to get attached to than any other character.

This was a lost battle, even before the first chapter of the lost hero was written. By the time, Percy and Jason meet, Percy was the main character, or at least one of the main characters, in 11 adventures, if you include the short stories, while Jason was one of three POV characters in a single book. A book, where he had amnesia for the entirety of it. People are protective of their favourite characters, and if you make a direct comparison between the most popular character in your franchise and some new guy, even (try to) establish them as equals and force them to have a rivalry, people are naturally going to develop a dislike for the new guy.

And Rick certainly didn’t help matters with the way he wrote them.

At the end of the lost hero, Hera tells Jason, that he is going to be the leader of the seven, but we know he isn’t. We, as readers, who have followed Annabeth and Percy since they were 12 years old, know that he doesn’t deserve this role, judging by what we have seen of him.

Even if he were to be portrayed as strong as Percy in the following books, it would feel undeserved. While we have seen Percy fight the many monsters and titan’s he did in the PJO books, and seen his growth in both power and character, we only get told that Jason defeated Krios with his bare hands. There isn’t even a flashback in either his or Reyna’s POV chapters of the incident, which could have at least elevated this accomplishment.

And then, Rick publishes Son of Neptune and every possibility of Jason being on the same level as Percy gets instantly flung out of the window.

Percy is the MVP of that book. Frank and especially Hazel are awesome, absolutely no discussion there, but for me at least, Son of Neptune was really Percy’s time to shine.  (Though I have to admit, I’m pretty biased towards Percy, so that statement is probably really subjective.)

Even before he leaves for the quest, Percy already killed one gorgon, demolished the romans in the war games, sees through Octavius’ performance, figures out what happened with the golden eagle and proves his selflessness by choosing not to take the gorgon blood to recover his memories. Then later he tricks Phineas in what is for me one of the coolest moments in the entirety of hoo, fights an entire army, destroys a glazier, defeats Polybotes basically by himself and, again, makes a fool out of Octavius in front of the senate, and all that after Rick already nerved him by removing the curse of Achilles.

Comparing especially the fights against Polybotes, and Enceladus respectively does Jason absolutely no favors.

Jason fought good, he fought greatl even, he had this very cool moment with his speech explaining who he was and boasting of his accomplishments, but in the end, his weapon got destroyed and he had to pray to his father to kill Enceladeus with a lighting bolt. That was an amazing feat for a demigod, absolutely no discussion, but really pales in comparison to Percy’s fight at the end of Son of Neptune.  

Percy absolutely bodied Polybotes. I don’t even know if he received a single injury in this fight. The “help” he received from a god was him smashing the decapitated head of Terminus into Polybotes. Like, Terminus didn’t do shit in that fight.

You can’t describe two characters as being equals and then portray so huge differences in their accomplishments.

Yes, Hazel and Frank also often say that Percy is powerful, or a good leader, or handsome, or smart, in a similar way to how Piper and Leo describe Jason, but with Percy it feels more like a reward as a reader. Because we have already seen him be all of that in the original books. It’s just acknowledgement and no new information.

Also, the absolute dissonance between Jason’s disappearance and camp Jupiter’s reaction also doesn’t help him. How can we believe that he is a leader of the same calibre as Percy, when most of the people in the camp he has lived in since he was four years old, don’t even care that much about his disappearance and are so quick to replace him? (Even worse, they replaced him with Percy) I know that this is just the way, Camp Jupiter works, but simply as a narrative choice, it’s very questionable.  

A lacking Character Arc & Amnesia

Coming to the last point. Jason’s character arc in the entirety of Hoo fell flat to me (Though, to be fair, most character arcs, if they even existed, fell flat to me in Hoo.)

His predominant character arc is him struggling with his identity, between being a roman or a greek. Now, this would be a very compelling arc, if we’d know who Jason Grace was as a roman. But we don’t. We know close to nothing about Jason’s life in New Rome. The only meaningful relationship he apperantly had was with Reyna, and he barely thinks about her in his povs, and even in Reyna’s chapters in boo we barely find out about their friendship. The entire camp turns against him in Mark of Athena. By the end of Boo, he still has not regained his entire memory, and never really confronted his past as a praetor. This is not a full, or satiscfactory character arc.

There are many other points I could name, like his relationship with Piper, or how him being Thalia's brother came completely out of the blue, or how he didn't built any meaningful relationship with characters who weren't Piper or Leo in the four books he's been in, but, to be honest, this post is already getting too long.

I'm just frustrated because he could have been one of the coolest characters in the Riordan verse, but he was really sat up to fail.  

[intothedysphoria]

Steve managed to accidentally crush his headphones over the weekend, so he reluctantly turned to Billy Hargrove for help.

Steve and Billy hadn’t exactly gotten off to the best of starts, considering they beat the crap out of each other within the week. Billy has mellowed out significantly since Neil had left though, so Steve told himself to grow some balls and walked into the general repair shop Billy worked at.

The death metal blasting from the speakers was obnoxious but there was basically nobody there so Steve was able to swallow down the rising panic creeping up his throat. Billy was just some guy. He’d move back to California come the new year and Steve’s life would be exactly the same as it had always been. At least that’s what he told himself.

Billy raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Steve tripping over the step on his way up then stammering his way through an apology. His headphones lay sadly tucked under arm, limp and lifeless.

Actually getting the word autism out was harder than Steve anticipated. Maybe it was because he wasn’t used to telling other people or maybe it was because he found Billy very attractive and he knew what happened whenever anyone he liked found out.

The curl of the lip. The sneer. The asking if he was like mentally five or something.

He managed to stumble his way through explaining that they were his sensory aides and they really helped him not get overwhelmed in public and please don’t punch me again Hargrove.

Billy didn’t punch him, much to Steve’s great surprise. Instead he mumbled something about be right back Harrington and disappeared into the staff only area, only to return with a brand new pair which he thrust into Steve’s hands.

“I get it Harrington. Just take these, you busted yours pretty badly. On the house.”

Steve was pretty sure his brain malfunctioned briefly and then attempted to exit the shop after pushing on a pull door.

Billy had been pretty civil with him. So either it was all some great prank that was about to fall on his head or Steve may have misjudged him just a little.

He didn’t risk reaching out again until a month later when he’d really managed to fuck his oven up and gave himself a five minute mantra about being confident before dming Billy on Instagram asking for help.

A message came back in a minute asking what the fuck he’d managed to do. Steve insisted he had no idea then he just got a short, blunt “on my way princess.”

Billy’s tool box was extensive. As much as Steve would have wished, that wasn’t an innuendo. He just had a lot of kit, probably more than was needed for the actual state of the oven.

They hung out a bit while Billy tinkered, threw out jargon that Steve didn’t understand, then declared it was fixed. Steve resolutely tried not to stare at a peach ass in very tight denim. He may have failed.

A comfortable silence fell afterwards until Steve panicked and asked if he wanted a coffee. It only seemed polite. Billy had been working all afternoon pretty much.

How that ended in them snuggled onto the sofa, Steve couldn’t exactly remember. All he could really register was that Billy’s arms were warm and strong and Steve wished he could just stay there.

Then he snuggled in further and Billy stiffened up. Crap. He’d fucked up somehow.

Steve pulled himself back up into a sitting position, self consciously checking his hair. Billy looked slightly bewildered but more at himself than Steve.

“You…………you alright man? I didn’t push you too far right?”

He got a slow blink in response and being pulled back into a muscular chest. Steve just hoped he wasn’t doing his “simp face”, as Robin had named it.

“Steve”

Ok first name was not a good sign. Prepare for a fist.

“I fucking like you ok? Don’t laugh. I’ve liked you ever since I first set eyes on you, you beautiful oblivious bastard.”

And Steve. Steve had always kind of hated romcoms. They were dumb and clishe and the couples who got together by the end never really made sense.

But looking at Billy’s slightly flushed face and after hearing his confession, Steve thought the romcom route might be the best way to go.

Billy really was a very good kisser.

[redrandomposts]

another au idea floating in my head

AU where ivan time travels back to pre-meteor shower after his death. he now definitely knows that till would never pick him over mizi so with all the knowledge he gained from the past life, he manages to pull a miracle and get all four of them out of anakt garden safely. mizi was definitely hard to convince so ivan had to, um, kindly shatter her innocent worldview and now both sua and till hate him for making mizi sad lmao but that's fine, they're getting out of there. what's two more people ending up hating him, honestly ?

and by some other miracle, the children were found by human rebels. they're taken in, clothed, fed, and are now essentially free from the aliens.

ivan sees this as his job being done and starts to slowly drift away from the other three. now that theyre free and not being prepped like lambs for slaughter, he doesn't have anything to offer them anymore. what other use could they have for him, really ? so he just floats around the human base, distracting himself by making himself as useful as possible to the other humans

(the other humans are just incredibly worried about this blank-eyed kid who looks like he wants to be hugged so fucking bad but also like he would crumble into dust the moment someone touched him, but ivan's a stubborn bastard who wont listen to anybody so they give him easy tasks in order to keep an eye on him)

the adults take notice of the now strained dynamics between ivan, sua, and till and how mizi is caught in the middle and try to help the kids sort through their feelings.

idk maybe sua wont give a fuck since all she cares abt is mizi but mizi would definitely want to repair the broken bridges bc these are her friends :( and ivan has definitely risked a lot to bring them to safety, hasnt he ? it's unfair how sua and till were being mean to him all because he made mizi cry.

but then there's till. would he try to make amends for mizi's sake ? or would he look even further away from ivan out of guilt ? who knows.

(and imagine the other three start to get memories of their past life through flashbacks and dreams later on lmao)

— 🌦️

me: ooh! a concept! what would u like me to do with this?

🌦️: ideas!!

me: here's your half-a-fanfiction that will make you shed tears!

i have no idea how it happened, by the way. it just did.

===

the escape is rocky at best—ivan was just barely able to get till up in time last time. the only thing keeping this from falling apart is probably of his past experience and fantasies that never came to fruition.

before till or sua, he'd get mizi first, except she has the most security around her; her owner treated her as a precious princess, after all. he's forced to get till then sua (who posed quite a problem, too), and have them both witness his struggle in getting mizi to come along. sua would be a massive help in persuasion, maybe even till, but ivan had uet to disable the chips in those two that set off alarms whenever a certain place was breached. it'd be more efficient if all three of them were gathered while he turned those off.

it's no surprise the animosity that comes from both of them as he rips off the bandage that had been blinding mizi, losing her oh-so-precious smile in favor of tears. sua whisper yelled at him, beating him down for daring to make mizi cry and why were they doing this anyway? till joined in, too, and ivan was barely able to divert the guard's attention.

they do manage to leave successfully, though. it's nothing short of a miracle—sua and till's glares digging into his back, mizi's muffled sobs barely getting by security... it takes a few hours longer than the last life, too.

that's a shame. ivan would have liked to see the meteor shower again.

running across the fields, it's ivan who sees them first. he has to he diligent; he's the leader, the one in front, he's the oldest, and the other two are focused on mizi and her tears.

human rebels. ivan knew they existed, but he's never seen them in his past life. they are driving in motorcycles down the dusty road. he calls out to them, eyes wide and hopefully projecting an innocence he's lost before he went to anakt garden.

would this have been an opportunity he and till would have had in that life?

===

before, ivan would have assumed that till and sua would ease up on their fervent hate of him. tears weren't especially special, considering the life they had led—that ivan had led. while no one had cried for him, he knew that they cried for others, and an awful lot at that too.

a month later, as sua purposefully took the last sweet treat on the tray, glaring at him, all he could think was hypocrite. sua had made mizi cry the hardest, and would have had he not pulled them out so soon.

and when till screamed and beat him down whenever ivan tried to get near him or dares to talk to him, sparing no mercy as he expended his entire vocabulary on ivan, ivan... wished he could say he didn't care too much.

ivan looks at the adults and wonders how they thought of the messy situation. witnessing how the two children bullied the one they assumed was the leader, in defense of someone who didn't really need nor want it. watching how they guarded one from another, effectively isolating him. noticing how they took the happiness the rebels had tried so hard to make and provide from him.

ivan doesn't know, nor does he want to know, but everytime he sees a sweet pastry on his bed—well, it's impossible not to make a conjecture.

the adults have tried to meddle. in fact, mizi—their sun, their light of their life, their god—had tried to meddle. it's fruitless, though; till nor sua will let ivan get a word in, even if the adults are there, and they're thoroughly convinced ivan had managed to manipulate mizi into intervening.

ivan stopped in front of a cracked open door when he heard shouting. he and the others had split rooms, leaving him alone in the smaller one. "guys, ivan isn't that bad! he got all of us out, that day, he must've been stressed too!"

"he couldn't have done it nicer?" sua grumbled.

"he doesn't know how to be nice," till countered, equally upset. "ivan's no good news, mizi. it's better if you stay away. he might—he might steal your things and beat you up."

"glad we can agree on one thing."

"that's ridiculous! you're ridiculous! it's just a bit of tears, it doesn't mean a lot, guys!"

"you never cried before," sua pointed out, eyes narrowed. "stop defending him, mizi. ivan doesn't deserve it."

===

ivan stands alone in the field, looking at the night sky and trying to conjure the lyrics he had written so long ago. it's been a few years since the escape, and on the anniversary each year he'd go to see if there's a meteor shower and sing the songs that marked death.

at the age of ten, they'd manage to escape anakt garden; all four of them. at fifteen, ivan finds that he's forgotten both songs he'd sung on stage for aliens to listen and for till to hear. it's not that big a problem, except he can't recall what sua would look like on the day of her death, either, nor what dress mizi wore when she disappeared, nor how till looked when he sang that song for mizi.

maybe it'd be easier to imagine if they let him near then in this life. instead, in the five years he's been here, it's mostly ivan doing odd jobs alone around the base when he can. he lessens the work on till and sua and mizi by taking it upon himself to do it first. the rest of them don't say anything about it anymore.

not too far away, in his own room, till shoots out of bed, forehead dripping sweat. his eyes are wide, brain working overtime, yet he can only catch fleeting parts of his nightmare—a missing poster.

===

ivan is twenty, ten years since their escape, and nearly every memory from his first life erased. he desperately grasps onto a meteor shower, one that he missed in this life, but he's not an artist who can immortalize the scene. he wishes he could, he does, and as he stands outside, his last memory leaves him.

ivan's long stopped trying to grasp at the melody of black sorrow or the lyrics of cure, so he's silent as he looks up.

ivan doesn't go back to the base. he can't stand another round of shots in the heart, not when he lost his final memory. he doesn't know where he will go, but it's not here.

on earth, he'd officially be an adult. today, he feels as though he's a little child who lost his parents forever.

=====

OH MY GOD I MIGHT CRY WHAT THE HELL

what devil possessed me

FUCK IM CRYING

sua starts the whole "ivan doesn't deserve it" and till follows her lead. crowd mentality, ig, till has some doubts but mizi holds a higher place in his heart.

the adults don't get too close, because ivan doesn't let them, but they do remind him that he has a place in the base. candies, pastries, clothes, and toys are left in his room by them when they notice he's particularly feeling down. it's concerning how much this occurs.

ivan starts to lose his memories because he largest wish—give till freedom—has been completed. meanwhile, a deeper and more silent wish to be loved causes the other three to regain their memories. unfortunately, ivan runs away before that one comes true.

ivan says he feels like a child when he loses that last memory — that's because he never grew up after going back in time. his maturity came from the memories, and without them he is a lost child.

on the last night, till's last memory he gained is actually r6, when ivan dies for him. he gets up immediately to find him, except he's nowhere to be found.

perhaps in a sequel till goes to find ivan and they make up—or, perhaps in a sequel ivan is found dead or captured.

scrapped scene:

"ivan, you're the reason they managed to escape, right?"

"yes..."

"what would you change? if you had to escape again?"

"i'd want to see the meteor shower. we missed it because it took too long to get out of the garden."

"i see. how'd you know about the meteor shower?"

"...hyuna told me."

[fiddlefordisms]

Canon Details and Analysis of Fiddleford McGucket Part 2

See the first part here

Let's flash-forward to what we know about Fiddleford after college. At some point, he got married to Emma May Dixon, and they had a son together (Tate McGucket), they live in Palo Alto, and Fiddleford seems to be self-employed: McGucket's Computermajigs. Now, don't get me wrong I enjoy Fiddauthor quite a lot (and I'll give some in-depth analysis and theorizing and thinking of possibilities about that particular relationship in that context at the very end), but I want to focus on Fiddleford's character and what we do know about his wife and child.

We know from Journal 3 that Fiddleford keeps a picture of his wife and son on his desk because he says it helps keep him "grounded." It's very important to note that this picture includes his wife - if they really wanted to imply that Fiddleford's relationship with his wife was on the rocks, they could've easily made it just a picture of his son. We know that Fiddleford must have had strong feelings for his wife because in the Gobblewonker episode of Gravity Falls, Old Man McGucket claims that when his wife left him, he built a pterodactyl-tron (building giant death robots is something he does when he's upset or wants attention). If he was wanting to leave that relationship, he would not have been upset about her leaving him.

In another page of Journal 3 when Fiddleford quits the portal project, Ford writes about how he should "go back to his doting family." This tells us that while Fiddleford and Emma May did have a fight over him not getting her a Christmas present, Ford still somehow had the impression that his family was "doting." I think it's important to point out that Fiddleford has been erasing his memories since the Gremloblin incident - and the fight scene with his wife happens very shortly before the big portal test. We know the memory-erasing gun has side effects. So, anytime Fiddleford "forgets" something should be looked at as highly suspect and indicative that his memory-erasing gun is affecting him.

We know that Fiddleford must have been a good father before he left to work on the portal for Ford via context clues. In the show, despite Tate's original home being in Palo Alto, Tate chose to pack up his things and live in Gravity Falls where his mentally-addled father now lives. He chose to do that and seeing what became of his father, even though he's the town's biggest embarrassment with a reputation for being a crazy old man - chose to stay. In Shmeb U Unlocked, we're informed that Tate is extremely intelligent and capable of predicting lottery numbers.

He could literally go anywhere he wanted if he wanted. And yet, he stays in Gravity Falls where his father lives. He must have really loved his father despite it being so hard with his father's mental state and the fact that he has every right to be angry that his father left. We know that Fiddleford must have really loved his son because of that picture on his desk, because much later even with all of his memory problems, he still remembers his son, and he's desperate to spend time with him, and in the end, they're able to repair their relationship and spend quality time together.

Now, let's talk about a couple of details that I think a lot of people overlook. During the stargazing scene in Journal 3, Fiddleford mentions offhand that he'd like a place where "the screen door ain't broken." I think this is a VERY interesting detail because it makes it sound like Fiddleford's business hadn't quite taken off yet and that he might have been struggling financially because he can't afford to get his door repaired.

This opens a doorway into a theory of mine that Fiddleford is being paid for his time as Ford's assistant. Now, we're not told this outright in Journal 3, but I think we can gather this from a little thing I like to call context clues. After all, Ford probably thought the exact nature of payment deals for his assistant didn't need to be included in his research and personal journal. There's nothing interesting about it. Additionally from a narrative standpoint, it might have come across as looking like Ford had to bribe Fiddleford to help him, and that's not the vibe they wanted for Fiddleford. They wanted to emphasize that these two are at the very least good friends and that Fiddleford is the type of person who will set aside his own personal projects and self-sacrifice to help a friend at a moment's notice.

We know from the show and Journal 3 that Ford was given grants to study the anomalies of Gravity Falls. Presumably, this money would not only cover the costs of field research equipment and a research base (the shack) but also money for a research assistant if needed.

Fiddleford's wife would have to be the most permissive, most doormat wife in THE HISTORY OF EVER to allow her husband to go up to Oregon to work on a project leaving her to not only take care of her son by herself but also have to pay all the bills and rent/mortgage by herself. We know this is not the case because she (rightly) did NOT let it slide that her husband forgot to get her a Christmas present.

Fiddleford would not have had much time to work on his own business while working on Ford's portal. At this point in his life, he has his mental faculties intact, he's proven time and again to be considerate and sweet (Alex Hirsch even refers to him as a sweet soul). He's big on making thoughtful gifts, he wants to help others (in Journal 3, he is seen fixing up the ferris wheel at the carnival where he meets Ivan, although it was definitely wrong - he had good intentions in wanting to help people with their bad memories, even in the show - Old Man McGucket shows up in the sap-hole with the dinosaurs having fixed a broken lantern - Fiddleford is exactly the type of person who would see a broken-down car on the side of the road and pull over and get out his toolbox and help that person out), and he loves his family very much. He would NOT let them go unsupported and floundering for themselves while in his right mind.

So, this leads me to believe that to help convince his wife to let him help his old college buddy with his project, he'd be getting paid for his help. Ford likely would've found this reasonable and might have suggested it himself if Fiddleford expressed wanting to help but not being able to leave his family without any support. It probably wasn't a lot, but it might have been a bit better than what he was currently drumming up via his own business. This could also be why Ford is so adamant about referring to Fiddleford as his assistant in the journals rather than his friend.

Do I think his wife might have still had some reservations about her husband going to Oregon and could be a fertile field for argument later? Yes. Absolutely. But I think the fact that she let him go in the first place and the fact that Fiddleford is self-employed rather than more conventionally employed generally shows that she was a supportive wife and trusted her husband.

I absolutely DO NOT think, as some have posited, that Fiddleford abandoned his wife and son (especially his son whom he dearly loves) to have a "Brokeback Mountain" situation with Stanford. That is a terrible misreading of Fiddleford's character AND the situation. Again, Fiddleford is the type of person who HELPS people, and how much more so for someone who is likely his best friend? Not only that, but his FIRST EVER friend. A friend who Fiddleford probably knows has been alone in Oregon for years and who also has a hard time making friends, a friend who probably doesn't call him enough because he's "busy" with his research (Ford even says in the journal that he "has no choice but to call Fiddleford"), a friend who is probably stubborn about asking for help who is asking HIM (the guy who helps) for help?

Fiddleford might even already be worried about him.

And this is a "project" - a project has a beginning and an end. Fiddleford was NOT expecting to stay in Gravity Falls. He was going to go there, help Ford, and then go back to his family whom he loves. I'm not saying complicated feelings couldn't have arisen (again, I am a Fiddauthor shipper), but I am saying that Fiddleford didn't go to Oregon because he was running away from marital problems with his wife (on an additional note - people are free to write what they want - But what is WITH bisexual erasure and villifying / ignoring female characters? I mean, just because she wasn't in the show or talked about much doesn't mean we should do female characters a disservice) and intending on cheating on her.

Because again - A) He loves his family (family photo on his desk which doesn't exactly scream "Make sweet love to me Ford") B) His anxiety issues C) His empathy - he doesn't have the narcissistic traits cheaters generally have D) He's likely Catholic and all the religious hang-ups with that - (also adultery being a sin is mentioned waaaaaay more than homosexuality) E) The hostile time period for queer folks.

Also, Stanford "I find romance baffling" (Journal 3 - stargazing scene) is probably one of the biggest indicators that no cheating went on (but I'll throw you "cheating Fiddleford" headcanoners a bone much later on in which I think a possible "cheating" scenario could have realistically occurred - and I'll tell you my reasons for why I personally don't believe that happened either, but I'll begrudgingly accept a "possibility" and let you guys go nuts with the idea.)

More to come in later parts.

[jpitha]

Humans rig stuff together

The battle had been close. The Gren Warfinder had completely surprised them. They flipped nearby on a stolen drive and had started pounding the convoy. They were clearly trying to cut supply lines to the Colony in an attempt to starve them into surrendering. More than half of the ships in the convoy were destroyed before the Coalition was able to mount a response. Iixan was thankful that their ship was only mostly destroyed instead of completely destroyed. The Coalition dreadnought could waste no resources to repair though. They offloaded the cargo, handed out a case of multi-species ration bars and said that if the crew couldn’t fix the ship, someone would be by in 30 solar days or so to rescue them. With a ‘luck be with you’ they flipped away, giving chase to the Gren.

Iixan was ordered by the captain to assess the damage. The hull was holed in at least five places and two of them were too large to patch. They were going to be in suits for the duration. That was frustrating, but survivable.

What wasn’t survivable was the fact that two of the three reactors were offline, with one of them reduced to slag. Iixan found himself next to the non slagged reactor with the three human crew members standing over it. They stood around the reactor, one with their hands on their hips. Iixan didn’t know much about human body language, but they knew that pose was an important one.

He found their comm channel and clipped in. “…I’m telling you, we can just do a hard restart with something in place of the fusion fuse.”

“That’s insane. The fuse exists for a reason. If we let the field get too strong then the whole thing will collapse.”

“Is it better to have a rickety reactor and be able to Flash home, or no reactor and sit here, cold in our suits, eating-“ here the human shuddered “-multi-species ration bars for a month while we wait for the Coalition to remember we’re stuck out here?”

“Okay, wait. Maybe we can split the difference. What if we- oh hey Iixan! What’s up?”

At the mention of his name, the three humans turned to face Iixan. Their suits were bulkier and armored where his was just barely a skin of synthcloth and a helmet. He always wondered why human suits always looked like battle armor. Their large bulbous helmets were clear now, but they could be completely blackened, or even mirrored when necessary. Iixan always felt a little uncomfortable when multiple humans turned to give him their full attention. “Uh, Commander Mizzen asked me to do a damage assessment.” He peered around the humans at the three reactors. “Looks… bad?”

The first human nodded and gestured towards the pile of melted metal, still smoking slightly. The light of a nearby star shone through the smoke, giving it a pretty effect. “Reactor three is toast. There’s no fixing that one. Reactor one is offline with… minor damage. Reactor two is online and keeping us alive for now. We’re trying to decide if we can rig Reactor one to work enough to Flash home.”

“Rig?”

“You know” The second human shrugged in their suit. “Make it work enough to get us somewhere. It’s not fixing it, not really. Just like pretending it’s fixed to the point where it doesn’t realize it’s broken and it’ll run until it notices that it’s actually broken.” The other two looked at him and he looked embarrassed. “Figuatively that is.”

Iixan’s upper arms crossed themselves and made a motion like rubbing warmth into his arms. “And that works?”

“It’s a little more than pretending it’s going to work.” The first human sighed. “We can get it going, but it won’t be pretty and it probably won’t be… that safe. I know your sapient group is more sensitive to high magnetic fields and the reactor is going to be… leaky so you should probably tell the captain to keep the reactor hall humans only if we get it running.”

“You’ll be all right?”

The third human had a strange lilt to his speech. Iixan asked once and he said that he grew up in a place called ‘Minnesota.’ “Oh yah, it’ll be fine, but doncha know, it’ll be a mite dangerous for everyone. No worries though, we’ll make it work enough to Flash.”

The first human nodded. “Come back in a demicycle Iixan, you’ll see.”

Iixan completed his survey and reported to the captain. While he was out, people were able to seal some of the smaller holes to the point where you could take your helmet off in a few rooms. That would make eating easier at least.

One demicycle later, and Iixan returned to the reactor hall. The slagged reactor was in even more pieces than he thought possible, and Reactor one was partially disassembled. Iixan swore that he saw melted parts of Reactor three wired into the reactor. When he clipped into the comm channel they turned. “Oh Hi Iixan! We’re just about ready to test.”

Iixan pointed at the parts. “What are the… melted parts?”

“Oh, that was Will’s idea. We stole some of the… less melted parts from Reactor three to try and kick Reactor one over. They’re not exactly the same model, but I think it’ll be close enough. Just had to put in a few bodge wires in to get power and signal where it needed to be.”

Peering closer, Iixan saw that there was nearly an entire plain’s worth of wires roughly soldered into different parts of the reactor, crossing back and forth and across. The Reactor looked utterly broken. He looked up at the humans. “This… will work?”

Will smiled. “One way to find out, right? We’re going to force a hard restart and see if it’ll work. Tell the Captain to get ready, okay?”

Iixan made a gesture of supplication to the Machine Spirits and called the Captain. The Captain was just as dubious as Iixan was, but agreed to let them try. He signaled Will and the other two and they made that odd gesture of theirs where they curl their large fingers together except for their shortest one and stick it straight into the air.

“Here we go!” Will reached deep inside the Reactor and flipped some switches that were added while they were bogding.

After Will flipped the levers, the three of them jumped back almost as if they were injured. Iixan took another step back as the reactor spun up. The reactor hall had no atmosphere so he coulnd’t hear anything, but he could feel it. It had a thrumming vibration that was getting faster and faster. Iixan wasn’t a reactor technician but even he knew it didn’t sound right. The thrumming was… off balance somehow? It also sounded rougher? Still, the vibration was more and more intense until it felt like the grated floor was a shake table moving them around.

Suddenly, there was a prismatic flash and a shaft of pure white light shot out of the reactor towards the back wall. The humans jumped back and one of them reached towards a bundle of wires that was draped on the floor towards a wall when Will shouted “No! Leave it! We knew containment might leak. It’s otherwise holding steady. Let me refactor.” Will glanced down at his pad and furiously typed and slowly, the white beam faded.

It felt like the room would shake apart, and the reactor blurred in Iixan’s vision in a disconcerting way, but it was running. Will and the other two bounded up to Iixan. “That’s as good as we’re going to get it I think. It’s running at around 74.8%. If we run Reactor two at 112% We should be able to Flash home. We’ll have to stay in our suits, but that’s a sight better than hanging around here.”

The Captain was stunned when Iixan told him and demanded to see for himself. He was led to the Reactor hall but Will had warning him not to enter due to the danger. He stood in the open doorway watching the Reactor vibrate and blur as Reactor two ran with yellow and orange warnings all over the indicators as it was… gently overloaded. “Ancestors. You got it running.” He looked at Will. “How?”

Will demurred. “Oh, just a little bit of experience with these kind of Reactors and a human willingness to rig up a temporary solution. If it’s stupid and works, it’s not stupid.”

The Captain met Will’s gaze. “No. It’s still stupid. But right now we need some stupid. Well done. Now pardon me, I need to get the calculations to Flash home started before that-“ he points at the rigged reactor “-fails and traps us somewhere even worse than here.”

[thepenultimateword]

Secret Santa 2023

For this year’s secret Santa I got @watercolorfreckles (I know you got mine too, but I promise I used a randomizer!) I’m sorry this is late, I’ve been traveling and just writing every chance I can get. I got a little overambitious and wrote several scenes instead of just one, so hopefully it doesn’t feel choppy and you like it!

"Hero's shy medic is the unsung and unappreciated glue that keeps the team together, magically repairing their every injury with her power to heal. What happens when Villain finds out how the hero's broken bones are always so quickly mending, and kidnaps the medic to utilize himself?"

Henchman was waiting in baggage claim when Villain arrived. His violet-dyed hair, thick mess of scars, and tall stature made him stand out against the crowd, but he still waved his whole arm over his head as Villain came through the doors.

Villain's glove creaked feelingless against his suitcase handle. This was getting tiresome. Probably for Henchman too. It was ridiculous that he insisted on picking him up from the airport every trip instead of looking for a new employer.

"Any luck?" Henchman said, seamlessly transferring Villain's bag into his own hand.

Villain's insides twisted. Maybe he should fire Henchman. That would force the underling to think about himself. Though Villain couldn't deny his reluctance to lose such loyalty. He wasn't sure he actually had the strength to enforce his own abandonment.

"Nah." He rubbed his numb hands together and forced a lighthearted tone. "Just another waste of money. I spent three weeks meditating away the damage, only for the so-called "power guru" to say I don't want to be healed. Apparently, if I did, I would have been able to banish the "bile" from my body."

Henchman gave the suitcase wheels a little bang against the ground. "Morons and scam artists.”

"Yes, well, it was a 50/50 shot in the first place. How's my bird?"

Henchman grimaced. "Still eating very little. She has stopped beating against her cage, but now she's very lethargic and despondent."

"You've tried cheering her up? Good food, nice things?"

"Yes, but she's not very chatty. Maybe we should have waited to get her until after your trip. This would have gone better with...some stability."

The automatic door swooshed open, and they stepped out into the chill winter air. Villain blew out a long cloudy breath and watched it disappear into the dreary, gray city landscape. Everything was so temporary. Here one moment, gone the next.

"The opportunity was too good," he said. "Besides, we couldn't leave her with our friend."

Hero had enough of an advantage without also having a decent healer on his side. No matter how many hits Villain divvied out, the heroic team always got back up unscathed. Perhaps without their golden goose, Villain could actually turn the tide. And maybe... Villain didn't want to get his hopes up, but maybe she could do something more too. He knew that Henchman knew that was the main reason he’d stolen her away in the first place. By this point he was just pretending to himself that there was a bigger purpose behind it all.

The crosswalk sign beeped its permission to cross the street, and Villain scanned the lot for Henchman's car, spotting its orangey paint job near the front.

"I am concerned she's been doing poorly this whole time. Why don't we stop by her enclosure first."

Henchman nodded and very kindly played along with the act that this was truly concern over an asset and not another cowardly excuse for himself. “I don’t think she’ll be very pleased to see you.”

She’s not going to help you.

“That’s alright.” Villain slid into the passenger seat. As Henchman loaded his suitcase into the trunk, he muttered under his breath, “I don’t have much left to lose.”

***

Villain called her Birdie.

Of course he knew her real title as Hero’s medic, but the nickname just encapsulated her so well.

So small. So skittish. Always flitting around the outskirts of a fight, the great folds of her medic’s cloak flapping at her sides like wings as she lighted briefly at each fallen party. The color was supposed to mark her as a noncombatant, take any targets of her back, but she had the instincts to remain wary always. Most villains didn’t follow the rules, and the gray was as likely to get her killed as not.

So why continue to wear it? Villain wondered, watching her through the one way glass of her cell's wall mirror. It was really more of a mini apartment than a cell--sitting room, bedroom, bathroom. The sitting room was the only room Villain could view into, but he doubted whether Medic knew that. Perhaps it was riskier to give a hostage so much blind space, but anyone worth keeping around couldn't be kept like any regular prisoner. Though, from the looks of it, Medic wasn't exactly grateful for the thoughtful accommodations.

She sat with her face buried in her knees, grey cloak nearly swallowing her little curled up body whole. He'd asked Henchman to prepare daily clothes changes, and the peeking green edge of sleeve implied she'd been taking them, but the cloak remained the same.

Villain moved around to the front of the cell and drew back the bolt on the otherwise regular door, taking a breath before swinging it open with a flourish. “Hello, Birdie.”

The woman leaped a little, head shooting up and fixing him in the inky black pools that were her eyes.

“Sorry for the delay." He locked the door behind him as casually as he could manage. "I’ve been out of town. But now we can finally chat."

Medic blinked then turned her chin into her shoulder.

Villain plopped down on the couch a couple feet away from her place on the rug. "Apparently you haven't been eating properly. Is the food not up to standard? Can I get you something else? Any favorite meals or treats?"

Medic didn't turn or respond.

"Hmm...what do birdies like. Worms?"

The healer's lip curled a little but still nothing.

"How about chocolate? Steak? Fruit tarts?"

Medic only tucked her chin tighter.

"Alright, I get it. The nice treatment doesn't work on you. Unfortunately, I don't have a mean treatment. Not for you at least. I can't asks favors from someone by relying on fear."

That got her attention. She still didn't unfold, but her eyes watched him sideways. Wary but curious. What could a villain need from a healer. He must have his own, so why her? She didn't need to speak for her thoughts to clutter the air.

"No, I can't just tell you," Villain said with a loud sigh. "You might go tell that precious hero team. I know you're quiet, but I don't believe for a second you're that quiet."

Medic swiveled her shoulders ever so slightly. "How...?"

Her voice was not so birdlike. Short yes, but like a rasped breath than a chirp. Still...

Villain grinned. "The very best of ways: by pretending I knew what you were thinking. Throw out a guess and you'll be right 80% percent of the time. That's also a guess by the way, I haven't actually researched the subject."

Medic retreated back into her cloak.

Darn.

Either he was totally unhumorous, or Medic was just that hard to entertain. Then again, she'd seemed interested by the prospect of a supernatural ability. She'd only clammed up again once she got the simple explanation for her question. She should've already known his Gift from the fights she'd witnessed, though he had held bad considerably this last year.

"You're not like other medics," he said, redirecting the conversation. "You have a Gift, don't you? And don't deny it, I've seen the recovery your patients. Scarless, rapid, perfect. One fight I saw a hero putting full weight on what, minutes previously, had been broken femur."

"And that's why you want me?" Medic squeezed her hands together, nails digging into the back of her knuckles like each word spoken aloud pained her. "Because I'm better than your medics? You want me to turncoat?"

"Not entirely. I took you because your good, yes. So good you've kept that ragtag trash hero team up and running way longer than it should have ever been allowed to go. Hero needs to be stopped."

Nothing.

"I'm going to the statue unveiling tonight." He watched her face closely. "I'm going to break it. And while I'm at it, break him."

"He's not that fragile," Medic said, her voice hushing a little further, and her brow furrowing.

"Ah, you know because you've tried?"

"I know because I' m his medic and I know how much treatment each fight requires." It came out quite a bit snappier than Villain expected and Medic must have realized it too because she set her jaw and looked away again. "I can't help you."

Villain pushed himself back to his feet. The declaration was firm, but hardly the denial of a truly devoted team member. Or maybe he was just reading to hard into things. Medic was shy. Maybe she wanted to make herself clear in as few words as possible. But if there was a chance only her fear was holding her back...

"I'll let you know how it goes," Villain said. With that, he made his way back outside the cell, bolting the door behind him with fumbling fingers. He flexed his hands a couple times, as if to warm them back to full function, but they felt as clumsy and disconnected as always. He shoved them gloved into his coat pockets.

Don't think about that. You have a hero to fight.

***

Villain couldn't feel his shoulders. He'd definitely overdone it. He'd overestimated his ability to fight with his arms as damaged as they were and he had relied too much on the power he'd been so careful to conserve.

He stumbled hard against Medic's door, sliding weakly to his knees. He didn't know why he came here. Henchman was probably having a fit searching for him after he'd bolted. Most of those heroes laid in shattered pieces at the scene. Or at least, parts of them did. Villain had found long ago that his Gift--the power to turn whatever he willed to stone--could be used strategically. The loss of limbs was usually enough to make a hero retire, no need to end a whole life. He wouldn't have minded ending Hero, but once again, the leader was the only one who escaped unscathed. Too this day Villain had only ever managed to take a pinky. It was a wonder no one found that suspicious.

Villain slammed his fist against the cell door, or more like tapped. He stifled a sob. “I don’t want to die.”

Not yet. Not without bringing down Hero’s deceit.

Villain strained to reach the bolt, fumbling it twice before finally jostling it outward. He practically collapsed onto Medic’s rug.

Dark spots clouded his vision but suddenly cool hands were running trails down his face.

“Villain?”

Medic?

No wait, the door…he needed to close…why was she still here?

“Uuughh…” Villain rolled into her knees. “It did not go well.”

“What did he do?”

“Besides use every other person as a shield?”

“I mean to your face.”

Villain squinted up into Medic’s dark eyes, so deep and concerned and…and infinite.

“My face,” he mumbled.

“Are these bruises?” Her fingers trailed a second time down his cheek. “It looks painful.”

“It’s in my face?” Villain barely restrained a wail.

“Villain,” Medic said firmly, her quiet rasp getting almost loud. “What happened? Do you need healing?”

Villain’s throat felt thick and swollen, too sticky to get out words. Of course he needed healing. But if she couldn’t help him…he didn’t know if he could take another failure. He didn’t know if his body could take it.

He extended his hand. When Medic only stared, he nodded at the black, fitted glove.

Medic’s thumb worked under the edge. Villain felt nothing but he imagined her fingers felt just as gentle as they had on his cheek.

She gasped.

Villain glanced at the bare skin for only a moment. The once caramel colored palm now a deep ebony. Like something rotten. Like something dead.

“Villain?”

Villain cleared his throat, fighting the words upward. “All powers have a price.” He forced himself to look at blighted appendage. “Mine’s is killing me.”

Medic turned his hand over in her own. “How long?”

“Always. It used to just be a little. Nails. Hair. Parts I could cut off. Then it hit skin…and it won’t stop. I can’t feel; I can hardly move. And no one…” He choked. “I’m going to die. All from trying too hard to rid the world of Hero, and I couldn’t even finish him tonight.”

Medic rested her fingers on the cuff of Villain’s sleeve, eyes meeting Villain's with some unspoken request for permission.

Villain nodded.

Medic's nimble fingers gently picked at the button, freeing the fabric and rolling it up to his elbow. Villain’s eyes widened along with hers. What had once had been dark veins was now as pitch black his hands. From the nothingness in his shoulders it was probably no different above the elbow.

Medic felt gently at the half-petrifaction. Most people, even his most loyal were afraid of the blight. Henchman was unfazed, but the previous medic had quit rather than admit they didn't want anywhere near Villain. And yet Medic touched him willingly.

“You can’t fix it, can you?” Villain said, practically plead. He didn’t care anymore. Even with the doubt in his gut and in his voice. He just needed help.

“I…I might…” Medic said.

“But Hero wouldn’t like it.”

Medic ducked her head. “It’s not that. Well, no…you’re right, he wouldn’t, but he wouldn’t have to know. And there are no specific rules that say I can’t heal a villain, it’s just…”

Villain blinked groggily up at her as she chewed her bottom lip.

“Like you said, all powers have a price.”

“And this one is too much,” Villain said.

“Yes, well, no. I don’t know.” She glanced toward the open door. “Maybe there’s a better healer…”

Villain closed his eyes, practically sinking with resignation. “No. Already tried. I don’t think I have the energy to search anymore.” He clasped numb fingers around his numb arm. “Or the time.”

A long silence stretched between them.

“It’s alright, Birdie. Fly away.”

It didn’t matter who she told now.

Medic pushed him carefully off her lap, clothes rustling as she rose. Two steps sounded toward the door way and then stopped.

“I’m not supposed to…but I’ll do it.”

Villains eyes shot open. “You will?”

Medic sucked in her lips but nodded. “Just…don’t tell.”

She knelt beside him, long gray cloak fanning out around her. The second glove peeled off easier than the first, and she held both hands in hers.

He’d always wondered what it felt it like to experience one of her gifted healings.

It was warm. Like drinking something hot. It spread from head to toe, and the numbness leeched out little by little. The skin lightened from black to charcoal from charcoal to heather grey from grey to brown.

Medic’s hands turned soft in his grip. He squeezed them lightly, his mouth parting in disbelief at the feeling of pressure of warmth of regular mobility. When he sat up, it came easy. Tears sprang to his eyes.

“You did it! You actually did it! Medic, you are—“

He stopped at the sight of her slumping figure. Sweat rolled down her temples, her face was flushed, and her teeth were grit as if in agony.

“Birdie?”

Medic only shivered.

“Birdie. Birdie, are you alright?”

Villain reached out, but she lurched back, stumbling toward the back corner. Veiny blackness spread from her fingertips, trailing up the creases in her skin. Her shoulders trembled. A small vein popped out of from her forehead. And she glared at the blight. Not like someone afraid of it, but like someone who’d like to peel it off and throw it away. Or burn it.

“No!” she cried and slammed both palms against the wall mirror with a feral cry. Immediately the glass crackled and, like a rolling wave, turned to cold, hard stone.

The black faded from dark ebony to a tan spot only

A few shades darker than her skin. She still glared.

Villain gaped. “You… That’s what I do. How did you do what I do? Did I…? Did you…?”

Medic’s eyes darted toward the door.

Villain jumped in front of it first. “Hey hey hey! I’m not going to tell!”

Another guess but apparently the right one because Medic’s shouldered untensed a fraction.

“I’m not going to tell,” Villain repeated. “I just… How?”

Medic wrapped her cloak tighter around herself. Her eyes had taken on a glazed shine suspiciously alike to unshed tears.

“It’s not exactly healing,” she murmured. “More like stealing. Taking injuries and making them mine.”

“The price.”

She nodded. “But this sort of injury…made from a Gift, it doesn’t work the same. It’s more like a build up of power concentrated in one place. And now that it’s mine…I can do what I like with it.”

Villain cocked his head. “And that’s…bad?”

“I don’t work for Hero,” Medic said. “I’m on the team because he’s supposed to watch me. Stop me from doing things like this.”

“Becoming too powerful?”

“Becoming a villain.”

Villain might have laughed if she didn’t actually look so scared. He took her hands carefully, savoring the sensation of skin on skin warmth once again. He fixed her with a hard stare that she seemed uncertain to hold or shy away from. He smiled, the first real one in a long time.

“What’s wrong with villains?”

Medic swallowed, looking away but not pulling back her hands. Her voice came out very quiet. “I guess…not everything.”