#he’s gone through a lot but is happy now

[your-turn-to-role]

okay, so

the reason they changed this story beat a lot for the show (for anyone who was wondering/sad it's gone) is they didn't know if they were getting a s4 until after s3 was made, so they didn't want to potentially abandon the show on such a sour note, but now s4 is confirmed they have said they want to at least do a nod back to this plotline there

but as far as the campaign went! scanlan had had a resentment for vox machina that had been building a while, over thinking that vox machina didn't care about him and was just keeping him around because he was a good healer and a good joke

(it wasn't really their fault and several members of the team had tried to get closer to scanlan but he's the kind of person who instinctually deflects and keeps things close to the chest, so there wasn't really any winning there)

kaylie was one of the reasons he realised he wasn't happy with vm, because he finally had someone else in his life, someone whose opinion he really cared about

but that last two hit combo thordak raishan dragon fight is where it really built to a head

because by that level as a dnd game they had hit the point where multiple people dying mid fight and then being revived within a few seconds was pretty normal, but with matt's homebrew revive rules every time you bring someone back, even if it's only been a few seconds, it gets harder to do it the next time

scanlan died during the thordak fight, and they brought him back just fine

scanlan died during the raishan fight (the only person to take a lethal hit from both dragons in a row like that), and the revive failed

so they had to go through a much more difficult process like they did with percy to get him back (percy's revive had happened only a day after he died in the campaign, so there was space to breathe between the two)

(i really do love the addition of scanlan writing a song for kaylie though, because originally she wrote one for him, it was her playing violin that managed to get him back)

but revivals like that leave you exhausted, as far as dnd rules are concerned, you're extremely weak/tired for the next four days

so vox machina, as a way to lighten the mood, in one of the poorer decisions they've ever made, decided to pull a prank on him while he was sleeping, by dressing him in a nightgown and covering him, his bed, and his room, in vanilla pudding

which for scanlan when he woke up, was just about the last straw, and basically confirmed all those negative thoughts he'd been having about his team

and he got really mad at them, the angriest they'd ever seen scanlan. all that stuff he'd been keeping buried just exploded in the worst way. (some choice quotes include "we battled a city of vampires so percy could feel good about his name. we traveled planes of existence so you could fix your fucking daddy issues. but you've never done anything for me!" and of course the famous "what's my mother's name? easy question, died in front of me, killed by a goblin, biggest part of my life. what's her name?")

vox machina tried to argue they've asked him questions about that stuff before and he deflected, but that just made him pull away further, and tell them he didn't need their help anyway. wanting to look good in front of kaylie and being ashamed he died twice in a row had all of scanlan's emotional hackles raised from the start, and no one was communicating

pike and grog were mourning their best friend, percy was having major abandonment issues over his new family being broken apart just like the last one, vex looked up to scanlan as a father figure and he'd thrown it all back in her face, vax had looked up to scanlan's ability to smile in the face of doom and was reeling that it was all a lie, and keyleth was just trying to keep an already broken situation from spiralling out of control

and then vax yells at scanlan to stop lying to himself and scanlan says "that's just it. i'm a really good liar." and they all know they've lost him

and then kaylie comes in and just says "so, you coming?" and they both walk out of whitestone, seemingly for good (though not before scanlan gets a final last word proving he knows all of the other characters' mother's names)

the cast didn't know this was coming either, so some of them weren't sure if this was sam leaving the show entirely, and after a really long really emotionally heavy argument they were all pretty stunned

but i really love some of the character moments afterwards, because yeah, grog is holding this team together. he's okay with letting scanlan go and figure himself out, he trusts scanlan will come back if and when he's ready, and he's going to make sure vox machina don't make the situation any worse in the meantime

and it's such a sharp change from his usual role in the group but you remember that yeah, he's pretty emotionally intelligent, and he is mature enough to be the parent to a bunch of lost kids when they need him to be

(and it gets a favourite line of mine from percy which is "grog? i know we don't always agree, and i know i can be unkind, but.... you know you're family, right? it's... nice, having an older brother again")

and then when vox machina finally manages to pull themselves back together enough to start tying up some loose plot threads, sam shows up in the last 5 minutes of the episode playing surprise new character: the biggest asshole he can possibly invent!

and you get, uh. this.

"i don't wanna bring down the room", scanlan says

trust me buddy it's going considerably better than the first time, where you emotionally damaged everyone so bad both in and out of universe that percy and vex were voluntarily emotionally vulnerable with people not each other for once, vax pike and keyleth got so drunk that vax forgot he had a twin, grog was amazingly the only mature and responsible member of vox machina left, and when the episode ended the entire film crew spent several minutes shooting sam with nerf guns

[samcrosfaith]

GONE WITH THE SIN / CHAPTER ONE

Happy Lowman x fem!reader

authors note; First chapter is out, yay! I'm really excited for this story and hope you are, too! I appreciate every like, comment and/or reblog. Enjoy reading. You can find all chapters for this story in my main masterlist {pinned post}, it'll lead you to the right masterlist. 🖤🍒

warning ⚠️; mention of blood.

tag list; @adoreemee @mamawiggers1980 @tommyflanaganfan-blog @delightfulheroshoeflap @jp1019 / If you want to get tagged just let me know in the comments!

word count; 2165

IT WAS THE MIDDLE of the day when more and more cars filled the lot. Women and children got out, heavy bags slung over their shoulders as they were greeted by the members and escorted inside. Wives, mothers, childrenᅳ anyone close to a son.

Jax watched the whole thing from one of the picnic tables, preparations for the lockdown in full swing, a cigarette hanging between his lips, the smoke dancing lazily in front of his face while Tara and Lyla looked after their kids and the other children inside to take some of the work off the upset mothers.

He looked at his phone again, sighing deeply and frowning as he read the new message from his little sisterᅳ half-sister to be exact, but he didn't make a distinction.

'I told you I couldn't come. I'll be fine, Jaxᅳ stop worrying. Take care of yourselves and give me updates, hear me? Love you.'

"No chance?" Chibs appeared behind Jax, the wood of the table creaking as he sat down next to the blonde and fished a cigarette out of his crumpled pack. "Ye' kno' we can just get her. Or we call Lee t' send a prospect from Tacoma."

"Nah, she'll flip if I send someone she doesn't know to keep an eye on her", Jax replied with the slightest of grins, knowing how much Randi hated having strangers around. "But we have to do something, we can't just risk something happening to her."

Being the daughter of the former Pres, the sister of the new Pres and the former Old Lady of the Tacoma Killer made Randi a target. Enemies would know that they would hurt the club by using SAMCRO's princess as leverage, maybe even harming her. And if they did enough research, they knew Randi existed.

"No, we can't, yer' right abou' that." If there was one thing Chibs didn't want, it was for something to happen to the young woman, the younger Teller, just like Jax, just as important to him than his own child. "Clay didn't get through t' her either?"

"No, not even Clay", the blonde sighed before flicking away the rest of his cigarette and straightening up. "I'll talk to Mom, maybe I'll head up there myself."

"Aye, but yer' not drivin' alone, Jackie", Chibs insisted sternly. "It's not safe right now."

"I know, brother", Jax nodded curtly and slapped Chibs' back before strolling towards the office to talk to Gemma. With a small smile, he leaned in the doorway, his hands deep in his pockets, as he watched his mom for a while, the matriarch engrossed in her work. "You know there are no customers coming in the next few days, right? Stop workin' and sit down with Tara and Lyla."

Gemma, her head still hovering over the paperwork, just waved her hand. "I need a distraction, otherwise I'll go crazy worrying about your stubborn sister."

Jax sighed, pushing himself off the doorframe to walk towards his mother, placing a hand on her shoulder once he stood behind her. "She just doesn't want to lose her job, can't you understand that?"

"Understand?" Snorting, Gemma put down the pen, jerking her head towards Jax. "She knows we don't call a lockdown unless it's really necessary! And she has the nerve to just tell me that she'll be fine. No job can be so important to!"

"Stop it", Jax warned, yet with a certain softness in his tone. With slow steps he sauntered to the small couch where he plopped down. "You know exactly how much this job means to her; dancing was all she's ever done, all she's ever wanted to do."

Gemma let out a huff, bracing her hands against her hip after she stood up. "You think I don't know that, smartass? I'm her mother, Jackson. And I'm happy for her, believe it or notᅳ but she has to come home, at least until the lockdown's over. Shit's getting serious and I'm not taking the risk of my babygirl getting hurt or worse."

"Aight", Jax nodded slowly, understanding where his mother was coming from, worry etched info his own features. "What if I head up there, stay with her until this is over? Tara and the boys are going to be safe here with you guys."

"Or", Gemma trailed, drumming her fingernails against the surface of the table after she had sat down on it. "We send Happy."

"No, Mom, stop it", the blonde warned again, followed by a deep, tired sigh as his mother just innocently shrugged her shoulders. "We can't do that to Hap, you know he's still not over her, not even close. It'll just rip open old wounds. And Randi's gonna rip out god damn heads off if we do that."

"Or their love is rekindled when they spend time together alone. Randi's gonna realize that she's still in love with him", Gemma lifted her hand as Jax was about to interrupt her. "I know she still loves him, I can hear it in her voice every time I mention him. So, why not?"

"Okay, even if she still loves him", Jax' voice dropped low just in case someone would walk by. "It still won't work out between them. His life is here, her life is in Seattle now. As much as I hate that she's so far away, she finally lives her dream."

Gemma waved her hand, lifting a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "She can't be that happy, Jax. She's got no one up there, not even a single friend. Her family is here, the man she lovesᅳ I don't buy this 'mom I'm really happy here' bullshit from her."

"Whatever, I'm not sending Hap up there", Jax said, his final decision made, which earned him a slightly annoyed look from his mother; but he didn't care, he wasn't going to hurt his brother on purpose just because they all wanted them back together. "Tell Clay to meet me in Church later, first I wanna talk to Tara about this."

ᅳ

CLAY LEANED BACK IN HIS CHAIR, his brow furrowed in thought. "And you're sure that's safe enough? It would be better if she came here, son."

"Yeah, maybe, but you know how stubborn she is. I can try to convince her to come back to Charming with me", Jax shrugged his shoulders, the only solution he could think of. "But I can't take her against her will, that would only drive her away from us."

"Yeah, I know", Clay grumbled, rubbing his chin with a sigh. Randi had definitely inherited her stubbornness from both Gemma and him. "And you takeᅳ"

Clay was interrupted by gunfire. Bullet after bullet pierced the walls, screaming and panic echoing through the clubhouse. With a quick movement, Jax dragged the older man to the ground, crossing the room close to the ground and then storming out of Chapel.

"Stay down", he hollered in Clay's direction before pushing past the panicked crowd, women and children getting shielded from other members. "Tara!"

No answer, not even when he yelled her name again over the loud shots and the breaking of windows and other things. He spotted Gemma, her body bent over Abel and Thomas', his younger son crying while Abel just clung to Gemma's arm, his eyes wide with fear.

Tig, his piercing blue eyes filled with rage and anger, looked around, his gaze sharp as he shielded Gemma's body with his so that in a bullet would hit him first instead of Gemma or the kids.

"Has anyone seen my wife?!" Jax yelled into the crowd, but apart from a few headshakes he got no answer, everyone too scared to even think clearly. "Fuck!"

Panic gripped him as he continued to search the room. Chibs was with Lyla, pushing her and Ope's children into a safe corner, the others were with their own Old Ladies and families. But Tara was nowhere.

"Jax, over here!" It was Bobby frantically waving him over, and Jax' eyes grew wide with fear.

Bobby sat on the floor next to the door, his hands pressed down to Tara's stomach. Blood seeped past them anyway, dripping from his wrists onto the sticky wooden floorboards, Tara's shirt already soaked in the red liquid.

Jax' heart sank as he slid to his knees, cupping Tara's face into his shaking hands, his wife barely able to keep her eyes open. "Hey, stay awake, you hear me? You can't do this to me, babe."

Happy, Quinn, and two others rushed past him, their guns clutched firmly in their hands as they rushed outside, firing shots. It took a moment, but the gunfire finally stopped and the loud screeching of tires drifted into the distance as Jax felt like he couldn't breathe anymore.

"Chibs, I need you over here", Jax hollered as everything went silent for a moment, his blue eyes covered with a layer of unshed tears as Tara wrapped her fingers gently around his wrist.

"I need a hospital", she croaked, no judgement or anger in her voice, just fear. "You're taking care of the boys, you hear me? No matter what happensᅳ"

Jax shook his head, sniffling as he rubbed his thumbs over Tara's cheeks. "Don't even say it, babe. You'll be fine, I promise."

"Jesus Christ." Chibs took Bobby's place on the floor while Bobby already had his phone pressed against his ear and was calling an ambulance, the sirens of several police cars already blaring in the distance. "This is heavy, Jackson. If I do something now, I might make it worse."

"Oh my god", Gemma exclaimed, shielding the boys' view so they couldn't see their mother bleeding on the floor. "Tig, take the boys to mine and Clay's room, stay with them!"

The man with the dark curls hesitated for a moment, but his hands were already placed on the boys' shoulders. "Gemᅳ"

"Now, Tig", the matriarch barked before rushing to her son and Tara, but her scrutinizing gaze searched the clubhouse for Clay. She breathed a sigh of relief as he rushed out of Chapel and in her direction. "Oh, thank God, you're okay."

"I'm fine, baby. Are you?" Clay grabbed Gemma's shoulders, looking his wife up and down. He pulled her into a short hug, holding her tightly before he also saw what was going on. "Jesus Christ, this can't be true. The bastardsᅳ"

"We have one of them", Happy shouted as he and Quinn came back into the clubhouse, his gun pressed firmly against the back of the stranger's head, whom he pushed in front of him. "What do you want me to do with him?"

"Hide him, good. The cops are already on their way", Clay grumbled while Gemma sank to the ground next to Jax and placed her hands firmly on Tara's wound. "And then we'll let the bastard suffer. But not until we've taken care of everyone."

Happy nodded briefly, his answer just a low grunt as he was about to push the stranger further across the room and to the back of the clubhouse. But when Jax called out his name, he stopped abruptly and turned around.

He felt for his brother, his hard, unreadable gaze immediately softening when he saw the sheer panic in Jax' eyes, the man still holding his wife in his arms. If that was his Old Lady, Happy would lose his mind just as muchᅳ and for that alone he was willing to make the fucker in front of him suffer.

"What do you need, Pres?", he asked in a rasp while the other members around him tried to settle the chaos and take care of their families.

"I can't leave here right now", he said seriously, not ready to leave Tara alone right now. She needed him and he needed to know that she'd be okay. "I need you to check on Randi, stay with her until it's safe again. Please, Hap."

Jax trusted everyone in this room with his sister's life, but Happy was on a whole different level. Calculated, brutal and when it came to Randi, no matter how painful their break up had been, the killer would protect her with his life.

And that's why Jax wasn't surprised when Happy didn't even hesitate for a moment, instead he just nodded firmly. "I'll make sure nothing happens to her."

"Thank you", Jax replied sincerely as the first cops stormed through the door, causing a new kind of chaos.

Happy discreetly pushed the guy in front of him to the back of the clubhouse, threatening the man that he would find and kill his family if he said a word to the Cops. The SAA didn't know how the next few days would go, what it would be like to see Randi again for the first time in over a yearᅳ but he would sure as hell make sure that nothing happened to the woman under his watch, as much as he dreaded their first encounter.

[thevanillerose]

TITAN II | YANDERE!AIZEN x TINY!READER | BLEACH

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators. Content Warnings: Yandere / Kidnapping / Giant/Tiny / Violence A/N: Request [10/10] for my 100 Followers Celebration!

The final request, and it’s another sequel! I’m happy Part I was a hit, and that I have an excuse to write more Yandere!Aizen because that man…that man…

He gets a whole lot scarier in this part so you’ve been warned.

Your glass prison was maddening.

The cushions beneath you were soft enough, but you yearned for your real, actual bed. You were given food, water, all the sustenance required, but none of it you could enjoy. The box was minimalist, clinical, and yet it felt like a gilded cage. Always with the same view. 

His room. The room of the giant who had captured you. 

No amount of screaming or pounding against the walls had drawn anything more than an amused glance from Aizen, who had since settled into his chair with his ever-present calm composure, sipping tea as if your capture were no more significant than securing a rare artifact.

He didn’t care. He didn’t empathize or sympathize. 

He liked it. Seeing your hopelessness. 

You paced back and forth, your tiny fists clenched, your mind racing with possibilities. There had to be a way out—there had to. You couldn’t accept this as your fate. You wouldn’t. But every time you turned to assess the glass walls, the towering figure beyond loomed in your periphery. Aizen’s gaze never strayed far, his sharp hazel eyes tracking your every move.

Even when he wasn’t present (which was a rarity) you were scared to try your luck. Any time you had, it never ended well for you. The bruises and bite marks were indicative. While he may not have gone as far as trying to kill you, clearly preferring to keep you alive, he had still done enough to start whittling away at your will. 

“It’s futile, you know,” his voice cut through the silence, and your thoughts, like a blade, smooth and composed. He leaned back in his chair, setting down his tea with a soft clink. “You’re wasting energy flitting about like that. Save your strength.”

You froze mid-step, glaring up at him. A little anger flared, despite your nerves.

“You can’t keep me here forever. Someone will come for me. They’ll find you, and when they do—”

“They’ll what?” he interrupted, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Do you think anyone would dare challenge me here? You came because you believed yourself strong enough to defeat me. And yet…” He gestured lightly toward the glass box. “This is where that belief has brought you.”

His words stung more than you cared to admit. You wanted to believe you were tougher than this, but you had to be honest.

You’d never been more scared in your life. 

Still, you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you falter. If you just stayed determined enough, maybe you’d be able to find a way to get the hell out of here.

Maybe.

…

Later…

Aizen spent much of his time in this clinical looking excuse for a bedroom, seeming to have put most of his sinister plans on hold, or in the hands of other enemies, so he could dedicate his time to you.

It was a kind of torture. At your new size, it was all too easy for him to pick you up, push you around, squeeze you in his fist just to hear you squeak. You began to realize he had a twisted sort of love for you which had only become prevalent now. His fingertips would linger and caress on your skin in such tender patterns sometimes. He’d get this strange, blurry look in his eyes…

He wanted you. In ways you never would have expected. 

And how long he had, you didn’t know. 

Things could only get worse from here, that was something you were certain of. If this kept up, you were literally going to break. Somehow, in some way, you needed to find a way out of here.

Your opportunity came after Aizen had fed you at the usual time. At exactly midnight, much as he did at midday, he opened the box and lowered a meager portion of food inside, diced to a size you could kind of swallow. Of course, you didn’t make the mistake of trying to climb his hand to get out. Your abdomen still ached from the time you’d tried before, and he’d flicked you like a bug.

Such a simple, easy motion for him. An absolute gut punch for you. Literally.

So, no funny games. But…he had been a little neglectful this time around. You noticed the faintest gap between the glass lid and its frame after he set it back in place, and walked out of the room. 

Your heart leapt. It wasn’t much, but it was something. 

As it was midnight now, the gigantic menace had to rest. Surprisingly human, for such a monster, to lay down and rest his head against the pillow below him with such a peaceful expression. 

Now’s the best chance I’ll get.

Quietly, you made your way over to the cushion corner closest to the gap. Taking a deep breath, you crouched down low, built momentum, and jumped up with all the strength you could muster. It took a few tries, a lot of effort, but you managed to reach and hook your fingers around the hard edge of the box. 

Grunting, the soles of your bare feet slipping and sliding as they tried to find grip against the glass, you managed to haul yourself up and squeezed your body through the gap under the lid.

Finally, you slipped through. Jumping down, you landed on the desk with a delicate thud.

Freedom.

Now, you just had to get the hell out of dodge before he found you.

If he did…

If he did…

A horrible chill struck through your petite little body, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, shuddering with fearful thoughts. You didn’t want to think about it. 

The vast desk stretched out like a white wasteland, but you were focused on the edge, on freedom, on escape. Running over, you sought some way down that wouldn’t leave you dead on the floor as a crumpled mess, but his room was minimalist enough there was nothing stray you could cling or jump onto.

And, it was too late anyway. 

You could feel his presence before you heard him—like a storm cloud gathering behind you. You didn’t even have to look.

“Going somewhere?”

His voice, smooth and low, cut through the stillness like a blade. You froze in an instant, every hair on your body standing on end. Slowly, with a dread that made your stomach churn, you turned to see him.

Aizen was awake, standing right over you, his figure dipped in shadow. His hazel eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, boring into you with a mix of amusement and something darker. The dark cast chiseled shadows on his bare, muscled chest.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” he asked, his smile stretching into something sharp, something cruel. His tone was cruel yet calm, almost bored, and you trembled. You stumbled back instinctively, panic clawing at your chest. 

Think of an excuse! Think of an excuse!

“I-I wasn’t—”

“You weren’t what?” he interrupted, his voice dropping an octave. “Weren’t trying to run? Weren’t defying me? Lying doesn’t suit you, little one.”

Just run!

You bolted abruptly, running for the edge, desperate for something, anything, even willing to take a leap of total faith if that was what it took—but you’d barely made it two steps before his hand descended. 

His fingers curled around you, the force of his grip knocking the air from your lungs and throwing you backwards. You thrashed and kicked, your tiny fists pounding against his skin, but it was like hitting solid stone.

“Pathetic,” he murmured, lifting you to his face. His smile had vanished, replaced by an expression of cold fury. Any amusement was gone. He was plainly pissed.

“Do you know how insulting this is? I could have killed you long ago. A horrible death. Yet I spared you. And this is how you repay me?”

His grip tightened, the pressure making your ribs creak. You gasped, struggling for breath, your vision blurring as panic set in. “P-please,” you choked out, your voice barely a whisper. “I-I’m sorry—”

“Sorry?” His laugh was sharp, bitter, like the crack of a whip. His thumb jammed up sharply against your gullet, choking you, forcing your head back like he might snap it off entirely.

“No, you’re not sorry. Not yet.”

Without warning, he slammed you down onto the desk, the impact sending pain shooting through your body. You screamed, but there was no time to recover. His hand pinned you in place, his fingers pressing down just enough to make you wheeze. 

“You need to understand something,” he said, his voice calm and deliberate, but his eyes burning. “You belong to me. You are mine. And I do not tolerate disobedience.”

He lifted you again, your body hanging limp and aching, holding you by the waist, his grip tighter this time, his thumb pressing against your chest now, invasively, in a way that made it even harder to breathe. 

“And yet you insist on it,” he said softly, his tone almost mocking. “Disobeying me. Trying to leave me. Do you want me to punish you?”

He tightened his grip again, the pressure making your vision go white. You clawed at his fingers, your body writhing in desperation, but he didn’t let up this time. Tears streamed down your face as you gasped for air, the world tilting dangerously around you.

He’s going to crush me! He’s going to…kill me!

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice soft but cold. “To see how far I’ll go? To test the limits of my patience?”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t beg. Your body struggled feebly, your breaths shallow and ragged. He watched you intently, his expression unreadable, before his grip loosened just enough for you to suck in a desperate gulp of air.

“You’re lucky,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “I could end this right now. One squeeze, and it would all be over. But that would be too easy…wouldn’t it…”

His dangerous gaze flickered aside suddenly, to the edge of the desk. It was easy for you to see then, the cogs in his mind turning maliciously, and dread took hold.

“Aizen–”

Swiftly, he swung you over the drop, dangling you in the open air, only his pinching thumb and forefinger keeping you from a deadly plummet. Your heart stopped, your body going rigid as you stared down at the distant ground. 

“A fall from here would kill you,” he said, his tone almost conversational. “Shall we see how far you can fly?”

“NO!” you screamed, your voice raw with terror. “P-please, don’t—!”

His smile returned, sharp and wicked. “Then remember this feeling,” he said softly, pulling you back to safety. “Remember what it means to defy me.”

Lifting you before his handsome, huge face, you saw his lips curl into a relaxed, smug smile again, his gaze hooded and raking slowly over your little form, his breath heated when he spoke.

“It would be a shame, if I lost my precious little pet so soon.”

You swallowed thickly, flushing, looking away. The tip of his finger guided your head back to look at him again.

“I still have so many things I want to do to you…”

‘Do to you’.

Not with you. To you.

You felt sick. You didn’t even want to imagine it. 

“You’ll never try that again,” he said, his voice soft but malice-filled. “Because next time, I won’t be so merciful.”

His fingertip moved from your jaw to your heated cheek, gently dabbing away the tears that now wouldn’t stop falling. You sniffed and sobbed, giving up. 

Aizen, content with that, returned you to your prison, making sure the top was secured this time by placing a heavy book atop it. As he turned away to return to bed, you collapsed onto the cushions as well, your body trembling uncontrollably. Your chest heaved with ragged wails, which you tried to muffle behind your quivering hands so he wouldn’t be angered again. Your mind raced with fear and despair. 

He had been right about one thing. You’d remember this. You’d remember it every time you thought about running, every time you dreamed of freedom.

Because now you knew: he wouldn’t just stop you. He would break you.

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[thepascalparadox]

Chapter Seven: Princess of Nowhere

Word Count | 5.5k Pairing | General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader OC Chapter Warnings | none, more (a lot more) angst, switch pov an: I (unintentionally) am doing chapters bigger and bigger, I'm sorry! I'm loving to hear your thoughts, and for this one I'm even more excited! thank you to everyone reblogging and commenting, it makes me very happy and eager to keep telling this story!

It did not take long after leaving the General's lands for the red banner to appear on the horizon, its bold color cutting through the muted greens and browns of the countryside—a herald of the army camp that lay ahead. The sight filled you with a strange mixture of dread and resignation. The last three days with Acacius had been unexpectedly revealing, peeling back layers of the man whose presence once felt like an enigma. He had answered your endless questions, each reply tinged with a patience that surprised you. What once stirred a dangerous heat deep in your chest had softened into something steadier: admiration, perhaps even fondness.

He might not feel the same for you, and you had long stopped hoping for anything more. His friendship, for now, felt like enough. Yet, as the camp drew closer, the harsh reality of your situation loomed larger. Acacius had become the last familiar thread in a tapestry that was unraveling too quickly. Your home was gone. Your parents were gone. You were a princess of what? No land, no future, and no allies to call upon. The weight of it pressed heavily against your chest, stealing the air from your lungs.

What will become of me once we reach the camp?

The thought turned over and over in your mind, each repetition sharper than the last. You imagined your aunt, your mother’s sister, whose letters had been scarce and formal at best. She lived in the distant lands of North Africa, across vast seas you would have to cross alone—an impossible task for someone in your fragile position. The mere idea made your pulse quicken with unease.

The silence between you and Acacius felt tangible now, broken only by the steady rhythm of the horse’s hooves on the dusty ground and the faint rustle of the wind through the sparse trees. It was not an oppressive silence but one that carried a bittersweet weight. You glanced sideways at him, wondering if you should ask another question to break the quiet. Yet something held you back. This moment, this quiet farewell to the intimacy you had shared over the past days, felt strangely sacred.

I think I’ll miss him.

As the first signs of the camp came into view—soldiers moving purposefully, their forms growing sharper against the backdrop of tents and banners—the shift in atmosphere was palpable. The men recognized Acacius immediately. Their gazes snapped to attention, shoulders straightening as they acknowledged his presence with murmured respect. Some stopped their tasks entirely, their voices carrying hushed words you barely caught: “The Princess…” The tone was laced with something unfamiliar—sympathy, perhaps.

They pity me.

“They respected your father above all else,” Acacius murmured, his voice low and steady as if he had read your thoughts. His gaze remained fixed ahead, his jaw tight with purpose. “They will help us. You have no reason to worry.”

You nodded, though his words offered little comfort. As the two of you dismounted, Acacius moved with practiced ease, first offering you his hand, then bracing your waist as you slid from the saddle. His touch was brief but grounding, a subtle reminder of his presence. Together, you walked toward the largest tent, its fabric swaying gently in the afternoon breeze. A soldier stepped forward to take the reins of the horse, nodding in deference as he led it away.

The whispers followed you, and with each step closer to the tent, your unease deepened. At the entrance, Acacius gestured for you to go first. You hesitated, turning toward him in search of reassurance. His eyes softened, the hardness of the soldier momentarily replaced by something warmer, quieter. His hand found the small of your back, guiding you forward with a touch that spoke of unspoken promises.

Inside, the air was thick, the heavy canvas walls trapping the warmth of the day. The room was dimly lit, streaks of light filtering through seams in the fabric. A central table dominated the space, its surface strewn with maps and figurines—an unmistakable strategy table. Three men stood around it, their gazes lifting as you entered. One of them, clad in armor as elaborate as Acacius’s, straightened immediately, his face breaking into an expression of palpable relief.

“Finally, my friend…” The man’s voice carried a weight that matched his stature, a breath exhaled after what felt like years of tension.

Before you could fully take in the scene, a figure emerged from the shadowed corner of the tent—a woman. She moved swiftly, her voice ringing with unmistakable warmth as she called Acacius’s name.

“Lena,” Acacius said, clearly caught off guard by her approach. She reached him in moments, her hands cupping his face with an intimacy that made your chest tighten.

“You’re alive,” she breathed, her eyes glistening with relief. “I was so scared... I thought we had lost you.”

His hands found her waist instinctively, steadying her as though she might collapse from the weight of her emotions. “You’re not rid of me yet,” he said, his voice lighter now, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

The tenderness in her gaze was undeniable, her fingers lingering as if reassuring herself that he was truly there. You looked away, suddenly acutely aware of how small you felt in this space. The warmth between them was palpable, a bond forged long before you had ever entered his life.

The other man approached Acacius with the familiarity of an old friend, pulling him into a firm embrace that spoke of years spent side by side in battles unseen and victories hard-won.

“Missed you, brother,” he said, his voice carrying the easy warmth of someone who had long grown comfortable in Acacius’s presence. “Your men arrived days ago and said you were just behind them. What kept you?”

It was then that you were noticed. Slowly, deliberately, the attention in the room shifted, settling on you like a weight pressing against your chest. Their eyes, sharp and questioning, lingered a moment too long, and despite the heat of the tent, an icy shiver ran down your spine.

You wished you could meet their gaze with the boldness of a woman who belonged here—a princess unshaken by the sudden shift in her life. You wished you could hold your chin high, your shoulders square, like the noblewoman you had been raised to be. But confidence felt like a distant dream, slipping further from your grasp with each passing second.

Instead, your eyes faltered, dropping instinctively to the ground as if the canvas beneath your feet could offer refuge. The voice in your head whispered cruel truths: you were out of place here, a fragile shadow of who you once were. A princess of nothing, nowhere, standing in a room of men who carried the weight of empires on their shoulders.

Acacius, perhaps sensing your discomfort, shifted subtly beside you. His presence, solid and steady, anchored you in a way you could not explain. You took a slow breath, trying to gather the fragments of your courage, willing yourself not to shrink beneath their scrutiny.

Be strong, you thought, the words a soft plea within the silence of your mind. You’re still standing. That must count for something.

"Princess..." The man bowed his head respectfully. "I am General Valerius, Commander of the Iron Legions, Loyal to your father, Antoninus Justus. I am deeply sorry for your loss." He extended his hand to you, and you placed yours in it — as any lady should. He was a strong man, his stature almost equal to that of Acacius, though younger in years. His shoulders were broad, yet there was a weariness in his eyes, a quiet burden carried beneath the weight of his armor.

"I appreciate your loyalty, General. My father is—" You faltered, the truth of his absence settling heavy in your chest. "My father would be most grateful for your services to the empire."

"He will be missed dearly." General Valerius’s voice softened, his gaze lingering for a moment on Acacius. "Sit down, Marcus, Lena will fetch you wine and bread. You must be hungry."

"Thank you, brother, but first, I would ask something of you." Acacius’s tone was low, measured. "Could you prepare a tent for the princess? She is weary and not quite... accustomed to such a life." His words, though respectful, carried a certain delicacy, as if speaking of a world you no longer belonged to.

"I'll see to it," Lena replied quickly, her voice calm and assured, as she brought a cup for both of you. Your cup held water, while the General’s contained wine. A subtle distinction, one you pondered as she drew nearer, noting the curve of her belly—her child. Who is this woman? She offered you a smile, kind yet unsettling, and for reasons you could not place, doubt lingered in your heart.

"It will be arranged, Acacius," The General continued, his voice carrying a hint of finality, "but first... I’m afraid we have some political matters to discuss."

The words hung in the air like a shadow, and as you prepared to rise and leave—so accustomed to doing so with your father’s matters—you were met with the soldiers’ expectant gazes. You hesitated.

"Do you... wish for me to stay?" Your voice faltered, barely above a whisper.

"You must, Princess. It all revolves around you," came his reply, almost too obvious, as if the weight of your presence could not be denied.

"We have received a letter from Rome," General Valerius continued, his tone now somber. "From one of the Senate’s men, Macrelius."

The words struck you like a blow. Fury flared inside your chest, a fire burning bright and hot. If the man stood before you now, you were certain you would strangle him with your bare hands.

"I’m sorry for reading it, Princess, but we weren't certain of your... survival. We thought it might contain important information."

"What did he say?" you demanded, your voice trembling with a rage you had not yet realized resided within you.

"Well..." General Valerius hesitated, his face tightening as he recounted the words. "He spent a great deal of time apologizing, claiming that the plot was never intended to kill the emperor. Though it didn’t sound sincere. Then, he asked for your hand."

"He what?" Acacius’s voice cracked with the intensity of his anger, his posture stiffening in a way that made the air thick with tension.

"He said that the people are enraged," Valerius continued, his voice heavy with the weight of truth, "that the riots will soon bring the fall of Rome. The only way to quell their fury is for you to show your support for the Senate by marrying him."

The notion sickened you to your core. How could this man, the very one responsible for your father’s death, propose such a vile marriage? His treachery knew no bounds.

"He’s a madman, Valerius," Acacius whispered, the coldness of his tone betraying the fury that swirled beneath. "Minutes before the chaos at the castle, he was laughing with Antoninus. He is the greatest traitor of all."

"The problem is, Acacius," Valerius’s voice grew more contemplative, "he’s not entirely wrong. The people of Rome adored Antoninus, and his death has left them grieving. They mourn for him as they would for their own kin. And they adore the princess just as fiercely." His gaze softened as he turned to you, his tone almost comforting. "Where your loyalty lies, the people will follow, Your Grace."

"I cannot accept such an offer, General," you said, the weight of it sinking into your bones. "He is responsible for my father’s death."

"I know," Valerius sighed, his eyes dark with understanding. "But I’m afraid you must make a decision. The people believe you dead. A marriage would give them direction. It would show them who they should stand with."

"What do you have in mind, Valerius?" Acacius’s voice was tight, his usual calm replaced by a flicker of unease. His eyes locked onto his friend’s, searching for any sign, any hint of the true intentions behind the words.

"Well," Valerius hesitated, then his voice grew quiet as he paced the room, "if a marriage must happen to show the people where they stand... then she could also marry one of us."

The words hit you like a storm. Your heart seemed to sink, your blood ran cold, and the room around you blurred into fog. You had known, somewhere deep within, that one day you would be forced into such a union, but not like this. Not now.

You noticed how Acacius, too, seemed struck by the suggestion, his expression one of disbelief, and before either of you could voice your protest, the other General spoke, his tone measured but unyielding.

"By 'us,' I mean Acacius—thank the gods, I am happily married." He stood, placing a hand firmly on Acacius’s shoulder as he faced you, his expression somber as he laid out the harsh truth. "What I’m saying is this: such a marriage would serve as a declaration that the events of that night were an act of treason. It would show that neither you nor your father condoned the attack. However, it would also provoke war with Rome, even if those now in power are not rightfully in command. And we can’t predict if Macrelius would retaliate against the people for it."

The words hung in the air like an iron weight, and you could only blink, overwhelmed by the rush of information. How could you possibly make a decision now?

Lena entered the tent again, her hand resting lightly on her swollen belly. "I have prepared everything for you, Your Highness," she said respectfully, her voice soft.

"I shall leave you to rest, Princess," Valerius said, his tone gentle but filled with gravity. "You can make your decision tomorrow. Goodnight."

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

You walk in silence beside Lena, your thoughts swirling like a storm that refuses to settle. Every step feels heavier than the last, burdened by the decisions looming over you, their shadows stretching far beyond the flickering light of the campfires. Lena's soft voice pulls you from the maze of your mind.

"My brother may seem a little... stern, but he's a good man, I assure you, Princess," she says, her tone gentle, though it does little to quiet the turmoil within you.

"General Valerius seemed very interested in deciding my life," you reply, your voice sharper than you intended. The words hang in the air like a blade unsheathed. Tired, drained, you’re in no mood for small talk, especially not with someone you barely know. Trust feels like a luxury you can’t afford, and as far as you can tell, this woman, with her kind smile and soft tone, could be hiding knives of her own.

"Well," Lena says, a light playfulness threading through her voice despite your tone, "my husband has a habit of deciding my life too." She glances at you with a smirk that feels too knowing, too practiced, before adding, "But I was talking about Acacius. I noticed the way he looks after you—even in that serious manner of his. I’ve told him countless times that his temper will only ever be matched, or tamed, by a woman as fierce as he is."

The words surprise you, slipping into your thoughts like a stone breaking the stillness of water. Your steps falter for just a moment as Lena reaches forward, pulling back the tent flap to reveal the space prepared for you. The realization hits you suddenly, as if the pieces of a puzzle have been snapped into place.

"You're his sister?" you ask, your voice soft and uncertain. A faint heat rises to your cheeks, embarrassment mingling with exhaustion. The doubt you’d clung to earlier now seems cruel.

Lena’s laugh is light, forgiving. "I am. Did you think otherwise?" she asks, though there’s no mockery in her tone—only quiet understanding.

"I’m sorry," you whisper, the words fumbling out before you can stop them. "I thought—"

"It’s all right, Your Highness," she interrupts gently, waving off your concern with a small, graceful motion. "Would you mind if I help you bathe?"

The question takes you by surprise, though the very thought of being clean again nearly undoes you. You swallow against the sudden tightness in your throat and nod, unable to form words. Lena steps into the space with practiced movements, wordlessly preparing the water as you begin to untangle yourself from the layers of dirt-streaked fabric that cling to your skin.

The quiet that follows feels heavier now, but not uncomfortable. Lena works in silence, her motions sure and precise as she tends to the water and brushes out your hair. When the warm water touches your skin, you feel yourself exhale—a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The sweet, calming scent of lavender rises from the water, lingering in the air and weaving itself through your senses like a balm for every raw edge inside you. You close your eyes for just a moment, letting the warmth seep into your bones.

When you open them again, Lena’s hands are steady, her expression gentle as she tends to you. It’s only then that you notice the familiarity in her face—the shape of her eyes, the quiet resolve in them. The same eyes as Acacius.

"How far along are you?" you ask softly, your voice tentative.

Lena pauses, her hand lingering for a brief moment as she works. When she looks up at you, her smile is small, almost wistful. "Not long now," she says, her hand settling lightly over the curve of her belly. The glow in her face speaks of something deeper—hope, perhaps, or the quiet strength of someone who’s lived through storms and learned to steady herself in the aftermath.

You don’t say anything else, and neither does she. The silence between you shifts, no longer heavy but something softer, like a fragile thread of understanding weaving itself between two strangers—two women standing at the edge of worlds far larger than either of them.

Lena’s hand lingered over her belly as her gaze drifted somewhere far beyond the tent, beyond the present moment, as though she were reaching back into the folds of time. A faint smile curved her lips—soft, wistful—as she broke the silence.

"Valerius and Acacius... they’ve always been like brothers, even when they weren’t," she began, her voice carrying the weight of old memories wrapped in fondness. "When we were children, the three of us were inseparable. My father used to call them shadows, always following each other about. Where one went, the other was sure to be close behind."

You watched her as she spoke, the calm rhythm of her voice like the gentle ripple of water over stone. It was the kind of tone that made you feel like you were eavesdropping on something sacred, a glimpse into lives lived long before you became part of their world.

"Acacius was always the quiet one, though," Lena continued, carefully wringing out the cloth and dipping it into the warm lavender-scented water. "Stubborn, serious, even then. He carried more weight than a boy his age should have. I think he was always preparing for this life, even before it came for him." She looked up at you briefly, her gaze searching, as though measuring whether you understood the man whose loyalty had been given to you. "And Valerius... well, he was the storm to Acacius’s stone."

Her words painted a picture as vivid as any tapestry you’d seen in your father’s halls—a boyish Acacius with the same unwavering stare, his shadow matched step-for-step by a younger Valerius, wild and laughing.

"They balanced each other," Lena continued after a pause, her voice softening. "Valerius brought light and laughter where Acacius would have built walls. And Acacius... he steadied Valerius when the world felt too wild for him."

You felt a pang in your chest at her words, as though the truth of them weighed on you. It made sense now, the silent understanding between the two men, the trust so deep it didn’t need to be spoken aloud. It was a bond built in youth, forged through time and tested by the world’s cruelty.

"And you?" you asked, your voice quieter than you intended. "Where did you fit in?"

Lena laughed softly, a sound full of warmth and reminiscence. "Oh, I was the little tyrant, always trailing after them, determined to be part of their adventures. They hated it, of course—Valerius once tried to lose me in the fields, thinking I’d give up and go home. But Acacius, ever the protector, carried me back on his shoulders, scolding Valerius the whole way."

Her smile softened, her gaze drifting as if caught in some far-off memory. "Despite it all, I think Valerius and I were always bound to find each other. We fought like sworn enemies back then, but somewhere between those childhood battles, I think we realized we couldn’t live without one another. He grew into the man who wishes to decide every step of my life—much to my annoyance at times—but also the man who has held my heart ever since."

The tent fell into a moment of peaceful silence as Lena finished her work, carefully laying the damp cloth aside. The lavender still lingered in the air, a quiet comfort against the unknown weight pressing at the edges of your thoughts.

Lena smiled then, a small, knowing smile, before rising to her feet. "Rest, Your Highness," she said softly, smoothing her dress over her rounded belly. "Tomorrow will come soon enough, and you’ll need your strength."

She left you alone then, the flap of the tent swaying gently as it settled back into place. For a long moment, you remained still, staring at the basin of water where lavender petals floated in soft spirals, their scent lingering like a promise.

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

The tent now was dimly lit, the shadows flickering against the fabric walls as the oil lamp sputtered. You sat at the edge of the small cot, fingers twisting the hem of your tunic, lost in thought. Outside, the camp was quiet, save for the distant hum of soldiers settling into the night.

Acacius hesitated before pulling back the flap to Aemilia’s tent. It was unlike him to linger, to question himself, but tonight he did. He told himself he was only checking on her, ensuring she was well after such a long and trying day. That’s all.

Steeling his resolve, he stepped inside. Aemilia sat at a small wooden table, her hands resting on an open scroll she hadn’t been reading. Her posture was slumped, and though her face was turned away, Acacius could see the weight of exhaustion in the curve of her shoulders.

"Your Grace," he said softly, breaking the silence.

Aemilia startled slightly, her head snapping up to meet his gaze. For a moment, she just stared at him, her expression unreadable, before masking it with cool detachment. "General Acacius," she said, her voice polite but distant. "To what do I owe the honor?"

Her words were measured, but he noticed the fatigue beneath them—an exhaustion not of body, but of spirit. She looked like someone who longed for the oblivion of sleep, yet her mind refused her rest.

I know the feeling.

“I came to see if you were comfortable. If...” He hesitated, the unusual uncertainty making him shift his weight. “Perhaps you need anything?”

He hated how the words faltered as they left him, stripped of the firm authority he was so used to. The days spent together had chipped away at his armor, leaving a vulnerability he hadn’t felt in years. She trusted him now—he believed it. And more importantly, he hoped she understood he wasn’t just a soldier in her service, but perhaps something more. A friend. Maybe the most loyal one she would ever know.

“Oh.” She gasped, genuinely surprised by his concern. “Thank you, General. Not just for this but... for everything you have done. For me, for my father, and for the empire.” She paused, looking down, her fingers nervously tracing the seam of her tunic. “Unfortunately, I can’t possibly repay you now, but I promise you, as soon as I—”

“Stop.” His voice was quiet, yet firm as he stepped closer, his shadow stretching across the floor. “There’s nothing to repay. I did it gladly, and I would do it a thousand times again if necessary. Not out of duty.” He hesitated, the next words slipping from his mouth before he could stop them. “But because I...”

He faltered, his eyes searching for hers, trying to measure how much of his heart he could expose without shattering completely. “We can be considered friends, can we not?”

Her gaze softened, the hardness in her expression melting ever so slightly. “Yes...” A small, almost timid smile touched her lips, though she quickly averted her eyes, unable to bear the intensity of his. “I suppose we can.”

Acacius remained still, restless in a way that felt unfamiliar. He wanted more from her—more words, more understanding, something—as if her voice alone could unravel the tension within him.

Finally, she broke the silence, her shoulders slumping as her mask crumbled. “I’m sorry, it’s just... I’m so confused.”

She rested her face in her hands, elbows propped on her knees, and he felt a pang deep in his chest at the sight of her. The proud, unshakable woman now seemed small, fragile. Mortal.

“I’ve spent my whole life preparing for this,” she said quietly, her voice muffled against her palms. “Learning, studying the best possibilities. And now that the time has come... everything feels out of place. No matter what I choose, I fell like I'll be doing something wrong.”

His brow furrowed, her words gnawing at him. What does she mean?

She lifted her head then, and he realized his thoughts had slipped aloud. Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, she looked like she might weep. “Marrying Macrelius would bring peace to the Roman people,” she whispered. “There would be no retaliation. Perhaps things could go back to normal.” She swallowed, as if the words physically hurt her. “But marrying you...”

Acacius stiffened, feeling a cold weight settle in his chest.

“Marrying you would mean war,” she continued. “And I can’t do that to them. It wouldn’t be fair.”

She can’t possibly be thinking to marry that man. The thought churned through him like a poison. Am I that repulsive?

His fists clenched at his sides, though he fought to keep his voice steady. “Peace is something the Roman people haven’t seen in a long time.” His tone was colder now, the softness gone, replaced by something harder—something she hadn’t heard from him before.

She nodded faintly, as if she understood. “I miss home,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I miss my father. My friends. Marrying Macrelius would mean going back to everything I know. It feels... safer.”

The words stung him more than he cared to admit.

“I’m not sure I can handle everything here,” she added, glancing at him briefly, her gaze calculated. “Staying here would mean staying alone.”

You speak carefully, your words chosen like pieces on a chessboard, hoping—praying—that the General might reveal his true thoughts about the matter. Your heart is a tangle of confusion, but the weight pressing hardest is your uncertainty over him. Would he truly want this marriage? Would he stand beside you willingly, not out of duty or obligation but because he chooses to?

The very idea unsettles you. For all you know, Acacius may see this as nothing but strategy, a burden to shoulder for the good of the empire. He says he is loyal—fiercely so—but would that loyalty extend to your happiness? To you?

The alternative feels like swallowing stones. Marrying the man responsible for your father’s death—whether by intent or fate—twists your very soul. Yet what choice remains? If Acacius doesn’t want you, doesn’t choose you, then what else can you do but sacrifice yourself for your people’s safety?

If only he would say it—just once. "I’ll never leave you alone."

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

Your words struck him in a way he wasn't expecting. You feel safer with Macrelius than with him. And this time the anger inside can't be tamed or discased. 

“Well then,” he said bitterly, his voice carrying an edge sharper than any blade, “perhaps it’s better for you to return to the palace and go back to the easy life you had. Perhaps what happened in the last days can be forgotten with a good wedding feast.”

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with hurt. “How can you say that?” she whispered, her voice shaking. The sadness in it, however, was quickly swallowed by anger—an anger that blazed as fiercely as his own.

“How dare you say that to me when I’ve lost everything? Everyone I love? Everyone who could care for me?” She stood abruptly, brushing past him toward the tent’s exit, but she stopped short, hesitating. Her back was to him now, her voice low but seething.

“Maybe the truth is you have no idea what real loss is, do you, soldier?” She turned, her gaze burning into his. “How could you know anything about caring? About love?”

She took a step forward, giving him no chance to reply, tone sharp as a dagger, her voice mocking now, “I wonder if that night you kissed me... was it pity? Or did you simply want to send me away so I wouldn’t interrupt your precious lonely time?”

Acacius’s eyes darkened, the fire in them matching hers.

“You’re a brute,” she spat. “The worst kind of man.”

The words landed with precision, but instead of hurting him, they ignited something worse—his pride. He laughed, a low, bitter sound that sent a chill down her spine.

“So that’s your opinion of me? A brute?” He stepped toward her, his gaze unrelenting. “Perhaps I should truly show you my worst. Then the feelings you once said you felt would go away, wouldn’t they?”

“Stay away, soldier,” she warned, though her voice faltered at the end.

“But I can’t, can I?” His voice broke then, the frustration spilling out of him like water through cracked stone. “Because even you, being the most stubborn and spoiled woman I have ever met, I can’t stay away. When I’m not thinking of you, I’m thinking of ways to protect you. And when I’m not doing that...” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I’m thinking of ways to love you. And that—that—is the worst part.”

His chest rose and fell with the weight of his confession, and for a long moment, silence filled the space between them.

“Because even if I had a thousand ways to show my devotion to you, it wouldn’t be enough. Not in this life or the next.” His voice grew quieter now, the anger fading to something almost sorrowful. “It wouldn’t be enough because you deserve a prince. One on a white horse. Young. Perfect. Not a scarred, brute of a man like me.”

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

You noticed how his eyes flickered from pure anger to something quite diferent, almost a little sad. Your lips parted slightly, as if to speak, but no words came.

Does he really think so low of himself?

“Marcus...” your tone soft, reaching out toward him.

He shook his head, his expression hardening again, the walls rebuilding before your very eyes. “You should rest,” he said abruptly, the emotion disappearing from his tone. “You have a decision to make tomorrow. And by the way this conversation has gone... I already know the answer.”

Before you could say another word, he turned and disappeared into the night, the tent flap swaying behind him.

You sat back down, the weight of the conversation pressing down on you like a stone. The silence he left behind was deafening, and though you knew you should rest, all you could do was replay his words—I’m thinking of ways to love you.

And yet he was gone, believing you felt nothing. Believing he was nothing to you at all.

[mafiagirl2020]

Title: Operation Baby Ghost

The rec area on base was filled with the usual noise: the clink of mugs, the shuffle of boots, and the occasional burst of laughter. Simon “Ghost” Riley sat at a table, flipping through some intel, his face as unreadable as ever. Across from him, John “Soap” MacTavish fiddled with his phone, trying to keep his chuckles under control.

“So, you know about periods, huh?” Soap asked, trying to hold back his grin.

Ghost looked up from his papers, eyes narrowing slightly. “I know about a lot of things, Soap.”

Soap leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the awkward tension building between them. “Oh yeah? Got one of your own, did ya?”

Ghost didn’t respond right away. Instead, he simply arched an eyebrow beneath his skull mask. “Not anymore.”

Before Soap could process that, he was already halfway across the rec area, heading straight for Captain Price’s office.

“Price! Price!” Soap yelled, bursting through the door like a hurricane. “You won’t believe this—GHOST IS PREGNANT!”

Captain Price, who had been sipping his coffee at his desk, choked on the drink, coughing violently. “What?!” he sputtered, slamming the mug down onto his desk.

Soap, never one to miss a chance for drama, gestured wildly. “I swear! He said it himself. He’s got a bun in the oven. I’m not making this up!”

Price, still recovering from his coffee-induced shock, gave Soap a look that said everything. “MacTavish, get the hell out of here. You’re not making any sense.”

But it was too late. Word spread quickly through the 141. By the time Price and Soap returned to the common area, the team was buzzing with confusion, questions, and a sense of dread that something had gone terribly wrong.

“Ghost is pregnant?!” Laswell asked, incredulous, as she walked in with Price, both of them clearly trying to make sense of the situation.

“Yeah, I thought he’d be the last one to—well, you know—get into that sort of thing,” Soap said, still grinning. “But nope! Big ol’ pregnant Ghost!”

Price rubbed the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “This is absurd.”

Laswell turned to the rest of the team. “Alright, everyone, calm down. We’re going to have a talk about… puberty.”

The room grew silent as Laswell pulled out a stack of papers and set them on the table. She had a no-nonsense look in her eyes, the kind that made even the toughest soldiers think twice.

“This is about biology,” Laswell continued. “And no, Ghost is not actually pregnant.”

The team let out a collective sigh of relief.

“But we have to go over the basics,” she added. “Puberty, reproduction, and all of that. So, I’m going to set up an anonymous question box. Anything you don’t understand, you put it in there.”

A few groans echoed through the room, but no one dared to argue. An hour later, they all sat in awkward silence, reading the questions that had been deposited in the box. Some were serious, others absurd.

One question stood out: “When does Amazon deliver the baby?” followed by “Is Price the father?”, “Will the baby look like Price?”, and “Do they make baby cigars?”

Soap burst into uncontrollable laughter, nearly falling out of his chair. “I swear, I didn’t write any of those,” he said between chuckles.

“Well, Ghost,” Price said with a raised eyebrow, looking at his second-in-command, “it looks like you’ve made quite the impression.”

Ghost, who had been eerily silent up until that point, just grunted. “I’ve been bloated lately, alright?” He tugged at his uniform, pulling a jumper up under it to add a bit of extra fluff around his midsection, giving off the unmistakable “pregnant vibes.” “Happy now?”

Price’s face twisted with confusion and frustration. “What in the hell is happening here?”

“Don’t worry, Captain,” Soap said with a smirk. “Ghost is just really getting into character. Looks like he’s really pulling off the whole ‘expecting’ look.”

But Price was past the point of finding any humor in this. His hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. “This is insane. Ghost. You’re not pregnant!”

Ghost stared at him, eyes hidden behind his mask but his tone was deadly serious. “You’re the father of this baby, Price. I thought you loved this child!”

Price’s face turned ashen, his mind clearly processing the absurdity of the situation. His voice cracked when he spoke again. “What… what do you mean ‘the father’?”

Before Ghost could answer, the door to the rec area opened with a soft creak. Major Shepherd, who had been unusually quiet during the commotion, stepped in, a look of confusion on his face.

“How is Ghost pregnant?” Shepherd asked, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Ghost with his stuffed jumper and the chaos unfolding around him.

Soap, ever the dramatist, sprang to life. “Well, Major, when a mummy Price and a daddy Ghost like each other very much…” He trailed off, grinning ear to ear.

Price, at this point, had clearly reached his breaking point. He slammed his hands down on the table, his voice booming in the tense room. “No one is pregnant! Ghost, take that ridiculous jumper off!”

Ghost stood up, unbothered, and tossed the jumper aside. “Alright, alright. It’s just a joke, Captain.”

Price collapsed into a chair, face buried in his hands. “This is too much. I need a drink. I need a break.”

Soap leaned over, his grin still wide. “You know, I bet the baby’s going to be a real soldier. Just like its father.”

“Soap,” Price growled, “if you don’t shut up, I’ll personally throw you in the brig.”

The rest of the team, finally understanding it was all a ridiculous prank, began to laugh. Even Shepherd managed a small, albeit awkward chuckle. Ghost remained stoic, as always, while Soap basked in the chaos he’d caused.

Price let out a long sigh. “I can’t believe I’m going to have to explain this to everyone on base.”

Ghost, never one to back down from a challenge, leaned in toward Price with a grin. “Next time, Captain, I’ll make sure the baby gets a proper welcome.”

guys girl or boy 💥

I wouldn't actually hc ghost as trans I just really wanted an excuse to make this trend HEHHEHHEHEH.

[gravedigginbbydoll]

last drop in the snow

Kas! Eddie and Reader Angst Blurb

Summary: Eddie has been gone for years...or so everyone thinks. The ache of being 20 forever while everyone grows up is weighing on him.

CW: MDNI!, angst angst angst, no comfort, suicidal thoughts, loneliness, blood, vampire?, loss of love, grief, heartache, suicide, depression, all the fun stuff that comes with immortality, missed relationships, etc

AN: I shocked myself with this one...yeah this hurt. Also, please read at your own risk; this is very depressing and tackles a lot of hard things. Please reblog if you enjoy it!

As Eddie peered through the window, spotting you laughing over a glass of wine with your spouse, kids - or nieces and nephews, his bitter heart still hoped - cradling babies, the season's joy making you shine like the stars, he felt a bottomless sinking pit in his stomach. Eddie could hardly remember the last time the winter felt comforting. Even his mother's face and voice in his mind were becoming a blur, leaving only raw heartache. He looked away, clenching his fists in bitter sorrow. 

Despite what mortals thought, immortality didn't leave one numb. It left you…aching. Hurt.

Eddie was a young immortal. He was only 58 years old, though it had felt much longer that he had been alive. He had seen his friends age and have children, and the little freshmen he once was able to look after went off to college and even got married and had babies. Eddie barely spoke to most of them. 

How could he blame them? 

Most of them were worried about their families and keeping them safe. Eddie was cursed to stay inside until dark, looked haggard and sickly, and couldn't stomach human food. He was kept at bay by the poor animals wandering the woods and the occasional blood donation theft. 

Eddie's back slid against the brick wall as he leaned his head against the house, his mind spiraling. He didn't know getting bitten by interdimensional bats in some freaky alternate Hawkins would lead to this. He had entirely meant to sacrifice himself, only to become a puppet for Vecna. And now that everything was said and done and Vecna was gone, he was a shambling mess. He was littered with chunks of flesh taken out and missing, with sunken red eyes and elongated fangs. He was a monster. 

He ran a hand down his face, regretting coming here. He did it every Christmas since 38 years had passed in him returning from the Upside Down. The routine just made the wounds fester and peel back the scars, the raw and red emotions flowing out like the life force Eddie loathed yet needed so much.

He just needed to know you were okay. You were the one driving force behind Eddie surviving this long. Uncle Wayne had been around for his first 30 or so years. But after he passed, Eddie found Hawkins was no longer filled with mysterious beings and strange happenings. And slowly yet surely, everyone started to trickle away from him. He had found himself yearning for you, his closest friend and probably first love. He had kept himself away from you for so long, fearing the hunger taking over or endangering you. But in that fateful 38th year, he couldn't stand it anymore. 

He had peered in through your window, knowing you had moved into your parents' house. He was moved to tears seeing you for the first time in years. You had aged, grey hairs had begun peppering your head, and he saw the smile lines and…sobbed. You had never looked so beautiful. He saw that you had lived and been happy, and it was evident that love and life shaped you well. You had kids around you, all probably 8 to 12, their smiles and even mannerisms a reflection of you. 

Eddie's heart had felt as though it was torn out of his chest but cradled in your hands. He had wanted that with you. Sure, he was fucked up and immature then, but he had loved you. Continued to love you. He missed your smiles and laughs and how you always knew how to cheer him up. He even missed you teasing him over girls like Chrissy Cunningham, completely oblivious that it was always you. He had always loved you. He knew you had grown but still loved the woman you had become, and it made him mourn that life you could've had together even more.

Eddie stood up, his heart aching again like that fateful Christmas day. He looked out onto the white snow, limbs numb from the cold. He lifted a hand, looking at the silver chunky rings you and Uncle Wayne had gifted him. He felt a tug at his heart, putting the hand down and sighing. He was tired. So very tired. 

He looked out onto the snow, seeing how the moon made it shine like diamonds, and felt his heart set on it. 

This was it. He was ready. 

He was not as cautious as usual when he trekked through the powdery snow to his trailer. No one had come into the trailer because he and Uncle Wayne dragged it far into the woods, hoping no one would go into it and find Eddie Munson alive and, indeed, the monster they all thought he was. 

Eddie grabbed a pen and paper and began writing his thoughts, feelings, and sorrows…He knew everyone would be texting or messaging nowadays, but old communication methods felt more raw. As he finished, he felt the ache dull. He was crying, the disgusting thick blood streaming down his cheeks and one or two drops marring the paper. But he felt…free…in a way. 

Eddie stalked out into the cold with the trailer keys, removing his boots to feel the snow against his bare feet. He headed to your house, seeing that the festivities had ended and the living room was quiet. Carefully, Eddie placed his note and key, along with his chunky cross ring, on the paper, leaving it in the flower pot at the front door. 

He trekked into the snow-covered forest near Lover's Lake and laid down, the cold unusually stinging for his immortal self. And as he laid, he thought of you. Your joy and laugh, the life you lived. He opened his eyes, looking up at the sky that began to turn a light shade of blue, the orange sun peeking up through the horizon. Eddie felt the warmth on his skin grow steadily until it felt like flames licking at the snow, finally being embraced by the sun and thought to himself. 

"Maybe in another lifetime…It could be me and you."

[jellydrawsposts]

as a corvus fan i NEED his dad's lore. you said you had it GIVE IT TO MEE (foaming at the mouth) /nf

I HAVE AN ENTIRE 6 CHAPTER FANFIC HIDDEN IN MY VAULTS ABOUT THIS MAN AND CORVUS’S FAMILY YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE LORE STORM I GOT THIS IS YOUR ONE LONG POST WARNING

Cw: mentions of difficult pregnancies, life altering injuries, and death of loved ones (this ends happy i swear)

So, to start his name is Dionice.

He was born and raised in a small town in the borderland forest with his parents who were both in the military. They lived in a nice two story home and had a happy life.

When he was 12 years old his parents had been summoned on a mission, he had tried to ask them to stay but they promised they’d be back before he knew it.

Three weeks later he was greeted at the door by strangers who told him his parents died Heros. They hadn’t felt like heroes to him.

Dionice inherited the home and his parents money, regardless of course he had to fend for himself.

Because of that he grew resentful of the military, scowling when requiters were in town and vowing to keep his family far away from petty battles and disputes.

He took up a couple of hunting jobs and soon it became his profession, he learned how to set traps, make his own tools and weapons, and to sneak.

It was during one of his hunts that he met Soleil. She was a young woman about his age foraging however she had scolded him on his traps and gave him an earful being mindful of only taking what you need from the land.

She helped him with his traps and techniques and Dionice found himself curious about her. She wasn’t someone he recognized from town, and she seemed to be alone.

As the months went on they fell in love and that was when Dionice found out about her mother, a woman who didn’t seem to approve of him no matter what he did.

In the end her approval hadn’t mattered and he and Soleil married with them deciding to live in his home.

Dionice knew he wanted a big family and so did Soleil. They hadn’t wanted their children to grow up lonely like they had.

When Soleil was 24 years old and he was 25, they were preparing for their first child. She had choosen his name, Corvus.

However as time went on Soleil was finding herself fainter and weaker. She struggled eating and keeping herself upright. And the night Corvus was born she passed.

For a while Dionice struggled as a grieving widower and a new single father, of course he couldn’t leave Corvus alone when he went on his hunts but he had no one else to turn to. Until unexpected help came.

His late wives mother, Aimee. With her help the two raised Corvus for 7 years until one day Dionice met a cello player in town named Linet. They married a year later and had three more children: Letitia, Silas, and Mielle.

For a few years live was good and happy. Corvus was learning how to play the cello with his step mother, Aimee was finally civil with him and adored Corvus, his youngest children all played together, and the house he inherited was finally full and alive.

Then one hunt went wrong, he had traveled much closer to the border then he perhaps should have

He remembered startling awake to a thunderous roar, it was a dragon no doubt.

Perhaps it had a bad day or perhaps something had happened but regardless the sound shook the cave he had been resting in and it collapsed onto him, trapping his legs. It had took time but he had managed to free himself.

He spent weeks trying to return home, injured and malnourished. When he woke from a rest he found himself back home at last, and was told the news that he’d have a long healing journey before he is able to stand and walk on his own again.

They suggested walking aids from Evenere, but the cost alone on them was far too much not to mention the risk of travel. With him out of the job at least for the foreseeable future and his wife being a teacher at the time he knew if would be a rough patch.

One they could get through but not without some difficulty.

Corvus, now 15 years old, had insisted on helping. Searching for jobs in town, and taking up his hunting mantel.

One day when they both found themselves at the shops he had turned and spotted Corvus speaking to a ginger solider. He had rushed over in an instant, pulling away his son from the man. He made Corvus swear he wouldn’t enlist.

Despite the recited promise could see the look in his son’s eyes. It was one that would not waiver.

A few days later he woke to Letitia, his eldest daughter, who held a note from Corvus. It was an apology for the broken promise

He spent weeks trying to find his son he laid awake at night fearing a dreadful knock. One morning a message arrived at his door, from a General Amaya apologizing that Corvus had managed to sneak in under the false impression that he was an orphan.

She also explained although Corvus had deceived them, she’d be happy to train him and invited him to see Corvus offering to pay for the expenses.

When he and his family arrived they watched Corvus spar with his fellow peers.

He had came here ready to scold Corvus, ready to take him home but the smile on his boys face. The pride in which he carried himself as if this is something he had always wanted to do softened him.

Dionice remembered the times he trained with Corvus on how to use the weapon he made him, the nights they spent camping together and learning how to fend for himself, and his son’s brave and just nature.

With a heavy heart he allowed his son to stay and train.

Dionice now works with his wife and her new instrument shop. He uses a cane when he knows he’ll be moving a lot to help minimize the pain.

Though the years passed Corvus sent letters frequently, and despite them doing better Corvus always sent them a little of his pay. They could rarely send letters back since their son is always on the move or hiding.

Although it sounds as if things had been changing and perhaps soon enough Corvus will be settled down.

Dionice is happy at the thought of finally being able to send some of his words back to his son.

Mostly about how he is proud.

[shannonsketches]

Why is the anime so weird, it's not even the same series dude?? It's like,

Anime:

GOKU: I have a great idea to bring peace to the universe, and my leadership and compassion alone will unite us all. I have No Flaws and am A True Relatable Everyman :)

VEGETA: NO! I AM THE BEST AND I WILL CAUSE PROBLEMS UNTIL I AM RECOGNIZED AS SUCH!!!!

Manga:

GOKU: Vegeta what's cornmeal made of? I know it's what the corn eats, but what's it made of? VEGETA: Hey Kakarot let's play the quiet game until one of us dies.

[juniemunie]

TEST DRIVE TEST DRIVE TEST DRI-

I have so many thoughts about this entire sequence, from the way Hiccup and Toothless get along to the MUSIC- (the music analysis is going to my tags)

.

But im gonna talk about Toothless pov again

I always think of this is like, the forbidden friendship scene for Toothless the way the actual forbidden friendship was for Hiccup

If Hiccup's scene was Toothless connecting to Hiccup through human things (sharing food, smiling, art and all that)

Then this scene is Toothless' because Hiccup connects with Toothless through flying, something I've always headcanoned to be what dragons (the ones that fly anyway) need not just to survive, but to live and bond with others.

if Hiccup's FF is the beginning of the potential then Toothless' FF is the "end", the moment where the potential is found and fulfilled, the thing that really solidifies their friendship because both has now experienced and accepted the other's unique sides

Just, yeah Toothless sees Hiccup just getting it, understanding why flying is so wonderful, hearing him cheer and whoop in joy like a fledgling's first time in the air, and seeing him at the end instinctively understand what to do-

Like that sudden spin near the end of the sea pillars- and both of them looked surprised they even managed to do that together instinctively- when just a few minutes ago Hiccup couldnt even dodge the two very obvious sea pillars in the beginning

He looks up at this human, this strange clever, brilliant little human who has somehow made this even possible, who has broken every preconception he has, who is now flying with him with a dragon's instinct but baring his teeth in that human way of expressing joy, screaming something he could not parse perfectly in his dragon tongue but understood the meaning all the same.

"We did it."

[tricoufamily]

oh i can just show a journey through beckett and connor to show you what i mean by i went through this awkward transition phase before. do you see what i mean

[sysig]

Betty’s Wish (1/?) (Patreon)

It’s definitely weird that Betty, with all her Magical abilities, never met a Wishmaster, right? I think so

[First | Prev | Next]

[kyouka-supremacy]

DELACROIX SPOTTED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

hang on are cougars like panthers

[movedtodykedvonte]

Spamton Neo battle but Susie and Ralsei never show up to help Kris fight Spam.

The soul can’t knock Kris into fight shape due to their fear. Spam is winning by land slide and is about to land the finishing blow on Kris but for a second either due to Kris’ weakened state or just another momentary flash in Spam’s delirium he imagines Kris as a younger version of himself.

Not projection but just straight up him before everything went completely wrong, battered and bruised and down trodden and stops the attack to heal Kris as he’s no longer seeing Kris as an obstacle or similar case to himself but a direct instance that he can “save” sorta how he wanted help and to be saved when he was in that position years ago. 

Whether the soul takes a back seat to watch or is just being stuck in a stalemate with whatever force is afflicting Spam, it’s just Kris and Spam and their odd kinship of feeling like empty shells left in that basement...

[yangjeongin]

man y’all the loving hyunjin hours are so intense rn i feel like i have s omuch to say but i don’t even know where to BEGIN i just feel like i’m gonna explode or something </3

[sadthixx]

i feel like i'm in a happiness redemption arc like

SILENCE NEGATIVE FEELINGS!! I DO NOT WISH TO BE SAD ANYMORE!!

and since then i feel like my life has literally changed from going through traumatic shitty family drama to finally finding happiness after moving and having the freedom to do what i've always wanted to do when i was younger