#his new family will only be alive for a fraction of his life :(

[0vergrowngraveyard]

hey alexa, how do you stop yourself from getting attached to people who will inevitably die on you?

[xxsabitoxx]

Special | Kinktober Side Quest 1

Sukuna x AFAB reader | divider from @benkeibear

Sukuna, who is not particularly thrilled about one family who dares to keep pestering him for wealth.

Sukuna, who is given you as an offering in return for the wealth they so desperately desire

Sukuna, who typically wouldn't think twice about taking your life and moving on with his.

Sukuna, who finds you to be different than the rest

Not much can interest the man, especially during the Heian Era. There is nothing to do but be worshiped and doted on out of fear, and even for him, it can get boring. You, however, didn't put up a fight when your so-called family offered you up for a small fraction of his wealth. Even know, you sat dutifully before him, awaiting your fate.

"Aren't you going to beg me to spare your life?" he asked in a dull tone, one of four arms pressed into the side of his face as he looked you over. You only shook your head, looking up at him with eyes as dull as the tone he just used. "Why bother, if life is this cruel to me for doing nothing at all, it is simply a life I do not want to live."

That wasn't an answer he expected, eyes taking a moment to really focus on what you were wearing. From the looks of it, your family had been trying to make you look seductive. The thought made his lips curl in a scowl, humans were truly selfish creatures. "I suppose I can't argue with that mentality." he sounded resigned as he pulled his eyes from your breasts and up to your downcast face.

"But it sounds to me that you are just giving up. Did you even try to put up a fight?" you shook your head, you hadn't even raised your voice when your parents told you what was to happen. You had just accepted it for what it was. "pathetic." the curse before you spat, his tone making your nerve endings spark with fear. But after a moment, you processed the fact that his anger wasn't directed at you.

"I'll make you a deal." he spoke gruffly, large fist still pressed into his cheek as he observed you. Those five words sent a new wave of fear through you, but your facial expression never gave that away. "I'll let you live..." He watched as your eyes finally raised to meet his, only a hint of shock on your near-expressionless face. "... on one condition."

"May I ask you what the question is, sir?" his pause had left you room to speak, you took the change and accepted it. Sukuna hummed in approval at your words, pleased to hear you already taking formalities. Most of the morons who came to him for wealth didn't even remember to use them when addressing him.

"You'll let me use your body, whenever I desire to."

"Is that all you require from me, sir?" unphased by the request, Sukuna smirked. "For now, that would be all." what an intriguing creature you were, your carefully guarded emotions made his skin itch with the desire to unravel you and eat you alive. "I humbly accept your offer, sir." Sukuna sighed, straightening for the first time since you sat before him.

"Wonderful, we'll start right away then. Strip."

[thr0wnawayy]

Chapter 429 has been my Dabi's Dance

I can't stop smiling.

I wanted to start off by saying thank you. Not to Hori, but to you all. Every last one of you in these tags for your contributions. Be it analysis, re-reads, fan works or simply your perspectives. I look forward to seeing what you will make in the future.

So, Thank you.

I suppose I should start at the beginning. MHA was always in the background of my life and I hated it. I don't watch anime and yet still MHA related media would make it's way onto my socials in all it's obnoxious forms. This went on for years.

And then suddenly, it stopped. It seemed like MHA's craze had died down, I'd still see it from time to time through merchandise but never to the consistency it had prior.

That was until Dabi's Dance was published and the net went wild.

I knew a few things about Endeavor from my past exposure, he was universally hated and abused his kids and wife (to the point she scalded her son in a fit of psychosis).

Deciding I had nothing better to do, I found myself searching to see what kind of consequences would befall such a monstrous character.

Would he fall like Icarus, be torn apart by the public, how would the family he ruined react to the news?.

And then, nothing. No punishment, no reaction. Just dead air.

I recall that my face dropped internally. My blank expression mirrored my phone screen's sterile nature, as it displayed the information in front of me.

He got away with it. So I did some digging and it got so much worse.

Bakugo's evasion of any consequences or damages, coddled and shielded by Hori's inability to go through on anything.

Hawks who murdered a near crippled man on a hypothesis, for the mere crime of having the "wrong" quirk, for not giving up, for being "unlucky"

Aizawa, Hori's little mouthpiece. who decides to play judge, jury and executioner with the futures of students he's supposed to be teaching. Only for the Nedzu and the narrative to allow him, his friends turned into lapdogs that agree to the letter.

The Commission who strive to keep theirrotting husk of a system alive through assasins, child soldiers and indoctrination.

Even if it's gears must be lubricated with blood, even if it means lying to the world and having them clean up the mess. They MUST stay on top, the illusion must be upheld.

I just couldn't fathom how this was seen as a good thing.

And somewhere along the way I began to feel something akin to hate. Not your typical ire, one powered by anger, no.

I wanted to see how low Hori would go, just how horrifically he would mangle a series that everyone had once praised.

I wanted to witness what wonders a jaded community would create, to show what they were capable of (to create and understand MHA in a manner Hori wishes he could even emulate a fraction of)

I wished to see your own expressions of love and hatred.

The thought of witnessing the breaking point, the dust settling to expose all the glaring flaws and infested wounds of MHA. It buzzed in my brain like electricity.

The idea that when all was said and done, you, the people would do what Hori couldn't/wouldn't and forge the bones and salvagble bits of MHA into a story worth remembering.

One where abusers are punished for their crimes instead of rewarded

Where victims can have a voice, feel and grow, carve their own paths and move forward from their trauma.

Where the implications of MHA's rotting and disingenuous society get explored instead of swept under the rug

Where people get a chance.

I waited eagerly for the day it would all fall apart.

So, do you know what I did when I logged onto the tag and saw your posts!?.

I laughed, the shrill giggle in the back of my throat quickly surging into an almost manic cackle. It was like lightning, vindicating and sobering all at once. My face was stretched to it's absolute limits with how wide my grin was. I could almost hear the shattering of MHA's last bit of integrity and I loved it.

The realization MHA's greatest threat was the author himself, It's one that I grasped long ago (as far back as the Dark Dekiru Arc) and I'm sure most of you understood this as well.

But to see that more of you are starting to get it, to realize there's no going back. That as the curtains draw near and the lights begin to dim, there is no other side here. Violence begets violence and Hori's gone past the event horizon.

It feels, hopeful. Perhaps we can build something worth saving.

It's been a wild ride so far and it's still ongoing. Hori's time is long over, it has been for a while now, so I suppose what I'm asking Is:

Now It's Your Turn, what's your play?

_______________________________________

Update:

IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING!

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Sprinkles

about this: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARC SPECTOR (aka the love of my life). gn!reader. contents: a birthday fic, illusions to abuse/mental health issues, canon typical mentions of DID, internal angst, fluff, kissing. wc: 738. not beta’d.

moonknight masterlist

Marc wakes to the smell of something distinctly sweet, though he isn’t sure what it is. He is hit with that deep sadness that has rooted itself inside of him since he was just a little boy. Another year has passed— he’s made another trip around the sun. Another year to remember and forget, to fight his demons, to look in the mirror and be nothing but a grim reminder of his broken family.

But, then he hears a familiar tune, a whistle floating through the air that makes him feel light. Your whistle. A new reminder that he has a new family. That in some ways he created a new family within himself, one that you readily accept.

He turns to bury himself in your pillow, smothering the goofy grin on his face. He’s still growing used to this feeling, of being happily and safely in love.

There is the patter of your feet, the chatter of dishes, the sound of a tea kettle. When he finally sits up, there’s a card with his name scrawled across it on his bedside table, along with a small heart-shaped box of chocolates.

He laughs as he reads the card, though your sentiment is sweet and means a lot to him, given his tumultuous childhood with little joy.

For the man who has a sweet tooth that rivals a 7-year-old. You deserve every confection on this earth— none are sweeter than you. All my love.

Marc tucks the card into his drawer, along with a few other things you’ve gotten him, a watch from his father, and his old wedding band. Things with meaning. He picks up the box of chocolates and heads out to the kitchen where he knows he’ll be met with the happiest sight on earth— you.

“Mornin’,” He calls out to you, his voice still rough from sleep.

You whirl around, fixing him with a smile so wide and genuine it makes his cheeks warm. “Good morning, lovey. Sit sit, it’s almost done,” You gesture to the kitchen table.

Marc sits as instructed, watching patiently as you start to get everything ready. You set down in front of him: coffee that he knows will be perfectly made, two different stacks of what both seem to be funfetti pancakes, extra sprinkles, whipped cream, and syrup.

“Did you know that most funfetti pancake recipes don’t call for any actual funfetti cake batter? Seems fraudulent don’t you think?” You ask as you fix a plate for yourself and sit beside him.

He hums in agreement. “Hence the two different kinds?”

“Well I wanted to see which you liked better, a traditional recipe or mine,” You reason, stabbing a candle into both of his stacks so that you can light them. Leaning close you, brush your lips against his cheek as the flames flicker.

At this moment, Marc feels like the only people that exist are you and him. He’s overwhelmed with happiness and tenderness before you even speak another word. Marc wants to be alive. He wants to live with you, year after year. He wants to know who could be with you by his side.

As if you’ve read his mind, you whisper to him, “Happy birthday, Marc Spector. I hope for you, more love, more growth, more happiness, and contentment.”

Marc inhales shakily, his eyes growing wet with tears. He nods, reaching out to grasp your hand and squeeze, hoping that the gratitude he’s feeling is clear. You raise his hand, kissing it gently before gesturing towards the candles.

“Make a wish, Marc.”

He could. He lets his eyes flit around the space, his mind flitting through ideas as he takes in his surroundings. A loving light in your eyes. The sweet scent of funfetti pancakes. Coffee the color of dark caramel. The perfect box of chocolates. This place that you both call home. Marc realizes he loves things just the way they are right now. He closes his eyes and wishes that every day will hold even a fraction of the warmth it does right now.

He guides a hand to your chin, pulling you close by it so he can press a grateful kiss to your mouth. “Thank you, sweetheart, all of this is great. More than I could’ve asked for.”

“Get used to it, Spector,” You laugh, mouth brushing his.

“I’m working on it, but for right now, I think it’s time for me to try some pancakes.”

moonknight taglist: @ninebluehearts , @rmoonstoner, @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb, @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @campingwiththecharmings, @whatthefishh

[drewsbuzzcut]

New Chapter

Mat Barzal x model!fem!reader

A visceral in doses fic

Warnings: mentions pregnancy and includes smut

Takes place: Dec 2024/Jan 2025

You toss your brand new keys up in the air only to catch them and clutch them tightly to your chest. The piece of metal means the world to you. It’s the symbol of the newest chapter in your life- your life with your boyfriend and unborn baby.

“Baby, I’m so happy,” you squeal and throw your arms around Mat’s neck.

His hands wrap around your back, keeping you pressed to him. You’re only 3 months pregnant at the moment, but he can’t wait until he feels your bump pressed against his stomach.

“I love you,” he mutters against your lips.

The kiss only lasts for a fraction of a second- much to Mat’s dismay. You’re too excited to stay in one area of your new home. You prance around the empty house, filling each bare spot with potential furniture. Mat doesn’t chime in much, unless it has to do with color scheme, but it’s because he’s too enamored by your sheer excitement. Your hormones have been a roller coaster the past few months due to your pregnancy, so Mat’s glad that your happiness seems to be a constant at the moment.

“Mat, this room is so perfect for the nursery,” you cheer, turning around in his arms to wrap them around his neck.

You stare at him with sparkling eyes, heart thundering in your chest and love spreading through your veins. You nuzzle your nose into his neck, needing your man wrapped around you.

“I think so too. The crib would look perfect against that wall, and the sunlight would perfectly stream through that window. Plus, the closet is a good size for all the clothes we will be buying,” he adds in softly, lips pressed to your temple. You let out an elated laugh, a sound that will soon fill every corner of your new home.

You walk through the rest of the house, Mat wrapped around you from behind. He pecks and nips at your flustered skin, his hands steady on yours hips to keep you flush against him.

“This place is so beautiful, Maty. It’s perfect for us as we transition into being a family. I mean just look at this backyard! Our baby will be so lucky to be able to have this,” you sigh contently, leading your boyfriend into the backyard.

Mat’s fingers interlock with yours, spinning you back into his chest because he really wants to look at your beautiful face.

“You’re beautiful and perfect,” he whispers back, his nose nudging into yours and his lips ghosting the corner of your infectious smile.

“Just kiss me already,” you demand, a gasp dying on your tongue when Mat pulls your face to his.

The keys on the key ring, looped around his finger, smack against his knuckle, making a smile form on his face and interrupt the lip lock. You pull away briefly for air, and to stare into Mat’s eyes. He stares at you with such tenderness that always makes your heart race and breathing faint. How can someone make you feel so alive while simultaneously taking your breath away?

Before you can even mutter a word, your boyfriend is hauling you up his body and carrying you over to the grass. His knees hit the ground and your back gets tickled by each bristle of green. Leaning down with both hands planted on the ground on either side of your head, he kisses along your jaw and down to your neck.

His hands move around your body from your thighs to your breasts, igniting the fire within you. His touch is sweet, but you can feel the lust building up in his palms. They bring a savory heat to your body, one that you know too well.

“Stop staring and just do something already,” you whine and toss your legs over his hips.

Your boyfriend grins down at you, thick fingers unbuttoning your jeans. He watches your reaction with darkened eyes as he pulls your pants down, licking his lips every time your hips jut up in search of him. And without warning, he rips your pinstripe blouse open, making a gasp fall from your mouth and buttons fly everywhere. To his desire, you’re wearing a lacy bra that leaves nothing to the imagination, but to your annoyance, you’re now left without a functioning top.

“You do realize you just ruined my blouse and now I’ll have nothing to wear when we leave,” you sass with an eyebrow cocked up.

“I’ll give you the shirt off my back anytime you need me to,” he hums, nose and lips trailing down the valley of your breasts.

You huff out a little whine and push your chest up into his, almost speechless but needy for his greedy hands on you again.

“Fuck that’s so hot.”

With a smirk, you draw his lips back to yours. A hand cards through his hair, fisting the strands as his tongue explores your mouth. Your other hand ventures underneath his shirt, giving some attention to his spectacular abs. If it weren’t for the way his mouth dominates yours in the most heated make-out, you’d be dying to lick down his abdomen.

“Maty, take off your clothes,” you instruct through heavy breaths and give him a hand with losing his wardrobe.

The minute he lines himself up with your core, thunder cracks through the sky. You startle a bit, leaning more into his touch. For a second Mat looks hesitant, like maybe he shouldn’t risk your wellbeing. Too bad you’re too far gone down the lustrous rabbit hole to care.

“It’s just a little rain. We won’t melt,” you say, getting him back on track. A raindrop of two won’t dare to ruin the mood.

“Are you sure?” He checks in, because the last thing he wants is for his pregnant girlfriend to be uncomfortable.

“Positive. Love me, baby,” you sigh and press a kiss into his jaw.

Mat lowers his body down onto yours, his bottom half in the cradle of your thighs. He pushes into you slowly and stills his body until you give him the green light to move again. Ever since you’ve become pregnant, Mat has had to learn a new version of your body-something he’s more than okay with. You get so sensitive and aroused by the thought alone of Mat. Your body practically bursts into flames when he’s actually having sex with you, so he knows to take it slow.

“You’re always so wet for me. You love the fact that I’m about to fuck you at our new house, huh?” The hockey player says so sweetly, you feel your pussy close around him.

“Yes. Please move, baby. I want to be full of you.” You press the heels of your feet into the small of his back, making him sink all the way into you.

A moan escapes from the both of you and dances with the whip of lightning. Mat’s hips swivel and pull you under a state of pleasure. His mushroomed tip glides along your walls and you think you might faint with how you can feel every inch of him. Your wetness can be felt making a mess between your thighs, and it’s surely dripping down his cock.

Deep in the throes of passion, you surrender yourself to your favorite Canadian. He fills you up, fighting his way out of you as your heat desperately tries to suck him back in, and then slams into you once more. His mouth finds one of your pert nipples, sucking on it through the material of your bra. He hums around the peak, sending a flurry of butterflies to your already wonton core.

After he’s had enough of being separated by the flimsy fabric covering your chest, he pulls away. His length is still sheathed inside of you as he unsnaps the clips of your bra. You find it incredibly sexy that he can do it with one hand.

Sitting back on his knees, he can’t even stop himself from watching the way your tight pussy swallows him. It should be a sin, the way he stretches you open, but still take him so well.

“You’re so sexy. I can look at you forever and never grow bored,” his compliment pricks at your skin in a way that can only be described as heavenly.

Hoisting your hips up in his hands, the tip of his cock hits your sweet spot. It sends you spiraling and has your hips matching each of his thrusts. You grip tightly onto his forearms and bear down as the knot in your stomach forms.

As intensity beats down on the both of you, Mat pins your hands into the ground. His eyes bore into your own. You fall in love with the way they’re blown wide with love and lust.

“You feel so good, pretty girl. Your pussy was made just for me. No one can fuck you the way I can,” he groans into your ear, grinning devilishly at the way you pulse around him. Your release is so close and Mat knows all your tells. You start to wither around and your noises get more high pitched.

“Fuck! I love you so much,” you heave out. Your heart beats out of your chest with each kiss that’s placed on your throat and each time he touches your clit.

After a louder clap of thunder, the one or two raindrops turn into a full torrential downpour. The mood is temporarily dampened as you shriek and Mat crowds you into his body.

A moment of silence follows before you both burst out in laughter.

Gently you wrap your arms around him, nails softly scratching at his back, and press a kiss to his lips. It’s all that needs to be done for him to know to continue.

“I love you,” he whispers into your mouth.

Your body arches into his as he pushes back into you. Your slick walls start to collapse around his length as the knot in your stomach tightens. That’s the thing about Mat, he can spark up your fire within a second if it’s ever extinguished.

“More,” you gasp out, nails digging into his skin.

He drives his hips as he holds onto yours, angling them up so he can hit deeper. You start to shake the moment he throbs inside of you. His salacious groans reach your ears and you clench down on him as your high vibrates through your body.

“Cum all over my cock, baby.”

You cry out, vision going white behind your closed lids and your toes curling. Mat doesn’t stop thrusting into you as he waits for your orgasm to completely work its way through you. Plus, the way he circles your clit makes you suck him deeper if it’s even possible. The sensation brings Mat’s release to the surface.

“Cum inside of me. Fill me up, hotshot. I want you to see the way you drip from my pussy. The way you fucked me so good, I couldn’t get enough of you,” you rasp, nibbling on his neck.

He plunges into your sensitive core, the sounds of wet skin slapping against each other fade into his moans of pleasure. You let out a whimper as he shoots his load inside of you. Your lips attach to his earlobe, sucking it into your mouth. You thrive in the feeling of satisfaction as you witness his eyes roll back and harsh shivers wrack his body.

“Well that’s one hell of a way to christen our new home,” Mat hums, eyes half lidded in sheer euphoria. His lips go back to kissing on your chest. It’s his own saying of grounding himself after experiencing such a high.

You giggle and welcome his body heat to warm you up from the cold droplets of water that grace your body. A soft feeling blooms in your heart, confirming just how wonderful your life is at the moment. You nose at his broad chest and move his arms so that they wrap around you.

“Just think about all the other rooms we can still christen,” you muse, a cackle spilling from your mouth when you feel Mat’s cock stir against your thigh.

a/n: I hope you all enjoy! I loved writing this one (even though I’m not crazy about the smut part)

[solomons-poison]

I keep thinking of Silvio with his first kid, I feel like he'd end up with either all boys or at least majority boys. But generally thinking how soft he becomes for multiple reasons.

His family life was shit, one parent that manipulated him and the other that openly hated him. No luck with his siblings either, for multiple reasons. He grew up expecting people to only ever want something, specifically money, from him, and it skewed his view on relationships and family so much.

But now, now he has you.

Someone who was so ridiculously honest and and kind-hearted and sassy and stubborn that he had no choice but to fall in love with you. Someone that didn't just want him for his fortune or for special favors, but saw through his difficult sides and defensive nature and need to solve all things with money and accepted him anyway (even if it involved some fighting and arguments along the way).

He never could have predicted having a loving family, someone that treats him like an actual human being and not just a get-rich-quick scheme personified, being willing to touch someone with vulnerability and opening his heart to them. Honestly, part of him expected his work might kill him one day; before you, it probably would have been a blessing to die on the seas with his crew, away from the troubles of his kingdom and the hatred of his family. That, or maybe his thirst would finally consume him, the expensive wines he invested in finally taking him in the end.

It was a selfish thought, because he cared for his kingdom and worked hard to make it strong, that was his responsibility as prince. But sometimes, if he let himself think too long on it, it became too much for him. As much as he spouted that money was all that mattered, his heart still felt differently, and it was killing him inside. But meeting you saved him, in more ways than one.

Bringing you home to Benitoite, introducing you to the nation and the king and queen, getting married, it was all so unreal and like a fantasy. Sometimes Silvio was convinced he was just dreaming a drunken dream, and he'd have to slap himself or pinch himself to make sure it was reality. You did your best to assure him you really were there with him, your love and your warmth was real, but you couldn't blame him for how he felt knowing just a fraction of what he'd been through.

That dream-like feeling continued even as you eventually told him you were expecting, as he watched over the months as your belly grew and felt the small kicks of life. Of course he was happy, but he was terrified, too. Terrified that the only good thing in his life would be ripped away, like so much else, that someone or something would take the last bit of light from him and he'd go back to the half-alive existence he had before. He focused his anxieties into protecting you, staying by your side and holding you close. But sometimes the only things keeping him sane were your touches and your reassurances, reminding him you were always with him, that not even the strongest forces of nature could take you away from him. And he'd melt into your kiss, engraving the feel of your lips and your warmth into his heart so he'd never forget.

Things only stopped feeling like a dream when, after hours of labor and frantic pacing, he was finally holding his son, the newest prince of Benitoite and newest addition to the royal family. Just holding that wrapped, wriggling bundle in his arms, sharp wails of tiny lungs piercing his eardrums, finally cinched it all together. He wasn't adrift anymore, he wasn't ready to die with his boat or from excess drink. He had you, your unwavering love and resilience and wit, and this new life that you'd gifted him, that you'd made together. And he'd be damned if anything was going to take that away from him.

Having a family is foreign to him, a loving partner and a child that seeks him out (he will always think of the first time he heard "da da" and thought his heart would explode). Sometimes many times he worries that he'll do something to fuck it up, that he might act like his father or that you'll come to your senses and leave him for someone better. It takes a lot for him to unlearn these feelings, to work past these anxieties, because he wants to be the best he can be for you and his growing family. But he gets there, trusting in you and in himself that you two have got this, that it'll take more than an army to separate you from the people he cares about.

On occasion, he still thinks about if this is an elaborate dream, although the thought is more one in passing than a legitimate worry these days. But if this is a dream, it's one he never wants to wake up from.

[y-rhywbeth2]

So, BG1 and BG2 Spoilers ahead:

Flicking through the original games again to check on certain lore points and also stopped on Sarevok's dialogues to make sure I'm not hallucinating, but nope.

Sarevok misremembers his past and his attitude towards Bhaal has changed. If he's supposed to be the same guy, then hey, Larian, you could've, I don't know... explored what the hell happened?? It would even be relevant to the themes of Bhaal's cult, indoctination, loss of will/identity and his shitty parenting?

I mean, I can kind of see where the whole "Durge, do what I failed to do so that Bhaal may live again through you" stuff came from, though I feel like they missed the mark a smidgeon (Sarevok seems a little too devoted to Daddy in BG3 from what I remember - he was not originally. Sarevok has no respect for Bhaal (dude's got twice the daddy issues of the typical Bhaalspawn), he's only interested in his power.):

Sarvok: "You are indeed family. No other could have lived to oppose me in person. Of course, it will not matter in the end. Ultimately I will prevail, and a new era will be born unto the realms." Charname: "You are mad! What do you hope to gain by resurrecting a dead god?" Sarevok: "Father Bhaal is dead, but the slaughter I will orchestrate will prove me to be the most worthy successor. It will raise his power from the ashes. The streets will run red with blood when my work is finished!" Charname: "Successor? Deities are not known for sharing their power willingly!" Sarevok: "Fool! I do not wish to RESTORE his power - merely to RAISE it! With the divine blood that flows through these veins, I shall assume control over that which he so foolishly lost! I shall BECOME Bhaal. THAT... is the only acceptable outcome. [...] Face me! Face the new LORD OF MURDER!"

Sarevok: "Fuck Bhaal, he didn't deserve his job, so I'm taking it."

As for the bitching about being resurrected against his will, oh he's so annoyed. How could his cruel sibling do this to him against his will???

UM, LARIAN???

Sarevok: "So. You have finally arrived. I have been waiting for you." Charname: "Sarevok?! Didn't I kill you for the last time in Hell?" Sarevok: "You did indeed... although that was no fault of mine. [...] I have done nothing but attempt to reform myself since."

Sarevok: "Regardless, I spotted [this pocket plane] forming and guessed at its purpose. So I came here and waited, kniwing that eventually you would come... and that then we could discuss my... deal." Charname: "What kind of deal? What could *you* want?" Sarevok: "What do you think I want, dear [sibling]? I wish to exist... I wish to be alive again. You can do that. The smallest fraction of your soul, my [sibling]... given freely, with the taint of our dead father within it. That would recreate my flesh, restore my mortality... Sarevok would live again!" Charname: "I killed you once before... what makes you think I would want to return you to life?" Sarevok: "I do not come to the table empty-handed, [charname]. You think me a fool? [...] I can help you. And that has its price."

Charname: "Forget it. I don't trust you." Sarevok: "As you wish. By all means, stroll about and examine what you will of your domain. Time passes and events move with them. I'm sure it will not take long even for you to realise the truth"

Basically, he holds you hostage in this tiny dimension and won't let you progress with the game until you share your soul with him and resurrect him.

Charname: "...I will restore you." Sarevok: "So I have cheated death! Thank you, dear [sibling]... no gift could please me more." ... Sarevok: "I live! Flesh and blood and bone! I am ALIVE! Ha ha ha ha ha! I swore I would scratch and crawl my way back into the world of the living... and I have done it! "Though my sword and armour have not appeared. No matter. Without the Bhaal essence to channel their powers, they are of little use. I shall make do without them, as I once did. Thank you, [charname]. I am pleased."

Oh, he totally didn't want to escape! See how mad about it he is! See how happy he was in the afterlife??

*muttering*

(Sarevok bitches about this in his journal and Solath manifests over his shoulder and whacks him over the head with her staff because excuse you?? After all that nagging??)

[that-blue-vault-dweller]

Alright, this might be a bit of a lengthy one, but: When Nora leaves Vault 111 to find Shaun, Nate isn't in the cryo pod across from her. Later, she finds a 90+ year old version of him, somehow still alive, having given up searching for their kid (more out of old age then losing hope). How do the companions (and Nora) react to that?

I don't think I've ever had a request that asked to include how Nora would react to something, but honestly I am so super excited that I finally got one 💖💖💖 I've always wondered what it would be like to write Nora's POV on some of these reacts, so I guess I'll tear out and go 🥰 I'll probably stick with the version of Nora that I usually play as, so hopefully everyone enjoys!

Nora - Is absolutely shocked to find her husband alive and well. While she knew that he had somehow managed to get out and live, she had not expected to find him after all these years. She had not known what had happened to him, and she had been afraid to even consider the possibility that he was alive. She is overjoyed to find her Nate, and (presuming this is after getting into the Institute) she assures him that she has found their son. Despite being quite a different man than the one she fell in love with, him having gone through some grave hardship when he was wandering the wastelands and trying to find Shaun, he is still very happy to hear the news.

Cait - Is honestly angry that he gave up looking for Shaun because Nora has spent only a comparatively short fraction of her life looking and turning over every rock to find Shaun and succeeded. She ends up chalking it up to the fact that Nora must be immensely more intelligent than him if only to keep from completely boiling over while Nora is talking with him. She truthfully thinks that he was not as dedicated to finding the kid as Nora was and that she deserves better.

Curie - Is very pleased that Madame has found her husband and the remainder of her family and does not blame Nate for stopping his search to find Shaun. However, most primarily, she is interested in potentially running some tests to see how radiation and the elements have affected Nate since he started out as clean as Nora did in the vault. She wants to know how it affects him and how she could possibly formulate some manner of solution to keep it from affecting Nora quite so profoundly over time.

Piper - Is as shocked as Nora, but she is happy for her Blue. She kind of wonders how he did not find some clue about their son's whereabouts during his search, but she figures that Nora is just one special, one-of-a-kind sort of person when it comes to literally everything. Nora has unrivaled talent, and she is the most amazing person that Piper's known, so it's no surprise that she managed to find Shaun when Nate could not.

MacCready - Is very happy for the two, and truthfully relates to Nate a lot. He knows what it's like to be the father of a son, and he cannot imagine what it would be like to lose Duncan and have to go searching all over the Commonwealth just to come up with nothing. He understands why Nate stopped the search and does not blame him.

Deacon - Is not terribly surprised. After all, nothing much surprises him anymore. He's heard and seen so many things as a result of his spying on everyone in the Commonwealth. Plus, he had actually heard about someone that sort of sounded like Nate, and he had been the one to tell Nora about it, leading them to look for him and eventually find him. He's just glad that Nora has her family back in some way or another. Even if her husband and her son are both old codgers and she looks like their granddaughter and daughter respectively.

Codsworth - Is positively overjoyed to find sir! He is alive and that means that their family can be reunited! They just have to convince young Shaun-- erm... Shaun-- to come out of that dreadful underground hole and join them on the surface. He does not focus on anything else but the possibility of bringing the family home safe in Sanctuary and living out the remainder of their days there.

Hancock - Is pleased for Nora, but is honestly very much the opposite of pleased at the fact that Nate had given up the search for Shaun. Hancock is a man that will never stop even if it kills him, and to think of Sunshine being hooked up with some quitter after seeing how much of a fighter that she is, he cannot help but find himself slightly disappointed. He tries to push that feeling aside, though, knowing that Nate means quite a bit to Nora.

Danse - Is somewhat unhappy with the fact that Nate had given up searching for Shaun. Danse is a firm believer in not quitting, but on the other hand, he also can see why one would stop when the search was fruitless. It is a waste of resources. However, when one is a single person in the wasteland looking for one's son, he does not exactly understand why someone would stop. Danse himself did not stop looking when he lost someone he cared about to the harshness of the world around them.

Preston - Is extremely surprised to find that Nora's husband is still alive, and he is not upset with the fact that Nate gave up the search. He's only an old man now, and Preston would have been more upset if he would have given up out of a lack of hope for Shaun. As it is, he just hopes that the man will keep living for a while longer so he can maybe somehow see his son before he passes.

Valentine - Is mostly just sad for Nora in some ways despite his surprise at Nate still being alive. He remembered meeting him many years ago, but after their brief search turned up with absolutely nothing and no leads, Nate had just disappeared, presumably to further the search. He just hates for Nora to have to see the man that she is in love with in this terrible state. Especially since her son does not look much better. He cannot help but think of how terribly painful it must be for her to see in such clarity that she is going to almost certainly outlive her family.

X6-88 - Is mildly surprised since he believed that Nora was the only surviving relative of Father. Father had assumed that his dad had passed away due to the hardships of the wasteland. X6-88 is not overly impressed with Father's dad, especially since he apparently lacks the tenacity that Nora possesses. Ultimately, he does not say much but remains polite, deciding to report to Father about this later.

Dogmeat - Does not know him, but he understands that his human seems extremely fond of him. He can smell the love and the emotions pouring off of her. Therefore, Dogmeat decides that Nate must be another one of those people that he needs to protect because they mean something to his human. And protect, he shall. Plus, the man gives really good ear scratches, so he has definitely earned points with Dogmeat.

Strong - Does not care in the least about this entire thing. If Nate doesn't have or lead them to the milk of human kindness, he truthfully has no interest. He just wishes that his tiny human would hurry up and leave so they can keep searching. Plus, he's hungry. Maybe he could just eat Nate...

[lonely-lost-soul]

Dawn of a New Day

(f!Leo x reader)

Next Part >>

Chapter I: The Dawn Arises

Everyone describes dying as one of two things a sense of tranquil peace or seeing a brilliant light at the end of the tunnel. As a teenager, Leonardo thought he was immortal. Life was simply a game to him where he was the protagonist and everyone else was inconsequential in comparison. He was the hero archetype, nothing bad could ever happen to him, he and his family had plot armor so they’d always be okay.

Then the apocalypse started throwing his entire life and worldview into a spiral. 

But there was hope, a little fraction of light in the desolate world where death was unavoidable. There was a babe, a baby that was thrust into his arms to cherish and to care for. He remembers the day vividly, Cassandra had pushed the boy so hard into his hands that it caused the mutant to stumble backward. He barely heard the ‘take care of him for me Leon’ before she rushed into the building to save the innocents inside…Cass didn’t make it back that night and neither did those she had attempted to rescue. Leo had glanced down at the young boy in his arms, he was so small in comparison to his looming frame. So fragile, and when he stared into the baby’s eyes he saw himself truly for the first time in years and he let out a trembling breath. The baby smiled reaching up and pressing little hands against the yellow markings on his chin, unafraid and trusting of someone who didn’t deserve it.  

Casey Junior was his purpose. 

Then the Krang came for them, his dad and his brothers died and everything was all Leo’s fault. If he didn’t try to play the hero all those years ago none of them would be in this position, his brothers would be alive and Casey would be heading off to college by now. 

Seeing his last and youngest brother die in the last-ditch effort to save humanity didn’t hurt as much as it should’ve. Leo knew it was coming, Mikey knew it was coming and both agreed that losing Raphael and Donatello seared a scar into their hearts so deep nothing could repair them. Perhaps it was because he was still young then and still believed himself to be a hero that could fix everything he caused so losing them broke him beyond repair. But now with Michelangelo’s sacrifice a new hero could emerge from the ashes and fix everything he couldn’t.

Casey. 

“Find the key. Stop the Krang,” Those were the last words he spoke to his son before shoving him through the portal. 

He heard the Krang before he saw them, there was a blinding light then he felt nothing. He was stuck in a black void where Leo floated feeling nothing but numbness, his eyes adjusted as little orange lights illuminated the space around him. The heavy metal that plagued his arm was gone leaving nothing but the stump behind, Leo breathed a sigh of relief, the burden of his dead brother lifting off his shoulders. He reached out with his one good hand letting the ball of light gently flutter against his skin, it was beautiful. Leonardo felt cold air brush against the skin on his face, looking up he was greeted by an orange portal, similar to the one his youngest brother had made just moments before for Casey. 

“Mikey…?” 

The lights tickled his cheeks all in one go and Leo let out a broken sob, the lights then disappeared before forming underneath his back urging him through the portal. Inside he could make out the streets of New York, prosperous and bustling, so unlike the scattered landscape, he left behind. 

“No, no, just let me go with you.” His voice broke pleading with the spirit of his brother, “I just want to be with you all. Raph, Mike, Donnie. Please I’m so tired.” Leo’s eyes squeezed closed as the spirits moved him forward, so close that he could smell the air of the familiar city he once called home. One orange light brushed against his cheek softly before shoving him rather unceremoniously into the portal, Leo made a sound of distress looking over his shoulder only to see the outlines of his entire family. Purple, Red, and Orange all smiling tenderly at his retreating figure and Leo wanted to cry. He watched as a smile appeared on his twin brother’s face Donatello spun his bō staff once before flipping Leo off in a way that said, ‘see you soon.’ Leo found himself wetly laughing as they disappeared left to tumble into a forgotten alleyway in the middle of New York. He groaned as his sensitive shell hit the pavement the blinding light of the yellow sun stung his eyes, and clear air filled his dust-covered lungs for the first time in years. He sat up slowly clutching the spot his arm once was, desperately trying to remember the streets of New York, something he used to know like the back of his hand. He had to relearn everything, relearn where the lair was, relearn non-apocalyptic customs, and relearn how to function with only one arm. As Leonardo’s senses began to fully return to him he was able to pick up on the sound of footsteps rushing to the ally, they were light, most likely female his hand twitched at his side stopping his instincts screaming to grab hold of his katana. 

She was young, younger than him by a few years at least, late twenties if that. Soft, healthy features, and a nice red in the apples of her cheeks. It startled him for he was mostly used to seeing the effects of starvation on the bodies of humans he’d come across. 

God he hoped Casey was eating well. Shit, he needed to find Casey. Fuck he needed to know the year?!

“Is he alright?” He blinked looking down, only to see a young Yokai clutching tightly to her legs. He had horns peaking out of the top of his head. Messy red hair curled around his ears like a halo a little devil tail curling around the human's leg. His eyes were a blazing yellow, and Leonardo’s tongue felt heavy wondering if this frail-looking Yokai had made it in the apocalypse.  

“What year is it?”

The woman spoke up, “2023.” 

Leo’s entire body froze, three years after the apocalypse should’ve started. Casey did it, fuck he stopped The Krang. He felt the familiar sting of the beginning of tears in his eyes, Leo choked leaning back and seeing the woman appear in front of his vision up close and personal. Her brow was furrowed worry lines seeping into her youthful skin, “Are you alright?” The tenderness of her voice threw him for a loop he wasn’t prepared for. He swallowed, 

“Fine.” He cleared his throat, trying to get the raw feeling out of his throat. “I’m fine darling don’t worry about me,” He gave a lazy grin trying to mask any weariness he was feeling but it seemed the woman wasn’t buying it. He heard her mutter something under her breath that he couldn’t quite catch, which caused Leo’s defenses to rise. He watched her every movement as her eyes took in his form, especially staring at his missing arm, Leo felt like she was analyzing him and he didn’t love the feeling. 

“Do you have a place to go?” She asked suddenly brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, Leo automatically wanted to say yes, that his brothers were waiting for him, but until he could remember where exactly the lair was located he was stuck. He pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth shaking his head slightly, “Alright then.” A small smile spread across her lips, Leo couldn’t afford to think it was cute but the thought entered unwillingly. “Alastor go tell Nana to make up another room,” 

Alastor, the demon Yokai, nodded turning from the ally to run back into the tall building to his left. She moved to help Leo onto his feet and he reluctantly leaned against her, “Can I ask your name?” He gave a sly grin. 

“(Y/n),” She introduced, as Leo tested the name on his lips.

“You seem very calm for someone seeing a mutant turtle that’s over six feet tall,” Leo commented, he hoped the underlying suspicion in his voice wasn’t obvious. 

“If you can’t already tell I kind of work with Yokai.” She snorted, “Plus turtles saved the city a little over a few years ago. Nothing is that shocking to me anymore.”

“You know them? The turtles?” 

“I feel like I should be asking you that.” She shot back with a grin, he felt his cheeks heat up as he cleared his throat. 

“I know ‘em a little bit…” Leo grumbled as she opened the front door for him, “Woah…” He breathed standing in the parlor of the complex. The inside reminded him only slightly of Big Mama’s hotel but it felt much more homely. Alastor ran back up to you and wrapped his arms around your legs, 

“Nana said she’ll be right down, she’s fixing up the room.” 

“Thanks, kid,” Leo answered with a nod of his head, the young boy's eyes lit up excitedly at the praise. 

“You’re welcome!” He chirped happily before turning his attention back to you, “Can we continue to play now?” 

“I gotta help Leo settle in with Nana.” she explained settling down on her knees with a smile, “why don’t you see if the other kids wanna play?” He huffed but nodded before once more scampering off. 

“So, what should I expect with this ‘Nana’ lady?” 

“She’s a Rabbit Yokai,” She hummed softly “And the owner of these apartments. She’ll explain more when you meet her,” (Y/n) looked at him with a twinkle in her eyes 

“You talking ‘bout me sugar?” Leo’s eyes widened in surprise seeing the older yokai in front of him, “I’m assuming you’re the turtle Al was talking ‘bout?” 

“Yes ma’am.” Leo nodded standing a little straighter and bowing in her direction, “Leonardo.” 

“Oh enough about that,” She waved her hand dismissively her chubby cheeks stretching her smile out wider. Nana reached out and took his hand within her paws squeezing it slightly, her brown fur tickled his skin but the warmth of a parental-like touch made him wilt. “I’m Nana, you can stay here as long as you need. Come let's talk over tea, do you like tea?” Leo nodded he worriedly looked over his shoulder at you and she laughed. “(Y/n) will be there when you get back loverboy.” 

Leo sputtered shaking his head rapidly in response, his love life is long since dead. He had a few flings here and there before the apocalypse and even some during, against his better judgment. He wasn’t picky when it came to lovers he just doesn’t know if he could ever emotionally handle a serious relationship again. He still doesn’t feel safe even if the apocalypse was avoided in the universe, he just needed to talk to Casey. 

“I’m just teasing you.” Nana snickered a spring in her step as she motioned for Leonardo to sit down on a plush, pink chair in front of the table.

“What is this place?” He asked softly, watching carefully as Nana poured tea letting the leaves seep into the cup. 

“A home for wayward Yokai.” Nana spoke carefully stirring her tea with a spoon slowly, “Mostly kids and single parents but anyone who needs a home is welcome here.” She hummed as Leo furrowed his brows, “since the Krang invasion-” Leo stilled eyes wide pupils shrinking slightly, if Nana noticed she didn’t comment, “Yokai and mutants alike have been integrated more into New York life.” She explained looking over at him with a knowing look, Leo eyed back sipping his tea slowly. “However not everyone is as accepting as (Y/n).” She let out a soft sigh, cheeks puffing out in frustration, “Many of us haven’t been accepted into society for one reason or another. Humans are…frustrating creatures, (Y/n) likes to give them the benefit of the doubt but I’m not so sure.” Nana spoke, “Having a human working here is a blessing and a curse in many aspects. The positive is it allows some Yokai who have been burned badly to realize that not every human is going to treat them unkindly. The kids are quick to trust and love her to death but the negative is there are some who are jaded beyond repair and tend to make her life here miserable. She puts a lot on herself like she’s blaming all of humanity's faults on her, putting it all on her own shoulders.” Nana rubbed her chin watching as Leo tilted his head to the side. Leo’s heart ached in a similar familiarity, it seemed he wasn’t the only one who felt like they carried the weight of the world on their shoulders. “Yet she stays, she wants to make a difference so I can’t fault her for that, are you done?” Leo paused looking down at his empty tea cup leaves stained the sides and he could finally see the little symbols in the bottom of the cup. 

“You gonna give me a reading Nana?” He mused a charming smile appearing on his lips, she gave a little laugh,

“If you let me Leonardo Hamato.” He froze at the name almost dropping the cup in his hand, his jaw set suddenly, the air growing tense, “Come on now how stupid to you make this old lady.” She laughed with her entire chest, her ears bouncing as she did so. “I’d recognize that bandana anywhere. Your younger self sometimes visits with one of your brothers, I was a psychic in the Hidden City. Had my own business with my babies, humans don’t take too kindly to learning new knowledge or magic.” 

“My brothers volunteer here? Which- it’s Mikey isn’t it.” He laughed wetly rubbing the top of his head, 

“Makes the best lasagna in New York. Kids love him, and you, especially Alastor. I’m surprised he didn’t recognize you, then again you’ve grown fast.” 

“I’m also verging forty.” He snorted, “and I look it.” 

“Hardly we don’t age the same as humans.” Nana mused, “how old do you think I am?” 

“I feel like this is a trap, Nana.” 

“Sly dog you catch on fast.” 

“What can I say? I’m known for my quick wit and my mouth.”

“Careful Leo there are kids around.” 

He flustered, his entire face turning red, “That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Nana laughed softly reaching across the table to take the teacup from his hand. “If it’s bad I don’t wanna know FYI, I’ve had too much of that to last a lifetime.” 

“Believe me I know.” She spoke without looking at him, her paws moving the cup around slowly with a hum. Her eyes lit up mischievously, and he raised a brow bone, 

“Ough boy…” 

“The tea cup reveals good fortune for you Leonardo. I see a lover, I see the letter- perhaps their name begins with it the love is new but not fleeting– it’s not far distant but perhaps more present than you’re prepared for. But there seem to be difficulties closing in upon you in the near future.” She frowned a little and Leo grumbled under his breath, “I see a rather large owl. An omen that something is coming on the horizon, a conflict between others or a conflict within yourself I can’t pinpoint. It’s clear you’ve come from a place where kindness and love were fleeting, a luxury you can’t afford. I see a star and a moon colliding, you will find someone who you can hold onto. You will find a family.” His throat felt tight before he cleared it, 

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to play it by ear huh Nana?” 

“Guess we will.” She stood up walking to her small kitchenette, she opened a drawer and grabbed a small bronze key. She placed it in Leo’s hands closing his fingers around it, “You have a home here. Always.” He looked down at the old key and froze, the tag on the key was engraved with his name on it in golden font. “The stars never lie, not to this old bunny.” 

“Thanks, Nana I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“If you need anything at all contact me or (Y/n). Our numbers will be given with your move-in packet. It’s in your room, should still be clean.” 

“Thank you…for everything.” He squeezed his key tight letting out a shaky breath before swallowing thickly. “Can I have one question?” 

“Of course.” Nana hummed, “you can have as many as you like.” 

“Does (Y/n) know?” 

“I haven’t told her. But she knows Leo, he’s close with her, it’s not going to take a genius to figure out you’re the same person.” Nana pointed out, “You aged like fine wine.” 

“Nana please.” He said an exasperated flush on his face, 

“You did!” She chirped pressing her fuzzy paws into his face, “let me get (Y/n) to walk you to your room would that be alright?” 

“That’d be fine-” 

“Just remember if you’re gonna date her you gotta ask my permission first.” 

“Nana.” Leo yelped, “I’m not in the position-” 

“Goodness are you always this easy to fluster? Guess I’ve never tried with the younger you.” She mused with a sly wink, and Leo just wanted to shrivel up and die on the spot. When did he get to the point in his life where an older woman would deem it okay to flirt with him? Ah. Right. 

When he aged into his late thirties unknowingly during the apocalypse, that’s when. 

Nana walked past Leo opening the door, “(Y/n)!” She shouted, “Show Leo to his room yes?” 

“Yes, Nana!” She responded back quickly climbing up the steps, Leo frowned noticing a mark on her shoulders that wasn’t there when he met her earlier. “Follow me you’re on the same floor as I am. Roomies,” she chirped motioning for him to follow.

“You alright?” He asked grabbing onto her wrist with his hand, “Someone hurt you?”

“Huh? Oh?” He watched the woman fluster under his gaze, using her free hand to cover the mark against her skin. “Got into trouble with a fire Yokai no worries it’s all worked out,” He didn’t love the way you brushed off his concern so swiftly. 

“Need me to kill ‘em for you?” 

“What?” You let out a breathless laugh, eyes lighting up in mischievous delight, “If anyone’s gonna kill the guy it’s gonna be me you hear? He’ll get what’s coming to him don’t you worry.” You winked and a chill went down Leo’s spine his heart fluttering uncomfortably in his chest, “Come on it’s just this way.” You slipped out of his grip and continued down the corridor with a hum. He couldn’t help but eye the way your hips moved when you walked, and the way your ass curved tantalizingly in your tight jeans.

Shit, he should not be looking at her like that…but what she doesn’t know won’t kill her. 

“Isso não vai acabar bem…” He mumbled into the sky saying a silent prayer to a god he didn’t believe in before continuing to follow your pace. “So…” He trailed off slowly, “What’re you living here for? You don’t have a family looking for you?” 

“Nana’s my family.” You smiled up at him, and he realized how big he actually was in comparison to you. He basically towered over you, he was probably a little bigger than Raph was currently for comparison. “Plus, family isn’t just by blood. It’s who you chose to let into it,” He noticed you fiddle with a golden locket on your neck, “Like you n’ your brothers. It is you isn’t it Leonardo?” 

“Ah…you caught me.” 

“Weren’t exactly subtle.” You mused arms crossing over your chest, it took everything in his power not to stare at the way you unconsciously squeezed your chest together. God he hasn’t felt a pair in ages- ah you were still talking- shit pay attention Leonardo, “but something tells me you’re not the Leo I know. Am I right?” 

“No…” 

The words ‘I’m the one who failed’ was on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed them, now wasn’t the time to voice that thought. 

Turn it off. Bury it down. Don’t think. 

“No, I’ve fought and killed my way to be here. Lost so many things, not just the arm.” He mused motioning to the missing appendage, “Still can perform well without it trust me.” You raised an amused eyebrow as he flushed red, “Porro- not what I meant-” 

“I know ‘Nardo.” You laughed, “God you’re such an old man.” He wilted a little at that giving you a dirty look, “Oh come on you are.” You nudged him lightly, “The older you are the more experience you have.” 

“Now who’s the dirty-minded one.” 

He took way too much pleasure in watching you turn red up to the tips of your ears. “Not funny!” 

“It definitely is querida.” He shot back ruffling your hair, remaining mindful of the key that was still in his hand. If you knew what querida meant you didn’t mention it instead opting to shoo his hand away and fix the mess he made of your hair. 

“Open the door dork, Nana’s been preparing for you for a while.” Leo blinked turning the key over a few times in his hand before sliding it into the lock. He turned it, a satisfying click echoed through the highway, and he opened the door. Inside was a king-sized bed with fuzzy cobalt sheets and about five pillows on the bed. Plus a small plush bee sat on one of the pillows in the middle he heard you let out a distressed sound from beside him. He raised a brow bone turning to face you and you were even redder than before, it was the cutest thing Leo has ever seen. “Fuck, ass, shit-” You sputtered hands flapping in front of yourself, not in the happy stimming Donnie way, but in a frantic Mikey way. “I told Nana you didn’t need a stuffed toy, god it’s so dumb, it’s for the kids usually to make things cozier.” He watched you fumble heart melting at your concern, “It’s a special one I was saving for this room- god this is so embarrassing!” 

“Nah. Not embarrassing,” Leo reassured hanging the key up on the hook by the door. He placed his hand on your shoulder giving it a squeeze, “I love it you picked the bee out?” 

“I did yeah…” She spoke quietly, shyly, 

“Love it. It’s perfect, reminds me of how Raphael always slept with his toys from TBT.” He snickered beelining (hah good one Leo) to the bed to pick up the plush. It looked hand crocheted, it was light blue with dark blue strips and little purple wings. “Hm…this looks handmade-” 

“Fine, I made it!” You squeaked in admittance, “For this room specifically Nana always said it was special. It’s the ugliest thing ever please just toss it!” 

“Oh absolutely not. I’m gonna keep this forever now I know the truth. I’m naming him LJ, Leo junior.” He cooed wiggling it in front of your face as you covered your red cheeks shyly, Leo’s heart fluttered in delight. 

“You won’t ever let me live this down will you?” 

“Absolutely not.” He nodded in agreement, a sly grin appearing on his face, “What else is in here that you made for little old me huh?” 

“Nothing just the bee,” She murmured softly walking to once more stand beside him, “Nana made sure you had your own bathroom and kitchenette if you needed it. We provide food for the young ones, but we found the adults usually like to make their own food.” Leo wasn’t about to tell you he can’t cook for shit without Mikey even at his age so he just nodded in response. “There are laundry units in the basement so you can wash your clothes and towels down there, we provided you with some clothes until you can get settled.” You began to list other amenities off with your fingers, Leo couldn’t help but zone out. Exhaustion hit him like a truck and it seemed you could read his body language well, probably tells from past him. “I’ll let you rest, you’ve had a long day.” 

“I’ve had a long life kid.” 

“I’m twenty-eight, hardly a kid.” You teased a light smile on your face, 

Good GOD. He was going to hell.

“There are pajamas in the bottom drawer for you. If you need anything else let me know alright? Do you have a phone?” 

“Er no…” 

“We’ll make sure you get one, for now, here.” She handed him a small green button and held up her hand. On it was a silver bracelet with a dim green crystal in the center, Leo could sense the mystic energy intertwined within the gem. “If you press that it’ll alert me that you need something, and I’ll come running.” He nodded sleepily placing a hand on the top of your head, 

“I will. Thank you, I haven’t slept in a bed like this in years.” He said more to himself than to you as he threw himself down on the bed, snuggling into the sheets. A rough, broken sound unwillingly spilled from his mouth he was too tired to process that the sound he made was his new version of a chur. A sound that he hasn’t made in years, one of warmth, safety, and comfort.

“You’re welcome. Sleep well, Leonardo.” He barely heard your well wishes as you flicked the light off and shut the door allowing the man to sleep comfortably for the first time in years.

[bullet-prooflove]

Choices!Series Part 4: Slaughterhouse Rules - Nestor Octeva x Reader

Warnings: Brief mention of rape

Tagging: @annetje @anime-weeb-4-life @drabbles-mc @alwaysachorusgirl @witches-unruly-heart @annetje @mysoulisasunflower @the-wandering-lunatic @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @est1887

Part One: First Date (NSFW) - Nester and you have an unusual first date.

Part Two: Familia - (Feat: Marcus Alvarez) - Marcus discovers your relationship.

Part Three: Fair Trade - Miguel makes a proposal.

It’s Nestor that binds your wrists.

The man you love and the man who is now going to deliver you to the slaughter, that’s how he sees it.

He stands in front of you with a thick, black zip tie in his hands. He’s done this a thousand times before and it’s never been as hard as it is right now. You’re docile, gaze lowered. You haven’t said a word since the conversation with Marcus. You are uncharacteristically compliant. He steps forward reaching for your wrist, but you shake your head.  He stops immediately, thinking you’ve changed your mind but instead you turn around putting your wrists behind your back, one resting on top of the other.

“It’s more believable this way.”

Your voice is little more than a rasp and it feels like someone is driving a knife in between his ribs. At least with the front you have a fighting chance, but this will leave you completely at your captor’s mercy.

“She’s right.” Miguel says as he descends down the stairs, his fingertips are plucking at his shirt sleeves, making sure they fall just so underneath his suit jacket. “It has to be believable.”

Nestor almost can’t bring himself to do it. He stares at the zip tie in his hands and he thinks that he’s signing your death sentence, that this is the choice that Marcus was talking about the day he confronted Nestor about your relationship. He meets the other man’s eyes over your shoulder, and Marcus inclines his head just slightly. He knows what you mean to the Alvarez family, he trusts that Marcus knows what he’s doing, that you do.

He loops the zip tie around your wrists, his thumb traces over the small tattoo of a rose and he hopes it brings you some comfort before he cinches them together tightly. He steps back and adopts his usual stance, hands clasped together in front of him.

Miguel checks his watch before jerking his head towards the door.

“It’s time.”

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

The exchange takes a place inside a disused slaughterhouse, the stench of blood and fear still clings to the walls, along with the staining. In a way it almost seems fitting.

Christopher Howard stands before you, in black combats and a black t-shirt that clings to his chest. His eyes are a piercing shade of blue and it feels like he’s flaying you alive when he looks at you. He’d be handsome if it weren’t for the lack of soul, you remembered thinking that even back then, when the Major introduced him in a bar back in Kandahar. Private military contractors in Afghanistan were bad news, they did the jobs that no one in their right mind would consider humane.

Nestor’s grip on your arm tightens just a fraction, enough to bring you back to the present, to remind you he’s there. His presence is reassuring amongst the rest of Miguel’s men. You sense his unwillingness to let you go so it’s you that takes the final steps forward.

The only way through hell is to keep moving, you remind yourself.

Christopher comes for you himself; his eyes never waver from your face as he strides to the halfway point and thrusts a manilla envelop into Nestor’s hands. His fingers twitch and you know this man’s desires go far beyond killing you. You wonder if he read the autopsy reports, if he knew each individual slice as intricately as you did.

“Did they ever find your brother’s dick?” You ask him.

You don’t see the blow coming but you expect it. It’s open handed, instead of a closed fist, smashing into your face with a crack so audible it practically vibrates through the room. The force of it staggers you, almost knocking you off your feet. That sudden eruption of pain is clarifying, it awakens something inside of you, that violent savage side, the part of you that wants to fight. Christopher’s hand threads through your hair, gripping it at the roots as he pulls you upright. There’s blood on your lips, you can taste the copper on your tongue before you spit in his face.

He doesn’t flinch, he uses the pads of his fingers to wipe it from his cheek before his hand comes to rest on your throat. It’s visceral, a sense memory from another time. The present and the past, they blur together. It’s that cloying scent in your nostrils, the gasp as the air is forced out of your lungs, the black spots that dance across your vision, the feel of his body pressed against yours.

“That’s it…” he says as he dips his head low, capturing your gaze. “That’s what makes you so beautiful, it’s the fear in your eyes, it brings out something in you. I wonder if this was what my brother saw he was fucking you. I wonder how it will feel when I fuck you.”

You didn’t hear the gunshot, not over the rush of blood in your ears. Red hot liquid spatters across your face and suddenly you could breathe again. It tears from you like a choked sob, one filled with terror and anguish. You can smell the cordite in the air, hear the click of a knife behind you, feel careful hands releasing you from your restraints. Marcus’s voice was piercing the veil, his face in front of you as his hands come to rest upon your shoulders and beyond him Nestor, his gun still smoking before he returns it to his holster.

Love Nestor? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

Okay prediction time.

Next issue (part four) Barry figures out a way to jam the speedforce frequency/makes a kill switch/makes a mcguffin device that'll turn the tides. Don passes the fuck out and doesn't reveal anything. Wally makes a plan of attack. The Fraction starts freaking the fuck out because they just lost their only energy source. They have a time limit now and need to capture another speedster. The entire family minus Irey and Don go out to fight the Fraction. The plan starts off really well and they are kicking ass but then it very quickly goes terribly wrong and everyone is captured.

Part five! It's all up to Irey! She's terrified but Don wakes up long enough to give her a pep talk! Irey is inspired by Don and she gets a new suit and a new name. Don potentially lets on to who he really is but Irey is a tiny child with no Flash lore so she doesn't pick up on it. Irey takes Jai with her and uses him as a (meta) human weapon of mass destruction. Irey (and a frozen Jai) pull through and save the day..... but they both get captured in the end. The Fraction realizes they can't fight against Barry's tech and cuts their losses. The Fraction uses Irey and Jai as a battery and retreat off to space with a ton of metahumans.

Part six! Wally and Linda are fucking devastated that Irey and Jai have been kidnapped! Don has recovered and reveals who he is! Don reveals that his sister is alive and is on the Fraction's homeworld! Don gives them enough intel to make a plan. Barry, revitalized by this information and desperate to keep the last living part(s) of Iris alive, forms a plan! They all get aboard Mr. Terrific's spaceship and head off to fight the Fraction on their home terf. (They use themselves as batteries. A shit ton of speedsters makes for a fast ship)

Part seven! The Empress is getting married to the General. The speedsters enact their plan! They use the chaos of the royal wedding to their advantage. Dawn is in the throne. Don saves his sister and does some badass tornado moves. Iris is revealed to be the Empress. Wally and Linda get their kids back. Bart and Ace start stealing speed harnesses and putting them on the captured metahumans for backup. Jay, Max and Jesse start a rebellion amongst the people. Barry gets his ass kicked by the General but Iris breaks free from the mind control and saves Barry's life. The planet is freed. All the speedsters that were stolen and used as batteries are released. The planet is now Flash planet.

The End!

[woodsfae]

Babylon 5 s03e11 Ceremonies of Light and Fire table of contents - previous episode

It opens with a neat shot of Ivanova’s face in a porthole, backs away to show how tiny it is against a fraction of the ship, then back in. Love little things like that when they’re sprinkled in. Also, really smooth use of CGI there.

Garibldi’s arm is broken and, to my surprise, Ivanova rubs his back supportively when he talks about not wanting to be in a cast!

Delenn and Lennier are working hard.

“Lennier, you still haven’t told me what you think of all this.” “Opinion doesn’t enter into it. What is, is. Prophecy said one day we would unite with the other half of our soul in a war with the ancient enemy. It is what we have done.”

It’s amusing to see a mystic that’s so pragmatic. But Lennier hold multitudes. He’s a complicated, serene little guy. I just wanna. Squish him. In a nice way.

Not sure who was almost just attacked. Marcus? Probably Marcus. He’s from the Mars colony and is happy they seceded from Earthgov.

Sheridan is back in a dress uniform for the funeral of the crew who died defending B5 last episode. It’s surprisingly few, and only seems to have human names. I do hope we get a recounting of the Narns who died as well.

Does Londo holographically record all his meetings? Amazing. Love the tiny hologram to shame Lord Refa from Londo, who should be feeling a lot more shame than he is. So funny - legitimately funny seeing Londo try to shame Lord Refa into doing the right thing. When did shame ever work on Londo? Oh, never mind. He’s backing up the shame with poison. That’s a much better insurance policy.

Londo seems to be feeling emboldened by his meeting with Lady Morella, third wife of the late Emperor, and seer of renown. Since he made a series of Less Idiotic Decisions and Delenn wants to invite him to the healing ceremony it looks like we might be at the beginning of Londo’s redemption arc!

Ahhh, the would-be-murderers are Nightwatch who went undetected, and one of them is a total murderous psychopath who “once took seven days to kill a Minbari,” and from the sound of it, enjoyed slowly dismembering a living person and would love to do it to Delenn! Fucking creepy! I don’t like that! To the Nightwatch person who said the Minbari are weird about their leaders and might take it personal if they kill Delenn…yeah. Maybe reconsider your life choices.

This dive bar people have been ending up since season one is, I have just realized, one of the places where B5 is actually high fantasy. People slink around in dark hooded cloaks, in leather bondage gear, with strange costumes and bandoliers slung around themselves…it’s the fucking tavern everyone starts their quest in when they play DnD.

The station’s base setting is as a snarky, New Jersey-accented AI? That’s actually quite fun.

Londo, don’t dish out the snark if you can’t take it. And also, be more grateful that after you expressed that you missed Delenn a few episodes ago, that she invited you to something!

Something about Londo brings out my urge to lecture directly to the character. Probably because he could use a good talking-to.

Tragic Marcus backstory! It seems he didn’t grow up on Mars colony, since it was destroyed, or perhaps it was a single dome? He doesn’t want to do the ceremony, since it requires giving something up, and he’s lost his friends, family, and home. Delenn says, wisely, that he must give up his grip on the past, and how he uses it to hurt himself.

I knew there was depth behind those devil-may-care green eyes. He’s so rogue-coded.

The Nightwatch successfully kidnapped Delenn! And Mr “I like to cut people up while they’re alive” does not like being told that she’s faced worse than him. He wants to be the worst thing anyone’s ever faced.

Wow, Delenn really got to him! Her psychological warfare game is on point.

The aftermath of this barfight isn’t doing anything to convince me that Marcus isn’t rogue-coded.

Lennier: “I see they trained you well back home.” Marcus: “I’m not repressed anymore.”

B5 is a comedy, actually. That's the real quote. And then Lennier goes, basically…. “Me neither. I love Delenn!!” Me too, guy.

He’s her knight! In a scholarly way! He’s a chivalric ideal. Very sweet. Very high fantasy of him to confess his love of a Lady to a rogue in a tavern. Me too, guy.

The senior staff: we need more info Marcus: I got u. Level 14. Senior staff: how do u know that Marcus, hiding his bloody knuckles: a kind stranger told me

Are they having a shootout in the fusion reactor core? Fucking ballsy, as is Captain Lennan successfully throwing down with his hands tied behind his back. And Delenn jumping in front of a knife for John??? Wow, I got 20 credits on John not killing him. Ope, I win.

“I can no longer imagine my world without you in it. I don’t know exactly when or how it happened, but I’m glad it did.”

OK, so I was having feelings about everyone bringing their uniforms and confessions to Delenn…and I was tearing up over Susan’s “I think I loved Talia,” and when Dr Franklin came in, Partner said, “I’m addicted to speed,” and then Franklin said “I think I have a problem,” and that shook me right out of my sadz with a guffaw. I miss Talia! Bring Talia back! I don't believe she's gone for good. I was promised. p r o m i s e d . a kiss.

Nifty new uniforms! For a moment I was almost correct with my joking prediction that they were going to run around in civvies till humanity is reunited.

If Londo and G'Kar had some to the ceremony, did Delenn have new kicks for them too?

Next!

[thedogsled]

Previous Occupant

Card Number: B089 Square Filled: U2 Alpine Word count: 564 Rating: G Main pairing: None Major tags: non-main character death (off screen), tfatws compliant, Indiana Summary: Bucky can’t find a place to settle down. 

He has to leave Brooklyn eventually. It’s too exhausting. Every street corner is a memory twisted through a muddied lens, and every one of them features Steve. Once he’s off Raynor’s books, he’s free. Well, free in so far as he still has to check in with Ross, whom he despises, but at least there’s no more “court appointed therapy”. Needless to say he still needs therapy, but that’s a whole other can of worms. Wasn’t like there were a lot of folks out there who understood a fraction of what he’d been through, and certainly not enough to be actively trying to help him to process it. He tries Vermont first, because it’s supposed to be green and beautiful, and Bucky thinks maybe what he needs is a complete 180 from the world he’s used to. He trades the concrete jungle for…slush. A lot of it. It’s pretty, but it’s wet. Maybe that’s just the season, but Bucky wants nothing to do with it. His next attempt is California, by contrast, but he lasts only two weeks. It’s depressing. Warmer, obviously, and he’s sure lovely in summer, but just like in New York, everyone seems to be in too much of a hurry pursuing what they wanted in life to have much care for anyone else.

He has family in Indiana. It’s what draws him back in the worst possible way, because Sam calls him with the bad news. His sister Rebecca has passed away. His sister, whose existence he’s been avoiding ever since he was freed from HYDRA; who had a life, kids, grew old - older than him - and he hadn’t ever gone back to Indiana to see her. How could he? They’d all thought he was dead, and then he’d come back with all this baggage. A cold blooded killer. He couldn’t do that to her, bring that on her community.

The funeral is beautiful. Bucky watches it through a scope, then visits her grave alone, sitting with her as he should have done while she was alive. It’s too late now. Everything always feels like he does it too damn late.

He can’t bring himself to leave. She’d made her home here, so why couldn’t he? There’s a Barnes stocking shelves at his local supermarket–couldn’t be much older than Bucky had been when he’d been conscripted; he has her eyes. There’s a Barnes at the library too, somewhere in her late fourties; she doesn’t look related, but the man in her wedding photograph is the spitting image of Bucky’s dad.

He feels at home here. He feels known here, even though he doesn’t tell anyone his name. And the little house that he buys comes with free company, the first since Wakanda, where he’d happily taken care of a small herd of goats to feel as though he was contributing to his own upkeep.

The little white cat is scrawny and underfed, and the empty bowl in the window sits next to an empty bag of kibble with a hole ripped into the bottom of it. There’s no tag, no name; the dear, sweet thing has been left here by the previous owner, abandoned. Left behind. Bucky knows how that feels.

The brand of cat food is “Alpine”, so that’s the name Bucky gives his new companion, and he promises - he swears - that he won’t ever leave the cat behind.

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

(1/6) Hello! I'm so glad to have found your tumblr! Somehow I missed it all this while lol. I just wanted to say thank you thank you thank you for all your fics, every single one. They all really mean a lot to me. You really are one of my favorite authors on the internet. I always know whatever fic you choose to write is going to somehow, inevitably, make me cry whatever the fandom.

I'm such a big fan of your writing! Expecially I love the tragedy of Gerry and Jon's relationship in nhthcth, the way Jack cares so very deeply for a son he doesn't even know is alive and feels he has horribly failed, and absolutely love the way you wrote Matt Murdock's view on the world in his one shot. Every one of your fics are so very very wonderful. I love your writing style (especially the one you chose to use for the Jack fic oh my goodness) and the way you incorporate things you know from your real life (specifically all the stuff about american law) to its fullest extent in your work. You have such a way with words, with conveying emotions, with

articulating your points. I love the way you write love, and the way you write tragedy. I love the way you write moral dilemmas and all the different ways different people see the world. I'm trying to avoid saying any more specifics (for this entire extremely long message (though you might have noticed I failed a tad bit earlier lol)) because otherwise I'd be here all day, but yeah. Man I love your writing. I'm very sorry for word vomiting all over your inbox lol. I just want to somehow tell you about even a fraction of how much your writing has impacted my life. I'm really thankful for everything you write. If you have any original fiction (or plans for any original fiction) please tell me I would love to know!! I would gladly spend all my money on it lol. Also, have to say, discovering that you go by Syn is about to revolutionize the thepolysyndetonaddictsupportgeoup fan club me and my friends have. Or at the very least cut our word count way down lol. Hope you're having a good day <3 Thank you again!!!

Hi! I just copied your other messages over into one big message.

Thank you for your message--it really means a lot to me that that you think so highly of my works.

I think I really love a kind of tragic love, and it leaks through in my works. You have Jon and Gerry, and you have Jack and Matt. And in all respects, they're loves that have sort of been dismissed. Jon and Gerry grew up as the thing that other people sacrificed. Everyone was willing to let them bear the cost of life and brutality. They're dismissed at every turn as trouble makers, as worthless, as liars, as murderers--but they're still preserving in love for each other. In the same way, Jack spends his life dismissed as another fuck up in the system, struggling to get anyone to just care about his little blind boy who's probably been dead for twenty years. And no one does. No one ever really looked for Matt. Except for Jack. The loves are tragic from their loss, but it's a kind of lonely loss. Like--someone dies young and tragically, and their family is on the news or on a crime documentary or whatever, and it's all about how this person lit up whatever room they were in. Candles on the sidewalk, the world grieves their loss. Gerry and Jon only really mattered to each other. The police treated the disappearance of Gerard Keay as a sort of "good riddance." Whereas Matt had the people close to him mourning him, but the rest of the world treated it like he was already dead. Wrote him off, didn't look, no grand police search for Matty Murdock. So you have this act of mourning that's sort of happening in the presence of people who don't even see the real value of the loss or love in the first place.

And it's interesting, because those were the loves that ended up defining the world. Jon and Gerry, whatever happened, had a love that changed the world while trapped in a web of manipulation. And the love between Jack and Matt ended up to be world-shaking itself--and it came from a poor deadbeat boxer of a dad, and a blind kid who should have been dead decades ago.

I dunno, the idea of this love that keeps its hooks in you even after its gone compels me. i write a lot of sad shit and i feel like it's usually sad because it once was happy.

Jack in toy rosaries and Matt in glaze defects have probably some of my favorite characters to write from so far. probably the only one who can really compete is peter in porcelain chips. like, both of their minds were so interesting? Jack's kind of felt like an impressionist painting to write. like--i dunno, he's blurry? everything's framed through the lens of emotions--mostly his regret and his love. he's also very old-school catholic. Like, i was raised hella catholic and you have these really old school catholics who are really traditional and literalist in their understanding of scripture and teachings. So you have Jack, who's got these really traditional ideas of forgiveness and the faith and the second coming, and it's washed through with someone whose life experiences have given him every single reason to distance himself from those teachings. So he's still got them at the base of how he thinks, but it's in direct conflict with what he feels spiritually, and it makes for this very messy, emotional, inexact portrayal of a psyche.

Matt, meanwhile, always felt more precise, if that makes sense. He's got all of these pillars and boundaries in his mind. like, you have buck v bell as a really formative experience for him, and you have this biblical idea of the sacrificial lamb, where he has always understood himself to be the one whose blood the world is willing to paint a door with, and it almost sets up these little checkpoints in his mind that he forces his own emotions to pass through. With Jack, he's this really messy stained glass window of guilt and love and everything's filtered through that tint. Matt's meanwhile constantly taking his own emotions and stopping them at these little borders of life experience and forcing them to a halt. It's almost an inverse of his father's approach.

And so you end up with someone who loves intensely, just like Jack, but it's something he's almost keeping in check from himself. you have all of these moments with Foggy, where Matt's wanting to give into his emotional instinct, and then--bam, it hits a checkpoint. and that's balanced with his constant daydreams of captain america, who acts as a sort of revelation to himself as to what Matt really wants in each stage of his life.

Like, you have him when he's little, and lonely, and afraid, and that little Matt always turns Captain America away, because he's trying to convince himself that he would turn Captain America away. He's trying to convince himself that he can protect himself from the government soldier here to use him. Because, at the end of the day, he's nine years old, and he's too afraid to tell his dad about what's happened to him, let alone anyone else. He's constantly battling this desire to be helped with his fear of being used, and he's trying to convince himself that he's going to be smarter, be clever enough, be able to see the trick ahead of time and defend himself.

And then, of course, Stick happens, and matt's internal desires change too. he had his captain america moment, and he failed it. in his mind, he let himself get tricked. it's his fault. So now he doesn't want to prove that he can protect himself--it's too tainted by failure. He wants to know that it was okay that he failed. so he creates a captain america that failed in the same way he did, who was hurt just like him, and maybe his mistake is a little bit less damning.

then, captain america is alive, and matt's older, and he's got karen and foggy but he's fucked up his life with all the secrets he kept. he doesn't really need someone to absolve him of stick anymore. he just needs someone to understand his fear, and about why he kept the secrets that he did. because he still doesn't have that. karen and foggy love him, but they still don't understand the fear he lived with all those years. he regrets hurting them, and the why doesn't change the fact that he did hurt them, but a part of him is still desperate for someone who knows what it means to be the carrie buck in buck v bell.

and then you finally get the captain america who just sits with matt on a stoop, who understands, because while matt has family now, while he isn't as lonely or afraid, and while he doesn't quite need anything from captain america the way he once did, a part of him can't quite let go of the fact that he's always wanted someone who understood. he's the one coming to captain america now, instead of the other way around--he doesn't want to be saved, so to speak. he doesn't need to be, and maybe captain america doesn't need to be either. he just wants someone who knows what it's like, and maybe captain america wants that too. and he's finally recovered enough from stick where he can make the overture instead of someone else, so he makes the approach to captain america's stoop instead of the other way around. and maybe both of them can be a little less alone.

i dunno, jack and matt are such fun characters to write. they're both so intensely emotional, but jack's very unbridled in his emotions, very messy, and you have matt who's constantly trying to keep himself in check and his emotions almost have to sneak through. i'm glad you liked them.

I'm a really really big law nerd and i feel like that leaks through like. a lot. not just with the fact that i keep insisting on writing about the supreme court, but also just because so much of law is about how you can get to two entirely different results based on how you frame an issue. and i think that sort of leaks into how i think about character's mindsets. everyone has values that they're weighing more heavily than other's, and it results in people coming to what they think is the obvious solution and what other people think is absolutely fucking insane. I could write an essay on how foggy's the platonic ideal of a lawyer's ethical system, and how matt's got two ethical systems at war within himself--a very catholic, lawyer-esque one, and a consequentialist one created by his life experiences that's directly at odds with his faith and profession. it makes for a lot of fun writing.

I do have original fiction! none of it is published, haven't made any attempts to get it published. Maybe one day. I'd love to be a writer, just got a ways to go first. thank you for your really kind message! i wish you the best!

also--the what

[angelofrainfrogs]

Break My Mind: Ch. 5

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: Gregory must be dreaming this time. No sooner had he come to accept this strange reality where everyone is alive and well, than he’s sent back through time and space to the weekend he got trapped in the Pizzaplex. He’s supposed to help his family get on track for a better future, yet… didn’t he already succeed in his own timeline? Confused but relieved, Gregory drops back into his new life in the mega mall. In fact, who should be waiting for him but Michael, clad in a security uniform and searching for his missing family! Only—the night guard seems a bit more withered than when Gregory last saw him. Not to mention that cold look in his silver eyes…

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

Gregory could feel himself coming to. Sorry muscles from the high-voltage shock might have killed a lesser boy, but the cursed Remnant in his veins would see to Gregory’s endless suffering. He couldn’t move; couldn’t even cry. This wasn’t any good…

Gregory could make sounds, though. Minute and pitiable whimpers of pain left his open mouth as the boy tried desperately to regain command over his limbs. By the time he could wiggle his toes, he was already in the raised security room overlooking Fazerblast. Once scribbled with Vanny’s frantic, insane ramblings, it was now notably sleek and cold. Adding to his inability to move were the straps tying Gregory’s wrists and ankles to a chair. The restraints were meant to hold animatronics at bay, so they were no match for a scrawny, tired kid.

“Oh? You awake now?” Michael’s voice sounded from Gregory’s left, impatient and mildly annoyed as usual. Moving in front of Gregory’s field of vision, he hopped up to sit on the security desk, legs swinging idly as he held what looked like a VR headset in his bandaged hands. “Took you long enough… I didn’t mean to keep the voltage that high, but I didn’t have much time to adjust it from stunning animatronics, so… my bad.”

The rotting zombie shrugged, as if this was a completely normal occurrence. A grin quirked up the side of his mouth that was still intact.

“Now we can get to the fun part, though!” He held up the headset, waving it back and forth like it was a toy he was trying to attract a cat’s attention with. “I’ll admit I’m excited try this out on someone as strong-willed as you, but I’ll give you one more chance now that you don’t have the others whispering in your ear: are you going to join me or not? You’ll do what I say regardless—it’ll just determine how much harder you want to make this whole thing for you.”

He tilted his head inquisitively, half-permanent grin revealing stark white teeth reflected in the neon lights. “So what’ll it be, Gregory?”

Based on Gregory’s aching head and rattled bones, he had an inkling that Michael wasn’t particularly sorry. The headset he swayed back and forth only served to send his nerves sky high. Although the shiny looking video game console may have been used for fun once, Gregory could only surmise that it served a dark purpose now.

And this ultimatum?

Gregory faced down the wrath of his foster family’s physical tortures. He’d wrestled an animatronic gator in the dark; survived a racecar crash and fallen one story down into the basement; nearly been ripped to shreds by almost every once-friendly animatronic in the Pizzaplex… He wasn’t a weak child anymore, and Gregory deluded himself into being able to resist whatever Michael planned for him.

“Go fuck yourself!” he shouted, rattling his restraints like a feral animal, hoping to jimmy something loose. “I don’t care what you do to me! Just leave everyone else alone!”

It mattered not what happened to him—it was the people in this timeline that depended on him, even if they didn’t even know it.  

“Spunky,” Michael remarked, his voice tinged with approval. “That’s exactly why I needed you… you know, if my brother had a fraction of the amount of spine you do, I think we would’ve gotten along so much better.”

His gaze was distant, thinking over all that was and all that could’ve been. After a moment he let out a little sigh and looked back to Gregory.

“Oh well—can’t change the past, after all.” He sounded far too excited now as he hopped off the desk, the cables of the headset dragging along the floor. “Now be a good boy and put this on; it’s just a little subliminal messaging to make you see how great it is to be on my side!”

Gregory wasn’t strong enough to fight off the remnants of the taser, the restraints, and the zombie hell-bent on brainwashing him. He still put up a damn fuss though, and it took Michael longer than he wanted to secure the headset and earpieces.

“We’ll see how you feel after twenty minutes, you little shit,” he hissed, turning to the computer hub. With a few clicks of a button, the monitor lit up so Michael could watch and assure his influential demo worked just as intended. Sitting down in a swivel chair, he crossed his hands over his lap and grinned.

No amount of head bobbing would work. Michael quickly caught the back of Gregory’s skull with the strap and snapped the heavy goggles over his eyes. He could try to close his eyes, but the sounds…

A deep and rumbling bass followed by incomprehensible noises—voices? Gregory couldn’t escape the subliminal audio piercing his psyche. Still, he put up a solid fight. For the first five minutes, Gregory wouldn’t stop trying to knock the headset loose. He filled the air with empty promises as he struggled.

“As soon as they get me out of here, you’re DEAD! I’m gonna kick your stupid zombie ass!” He still had hope that he wouldn’t succumb; that his friends were merely backed up and on route to his rescue.

Five minutes turned to twelve…

Gregory had stopped his reckless thrashing, having opened his eyes now to the screen ahead. Incomprehensible—the visions were off-putting and made him recoil uncomfortably. He began murmuring to himself, hoping to be saved still. Torrid and intrusive thoughts were bombarding his aching mind. By the time the program had shut off automatically, Gregory’s head was lolled to the side. He was overcome with a sense of exhaustion and impotent rage. It boiled beneath the surface—

But he couldn’t remember why he was so mad in the first place. The confusion only served to fuel this quiet anger. 

“Wow, time sure flies,” Michael remarked as the monitor went dark, giving the chair a little spin before hoisting himself out of it. With surprisingly deft fingers, he slipped off the goggles and earbuds. Gregory looked very out of it, blinking slowly as if unsure what was happening.

“Good sign, good sign…,” the psychotic zombie murmured, setting the equipment down. He then gently lifted up Gregory’s chin, snapping with his other hand to get the boy’s attention. “Hey there, Greg—and how are we doing? Still feeling rebellious, or are you willing to listen to your good friend Mike now?”

Gregory winced, irritable, but feeling as though that was irrational. The sound was messing with him a little and he batted his head at Mike’s hand.

“Quit it…,” he grumbled, looking around the room like he just woke from a midday nap. He blinked his dilated eyes, large silver spots finally landing on Mike.

“What’s up? What? Why are you in my face?” he said, having some attitude but otherwise not protesting Michael being close to him. “Is this what you do to people who just wake up? Jerk...”

“Aww, what a sweetheart,” Michael cooed ironically. “Seems not even your righteous attitude could resist a major adjustment.”

Stepping back, he lifted his Fazwatch and pressed a button, speaking low into the mic so the fresh brainwashing wouldn’t get messed up by the kid remembering his other friends were in danger. “Monty—report. How are the old bastards?”

“Down for the count!” the gator’s cheery voice came through. “Not gone, though—can’t seem to turn ‘em off even though they’re pretty wrecked… But they ain’t gonna come after you again anytime soon, boss.”

“Perfect,” Michael hummed, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Freddy, how about you?”

“I am still downstairs with Charlie,” the bear responded. “Her companion attempted to save her, but I locked her in the protective cylinder and disabled the interior emergency exit button, so she is no longer a threat.”

“I knew you were always the smart one; bring Charlie up and join the others. I want them to see how pointless all their stupid efforts have been.”

Instructions given, Mike clicked off the watch and moved to Gregory’s side again. He began undoing the restraints, watching the boy closely for signs he was faking the mind-control… but his wide, unfocused eyes said otherwise; he was well and truly under Michael’s subliminal spell. He put up no resistance as Mike lifted him into his arms, instinctively clinging around his neck to keep steady as the murderer walked back to the main atrium.

In another universe, this embrace would be one of familial comfort. Now though, with Michael’s hand gripping the back of Gregory’s shirt as a subtle threat not to try anything—though he didn’t think the kid would—it was something else entirely.

Gregory had a sour expression on his face. The instinct was something he couldn't fight, but he held tightly onto Mike, even cradling his head against the man's shoulder like he trusted him completely again. Gregory's skull was pounding, and Michael was talking far too loud for him to really even process the things he was saying. Something about people coming...

“Tell them to fuck off; I want to go back to El Chips,” Gregory muttered, becoming quite the brat in the span of twenty minutes. He held his bandaged arm to his chest, finding himself looking down at it.

How did he even break his wrist?

Gregory was having a hard time recalling. It all felt like a blur, hurting his brain the more he thought on it. They had some time together while the others gathered all the broken pieces of Gregory's friend's. All he kept coming back to was knowing he didn't want to see anyone.

“I know, I know—you’re a loner like me,” Michael soothed, relaxing his grip on the boy’s shirt the more he clung.

Like the little brother Michael always wanted…

He really did look so much like Evan—maybe Gregory could be a better version. One more suited to Michael’s tastes, who snipped at people just like his big bro when times got tough instead of finding a table to cry under.

“We’re just gonna say a quick hi and bye to a few folks, then we’ll get you a snack,” Michael continued as they stepped out of Fazerblast. He could see a group gathered near the main stage: the Glamrocks and what looked to be various pieces of rotten, golden fur and random bits of internal mechanisms scattered around the floor.

Gregory sighed acceptingly at this, huffing a lock of hair away from his eyes and rolling them dramatically. “O-kaaaay...”

Gregory trusted his bandaged hand into Michael's equally wrapped one as he was set down, surprisingly using the broken one to hold onto him with. It was a bit odd how the pain no longer bothered him—though may just be a clever part of his programming now. He walked with some energy now that he was up and moving, the fog clearing from his brain as he looked around.

“What's with all the garbage laying on the floor?” Gregory asked.

That wasn't even the most interesting part, either. The girl sobbing hysterically on stage, held up in a submissive hold by Freddy soon pulled his eye from the rotting parts scattered across the floor. Gregory watched, cocking his head before a little chuckle left his lips. As they approached, he whispered to Mike: “What a fucking baby. Isn't she, like, way too old to cry like that?”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Greg,” Michael said with a swell of demented endearment—oh yeah, he liked this kid even better now. He gazed up at the girl with a scathing look. “Charlie, shut the fuck up; your sobbing is annoying as hell.”

“Gregory…?” A faint, almost disembodied voice sounded from the other side of the room. Monty was quite literally sitting on the mangled chest of the golden Freddy animatronic, and he gave the bear a kick when he spoke.

“Can it,” the gator hissed, then gave a slight twitch. There was something in those old, ratty suits… something dead and festering that his messed-up computer brain couldn’t comprehend. However, thanks to Mike the Glamrocks' human safety protocol had been disabled long ago because of his own questionable appearance, so all they could do was try their best to ignore the weird bodies. At least with the guard here they had a welcome distraction.

“Oh god… Gregory, no…,” Henry moaned, barely able to see the kid from the half-slumped position of his head. With the way they were holding hands like best friends, it was clear that Mike had gotten to him. “God damn it Michael, why?!”

The zombified man gave a scathing laugh and answered simply: “Why the fuck not?”

William looked up from his spot on the stage, his bent neck crooked towards the pair. He was silent as Charlie tried to reign in her sobs at poor Gregory. Michael had ruined the one good thing they'd found in a while. It was clear that, at least for now, the Gregory they knew was dead and gone.

When he saw Monty kick at Henry, William tried to drag himself to his side in a futile attempt to help him, though was quickly pinned by Roxy's foot.

“Where do you think you're going, dust bunny?” she snarled, feeling whatever squishy mass on the inside deflate with her heavy paw.

Gregory waved to the animatronics, not minding their senseless need for violence now. He swung Michael's hand lightly, wrist cracking as he forced the fractured bone to keep move as he watched his friends’ torture without empathy, or any real emotion attached. The perfect little psychopath...

“You sick, fucking bastard... You can't just keep ruining people's lives because you're bored!” Charlie sobbed, trying to lift her legs now and kick out of the hold she was in when she saw that they were continuing to hurt her father and William. “YOU'RE A FUCKING COWARD, MIKE! You have your shitty little puppets doing all the work for you!”

Gregory yawned, leaning into Mike as he was quickly losing interest in whatever these clowns were yammering about. “Speaking of bored...”

“Puppets?! PFFT—” Michael burst into laughter, doubling over and clutching his stomach with his free arm. “Oh my god, Charlie, I forgot you were so funny! That's rich coming from you...”

“She's right, though,” Henry chimed in. He was all but a pile of squished faux fur and metal thanks to Monty anyway; might as well prod Mike's disturbed psyche for the hell of it. “You think you're so amazing, but you can't do anything without help.”

“Um, excuse me—” Michael's eyes narrowed as he whirled on the decrepit bear. “—who the hell do you think made Gregory so much more likeable? Me—by myself.” He huffed, glancing down at the boy in question. “Alright, I'm bored, too. We can head for El Chips in a sec, but first...”

He looked at all his captives with an inquisitive hum. Henry and William were as good as done for; there was no fun to be had for Gregory tearing them apart right now. Puppet was still trapped downstairs, though Michael wanted to work with the kid a bit more before exposing him to that slippery thing, anyway. So that left only one member of his former party to test the boy's metal on.

“Gregory,” Michael crooned, giving his hair a ruffle. “Look how mean Charlie's being to our dear Freddy—she's about to snap his legs with all that writhing!” His eyes flashed, dark and silver, eager to see just how far his power of suggestion could go. “So why don't you break hers first?”

Charlie went silent for a moment, eyes widened considerably as Gregory looked to be mulling it over.

“Gregory, no! What the fuck?! How could you even be considering that?!” she demanded to know through her tears.

Gregory put a hand on his chin, releasing his grip on Michael and watching as William spoke up in a painful rasp. “Don't... Hurt... Them...”

William had clearly failed at keeping Michael from doing just that, failing his own promise to Henry that he wouldn't mess up with Charlie again. Yet here he was, begging for their wellbeing in a pathetic position prone to the stage floor. Nothing seemed to get through to Gregory, because he had ignored them both in favor of looking to Mike.

“Well, I mean, I need like a hammer or a wrench or something. I don't think I could break them on my own,” he said in a practical manner, sending chills down William's spine as he heard such an utterance. Gregory's only concern was for his best friend not to see him as weak for requesting a weapon. He seemed to perk up a little and gasped. “Oh—if I had a monkey wrench that’d be perfect! 'Cause they have that hard knob on the end and everything!”

Gregory’s watch uttered a short beep, though this was drowned out by Michael’s own little gasp.

“Oh, you’re so right!” The guard pressed a hand over his heart, looking down at his newfound protégé with the closest thing to “affection” he’d been able to muster in decades. Not quite willing to leave Gregory alone with the others and their tricky words yet, Michael again held out a hand. “Come with me—I know I have a spare toolkit in the security office that’s got to have what we’re looking for.”

The boy took his palm without hesitation, but when Michael started pulling him along, the oddest thing happened. It seemed like Gregory was trying to follow, but his hand just sort of… slipped out of Michael’s grasp.

No, not slipped out of it���slipped through it.

The watch beeped again, more insistent this time. The tiny screen was blinking a bright, warning red, and a line of scrolling text ran across it in all caps.

WARNING: TIMELINE COMPROMISED… INITIATING EMERGENCY RESET. PREPARE FOR REFRESHED LOOP IN THIRTY SECONDS.

Each time the text completed its round, a few more seconds were shaved off, counting down to zero.

“W-What the fuck?! Gregory, what’s happening? Where are you going?!” Eyes wide with confusion, Michael tried to get ahold of him to no avail. He and the others could only watch as the boy literally faded away before their eyes. Michael made one final desperate grab, when suddenly in a blink… Gregory was gone.

Almost as if he’d never been there at all.  

***

There might have been panic on the end of Gregory’s friends when witnessing such a thing, though not for long. With the help of the little invention in his wrist, the past harrowing day would be unwritten…

Gregory reached for Michael, the first sign of true and genuine emotional distress since coming out of his brainwashing. He tried desperately to grab onto his arm, but felt himself slipping further and further as his friends’ voices faded into oblivion. It was as fast as a blink—but so much scarier. As Gregory’s subconscious untethered, coming back to him in waves, he processed what he was about to do to Charlie—

And in this strange, blank space between time, he up-chucked chips and queso into the scattered quantum winds.

Gregory felt befouled. He never considered himself a person of great moral backbone before, but that whole experience taught him how far people like he and Michael could fall, not to mention how easily. It was a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.

Everything was reset; an opportunity not afforded to most. As his watch began to count down a second time, Gregory tried hard to regain his composure. The cold sweat now sticking to his forehead and neck made him clammy and nervous-looking.

And who would blame him with the timeline he’d been subjected to? He still had to save them somehow; to put them on the right track and make everything right.

As his watch flashed and pulled him back to the cursed universe, he his optimism began to wane. What if things only got worse this time around?

…They could be worse—but they could also be so much better.

Gregory had gone into this universe blind, unaware of who to trust—and more importantly, who not to. He’d made some mistakes; ones with unforeseeable consequences that the universe simply couldn’t handle. But he had another chance now, a new opportunity to do things the right way. He knew who his allies were, and he could take more steps to help them… and if he failed another time, he’d simply reset and try again.

Trial and error; that’s what his immortal life was now until he saved every version of his friends he needed to.

***

As before, the boy landed with a hard smack on the dusty, carpeted floor of the West Arcade. As before, the lights were dim and desolate, reflecting the darkness of this timeline even before Gregory’s intervention. As before, a smooth, accented voice called out from nearby.

“Gregory?! Is this where you’ve been all night? I’ve been looking for you for hours!”

***

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[coffeewithastraww]

Listen to the cry baby

A decade and two cents ago, I met someone who changed my life forever and what I’m about to say is so simple in any form you look at it. You might mean the world to someone you haven’t thought twice about that day. And the single most important friendship you ever created doesn’t reach for his phone to call you anymore because it was never that serious to them. I ran in circles trying to save something we both knew was over. And yet you could tell me you missed me tomorrow and I’d be back hanging over the end of the world with only your grip to keep me alive. I went to you for every piece of advice because I trusted you, I needed your honesty and brutal words to keep me going. But you never needed anything from me except for maybe a game or two when you were bored. A person I put a light so bright over I couldn’t see your toxic mindset.

This friendship evolved every single day. Teenagers, I needed a carefree, heartbeat skip a step, out of breath, crazy adventure of a person to distract me from my childhood. And you needed someone who loved you more than you loved yourself to keep a fraction of your confidence in tact in order to survive those years. We went through alcoholic tendencies together and we had long talks about wanting to be better, we told each other every single secret about ourselves because neither of us judged each other. Years later you reached your goals and I became nothing more than the person from your hometown who never left.

A stranger who knew all of your secrets.

We grew up and the dynamic changed a few times but I always leaned on you more than you leaned on me and I never would have thought it could push you away.

Two people thousands of miles away who have nothing in common. One who looks up to the other and the other always looking down. I will sit and listen to every word that comes out of your mouth so proud of the man you turned out to be, so happy for the life you built for your family. And when I look back I only see disappointment in your eyes.

I want to be the friend you speak highly of but I know I’m not.

What was our friendship based off of? because these days I’m willing to put money on the fact that we both have different answers for that and there’s only one right one. The things I cry about you have no time for anymore and I understand that. But doesn’t that make you a bad friend?

In a time where I needed you the most you left me. Again.

The end was never signified. Like a phonecall you just hang up and laugh about it separately knowing you’ll talk again tomorrow and not even mention it. This time it feels different, and I know you won’t answer.

I know I sound pathetic when I say this but I don’t care and I never have. Each time with you felt like a movie, a beginning middle and end. A conflict and resolution. You made me cry so hard I thought I might die, you made me laugh until I couldn’t even see, you made me question reality and look at people in a whole new light, including myself. You hurt me and you put me back together again, and even though we don’t admit this like a secret nobody will ever know, I know we both felt guilty for the way things were sometimes. And like the person we both knew we hated ourselves for it. I will hold on to you forever and I know you’ll never listen to the cry baby ever again.