#i love how he lies to himself to cope i love how he doubles down

[everymeloneveryday]

chapter 162 page 20

[olympeline]

I can see why The Parent Trap became such a staple AU for FACE family FrUK. It’s just too good to resist 😍 Here’s my version:

Francis and Arthur meet when they start attending the same London university: Francis to study fashion, Arthur journalism. Over the next four years they have a classic “enemies to lovers” relationship. They’re a couple by the time they graduate, but an immature and stormy one. Lots of fights, lots of near break ups, lots of making up. They get married early and start living together early, which was probably a mistake as neither were ready for it. They move to Paris (part of the reason for early marriage was visa based) and live together in a tiny, shitty apartment. Lots of up and downs, but life is generally good. Their relationship slowly improves, they grow together and stop fighting so much

Then they have their first real difference of opinion beyond just a spat: Francis has always wanted kids and wants to have them young. Arthur was more unsure, preferring to wait until they were older and settled. Deep down he’s afraid of losing Francis, and so gives in sooner than he should. Francis notices, but lies to himself about the depth of Arthur’s discomfort because he wants children so badly. Again, the immaturity and lack of communication hobbles them. If this problem had come up later, say in their early thirties rather than twenties, they could have handled it and compromised. But it didn’t, so a kid is on the way

Either this is set a little in the future, or Arthur is still his wizard self, but by science or magic they have a pair of twins. Born by surrogate, but Alfred and Matthew are biologically theirs. Alfred resembles Arthur more, Matthew takes after Francis. It doesn’t matter; both dads adore each baby so much it hurts

Unfortunately, this doesn’t stop things getting tough straight away, not in the least because they were only expecting one baby. They planned for one, budgeted for one, then got double. They might have coped, but then Francis’s fledgling fashion business gets an irresistible offer from a company in Quebec. Arthur really doesn’t want to leave France, but grudgingly agrees. They move when the boys are barely toddlers and the stress gets even worse. Moving to a new continent with twin babies and stretched finances? Cracks are starting to appear in the marriage for real by this point

Still, Francis and Arthur cope and hold their relationship together. They’re having problems, but neither wants to split up. They still love each other dearly. Also they have kids now. Even if the love had died, they’d want to try and make it work for their sake. They struggle on for a while and keep their heads above water. Both are too stubborn and proud to get therapy because that would mean admitting how bad things were getting between them.

Then, bombshell: Arthur gets a huge opportunity…but it would mean moving to New York for a year. And after everything, this is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Francis doesn’t want to leave Canada because it could have a bad effect on his growing business. Also the boys would be starting kindergarten soon and Francis doesn’t want to uproot them again. Arthur argues he already did the same for Francis, and they’d be back soon anyway. And a boost to Arthur’s career would help set them up for the future, so Alfred and Matthew would benefit in the long run. They can’t agree and things get heated as the deadline for Arthur to accept approaches. Both accuse the other of being selfish and unreasonable. It snowballs from there. Long simmering resentments boil over. They can’t communicate well enough to get through this. One of them leaves to stay with a friend, then just never comes back to live at their apartment. Soon they’re living separate lives and only communicating about the boys. It’s unbearable, unsustainable. Break up. Divorce. The court awards each of them one twin. Arthur takes Alfred and moves to NYC, Francis stays in Quebec with Matthew.

Years pass, the twins start to grow up. There’s so much hurt and bitterness that communication between Francis and Arthur completely breaks down before the boys are old enough to remember their other parent. By the time they start elementary school, it’s total scorched earth. Francis and Arthur just refuse to talk about each other. Alfred bombards Arthur with questions, but his dad is a stone wall. Gentler Matthew gives up more quickly, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less curious. Eventually even Alfred has to give in. The twins accept that their “other dad” will always be a mystery

Life settles. Francis’s fashion label blooms and he and Matthew live a charmed life as Quebec upper crust. Meanwhile, Arthur gets work at a prestigious newspaper and writes historical nonfiction novels in his spare time. Alfred goes to public school and is a loud, joyous, ball of endless energy. Matthew goes to private school and is sweet, academic and well behaved, but so shy.

Both dads watch their son grow with pride. They seem happy, and sometimes they are, but in their private moments, the pain is still there. Francis is better at hiding his emotions than Arthur, while Matthew notices more than Alfred. So each twin knows their father is wistful. Thet can guess it’s about their “other dad.” Alfred and Matthew try to cheer up their dads in their own ways, but the hurt remains

Francis and Arthur never have any other long term relationships. Francis has no trouble finding partners, but nothing sticks. Matthew is secretly glad, then feels bad about it. He wants his papa to be happy but the thought of a stepfather/mother scares him. Meanwhile, Arthur’s dating life is a disaster and after a few years he just gives up on finding new love. Alfred is fine with them being a family of two. He likes having his dad’s attention focused on him rather than some lame boyfriend

That all changes when, after a night of commiseration and far too much whiskey, Arthur ends up in bed with Antonio. Antonio is a fellow immigrant and friend of a work friend, who happens to be going through his own disastrous love life problems. They met through Romano, who works at Arthur’s newspaper as a caustic restaurant critic. Arthur reminds Antonio of Romano, Antonio reminds Arthur of Francis. They’re both lonely and needy. It should have been just a one night stand, but they cling to each other and start a relationship (wrong tsundere, Antonio!) Romantically it’s not good and everyone can see there’s no real spark. But Arthur and Antonio’s hearts are raw by this point and they dive into denial and start living together. Antonio is good with kids and Arthur thinks two parents will make for a better life for his handful of a son. Alfred likes Antonio, but he doesn’t think he should be his stepdad. Nevertheless, Arthur and Antonio get engaged but never set a date

Life settles, life goes on. Arthur starts sending Alfred to summer camp, which he loves. Francis gets a school report that Matthew is a lovely, polite boy, but he could do with trying to be a little more extroverted and making more friends. Francis decides to send him to a highly reviewed summer camp just across the border

At long last, Alfred and Matthew finally meet, and…! Instantly loathe each other. Total antipathy. Alfred sees Mattie as a boring, sissy, goody-two-shoes who just wants to spoil everyone’s fun. Matthew sees Alfred as a loud, obnoxious, dumb, jerk jock who doesn’t care what happens to anyone else so long as he gets to do what he wants. An intense rivalry begins. Neither boy realises how much their lives are about to change

(This is getting really long so stay tuned for part 2! (´ε｀ )♡)

[allyriadayne]

when you talk abt the gone girl quote wrt jace and aegon, who is doing the talking? (sorry i am confused 😭) as in, jace only liked himself when being someone aegon liked, or aegon only liked himself when being someone jace liked??

both....... i see it this way: jace and aegon are people who hide who they are and how they feel from the people around them. jace does this as a coping mechanism after finding out his whole identity turned out to be fake and he realized the people he loved best lied to him all his life so he doubles down on the fake and overcompensates so he never hears someone saying he's not good enough. aegon like jace, doubles down on the excess and the vice because it hides how he feels: a waste, a drunk, a fool. aegon's perceived openness and obvious show of his activities hides that he feels miserable of course.

when they were companions as children, in jace's case he could let go of being the perfect heir and look up to someone much cooler than him and who would like him if he was more relaxed, open to laugh etc. while aegon obviously liked that someone like jace followed him everywhere and thought the best of him when no one did. even aemond was always a bit skeptical of aegon when he tried to be cool and effortless, but not jace.

so yeah the gone girl quote applies to both, they both liked themselves better when they thought the other might have liked them because it might as well be the best version of themselves.

[swords-of-a-soilder]

The Healing Process

Chapter 18

Coping mechanism

Philza stared at the ceiling in the darkness of his bedroom, heavily dissociated from his reality. Forever's death replayed in his head one too many times, and at this point he chose not to think at all.

His mini-mes mourn along side him, quietly sobbing as they laid around him. His bedroom had become as depressing as a furnnal. His misery was interuppdd as his door pushed open, exposing Tallulah whom stood at the door with hesitant.

Phil threw himself out his mind as he immediately gave his attention to his daughter, his fatherly concern overriding his misery, "hey, menina, you feeling ok?"

Tallulah shook her head as she approached the bed, she lied down next to him, immediately turning to quiets sobs as she buried her face in his chest, Phil rubbed her back in an attempt to smooth her, pulling her closer.

"I Know my dear, I'm so sorry." He whispered, as he rest his chin in her. He didn't know what else to say or even if there was anything he could say. He just wanted his daughter to be stable, but how could he ask that when he wasn't.

The moment would be interupped as the door pushed open once more, Missa paused at the door as he became aware of his mistake, "Oh, I'm so sorry!", almost immediately upon seeing him she wiped her tears giving him her full attention.

Phil seemed disappointed by the act yet attempt to assist her wiping away her tears.

"I didn't mean to brother you, it can wait." Missa clearifed, Tallulah sat upright as she shook her head no, she then pushed herself off the bed to meet Missa. "It's Just that Chayanne wants to speak to you." He explained

She nodd her head before entering the room quietly, Missa quite awkwardly sat in the empty space she use to occupy, Phil observed him deeply.

"..how are you holding up?" Missa asked, Phil released a sigh as turned fully to face his husband.

"Missa I need to talk to you." He explained

"I would hope you don't keep your pain to yourself."

"I kissed Forever." Phil confessed, "I told myself it was because I didn't want him to die so miserable but.. it's more than.."

"Right, I kind of expected that; I mean You love him don't you? " Despite the sensitive nature of that question, his tone told he was truly just curious

"..I have for a while now.."

"you don't have to hide it for my sake." Missa let out a sigh then lied down fully in the bed, burying his face in the corks of Phil neck.

"I love you too. I don't know how to explain this to you, I didn't want to chose.."

"Philza.., we only fought with each because we thought you wanted to chose, honestly we'd probably get a long a lot better without the friendly rivalry."

"Rather weird to blame me for that when nobody asked what i wanted." you were both so determine to win, I couldn't even think if how to even.." Phil fell quiet as he sat upright.

His eyebrows knitt as he expression turn to perplexity, Missa watched as he twiled his fingers, eyes unfocused as Phil spaced out. "How do I even ask for that without sounding....Greedy?"

Missa eyebrows downturn in worry at the statement made, Phil must truly trust him to display an insecurities so planly, and yet it was so sad it made Missa anger, to see Phil was so worried about his other half, even subconsciously.

"and Forever didn't seem the kind to share."

"I intend not to speak I'll of the dead, but I believe Forever wouldn't hastate if it meant being with you."

"that's part of the problem, I don't want him doing it just because I asked." Phil clasped his hands together as he started down, "It should be something he wants to do not something he feel obligated to."

"Philz turning something new for your partner isn't an obligation, quite frankly Forever would tell you boldy if he didn't want it. But trying something for someone isn't the same as furfiling an obligation. " Missa double down, "I hope you don't feel this way with me."

"no, never, I want to do those things for you."

"right, because you love me, not because you have to, but you want to. Why can't it be the same for us?" Missa end

Phill briefly feel silent as he process Missa's words, letting his eyes steady on one surface as he thought it over, he allowed himself to believe Missa's opinion, he knew he didn't crave this out if greed but truly his biology weight down on him. "We should have had this conversation when he was alive." Phil complained

Missa chuckled at the throught, "funny enough, I think I actually feel the way you do.." he entangled his fingers with Phil. "I mean I'm not sure, I don't feel love often, I didn't even know I could until I meet you." Missa explain further, "but he's so.. i have this.. admiration for him."

Phil observe his husband with wonderous curiosity as he waited for him to finish, however the act made Missa subconscious as he fumbled over his words and automatically lost track of what he was saying.

"Philza please don't look at me like that." Missa complain with a nervous chukkle, "your eyes are so big it's freaking me out!"

Phil released a content sigh as he pulled Missa back down in the bed, holding him closely as he let himself fall asleep in the crooks of Missa shoulder. missa gave up on explain further and instead let himself melt into the embrace.

Cellbit's eyes fell half lid as he fought to stay awake, among his own research into the events of the island was printed concept programs celebrating Forever's life. Burying himself in work was the only way he could think to cope, to reduce any possibility of thinking to hard on the matter, was his first step to moving on.

Everyone had their own way of coping of course, nobone had heard of BadboyHalo or dapper since it happened, and Richardlyson was curently passed out after a crying season; and Phil .. well he had the misfortune of watching him die and thus isolated himself in his home, Cellbit didn't brother him..

That'ds how he'd explain it to Fit, when he expressed concerned for how everyone was coping, "Phil has locked himself up," Fit claimed "and you're planning his funeral two days after his death, shouldn't you at least give him a chance to respawn?"

It upsets him greatly he once confidently told Forever he was sure he would respawn yet he felt compelled to obligate his wishes and honor Forever greatly. He told fit that much to let people cope how they could, that if he kept trying to stop him, he'd be the one someone is mourning..he felt awful for that.

In the end Fit was just trying to help, he didn' even mean to snap at him. He would be lying if he said he wasn't concerned for Phil, he just didn't even know where to start. watching a love one die, he'd lose his mind if he had to watch that happen to Roier.

Just as the thoughts cross his mind, Cellbit became awear of the flyer he promised Roier he would make, an advertisement for his therepy business.. right, therepy was probably a good start.

[jerzwriter]

What is something special that each LI does to comfort their MC and vice versa

Hey there! I'm so sorry this took so long to answer (meanwhile, people who sent MUCH OLDER asks are like, "Hey, wait!" lol I'm catching up! lol). Since I know you like Trystan x Carolina, I'll start with them. 😊

Trystan x Carolina:

I believe Trystan would spoil the heck out of Carolina if she allowed him to, but she doesn't. So he does it in little ways. For example, in fics I've written, he memorizes how she takes her coffee so he can prepare it perfectly for her. When she mentions a place in Brooklyn that makes her favorite doughnuts, he gets up early to surprise her with them at work. I can see him always doing little things to let her know how special she is, and he'd double those efforts if he knew she was down.

With Carolina, I think it's a combination of three things she'd do for him, and they work hand in hand: comforting words, touch, and a safe space. Trystan grew up spoiled, surrounded by a huge family... but largely alone. He knew every move he made would be watched and judged. So Carolina wants to provide him with a warm, safe space where he's free to be himself, where she'll listen without judgment. She'll hold his hand, rub his shoulders, give a hug... maybe more. 😏 She wants him to know he's cared for, he's loved, and he can be himself.

I'll do my other pairings below the break - because those two got long! lol

Ethan / Kaycee:

Ethan tries to provide Kaycee with a sense of security. I think this is partially a result of the instability that he created at the beginning of their relationship. Even after that's long over, he always wants her to know she's at home with him. So there are a lot of reminders and reassurances that he's there - be it verbal, physical, or through kind acts. He always has her back, and she never has to doubt it.

Kaycee's is honestly very similar to Ethan's, particularly since he has issues with feeling safe/secure with people. She's there when he needs her, fully present. She isn't going to drop everything all the time (unless it's an emergency, of course), but even if it is texting/calling, having his favorite coffee delivered if she can't bring it herself. She lets him know she's always there for him.

Tobias/Casey:

Like Trystan, Tobias wants to spoil the heck out of Casey 24/7. Like Carolina, Casey doesn't really let him go overboard, but he still finds his ways. Making sure they always have her favorite things at home, lighting candles in the bathroom before she goes to take her bath, a shoulder rub during the day at work, other things when they get home 😏. Tobias is really totally whipped when we come down to it. lol

Physical touch is important to Tobias, and not just in a sexual way. Holding hands, a quick kiss, or little caress if they're out together. Snuggling on the couch, long hugs, dancing close together... other things 😏. So Casey provides plenty of that for him, especially if she knows he's struggling with something.

It's funny I see parallels between Trystan x Carolina and Tobias x Casey, and they're both T/C and not by design. lol

Eli/Zoe:

Oh, these poor babies. Living in a post-apocalyptic world is hard and comes with struggles we can't imagine. They've both been through things that are hard to imagine surviving, but they do. Life is structured around survival, so there isn't always time to dwell on the trauma... but it never goes away.

Eli's way of coping was to literally shut himself off from everyone and everything. Zoe's is to attempt to appreciate everything and make it all worthwhile. While Zoe's seems so much healthier, it comes with a price. She feels she has to live the best life she can; she has to be happy and appreciative, particularly after her sister dies because she feels she owes it to her, and that's a lot of expectations to live with.

So, they each become each other's safe spot in the world. Zoe gives Eli a space where he can always be himself - and sometimes that's showing a vulnerability the rest of the world doesn't see. Likewise, Zoe can let down her guard and show her sadness and anger when she's with him, and he assures her it's OK to do that.

They don't live in a world where gifts, as we see them, are plentiful, but they give each other little gifts all the time. It might be a flower, a drawing, a love letter, or something they find when out scavaging, but they like each other to have something tangible to show their love

I'm sure that was MUCH more than you were looking for, but don't get me talking about my babies! lol

Thanks so much for the ask!

[eolewyn1010]

For the WIP thingie: Charité: Abweichler, Core of Honor and Je m'appelle Catherine 👀

Another triple bundle, sure thing! Uh... fair warning, I Cannot Shut Up for the life of me.

"Je m'appelle Catherine" is another historical fic of mine, telling a good chunk of life story of Catherine Raffelin, daughter of a lady-in-waiting at the court of Caterina de Medici. In 1573, she's wed to one Petrus Gonsalvus - who bears the distinction of having been born with hypertrichiosis. It's why he's some sort of curiosity in court society, handed around to be gawked at, called an "ape man" and a "wolf man" when, really, he's just a dude who happens to be quite hairy. As time passes, Catherine and Petrus grow into their marriage; she becomes his companion and ally-against-a-cruel-world, and they eventually raise their children together. Starting out with the beginning of their marriage tho; Catherine goes in there knowing nothing about this guy except everyone tells her he's The Creepiest, and she can't refuse a union arranged by the dowager queen. Next morning, the court's scientists and medics get on Petrus' case like, "uh, Petrus? Why didn't you get on with making weird hairy babies? That was kind of the point of this whole spiel?" And Petrus is just "??" Because, for one, he's as much of a virgin as Catherine is, but also: She's a lady - not an extremely highborn one, but a lady all the same - and Petrus has been taught to think of himself as sub-human. So pressuring her into something she's obviously averse to is a double no-no for him. Basically, the upbringing they dished out to him foiled their plans for Petrus' course of life. The newlyweds take the scenic route there, with Catherine getting to know him on a level on which no one else has accepted him before, and joining him in his lot in life.

"Core of Honor" is the frankly quite stupid working title for a Fantasy original fic; I really need to get on a better name. Some day. Daniechin is the dutiful captain of the guard in the thriving city of Thanier Core, and he spends a good amount of his days trying to hunt down Amarzir, famed and infamous assassin - and a good amount of his nights, screwing the brains out of the very same guy (who's also a flippant brat). Ama and Daniechin have this kind of unstable enemies-with-benefits thing going on, Daniechin not trusting Ama one bit, but more often than not having to rely on the information he gets from him, especially as conspirations and schemes are a threat to his beloved city. Apart from the two idiots sorting out their relationship, we have: Bona fide monster huntress Gerbia having more brains than both of the guys combined, Thanier Core's nobility having shady political business going on with the dude who wants to take over the city, the criminal underground scene so not being on board with said politics, a youngster countess trying to get a grip on the chaos, Dani having to let go of an old grudge, Amarzir's tragic past and personal quest for vengeance and having to come to terms with his own conscience. Busy, busy.

And, finally, some good old fanfic! "Abweichler" is a Charité character study on Martin, immediately following the return from the front and the amputation of his leg. (A great source of inspiration for this was all the lies will grind you down by @bookshelfdreams - go check it out.) Martin is in the hospital and has to cope with all the shit he has been through, and he's sitting there with a pretty hefty dose of angst at how, by the standards the Nazis have set up all around him, he's unworthy life, deviating as much on the inside with his homosexuality as he does now on the outside with being an amputee. Everyone in his surroundings has hammered it into his head that he's just wrong, a disease to the "Volkskörper". It's not something he ever believed in regards to others, but he has a hard time letting go of the thought about himself (no thanks, depression brain). The memory of his lost love and the new friends he makes at the hospital help along the healing process.

[janinebutcher]

Hollyoaks 01.01.25 Review

i want to write little reviews for each episode cause i need somewhere to share all my thoughts. tumblr is the only platform where i can do that honestly because no one on here gives a fuck

1st January 2025 - Written by Daniel Moulson

A decent start to the new year.

Which was quite surprising, given that that is the last episode of the festive boxset and all the other episodes were pathetic trash.

The story strand I enjoyed the most lately were the Hutchinsons. Alex Fletcher is a gem because no matter how awful Diane might be, she's always very watchable. Some lovely Diane/Ro scenes. They have come a long way since last year. Quite liked Diane admitting how wrong she was. I enjoy how normal and human their family drama is.

Poor Ro is now stuck with nasty little Arlo. A despicable little character but a good one. The transphobic bullying is hard to watch but it's something that needs to be told, now more than ever.

The Abe saga is also one of the better aspects of the show right now. Tyler Conti is brilliant at what he does. Abe taunting a comatose Cleo was so sinister. Truly a love to hate character.

He's a master at manipulating people. Anytime Peri doubts him, he turns it back to her. Tyler plays Abe in a way where I can actually believe that the other characters find Abe's lies so convincing (the same can't be said about other abuser characters, like Tom from Emmerdale for example, where I simply couldn't understand why no one was seeing right through him).

Good twist at the end when Peri found the tablecloth that Cleo used for her makeshift wedding dress.

Rex is trying to recruite Dillon for whatever he is up to... I honestly don't really care what that might be. Rex is already such an exhausting character, I'm fighting the urge to press the fast forward button every time he's on screen. Then again, this might be interesting if more characters I care about get involved. I have seen some theories about either sex trafficking or a remade county lines. I'm hoping for the first option cause that could go really dark. We don't need another county lines story so soon after the last.

I don't find Dillon particularly likeable but I don't need him to be. Him being a single teenage parent is actually quite interesting. We usually just see teen mums so this is a more unique direction. Obviously, he's not coping at all and refusing to take any responsibility. And that makes sense. He's 19, he's made a massive mistake that suddenly affected his whole entire life. He can barely look after himself, nevermind a baby. It doesn't paint him in the best light but I think it's a realistic reaction. I just need Nathaniel Dass to improve his emotional acting a bit. He's good with lighthearted and day to day material but he's not impressing me much in the more serious scenes. But so far he only had very little focus (and that after nearly two years on the show, what the hell), so maybe this new dark story with Rex will be the making of him.

Generally have to say though that I find Dillon & Lucas a lot more intriguing as individuals than as a couple.

My episode score: 6.5 out of 10

I know I said that this was a decent episode but there's still plenty of room for for improvement. In its current state I doubt it will reach 9 to 10 scores that often but who knows. I'm trying not to be too biased and judgy but it's hard when they took everything I loved about the show away and doubled down on all the aspects I hate. But oh well. Maybe I'm not the main target audience. Everyone else on the socials seems to eat it up.

[lillywillow]

Own Devices

Summary: When Bucky’s wife goes away on a mission, he’s left to entertain himself for the week, however, he can’t help pining for her

 Written for: @buckybarnesbingo

 Words: 1350

 Square Filled: U1- “Missing You”

 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader  

 Warnings: None

 Bucky never liked this part of being married to an Avenger. The part that is when one would have to leave the other to go on a mission. When he went on a mission, between the action, his mind would come back to you. Were you safe? Was Alpine taking care of you and vice-versa? Were you coping okay without him there? Of course, now it was his turn to be on the receiving end of those thoughts. You had to go on a mission that would take you away for one whole week. Bucky was all pouty about it. He gave you a long kiss at the hanger and tightly hugged you goodbye.

 “I’ll be back before you know it, baby. I promise I’ll call you every day when I can. I’ll miss you.”

 “I’ll miss you too,” he pouted.

 You gave him one last kiss and boarded the Quinjet. With a sigh, Bucky watched until you were out of sight before heading home.

…

 As soon as Bucky entered the place, Alpine was there to greet him, rubbing herself against his leg.

 “Hey there, girl,” he softly smiled.

 He bent down to pick her up and held her close.

 “Looks like it’s just us for the week…”

 Alpine mewled in response, making him chuckle.

 “What shall we do first, hm? Shall we watch some TV?”

 Alpine meowed again. Bucky smiled and set the cat down on the couch, stopping to get some snacks before sitting down. You had made sure to leave Bucky with plenty of food to eat. Yes, he was a grown man who could defend for himself but he could also stress eat a lot of junk food or go in the other direction and not eat at all. You would always make sure he had the right balance to his diet.

 For most of the day, Bucky almost never left the couch. The mind-numbing soap operas he was watching and all their drama were keeping him distracted from thinking of you. Bucky knew how quickly a mission could go from good to bad so it was better he didn’t think about that. He was still catching up on modern life and someone mentioned this show, The Brash and the Brave. The acting was corny and the plots were over the top. It was about a widow named Martina whose husband died under mysterious circumstances. Bucky was getting sucked into their world of intrigue, lies and double crossing. This may have to be a new guilty pleasure… Suddenly, the phone rang. Bucky nearly frightened poor Alpine with the speed he moved and almost dropped his phone in the process.

 “Hello? Y/N?”

 “Hi, love. Just wanted to let you know I got here safely. I’m about to go in for a mission briefing with our team leader. I love you.”

 “I love you too. Come home to me, alright?”

 “I will. I promise.”

 The pair of you said your goodbyes and hung up. Bucky looked at the clock and hadn’t realised how late it had gotten.

 “Guess it’s time for bed…”

 Alpine abandoned her spot on the couch and headed to the bedroom. Ever since you had gotten together, Bucky didn’t like to sleep alone. Sure, Alpine was nice but it was different compared to have a warm body sleeping next to yours. He could still smell your scent in your pillow. Bucky held it close and eventually fell into a restless sleep holding it.

…

 The next day, Bucky woke, feeling a little lonely. He could talk to Alpine but what were the chances she would talk back. It’s not like she could tell him how her day went although the thought of the anecdotes she might say made him smile. Bucky got ready for the day and had his breakfast. What was there to do? He could watch more of The Brash and the Brave, see who the father of Martina’s sister’s baby was but then he would get sucked into the next episode and then practically there went his whole day. But would that be a bad thing? It would stop him from worrying about you… His phone went again, this time, Sam’s name popping up on the screen.

 “What do you want?” he huffed.

 “Hey, now, is that any way to talk to a friend?” Sam asked in mock offence.

 “I need to keep my phone available in case my wife calls.”

 “Bucky, I know you’re worried about her but she’s on a mission. She might not be able to call every single day. Steve and I are coming over to make sure you’re not driving yourself crazy.”

 “So, you’re coming over to drive me crazy instead?” he sighed.

 “Yep. See you soon.”

 With that, he hung up. Well, it’s not like Bucky could do anything about it now.

…

 Bucky’s friends proved to be a welcome distraction. He could talk to them about what he was going through and actually reply or give him advice. He thought about their words and decided on whether to act on them or not. Once they left at the end of the day, he was once again left with Alpine and his thoughts.

…

 Throughout the week, Bucky tried many things to take his mind off you. He went on walks, did a few workouts, tried (and failed) at baking some complicated recipes, cleaned up his messes. By far the most distracting thing had been his new favourite soap opera. The highlights of his day were when you managed to call him. His missed the sound of your voice. Then came the day when you came home. Bucky waited at the hanger for the Quinjet to come back. He was like a puppy, waiting for his favourite person. The moment you emerged from the jet, he ran up and embraced you in a tight hug, lifting you up and spinning around with you. You laughed and held onto him as he kissed your face all over.

 “I missed you so much,” he sighed in relief.

 “I missed you too, my darling. How have you been? You haven’t been going stir-crazy without me, have you?”

 “I’ve been finding a few ways to keep myself busy…”

 It was true, he had in fact found ways to keep himself from going mad with worry.

 “Good. I’ll go get sorted out and you can tell me everything I missed out on,” you smiled, heading off to get your mild injuries checked.

…

 After you arrived home, Bucky told you everything he had been up to that he didn’t get a chance to say on those short phone calls. He even put on an episode of The Brash and the Brave for you to watch. You didn’t understand everything, maybe it was one of those things you had to watch from the beginning, but you were glad Bucky had something to take his mind off things.

 “So let me get this right; Martina’s husband faked his own death and came back as his own twin brother to take over their family rival’s business?” you asked, wondering how anyone could come up with such a ridiculous plot.

 “Yeah! And it turns out, her sister was having an affair with her boss who was also cheating on the building supervisor!”

 “And you actually like this?”

 “I admit, it took some getting used to but… all the drama, the mystery, the deception, all that took my mind off of missing you,” he confessed.

 “Aww, baby,” you cooed.

 You held Bucky close in your arms.

 “I missed you a lot too. Just coming home and seeing your smiling face, that’s all I need.”

 “I need that too.”

 Bucky could finally relax now that his wonderful wife was finally home. With you sleeping beside him, he could finally sleep peacefully again.

[ghostdrew22]

angst fic where ravenclaw!reader has thalassophobia and is playing with the water by the shore in the dark lake with the necklace draco gave her before they broke up a few years back when the new girl he’s been going out with throws the necklace into the middle of the lake in spite, and the reader cannot afford to lose it djeiwis sorry if it’s messy u dont have to do it ure uncomfyyy

Prompts:

If you die, I’m going to kill you.

Jump In || Draco Malfoy

Requested: Yes Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: ANGST, a bit of swearing, panic attacks and thalassophobia mentioned. Summary: Years after breaking up with Draco you find that the last gift he gave you is still the only thing comforting you, and his new girlfriend doesn’t like that.

WORDS : 3546

Gleaming, twinkling Eyes like sinking ships on waters So inviting, I almost jump in

The crescent moon outside begs for your company and you oblige, preferring to be alone than stuck in a room full of people who pity you. You lift the bottom half of your dress from the ground and sneak out of the ballroom nonchalantly, anxiety dissipating as the soft breeze comes in contact with your face.

The sound of your heels clacking against the cobblestone fills the air as you walk toward the boardwalk hanging above the lake, and it reminds you of a time when Draco would bring you down here. The lake behind the Malfoy Manor has always been subject to your fear, and you rarely ever go toward it, but tonight you’ll do almost anything to feel alone and normal for once.

The tiny ripples forming on the surface send shivers running down your spine and you look up at the sky immediately in an attempt to subdue your anxiety. A few meters away lies the ballroom, full of dignitaries and old family friends of the Malfoy’s who attend their annually ball every time without fail, and you can hear the faint sound of laughter mixed with a beautiful crescendo. You shut your eyes, take a deep breath and drag your fingers up to your neck to toy with necklace lying around it, as you try to imagine that you’re anywhere else.

You’d thought that it would be easier, coming to the ball and seeing him with his new girlfriend, but it had proved to be a bigger challenge than you’d anticipated, and residual feelings that you’d been trying to stuff down for months had resurfaced like anchors being pulled up from the bottom of the sea. It reminded you of what he said that day, “I’m yours forever, even if you’re not mine.”, and the only thing that stopped you from running back into his arms was the chain hanging around your neck.

A silver chain with a midnight blue sapphire dangling on its end, worth one of your arms and a gift from the blond himself. He had given it to you as a promise, one to love you till the sun stopped rising, and at the time you had thought that it was the perfect gesture. But reality hit and you soon realized that a life with Draco Malfoy would be one filled with envy and uneasiness, and you knew then that you both deserved more.

The necklace’s monetary value reminds you that Draco belongs to a long and esteemed family line which demands attention that you cannot cope with. But the fact that it had been his proclamation of love reminds you that in order for you both to lead happy lives, you must be apart. The way it gleams beneath Chandeliers is so captivating that it always brings you back to earth; a life with Draco is inviting, but some invitations mustn’t be accepted.

But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch Everybody wants you Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

All eyes instantly fell on him the second that he appeared; sporting that notorious smile which always brought people to their knees, and a priceless suit that hugged his figure so well it made all the straight men positively envious. A true Malfoy; charming, rich, attractive, easily the whole package. You didn’t get a chance to speak with him because he was instantly preoccupied with the ramblings of his mother as she dragged him around the room with pride, showing off the son that she’d done such a good job at raising.

Draco’s life had always been politics and he’d been raised to invariably stand tall, look presentable, get good grades, converse well. You watched him in awe every time, admiring the grace and ease with which he conducted himself. But it made you wonder when he’d been taught the art of letting the spotlight go, to focus all of his attention on the one he loves instead of the search for approval. And the answer was that he hadn’t, Draco never grew out of the desire to have everyone’s praise and approval.

‘If everyone loves you, if everyone wants to either be you or be with you, then you’ve succeeded.’ He’d told you late one night after one these balls. You’d looked at him with pity, not having the heart to tell him that love and validation are not synonymous, and you’d hugged him so hard that somehow you both knew it was all coming to an end soon.

He grew up being a magnet to both jealousy and admiration, a symphony of applause being the background track to the movie of his life, and he didn’t know how to live any other way. When all you’ve ever known is lustful stares from fellow peers, stolen glances at the back of your head, and unbridled acclaim masked behind attraction, then it’s hard to put that life behind and settle for the love of only one person.

Walk past, quick brush I don't like slow motion, double vision in rose blush I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush Everybody wants you But I don't like a gold rush

He truly was magnificent though, even you couldn’t deny. Years ago, when he’d walked down the stairs in one of those clad black suits, he had met you at the bottom of the stairwell and you could’ve sworn that you were floating on cloud 9. He had smiled so brightly at the sight of you, had laughed so sweetly in the space of your ear, and fit so tightly into your side like it was a home made only for him, that you were intoxicated on the feeling of him and hadn’t noticed what was happening.

You were falling in love. You weren’t flying, no, you didn’t have wind beneath mystical wings that you’d somehow managed to grow. You were falling, and at a speed so treacherous that you didn’t even realise it was happening until it was too late. One day you were falling, and the next you were ruins buried so far into the ground that you couldn’t even tell where the earth stopped and you started.

Falling in love with him was fast, like a bullet train, but everything after was so slow that you felt as if you weren’t even moving at all.

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful? With your hair falling into place like dominos I see me padding 'cross your wooden floors With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit And the coastal town we wandered 'round had never seen a love as pure as it And then it fades into the gray of my day old tea 'Cause it could never be

Promises to run away together and start a life somewhere off in a distant town.

Fingertips, laced with the narcotic effect of young love, tracing lines across the expanse of each other’s faces and trying to figure out which of the other’s features would be inherited by your children.

Dreams about a time when your lives would no longer be dictated by the paths your parents had set out for you, but instead by the spontaneity and reassurance that came with endearment.

Tastes of tea replaced instead with the taste of each other as long-forgotten tisanes made home on bedside tables because you both got lost in the haze of tenderness.

Arguments about mundane and useless concepts that would go on for longer than necessary, because he insisted on disagreeing with everything, and always ended with your acute responses.

Lives that had once lacked passion, that had once been so dull they compared to Snape’s drawling, instead replaced with all the colours that the world had to offer.

It was the perfect life, the one you two had planned.

But it was too perfect to ever be real.

You take a deep breath and unhook the necklace to observe it once more, hoping that it’ll provide some comfort for the ache in your chest.

'Cause I don't like a gold rush, gold rush I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch Everybody wants you Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you Walk past, quick brush I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush Everybody wants you But I don't like a gold rush

“Y/N.” A voice slurs behind you.

You turn with furrowed eyebrows and roll your eyes when you see who it is, “Pansy.”

“Don’t be rude.” She hisses and hiccups as she stumbles toward you, “What are you doing out here?”

“Could ask you the same thing.” You narrow your eyes at her, “Are you drunk?”

“Just a tad.” She replies as she hiccups again and finally stands before you. You watch silently as she gracefully sits on the wood below her, making sure not to create creases in her dress or fall over in her heels.

“Shouldn’t you be in there? On his arm like a trophy?” You ask, and inwardly groan when you hear how jealous you sound.

“Probably.” She shrugs and looks out into the water. “It doesn’t matter though, I’m not you.”

She looks up and into your eyes, you look away immediately. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to take from that.”

“Yes, you do.” She states bluntly, “He told me why you left him. That was really selfish of you.”

You gasp and turn to look at her, “How dare you? You have no idea-“

“No, actually, I do.” She gets up from the ground swiftly as a fire rages in her eyes, “You think I don’t know what it’s like to be like him? We’re the same, we were practically raised on the same blueprint. Despite what you think, there’s a lot more to the issue than what lays on the surface.”

“Oh and I guess you have all the answers?” You spit out with a scoff.

“I thought Ravenclaws were meant to be smart.” She shakes her head and hiccups as she turns to face the water, “Draco’s entire life has always just been this.” Pansy turns and gestures toward the Manor with a grimace.

“It’s always been about being the best in the room, just so that he can earn five seconds of approval from his parents. But you came, and you showed him more, you gave him a glimpse of what love feels like. Then, because you were scared and couldn’t hack it, you left him.” She continues and you grip the necklace tightly in anger.

“That’s not what happene-“

“How can you possibly expect him to come back to me, to this bullshit, when he’s experienced actual happiness? How is he supposed to come back from you?” She finally turns to face you and you hear a slight crack in her voice with the last words, “I love him so much and if I could make him half as happy as you do then I would.”

“You can.” You breathe out shakily, “If you two try a little more then you’ll realise why it just makes sense.”

“Love isn’t about sense Y/N. It’s not about appearances, it’s not about applause, it’s not about any of the crap that him and I were raised to prioritize.”

“You call it crap but that’s all he knows, and he just isn’t ready to give it all up.”

“Why do you get to decide that for him?” She tilts her head to the side and raises her eyebrows, you look away from her.

“I should probably get back inside.” You mutter as you start to turn toward the manor.

“You’re righ-“ She gasps and you turn to see what’s shocked her, “You still have it?”

“Have what?”

“The necklace.” She points to your hand and you nod awkwardly in agreement, “I helped him pick it out.”

“Oh.”

“A sapphire to match your virtue and faithfulness.” She says absent-mindedly as her eyes lock on the piece of jewellery. “Guess he got that wrong.”

She laughs coldly and you scrunch your face in confusion, “Excuse me?”

“You’re just like the rest of them.” Before you even know what’s happening she’s reached for the necklace in your hand, “You love him until it’s no longer convenient, until the paint starts to chip.”

“That’s not true.” Your voice comes out shaky and lacking conviction, it makes her laugh again in disgust.

“And then who has to pick up the fallen pieces? Me.” She continues to ramble as she walks toward the edge of the boardwalk, you feel your breathing start to pickup as you try to focus on her instead of the lake behind her. “As if I don’t have my own pieces to pick up.”

“Pansy, please just come here so we can talk about this nicely.” You respond and swallow.

“No. You don’t deserve a civil conversation.” She spits out as she finally reaches the edge of the boardwalk and hangs the necklace out by her arm, “In fact, you don’t deserve anything. You don’t deserve his love and you definitely don’t deserve this pendant.”

“No!”

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful? With your hair falling into place like dominoes My mind turns your life into folklore I can't dare to dream about you anymore

Everything after falling in love with Draco happened in slow motion. You don’t know how, or when, but your life had become a slackening slideshow of bad decisions.

You hold your breath as you watch the necklace fall into the lake. It’s as though minutes, hours, days pass in that moment, but you know that it’s merely a few seconds. When the splash finally sounds, you let out a huge gasp and Pansy laughs as she turns to leave.

Panic sets in and you start to contemplate your options. You could jump in and get it yourself? No, that’s absurd, you’re not going to overcome your fear that easily. You could rush into the manor and find someone who’s willing to get it for you? No, no one would take you seriously.

You shake your head and decide to just do the easiest thing; try and work up the courage to get it yourself. You start to pull off your heels and scrunch up your dress so that you can step into the water and you walk toward the edge of the boardwalk.

But as soon as you’re near the water you realise that you can’t do it and your panic rapidly worsens. You step back a few paces before falling to the ground and pulling your head into your knees as silent sobs begin to shake your core.

Breaths, in rapid beats, are going to and from your lungs as the sound of the water swishing fills your ears. Nausea begins to set in your stomach as you think more and more about your terrible predicament, your fear of bodies of water and your sadness at losing the necklace combining to form one indestructible lump in the pit of your stomach.

“Y/N? Are you out here?” A voice calls out from a yard or two away and you try to recognize it, but everything is foggy in your state of trepidation.

“Shit, Y/N!” The voice calls out once more and you hear footsteps pick up to a run as the person approaches you. “I swear to Merlin, if you die I’m going to kill you!”

You realise that the person still hasn’t noticed you, and is probably assuming the worst, so you try your best to croak out a word- any word.

“Here.” You manage to rasp out between sobs and wheezes, and the person immediately runs toward you.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” They ask as they pull your head out from your knees and you try to nod slowly.

You blink back a few tears and try to focus on the face in front of you, “The- the-“ You try to say and shake your head of the confusion as the words refuse to formulate.

“Hey, breathe princess.”

You recognize the nickname and then soon enough your eyes register that Draco’s kneeling in front of you. “Draco?”

“Yes, it’s me.” He responds softly as he cups your face in his hands and tries to wipe a few of your tears, “Take a few deep breaths for me, yeah?”

You nod and do as told, breathing until you finally calm down and manage to think clearly again. “I’m okay.” You breathe out and he sighs in relief.

“I was so worried, Pansy came in rambling about getting back at you and something about tossing and water- And I was just so scared that she’d thrown you in or something, because I know that you can’t swim and you’re terrified of the lake so I-“

“Hey, slow down, I’m okay. I’m right here.” You respond and manage a weak smile. He nods and sighs again. “She didn’t toss me into the water, though I think she would’ve liked to. She threw in the necklace. Shit! The necklace, it’s still down there!” You exclaim as you try to stand up but find that your legs are asleep, and end up coming back down instantly.

“Calm down. What necklace?”

“The one you gave me, the one with the sapphire that you said was a family heirloom?” You ramble and he furrows his eyebrows.

“You still have that?”

“Yes, I do. And it’s at the bottom of the lake and I need to get it back!” You stand up and Draco immediately does the same, placing his hands on your shoulders to keep you still.

“It’s just a necklace Y/N, you don’t need it.”

“It’s not just a necklace, it’s-“ You pinch your nose and sigh, “It just means a lot to me, okay?”

He narrows his eyebrows but nods in understanding, “Okay.” He steps back from you and pulls off his suit jacket, looking absolutely magnificent with his toned shoulders showing beneath the well-fitted shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to get it for you.” He shrugs and you shake your head.

“You don’t have to, I can figure something out.”

“You tried to figure it out and you had a full on panic attack, I’m the best option.” He says sternly as he looks at you and you nod in agreement, “Now just wait, very far away, and let me find it for you.”

“Thank you.” You call out behind him but he doesn’t respond.

At dinner parties I won't call you out on your contrarian shit And the coastal town we never found will never see a love as pure as it 'Cause it fades into the gray of my day old tea 'Cause it will never be

“Here you go, in perfect condition.” He says as he drops the necklace into your hands and runs a hand through his hair. He looks gorgeous and you look down to avoid getting lost in his eyes.

“Your suit is wet.” You mumble with a sniff and he chuckles, the sound makes your heart race.

“We have magic, I’ll dry up.”

“Thank you.” You whisper as you finally look up at him and he smiles, that same hypnotic smile. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without it.”

“It’s just a necklace Y/N.” He smiles softly and you shake your head as tears begin to stream down your face again.

“No, it’s not just a necklace.” You sniff, “It’s you and I. It’s all that I have left of the love that we had, it’s all that I have left of the life we were going to build together.”

“Y/N.” The sternness in his voice makes you swallow hard, but you pull your hand up to indicate that you’re not done.

“Let me talk, please.” He nods and you continue, “This little gem is all the words that we never had the chance to say. It’s the nights we would’ve spent climbing into bed together, in our little house that’s tucked safely into a small town. It’s the cups of coffee I was going to make you when you woke up in the mornings, and the cups of tea you would’ve made me when we went to sleep. This little gem is the only thing I have to remind me that our love was real.”

“It also doesn’t hurt that it costs a fortune huh?” He asks with a grin, despite the fact that there’s sadness in his eyes, and you nod with a choked out laugh.

“Definitely a bonus.” You say as you laugh a little more and wipe away a few tears.

Draco pulls the necklace out of your hands and opens it to put it around your neck once again, and you turn around so he can put it on. “Look, Y/N, life is too short to fill up with ridiculous mistakes. You left me, like I never mattered to you, and it broke me.”

You turn back around quickly, “That wasn-“

He twists you back around abruptly, “Let me talk now.” You nod and he continues to hook the chain around your neck. “It took me months to decipher what you meant when you said that I had too much love for the spotlight, that I didn’t have the capacity to let it go. It took me months to finally grasp what you meant when you said that people fall at my feet, that my contrarian demeanor is a crowd-puller. And the recognition hurt, a lot, because I realised that you we right about most of it.”

You feel his fingers leave your neck as he places a soft kiss on your shoulder, “What was I wrong about?”

He pulls you back to face him and smiles as he looks down at you, “The only thing you were wrong about was my unwillingness to let it go.” He pulls you into his arms for a hug, and you sigh in his arms.

“You can’t just leave this life Draco, we both know it isn’t that simple.” You muffle into his chest and the vibrations of his chuckles make you smile.

“That’s where you’re wrong angel, I can just leave this life. You never gave me the option but,” You pull apart and he smiles so wide that you think his face might come apart, “I would give it all up, for you.”

Gleaming, twinkling Eyes like sinking ships on waters So inviting, I almost jump in

His eyes are shining as they look down at you with adoration and commitment, and it takes all the strength you have left inside to not pull him back into your arms. He brings his fingers up to the sapphire and rubs his thumb along it.

“It’s not all you have Y/N.” He pulls your chin up so you look him in the eyes, “I’m still right here.”

~~~

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~~~

hi lovies! guess who’s finally feeling good enough to write again! :) we’re going to ignore the fact that the FOOLWAG sequel is beating my ass though

I will not lie, I had a great time writing this, possibly one of my favourite requests by far. I was originally going to make the ending angsty but I figured  @evermoreeve (thx sweetie<3) reminded me that we all deserve a happy ending now and then.

anyway, i love you all,

jean <3

[tennessoui]

I’m obsessed with all your fics and you but the a/b/o fic with a pregnant obiwan is killing me I love the floof so much

so happy you like the roadtrip au as it's one of my favorites too!!!

have about 2k more because youre awesome <3

(squick: a/b/o)

They’re somewhere in eastern Ohio when Anakin clears his throat and turns down the music. Obi-Wan’s back in the front seat with him, munching on a stick of beef jerky he’d never in a million years eat if it hadn’t been the most appetizing thing in that last gas station. Obi-Wan hates these cravings, can’t make sense of them at all, seeing as he hasn’t even eaten beef in fifteen years.

Anakin had just laughed and bought five different flavors, just to make sure Obi-Wan had something he liked.

All the rest of the food is in the back on his nest, which makes Obi-Wan a little grumpy because the only thing that should be on his nest is him and Anakin, but it’s not like there’s anywhere else for the food to go. Obi-Wan needs all the room in his seat to stretch out his legs, and if they put the food in the trunk then they’d have to stop every hour or so for Obi-Wan to get out and get it, which wouldn’t work at all, because Anakin doesn’t like it when Obi-Wan leaves the car, even if it’s just to walk around the side of the car to the trunk.

So the food is in his nest and Obi-Wan is coping with that intrusion fairly well. There’d only been some light pouting about it before Anakin had offered to keep it beneath his feet, but that would be too dangerous to even really consider, and Obi-Wan had shut up. His alpha would just be stupid enough to try it, too, if he thought that’s what he really wanted.

But. Obi-Wan’s munching on a long piece of beef jerky like it’s a carrot, and he’s thinking about what sort of things he should be eating for the sake of the baby, when Anakin turns down the music and clears his throat.

At first, Obi-Wan thinks this is because this is his music hour, and Anakin is just tired of listening to it.

But the alpha is tapping nervous beats on the steering wheel, not in time with the song at all, and it makes Obi-Wan pay attention.

“So you never told me what this alpha was like,” Anakin says, staring straight ahead. “This...uh.”

“Set,” Obi-Wan supplies.

Anakin’s proud jaw flexes and he purses his lips as he changes lanes. No one’s coming from behind them and they’re not about to pass anyone, but Obi-Wan’s a terrible driver, so he’ll give Anakin the benefit of the doubt.

“Right,” the alpha says. “Set. You never told me what Set was like.”

Obi-Wan takes a bite of his jerky so he doesn’t have to respond right away.

The truth is, he doesn’t particularly remember what Set had been like, other than surprisingly eager to get into his pants. He’d smelt vaguely like leather and rain, but what in Seattle didn’t smell vaguely like rain?

He’d looked like Anakin in the low light of the bar. He’d had the same jaunt to his nose, the same thick eyebrows. Almost--but not quite--the same color of hair. He’d been an alpha who looked like Anakin but looked at Obi-Wan the way Anakin never would.

And that had made Obi-Wan indefensibly weak.

“Ah,” he says instead of saying any of this. “I…”

“Never mind,” Anakin decides just as suddenly as he’d spoken. “You don’t have to tell me. If you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to…” Obi-Wan trails off, unsure of how to continue. Anakin’s tense on the other side of the car, and his scent is heavy and everywhere. “It’s just that we didn’t....ah.” He clears his throat and looks out the passenger window. “We didn’t talk much.”

The car swerves just slightly. Anakin must be tired. They’ve been on the road for nine hours, with the frequent stops calculated in.

“I think we should stop soon for the night,” Obi-Wan proposes when Anakin makes no move to say anything else.

“You didn’t talk much?” is the alpha’s reply. The tone is unreadable.

Obi-Wan blinks, his hands finding their way to his belly as he looks over at his alpha. Unreadable usually means angry when it comes to Anakin, but Obi-Wan doesn’t understand why.

“You just...what, you just saw him across the room making drinks and that was enough? Skilled with his hands, was he?”

Obi-Wan inhales sharply. They’ve been friends for so many years that they’re comfortable enough around each other to make jokes about their sexual preferences and partners. But this isn’t a joke. This has teeth and Obi-Wan’s already feeling sensitive. “I just...I was lonely,” he mutters, turning his body away from the alpha. “He reminded me of something, I don’t know. He was sweet. And clever and he made it clear what he wanted.”

Anakin draws in a breath, but Obi-Wan doesn’t particularly want to hear anything else. “I want to be done for the day now,” he tells the alpha as a blue sign with the next exit’s hotel options flash by them. “Please stop at the next exit.”

For a second, Obi-Wan isn’t sure if Anakin will, but the alpha surprises him by slowing down and taking the exit.

It’s nothing special, the motel they find. Feeling a little bit angry and childish about it, Obi-Wan demands that Anakin stay in the car while he goes and gets them a room. His alpha’s nostrils flare as the tendons in his neck stand out, but he agrees.

Good. He can stink up the car with his pheromones while Obi-Wan gets things done. Typical alphas.

Despite what Anakin seems to think will happen if he lets Obi-Wan out of his sight for longer than five minutes, the attendant at the hotel gives him no trouble at all.

“And would you like a single or a double?” the woman asks, staring at her computer. Obi-Wan falters.

He wants to say double, because he thinks it’s necessary to reestablish lines and boundaries between himself and his al--the alpha. He doesn’t want to take advantage of Anakin, feels awful just thinking about it. He wants to say double, because they’re just two friends taking a road trip together. They can afford two separate beds.

He wants to say double.

“A single should be fine,” is what his mouth says instead.

The woman hums agreeably and keys two cards with the information. He finishes the transaction feeling as if he’s underwater. What has he done? The woman hands him the cards and he walks out of the lobby in a daze.

His alpha is already mad at him for reasons he doesn’t really understand. How mad will he be when he finds out that Obi-Wan couldn’t control his omega side again, and now he has to spend the night pressed up against him? Sure, they’ve done that before, for weeks now. But this is different. Anakin can’t just leave if he decides Obi-Wan’s become too clingy. He’d have to sleep in the car if he needed to go.

The thought pulls a distressed keen out of Obi-Wan’s throat, and he doesn’t have time to banish his anxiety from his scent before Anakin’s there. The man hadn’t even been waiting in the car where he’d left him. He’d been leaning against one of the pillars of the hotel’s entrance. Obi-Wan has the ridiculous mental image of Anakin slowly slinking closer while Obi-Wan was inside, getting out of the car to lean against the door, then moving to lean against the trunk, then to one of the columns that holds up the ceiling of the drive-in entrance. Then to the entrance itself when Obi-Wan was taking too long.

The thought makes him more distressed. Anakin is such a good, protective friend, and Obi-Wan is still taking advantage of it.

Anakin is quick to wrap his arms around Obi-Wan and pull him into his chest in the shade behind one of the potted plants just outside the sliding double doors. He sniffs at his neck and then runs his hands up and down his sides as if he’s afraid someone had pulled a knife on the pregnant omega in the ten minutes he’d been inside.

“What’s wrong, what happened,” Anakin murmurs, resting his hands on Obi-Wan’s tummy. “Did someone say something? Are you alright? Omega, Obi, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Obi-Wan sniffles, holding out the keys to their room. “They were…”

And then he lies. It’s about protecting himself, his child, he thinks. If Anakin leaves now, who will protect them both? He needs the alpha. More than that, he needs Anakin.

“They were out of double rooms,” he hears himself say. He grips at Anakin’s shirt with both of his hands and turns his wet eyes upward. He needs to keep Anakin looking at him and not at the mostly deserted parking lot. And Anakin’s the type of alpha who would drop anything to help a distressed omega. That’s always been Obi-Wan’s experience, at least.

“Are you…” Anakin furrows his brow and strokes over Obi-Wan’s tummy again. He’s had a fascination with it since the beginning of the pregnancy. “Are you upset you have to share a bed with me?”

“No!” Obi-Wan gasps, offended that that’s even the conclusion Anakin has drawn. “Of course not! I just...I’m sorry you don’t get the choice….” He falls silent when Anakin pushes his thumb against his lips.

“Obi, it’s alright, baby,” he murmurs. “I don’t mind, I really don’t. We’ve shared beds for years now. Why would this be any different?”

Obi-Wan pouts against Anakin’s finger, and the alpha graciously removes it. “Because...you wouldn’t be able to leave and sleep somewhere else if I’m…” he wants to say too much, but he doesn’t know how to phrase it in a way that won’t make Anakin say something he doesn’t mean out of sympathy for him,

“Didn’t we go over this already?” Anakin murmurs, petting his hair and making Obi-Wan look him in the eyes. “I’m not leaving you, Omega.”

It feels as if Anakin’s slipped in a bit of Alpha command, what with the way Obi-Wan’s body reacts to this. But what would the command even be?

“Let’s go get our stuff for the night, yeah?” his alpha says. “We can get the bed all set up in a nice nest, take a nap, and then find somewhere to eat. Are you craving anything in particular?”

Obi-Wan thinks about it as Anakin grabs his hand and leads him back to the car. Anakin takes out both their suitcases, but won’t even let Obi-Wan wheel one in.

He’s given the bag of snacks to carry instead, along with Anakin’s college sweatshirt.

“Pancakes,” he decides. “I really want pancakes.”

“Then that’s that,” Anakin smiles down at him. “Nest, then nap, then pancakes for the omega.”

“And the baby,” Obi-Wan says, framing his stomach with both hands.

Something dark flashes across Anakin’s eyes, but it’s gone before he can get a read on it. It hadn’t been anger though, he knows that for sure.

“And the baby,” Anakin agrees.

[appleflavoredkitkats]

Do you have any more info on the fiance situation in Las Nevadas au? :-D or just anything in that au in general (only if you want tho sbajjdkfL) since its vv cool <3 /p

▪︎Beep

i've talked about the fiances before but i'm down to expound on it a little further :DDD this is kinda half assed but still long so MSJDJD

tw: self-destructive behavior, memory loss, breakups (not too horrible i promise)

/dsmp /rp

quackity is definitely immensely hurt by his loved ones leaving him. it ruins him. he feels like his heart is left to bleed out every single day he sees that no one from the south is coming over. he has a telescope atop his hotel, the tallest building, which he uses to look closely at the south (where kinoko kingdom lies). on his free days, or sometimes in the afternoon when he doesn't attend the events, he sits on the roof and looks out at a distance.

i think the longest he's been out on the roof was when karl messaged their chat through the communicator. it was a simple “where am i”, and quackity was quick to respond. he instructs karl to go to las nevadas, assuming he was lost, so he basically cancelled every gig he had to observe his surroundings.

(turns out, he never came. quackity sat on that roof for 15 hours before he was pulled away by fundy.)

but their abandonment was never intentional. quackity knows there has to be something more to it, but it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

he at least also got word from sapnap. after much encouragement from schlatt, quackity finally was brave enough to send him a message. first, he sent a simple “sapnap? where have you been”, then a more desperate “what happened to us?”.

sapnap replies almost immediately that it threw quackity off, “been around, adventuring, getting away from things.” then the second one took a bit longer, “not gonna lie, i thought our engagement was off ever since we kinda. stopped talking to one another. you kind of left us, didn't you?”

and quackity is hurt. he's baffled, he's irritated, but he's fucking livid. schlatt has told him multiple times that he needs to control his anger a little bit better, but in times like this, no matter how petty it may be, he wanted to fucking wreck his room. and so he did— first he threw his communicator against the wall. it was still salvageable, so quackity decided to grab his glowstone lamp and toss it against the communicator. he flips his dresser, throwing it against his bed, and it bounces off and destroys his cabinet. when he looks at his right, he sees a window, and he raises his fist to punch—

and someone is grabbing back. “q, quackity, alex, please,” schlatt pleads. when did schlatt get to his room? “come on, self-destruction is my kind of thing,” schlatt adds, and it summons a smile from quackity's lips before a sob tears out. and it doesn't stop. quackity cries— and he doesn't cry often, especially in front of his coworkers or family or whatever they are. he hates it, he hates emotions— he tried to fucking suppress it all in las nevadas because all of this, all of these casinos and hotels and bars are meant to be his coping mechanism, his distraction. the tears always finds a way to seep through, though.

eventually, they do crumble to the ground, and they sit like that for a while. quackity crying against schlatt's blazer as schlatt merely rubs comforting circles on his back. eventually, fundy does come in with some snacks and a deck of cards, and it was enough for quackity to at least feel better for the rest of the day.

on another day, where quackity was supposed to have fun partying around and doing the same old shit he does every other day, a mysterious green, whorled portal appears in the middle of his casino. most of the staff and the customers stand back, but from the portal, a white-clad brunette falls from it. he doesn't look all to phased by his fall, but when he stands, he realizes the predicament he's in and immediately stiffens awkwardly.

quackity knows him. that's karl— the karl who somehow disappeared from the server for so long that quackity forgot he even fucking existed. what happened to him? why is he all white? why have his eyes become spirals? what's going on?

“hi,” karl greets casually, but his eyebrows are furrowed awkwardly, “uhm, where am i?”

“karl?” quackity says immediately. he stands in uncertainty before fundy nudges at him to go closer whispering “talk to karl, i'll be in charge of the event.” fundy claps twice and immediately announces that their slot machines will double in payout for the next hour, and the crowd immediately goes wild. karl seems a bit lost by the noise, but quackity quickly grabs him away from the crowds and out to the streets.

“gee, those people were. eager to waste their money. gosh darn rich people,” karl says, and quackity laughs, but his smile immediately drops when karl adds,” nevermind them, i guess, but uh, who are you, exactly?"

and quackity's heart churns. he's heard of a few memory loss cases in their server—it's quite scary to hear how common it's become to just lose yourself entirely—but he didn't think it'd apply to karl. he doesn't even know where karl has BEEN all this time. what happened? why does karl not remember? does sapnap know about this?

quackity decides to not reveal much immediately, so he puts on his typical charming façade and replies, “i'm quackity, or alex, any will do. i'm the owner of this place— las nevadas. it's a place for gambling, drinking, and well, fun! do you, uh, do you remember me?"

quackity sees karl visibly shift awkwardly, and it does summon a sigh out of quackity. “guess you don't, huh?” he says sardonically.

“time travelling kinda... ruins you, sometimes,” karl replies

time travelling...? is... is that what made karl leave? not make karl remember? when in the ever living hell did karl, the nicest, sweetest man he knows, ever been allowed to time travel?

“oh,” he just says instead, “well, uh, i was a close friend of yours."

"oh?" karl replies, “kinda like uhm, uh, do you know sapnap? or george."

damn. quackity's façade immediately melts— how does he know about them and not HIM? why did karl remember them and not quackity? why was he forgotten? quackity immediately hisses, turns away and responds, “i'm giving you a free hotel room for the night and i'm calling sap to pick you up. just walk seventy blocks to your right and talk to manifold, or something, christ you fucking irritate me.” he knows karl probably won't understand, and he knows he's breaking this already broken relationship even more, but he can't... he can't look at them the same way anymore.

karl does get to a hotel room, and quackity does visit him just to make sure everything is alright. thankfully, fundy did repair his communicator after his last tantrum, and he uses it to tell sapnap to pick karl up from las nevadas. sapnap doesn't ask where it is— he simply tells him “ok” and goes offline.

when sapnap arrives, he doesn't look as miffed as quackity expected him to be. he looks... well, definitely more composed than him and karl, but he still looked a bit tired. he has some new scars, but quackity guesses sapnap probably wasn't lying when he said he was out adventuring. before quackity could greet sap, sapnap enters the room abruptly and karl practically throws himself at sapnap.

and jealousy is a fickle thing, isn't it? quackity's heart is still torn, it's still bleeding, and it continues to do so the longer he stares at the sight of the other two. he withholds a scowl, mostly because he knows he might go on another temper tantrum if he doesn't, and he also knows he can't... he can't get mad at them. he's waited forever for this moment.

“wow,” quackity murmurs, and sap turns to him, “things really have changed."

sapnap sighs, “we built you a house in kinoko, but you never came."

"and i made las nevadas entirely for you as well." quackity responds, “i guess it's just... unfortunate timing, and all." it's silent for a few moments until, “i'm sorry”.

sapnap's look softens, “i'm— i'm sorry too.”

there's so much more words to say, things to clarify, stories to catch up on, but quackity wonders how worth it it is to cling onto his past. karl and sap's visit is quite... underwhelming, to say the least. but maybe it isn't underwhelming at all— maybe he just found a new purpose outside of them, and he's just... moved on. it hurt, obviously, but when he looks out of karl's hotel room window, he sees las nevadas. he sees the casinos he's designed for schlatt and fundy, and the bars he's designed for jack and sam, and the stages he's designed for charlie— it's just... different now. he loves karl and sapnap still, of course, but he's also been hurt by them, and he's grown into a different person from that hurt. he thinks sapnap has grown the same way as well.

but still, “you know you're invited to las nevadas if you ever want to visit again,” quackity offers with a melancholic smile.

sapnap sighs, but he mimics quackity's smile and nods, “i'll consider it.” sapnap pauses for a bit, then, “thank you for everything, quackity— i really do mean it. i hope... i hope you enjoy the life you've made for yourself here, kinda looks cool,” sapnap says, and his words were very soft and genuine— something quackity needed to end this chapter of his life with them.

“thank you too, i hope you guys do well too. take care,” quackity says, and sapnap and karl take their leave with simple goodbyes.

it isn't exactly forgiveness or getting back together but it's... closure. quackity's journey up to this point isn't exactly all smiles and rainbows, but he's happy where he is now. he just hopes sapnap, karl, and george are feeling the same as well.

[whump-town]

Been Having a Hard Time Adjusting

Summary: Alternative to the peaceful homecoming of Emily Prentiss - Aaron Hotchner never truly comes home with her.

Warnings: medical trauma, amputation, scarring, blindness, mental health, hallucinations, and just sad stuff

AN: I have over 9K of this fic written already. I'll warn you all now, it's a painful one.

Part One

The night that he came home from the hospital, more evenly placed stitches, staples, and drugs than man he locked himself out of his apartment. He’d been in the hospital two days, counting the day he’d woken up and the day he left, and unable to stand on his own was escorted out of the hospital in a wheelchair. The timing was perfect. He’d scared JJ and Penelope away, it’s amazing how feeling like death often allows you to look the part. He’d scared them away with his weakness and the anger trying to burn him away. Spencer can’t leave his own hospital bed until his knee has been properly braced but for now, he’s immobile while the swelling from the surgery goes down. Derek is nowhere to be found. It’s too surprising the usual suspects are flaring their heads to tell his “orders” to go fuck themselves.

But on the second day, Strauss had called Emily and Dave both to meetings all day, questioning their behavior and what the next plausible course of action will be for the team. Leaving him roughly seven hours to bust himself out and it’s exactly what he did.

Derek had spent the whole night before fixing his apartment, ripping up the carpet, plastering the wall, and changing and adding locks. As Hotch discovered this, metal scratching metal as his hands trembled unable to even get the old key into the round hole, he’d laughed. Throwing his head back and breaking the stuffy feeling in the hall with its depth and desperation. Laughing that twisted to sobs as he leaned into the door, forehead resting against the wood. Someone had changed the locks. He’d never felt so relieved, so happy to be stuck out in that hall because if he can’t get into the apartment Foyet wouldn’t be able to either.

He’d slid down the wall, head pressed into the doorframe, to rest his temple against the painted wood. He told himself he just needed to rest a moment. He’d rest for a moment and he’d call Derek or Emily or Dave and tell them what he’d done and things would be okay. They’d be angry but someone would take him to a bed, home and he didn’t even care if they were his own. He fell asleep, long legs extended out in front of him and his frame drawn in to stop his stitches from being pulled on. His core was weak and he was in pain but he just needed a second.

A second turned into four in the morning and Derek yelling his name. Peeling his eyes open and finding Derek dropping down beside him, the other man’s warm fingers pressed under his neck checking for a pulse. He’d find one, pounding and rapid but there. His memory of what happened next is hazy, a cloud of Derek talking quickly and being furious. The sound of tears in Derek’s voice as he’d been pulled to his feet, pressed tightly into Derek until they could get into the apartment.

Nothing after that matters. Not Emily’s anger and Dave’s disappointment. The only thing in the world was the feeling of the opposing keys in his hands. The tears that fell down his face when he could look into his palms and see two very different keys. Derek had added more locks, an electric thing that screams and makes his ears hurt but is so loud someone would hear it. That way this would never happen again.

He’d locked himself out a lot after that day. Needed to know the security system worked so he’d take that old key into the hall and sob with relief when he couldn’t get back in. Irrational thoughts and needs like that consumed him and someone was always there to meet those needs as best as they could. No matter the hour, Emily and Derek always showed up to let him back into the apartment with their spare keys. Never met him with an air of annoyance or like he bothered them. They always found him in that hall and mumbled the same promise, “he can’t get you, Hotch.”

And, now, only a year later Emily is out there somewhere. Consumed by those irrational fears born from great desperation and the shattering of her entire sense of security and they aren’t. No one will meet her desperate two a.m. wake-up calls with patience and a spare key to let her back in. She won’t be able to check and double-check because dead women have to play the part and desperation is a characteristic of the living.

He’d taken that away from her. Aaron had taken her life and her security and her family and sent her to another continent to live under an assortment of different names. Isolated her.

He’s finding it impossible to live with himself. With the guilt and the knowledge of how hard it is to cope and move on and live after every sense of security and home has been shattered. She’d been there for him. How many times had she come in the middle of the night because he called? How often did she show up even when he lied, even when he swore he was okay? All so that he wouldn’t have to sit alone in that apartment. Brought snacks and suffocated him in blankets and distracted him with boring movies she loved. Picked at him for his oddities so he could think of anything but his wounds and when he’d needed that she’d given him space. Sat on the other side of the couch in his silence and held his hand.

Now she’s an entire continent away. Dead to the world. Alone. Entirely alone.

Penance, he decides, is the only way to move on from here.

The foreign jobs were always something he and Derek used to scoff at. Not in some idle way that they might be better than the agents (mostly cadets) that take those overseas jobs but because everyone knows the Army chews through feds faster than rats through boxes in an attic. It’s a suicide mission to overtake and he knows that he knows that and he still signs his name on that dotted line.

Emily never went to Pakistan.

On the plane ride over, he tries to dig down and remember all the states she’d once said she had visited in her youth. She’d told him plenty of times, he should know them in his sleep. It’s always what she talked about when she got drunk. A few cups of Dave’s “good stuff” and she’d stretch out over the couch, often placing her head in one of their laps. Drunk is really the only time Emily ever knew how to be affectionate bar all hesitancies.

She’d tick off each place, naming them lazily with a tongue and accent he could never get quite right. His own mouth was too rounded, too rough to get it right. His attempts would make her laugh, the way he’d butcher the syllables with his accent.

He cries. Eyes closed and melted back into the chair.

He knows this is a mistake. Knows that his grief and pain will not dissipate just because he is punishing himself. Instead, he’s furthering everyone else’s. Distancing himself from Reid who is already struggling to grasp hold of this situation. Leaving Derek in charge of a crumbling team. Pulling away from Dave-- it had always been the three of them and now it’s just him. It’s unfair and he knows it is but it’s the only thing he knows. It’s solid and it hurts and it makes more sense, it’s more feasible than anything else.

He has to leave.

He couldn’t tell anyone. Knew too well all he needed was someone to grab his coat-tail, someone to pull him back from the ledge. Turning around isn’t impossible and wiggling out of his contract won’t be that hard because he knows all the right things to say to a therapist. He knows how to make himself look dangerously unappealing to the Army. But he hears Clyde Easter’s words in his head “can you swear that your team will save her”? Feels JJ’s fingers ghost over his hand as she’d told him, and remembers Emily’s dead and it’s his fault. This isn’t about Dave or the team, this is about his penance and it’s what he owes.

It’s too late now. The decision is not even really his to make.

On the plane, pinned in a window seat and knees aching from the cramped space, he thinks about her. The yellow light cast over her features, the weight of her head on his thigh, and Dave pressed into his other side. Smiling until his face hurt and seeing her nails. Remember how high, how warm he’d felt between the two of them. Just Dave and Emily and no monsters to hunt or hurt to protect. Her hand stretched up, how freely she’d laughed.

“Russia,” she’d ticked off. “Romania. Turkey. Israel. Laos.” She’d stopped biting her nails. They were healing.

She’d smirked drunkenly up at him. Dave was getting the car together, the only one of them sober. Liquor always makes her tongue lose, inhibitions lowered and little secrets slipping out. Earlier that week she’d thrown out the soft sentiment that she considered the team her family and they’d agreed to the same but she’d seen the look Hotch made. Knew that glint in his sad eyes.

“You’re my family too,” she’d whispered that night. Her fingers danced just along his chin and he hadn’t flinched, he’d been entirely lost by the sight of her. Giggling and poking his stomach when his only response was to look down at her. “Hate you sometimes,” she’d yawned, “but I like to keep you around. You’re nice and you smell good.”

It’s not what she’d want-- any of this-- but she’s not here to talk him down. That's the bitter part, she's the only person who could talk him down. The only person who seemed to speak through his irrational fear and anger. So it doesn’t matter.

He falls into what he knows.

Penance.

It tastes like the sand, salty and dry. A great never-ending expanse of nothing.

Hotch lets the motion of the Humvee settle him, going bonelessly with the great machine as it plows the road. Behind his sunglasses, arms tucked over his chest, and mouth set into a deep scowl he shuts his eyes. Tries to relax and to take a moment for just himself before he’s thrown back to work. This is entirely something new, different from home. Here they are not a team. Each person has a job and none of them talk to him, they don’t concern himself with him and he doesn’t bother trying with them. He just does his job and tries to hold on.

“Fucking hotter than Hell and half of Georgia,” JR curses, lifting his helmet to swipe at his brow.

Billy sits forward, settling his weight elbows on his knees. “JR,” he says seriously. “What in hillbilly hell does that even mean? I swear, they must have recruited you from some inbred town, didn’t they? Out here hardly able to read and--”

JR hits him hard, the sound jarring and Hotch doesn’t even open his eyes. He doesn’t need to see the two soldiers across from him to know exactly what’s happening. He clears his throat, “knock it off.” JR and Billy are nothing like Reid and Morgan but Hotch thinks about them nonetheless. About the jet and the air conditioners but mostly about Morgan’s relaxed handsome smile and Reid’s long thin legs stretched out for miles ahead of him. Their voices tangling in the late, calm nights into soft laughter.

He’s pulled roughly from his daydream, Billy’s voice breaking his mirage.

“Way to go you dumb fuck, woke up the old man.”

He wants to go home.

The Humvee rocks hard and these things are rough to ride in but there’s a distinct thing-- the hair on his arms stands up. Painfully so. He sits up. “Billy--” he never gets the chance.

He makes it three and a half months in Pakistan, trudging around the desert before the inevitable happens. He’s just a profiler surrounded by foot soldiers, every last one of them is expendable and that’s why the job is so dangerous. They can be replaced by cocky twenty-year-olds and they’ll just force a cadet to do his job. But nearly four months is damn near record-breaking. As the bare skin of his forearms burns in the harsh sun, his blood drying to his face, he wonders if Derek will be proud that he lasted so long. If Derek will know he did try to make it back home.

He tried.

“Hotchner!”

He moves, blood rushing to his head and he can’t hear anything past the sound of his own pounding heart. He pulls himself up on his elbows, choking on the thick smoke and wincing at the feeling of the hot flames licking out dangerously at him. Warning him to get away. He can’t see anything past the thick black smoke of the other Humvee. Nothing past the pool of blood around his left leg, gushing and flowing through the sand. He sees the mangled flesh, his eyes look and he knows and he recognizes the broken, mangled way his left leg sits in the sand but he says nothing. Does nothing.

He looks up to the soldier kicking up sand as she runs towards him. “JR and Billy,” he shouts, moving his left hand over his eyes so he can look in the direction of the soldier. “You need to find JR and--”

The woman, he can see her bun and her hooked nose. She’s only a kid and if he had to admit to liking any of them he’d be okay with naming her. Jamie shakes her head and he’s reminded that she’s just a fucking kid. Some twenty-year-old from a poor school district, too smart for this bullshit. “They’re dead,” she tells him, sinking to her knees in the sand. Her hands tremble, hovering to find a distinct place to hold. A way to stop his rapid blood loss before she’s left here entirely alone. She clamps over his leg and his vision goes black.

Gunshots wake him.

The night is encroaching, the smoke from the ruined Humvees still snaking into the clouds, and he can feel the temperature drop. Trembles, body weakly trying to stay warm. He peels his eyelashes open, caked in blood.

“Hotchner?” Jamie. He can’t open his mouth, his jaw cramped with shivers and convulsions while his body fights futility to keep him warm. He turns his head to see her. She’s pulled her helmet down over her head and she looks afraid. Drowsily, he feels her hands on him. It’s out of body like he’s not really there. “Medics are on their way,” she promises and he feels himself a rock, feels the chills, and her hands. The ground rocks and her attention snaps in the direction of the origin of the motion fear in her eyes as her breath quickens.

His eyes start to drop shut and she shakes him. Between pained hisses, breathless little pants, he’s glad he’s too weak, too tired to fight. Jamie won’t hear him whimper and writhe, he’s too far gone for that. Her palm presses to his cheek, “you have a son?” She knows he has a son. “Tell me about Jack,” she begs. “How old is he?”

He doesn’t even try.

He wishes he could apologize. She shouldn’t be so young. He hates he’s taking away measures of her innocence with each breath he struggles to draw in. The way he’s dying in her arms.

God, she’s so fucking young.

He blinks and the heat of the sun has been traded for the shade of a medic tent. A penlight makes its way across his face, attempting to draw his eyes to focus. With a groan tapering off into a pained moan he moves his hand, fingers just briefly tapping against the light. “Agent Hotchner?” The light burns his eyes but he cracks the left one open, just a sliver of the smoke agitated white of his eye to dart until he can find the doctor. “Agent,” the doctor frowns down at him waiting for Hotch to find him in the sea of movement and loud noises. “Agent Hotchner, you're going into respiratory arrest.” His lips are cyanic, parted limply as he fails to draw in deep breaths. Skin cold to the touch despite the flush creeping up his neck to suggest he might be warm. His brow and chest perspiring heavily, the area at the base of his neck sinking in with each quick, wheezing breath he pulls in.

“I’m going to lower the head of the cot and intu--” the doctor flinches as Hotch’s trembling, cold fingers wrap around his wrist. The Supervisory Special Agent’s lips move but no words come out, just the cracked sound of dry lips touching but the doctor knows well enough what he’s saying. “Agent,” the doctor takes his hand, moving the fingers from their tight grip on his wrist to his own. “Your breathing is rapid and shallow, it’s no longer sustaining your body. It’s why you can’t speak.” The doctor squeezes Hotch’s hand, “you’re tachycardic, your heart is beating too quickly. If you’re not intubated this problem will not abate on its own.” They’re playing with time here, just waiting until his breathing is agonal or stops entirely.

Hotch shakes his head, lips cracking as he gasps. He needs to know where Jamie is.

But they are Army docs and their job has nothing to do with his hesitation. With his preoccupations.

A doctor with long, cold fingers tilts his neck back. Manipulating his jaw open. Aaron looks up at the younger man, vision spotting as the drugs in his body take effect. He’s lost, drowning in memories of years far away. The water crashes over his head, inky black tendrils wrapping around his ankles to dunk him back down.

He thinks of Spencer Reid. Standing in his kitchen with the genius leaning close. The soft, familiar weight of his voice mumbling through Hotch’s weary bones. The way he can nearly hear him now, recall the exact sounds of his voice and that distinct little sway and playful patter of Spencer’s body when he’s happy. Hotch has never been an excellent or even very good cook but he always tries and he remembers the day in question Spencer had come over to learn how to cook pasta. Spencer hates sauces, tomato-based ones are too acidic but he also just doesn’t like the consistencies. So Hotch had spent hours looking for the perfect recipe.

He thinks about Penelope Garcia. The very first time she got sick and he found her crying in her office, trying to soothe her ailments with over-the-counter products. Having convinced herself that he’d send her to prison in a heartbeat for missing a single day. A few weeks before the whole Doyle incident, she’d come into his office two hours late for a meeting they were supposed to have. A cookie in one hand and a coffee in the other to butter him and then attempt to distract him. Even asked about a doctor’s appointment she had to have hacked into some database to have known he had that morning. Things change…

They change so quickly.

Two federal agents leave home.

Only one comes back.

[ahkaahshi]

on this segment of spur of the moment hq content:

things that keep them up at night

sakusa sometimes stays awake contemplating the possibilities of the next day and wondering if he’s well-enough prepared. he runs through his mental to-do list for tomorrow to make sure he’s not forgetting anything. he also checks his alarm several times to reassure himself that it’s set. he likes to think he’s the guy that can get up on the first alarm but definitely turns on another one just in case his body gives in to the temptations of “just a few more minutes” of extra sleep in the morning. he’ll also get out of bed just to double check that the front door is locked since he has a tendency to fixate on the idea of things not being done.

ushijima doesn’t have many problems with sleeping, at all. however, in the rare moments when he finds he can’t drift off as easily as usual, it’s often because something happened during the day that bothered him or made him feel uncertainty. maybe he got into an argument with you about something that might not have been as trivial as it seemed, or one of his teammates made an offhanded comment about something that he didn’t quite understand. he’ll often contemplate the meaning of these things or what he should do about them, but once he settles on a decision, he’ll be able to head back to bed with a clear mind.

bokuto has too many ideas running through his head for him to sleep sometimes. they can be about anything, really, from a new type of tandem play he wants to suggest to atsumu to a new recipe he wants to try recreating--with supervision, of course. his inability to quell all these new ideas often keeps him up for longer than ends up being good for him in the morning. when he arrives at practice with bags under his eyes, his teammates know he’s had an epiphany of some sort that he’s going to want to share. whether or not it’ll come out coherently is another matter, though.

kuroo gets easily disturbed by noises. the gentle hum of a car’s engine as it passes by, the sound of rain pattering against the windows, or the nearly inaudible creak of the house settling will all catch his attention and spark wonderment within him. where’s the car going? when is it going to stop raining? was that the house settling or a ghost? there’s no end to his natural curiosity, and, unfortunately for him, not knowing the answers to these things sometimes makes it harder for him to sleep than necessary. it’s okay not to know where the car’s going, kuroo! get some rest!

hirugami sometimes finds himself losing sleep over imagining the things he could’ve done differently. though he’s able to take his losses in stride and shake them off easily now, he’s still retained slivers of his tendencies to ruminate. during times like these, he lies on his back and stares up at the ceiling in the darkness of his room, watching how the scenario he’s picturing could’ve played out differently. when he really struggled with this, he stayed up for hours, just tormented by what his brain convinced him were wrongdoings or mistakes. now, however, he’s got a journal and pen by his bedside to write down his thoughts just so he can clear his head and go back to sleep once more.

oikawa is mostly kept awake by thoughts of failure and the what ifs. what if this wasn’t the right decision? what if I wasn’t ready for this? what if I never end up being as great as I want to be? usually when these ideas plague him, he thinks of you or of iwaizumi and what the two of you would say to make him feel better. of course, he has no qualms with texting either of you, no matter what the time may be. anything the two of you say will help, even iwaizumi’s text that reads, “go back to sleep, jackass,” because any response--no matter what time it’s given or how it’s delivered--means that he’s important to you.

iwaizumi the thought that he could always be doing better is what often keeps him up in the middle of the night. he wracks his brain to come up with ways that he could be better tomorrow than he was yesterday. have I really done/tried my best? is a question that always seems to haunt him in the late hours of the night, when there’s no distractions. the answer’s usually no, and while having the persistence and dedication he has to being his best self is an honorable one, it’s not great when it disturbs the rest he very much needs to be his best.

akaashi often finds his sleeping difficulties are associated with stress. when he’s got a lot going on in his life or feels like he’s holding onto too much, it manifests in the form of stress dreams--specifically those where he’s being chased but he can never seem to escape. even though he feels mentally exhausted, he can’t find a position that feels comfortable or stop fidgeting. he keeps a bottle of melatonin by the bed to help him fall back asleep during moments like these so he can delay dealing with his worries until the sun is up, at least. he can’t cope with much if he’s too tired.

atsumu has trouble sleeping when he’s lonely. while he loves having freedom from his brother, and has wished for it many times before, it never feels quite right for him to be alone. he’s used to having osamu in the same room as him, or you sleeping peacefully beside him, so if he’s the only one occupying his entire home, it’ll create this strange void within him. in situations like these, he’ll often end up calling or texting you and asking if he can come spend the night--if you’re nearby--or moving his head underneath the covers so he feels completely ensconced in warmth to make up for the emptiness he feels within.

osamu gets caught up in ideas about the future. unlike sakusa who reserves his further-reaching thoughts for when his brain is more alert and focused during the day, osamu tends to live more in the moment then and delve into the ideas of long-term, future goals at night. to be fair, it’s one of the few times when he doesn’t have someone needing his attention, but that doesn’t mean it’s the optimal time, especially when it’s past 2am and he has to get up in less than five hours. however, solidifying--or at least contemplating--his goals for the future is something he usually finds he can’t go to sleep without doing every now and then.

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[ruewrites]

Thrones are Built on Lies Chapter 13: A New King

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmodeus, Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 5026

Warnings: Injury, Body Horror

A/N: Comments are appreciated! My inbox is always open for y'all.

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Solomon could feel both Simeon and Luke snickering as Asmodeus fussed over him. He straightened out his lapel, straightened his coat out, and double checked the cuffs of his jacket. He only stopped him when his hands went for his head.

"But I wanna see those pretty eyes of yours!" Asmo whined, trying to free himself from Solomon's hands around his wrists.

"Isn't it your brother's big day?" Solomon tutted, "You shouldn't be looking at me."

Asmo only responded with another whine and more squirming. With a roll of his eyes, Solomon twisted Asmo around and pulled his back flush against his chest. "I can push it back myself," he murmured against his ear, pressing kissing under his ear and down towards his neck. They were gentle and sweet and made Asmo close in on his neck and laughter escaped him. Solomon nuzzled in closer in an attempt to separate his shoulder from his cheek with a laugh of his own. The only thing stopping the pair was a gagging noise from Luke.

"Gross," Luke had his eyes covered with both hands, as he spoke, "Can't you do that some other time? Or maybe never?"

"You are in my room Luke," Solomon delivered one last loud kiss to Asmo's cheek, "But as you wish."

He nudged Asmo towards his door, "You need to finish getting ready too, I can take care of myself."

"I've already gotten ready! You think I would wake up late for my own brother's coronation? Please. I-"

"I know, I know," Solomon cut him off and repositioned the two of them so that they were face to face, "But I need to make sure I'm ready, and you are quite the distraction."

Asmo scoffed as Solomon tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, "As if. To me it would seem like you needed my touch!"

"Your touch is wonderful, but I'll relish in it later. For now," Solomon tilted his chin upwards so that they were making eye contact, "I must send you off. It's going to be a rather long day."

"Few days," Asmo corrected, "Normally it would be longer, but we have a celebration on our hands. Sure the whole kingdom wasn't allowed to come this time, but I suppose that the main sector will have to do."

It was almost like he forgot about the assasination attempts.

But Solomon didn't want to spoil his fun. Besides, the number of guards had been raised to keep an eye on things. Today was a day to celebrate, and next would be his own wedding. Time had slipped by them so fast.

Asmo leaned up to peck at his lips before pulling back and making his way down the hall. "I'll see you out there then!”

“I’ll be sitting with you,” Solomon called back, before returning into his room. He looked himself up and down in his mirror before pulling his bangs back slightly. It didn't look bad. It wasn't something he was used to, but he didn't mind it too much.

"So he liked it?" Simeon asked.

"I think I'm safe in saying that he did."

"It was quite a lovely dagger."

Solomon took a jar that Asmo had left behind and started to slick his bangs back in the mirror. He could see Simeon standing behind him ever so slightly in the mirror, Luke's head barely popped up on his other side.

"You've been glowing a bit yourself," Simeon continued, "Have you changed your opinions of him?"

"Yeah, you've gotten gross," Luke finished.

Oh Solomon would definitely be tucking things away for when Luke was older. "I suppose I have," he smiled, checking his hair over one more time. When he was satisfied, he stood up a little straighter, "I enjoy his company. He's a good man, and he has plenty of wonderful traits."

"See what happens when you put your work down for a few minutes?" Simeon moved closer and leaned over his shoulder, "You actually get to learn about people."

"Oh please spare me from having to tell you that you may have been right."

"I'll think about it."

Luke had gone about placing his things into Simeon's satchel and making sure he had everything in order. Solomon went over his checklist a few more times and made sure he was in order with Simeon before he prepared himself to leave.

"Are you ready?" Simeon asked, fastening Solomon's cloak into place.

"Ready to sit for hours on end to the point where my joints ache when I am allowed to move."

It was partially a joke, partially serious. Events like this aged him, or at least they made him feel old. Hopefully he got enough sleep the night before. Asmodeus had been insistent about spending time with him in the library. They talked about nothing really, but the moment was sweet. Asmodeus also still looked gorgeous in the light of a flame, especially with how it flickered in those beautiful amber eyes. If it hadn't been for Asmo's strictly scheduled routine, he probably would have stayed with him all night.

At least he could spend some sort of time with him today, even if that was just sitting in close proximity to him.

The main hall itself had been entirely transformed. Banquet tables stood in rows before him as servants rushed back and forth to finish any last minute touches under Barbatos' watchful eye. The curtains behind the throne were open for once revealing a grand staircase. Speaking of the throne, Solomon couldn't help but notice that it had been moved to an upper balcony along with two other seats. The others were still in their normal position, but spread out a little more. However, he didn't have time to question the change. Asmo had spotted him from the little crowd and immediately clung to his side once more. He scanned over Solomon’s appearance and his eyes lit up. He lingered on his slicked back hair for a moment before his fingers brushed against Solomon’s cheek.

“You look handsome,” Asmo purred, leaning into his side, “Too handsome, I thought you wanted me to focus on the coronation.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to cope,” Solomon replied, leaning over to press a light kiss on his forehead, “Where is the man of the hour anyways?

Asmo scoffed, as if he was offended by the question, “Well he has to make an entrance of course! What kingdom wants a boring king? If Lucifer had it his way this would be so much more straightforward. Luckily he could be convinced to add a little more flair.”

Solomon felt his smile grow a little wider as he listened to Asmo ramble on. He was like a small firecracker, bright and full of energy. Solomon could sit and watch him for hours. His passion was admirable, and every day Solomon felt more honored to be his fiance.

Hesitant citizens made their way inside, attempting to find a place to stand amongst the tables and decorations. The family members themselves had started to gather towards their positions to the front, Asmodeus dragged him towards the front and Solomon was aware of the eyes on him.

They didn’t know him.

The thought struck him once more. It made him squirm a bit. Solomon was the one with the power in his and Asmo’s relationship. It didn’t matter that his fiance had been born into the family, Solomon had a higher rank. In their eyes, Asmo was under his thumb and his word was law.

He dwelled on this for a moment until another thought struck him: how often did they get to see all of their royalty in a situation like this? Did they ever get to see the family together? How aware were they of the other siblings that weren’t the crown prince? Arcadia was secretive, but how secretive were they? Solomon himself hadn’t even been aware that Lucifer was married. For being such a large kingdom, it’s amazing how much they kept under wraps.

“Hey,” Asmo’s voice pulled him back to reality. When had he sat down? When did he get to his place on the platform? “Are you okay? You looked like you went away for a while.”

Solomon leaned into his comforting touch and let out a soft sigh, “I’m fine, just thinking.”

“You don’t have to think so much you know.”

“I wish I thought the same way.”

The other brothers had gathered closer, Mammon’s seat now sat closer to the center with Leviathan and Satan on either side of him. The twins sat on one end while Asmodeus and Solomon sat on the other. Solomon was close to Leviathan and Asmo was on the end. All eyes would be on them, well above them. Thinking of the staircase made Solomon realize how little of the palace he actually explored.

He was only a small pebble in the sea of Arcadia.

“I still can’t believe Lucifer was convinced to have an event this big,” Mammon leaned over towards Leviathan, “Like, we were all banned from visiting our own districts without guards, and now we’re having this big event.”

“I wouldn’t think you’d be one to complain about big events.”

“I ain’t complainin! I just think his mind changed a little quickly ya know?”

“It would be like him to move on from something quickly,” Belphie chimed in. The youngest prince looked like he was about to fall out of his seat, and his eyes were struggling to stay open. Beel moved ever so slightly to push his shoulders back in an attempt to keep him from toppling forward out of his seat.

“While I normally don’t hesitate to criticize our eldest brother, I would disagree,” Satan leaned forward, “Usually he’s rather steadfast in his decisions, I would say that someone has probably been chipping away at him for a while when it came to this, especially when the change was made so last minute.”

“Or it was made without him knowing.”

Solomon was almost startled from the way Asmo leaned over him to join in on the conversation.

Beel nodded along with Asmo’s words in silent agreement, but nothing more came from the conversation as they were abruptly interrupted by the sound of trumpets blaring. Solomon couldn’t help but turn around to look up towards the highest point. Azazel came into view first along with two servants, one carrying a scepter and the other a crown. Each of the items glittered in the lights filtering in from the stained glass windows. Diavolo followed through next, his smile shined better than the glinting gold that the servants had been carrying. He held out his hand taking Lucifer’s as he stepped out from the darkness, they shared a smile before Lucifer came forward. He stood tall next to his uncle, the very definition of a proud king in Solomon’s eyes.

The crowd quieted and looked up. All eyes were fixed on Lucifer.

"Citizens of the main court," Azazel's voice was amplified much louder than it should have been. Solomon was certain he used a spell, it was the only logical conclusion, "We gather here today for a momentous occasion. Today, your crown prince will be named king!"

He was certainly putting on a show. Azazel was acting a little more grandiose than what Solomon knew him to be. He was basking in the cheers and applause that erupted from the crowd, bathing in gratitude that was not meant for him. Azazel held up his hand, settling the crowd before continuing.

“Not too long ago now, we had to bury our great king, my own brother. But I know he’d be happy knowing that his son is his successor. Today is a day of celebration, and we will continue to celebrate as we finally pass on the crown,” Azazel gestured downwards, “Each of the sections of Arcadia have done their part in preparation for today. It serves as a symbol that even though we are many, Arcadia will always be one.”

He turned to Lucifer, who started to bow his head, “And now, without further ado, it is with great honor that I can finally place the crown atop Lucifer’s head.”

The entire hall held its breath as the crown rested on top of black locks. As soon as Lucifer raised his head, he took the scepter in his hands and turned to address the audience. "Arcadia, I stand before you today as your king. As such, I promise to uphold both you and your honor and that I will lead us into a prosperous and bright future. You have cared for me since the day I was born, and now it is my turn to care for you," he started. Solomon noted that his voice was not as amplified as Azazel's. Another figure stepped out behind Lucifer, a jar in hand. They wore long robes and their face was covered with a mask. They dipped their fingers into the jar and murmured a few words, moving towards Lucifer's forehead and then to each of his hands. Solomon could vaguely see the images being traced and for a moment he was taken back to his own coronation.

He could imagine all of the feelings running through Lucifer at the moment.

Solomon hadn't noticed the musicians gathering on the staircase until the remaining people on the platform had left and Lucifer took his seat with Diavolo and Azazel on either side of him. Asmodeus ascended to the center of them. He'd been so quiet, Solomon hadn't even heard his steps when he left his side.

Asmo looked up towards Lucifer who nodded and offered him a smile. It was the same reassuring one that he gave Asmo when Solomon first arrived in Arcadia. The musicians tuned their instruments and then the room went quiet. Then Asmo took his first breath.

Solomon had never been so captivated before. Each note that came out of Asmo's mouth was crisp and clean as they pierced the air. The song flew through the air like a dove and cradled him with the same warmth that Asmo held in his hands. Solomon couldn't pull his eyes away, he was almost completely turned around in his chair, craning his neck to catch a glance of his beautiful songbird.

He couldn't focus on the words. He couldn't understand the words, it sounded like another language to him but it didn't matter. His entire world narrowed down to Asmodeus. He was ethereal.

Was he still breathing?

He couldn't tell.

He started to come back to himself when the crowd started up again, clapping to celebrate the official crowning of their new king.

"You might wanna close your mouth there your highness," Mammon snickered, "You're gonna catch flies."

"Mammon! Don't be rude," Levi shoved at his shoulder.

Solomon quickly snapped his mouth shut. Had he been gawking? How long had he been in such a state?

***

Asmodeus hadn't been joking when he said the celebration would go on for days. This was an entirely different side of Arcadia that Solomon had never seen before. It was lively and bright. The streets were filled and decorated in beautiful colors. Canon fire from the navy marked the end of each day, and each time Leviathan nervously checked his watch counting down the second to when they were supposed to go off. Lucifer had also seemed to flip over a new leaf. He was all smiles and laughter. He was warmer than the man who had greeted him here in Arcadia.

He was open enough that Solomon felt comfortable enough to finally approach him.

"You're starting to resemble Diavolo."

Lucifer chuckled as he brought the wine glass down from his lips, "He has rubbed off on me I suppose. It's hard to not be infected by him."

"I suppose I know the feeling." Solomon adjusted his focus to the little group in the distance. Once again he found himself captivated by Asmodeus who was in a rather lively conversation with Diavolo.

"I look forward to ruling by his side, he makes me a better man," Lucifer said, "He's one of the best men I've ever met."

"Are you nervous at all about taking the throne?"

Lucifer hummed in contemplation, allowing his wine to roll in his chalice, "A little, I think, but I do have quite the group by my side. I know my uncle does not share my opinions, but I wouldn't want anyone else beside me when I already have my brothers and my husband."

He was a little envious. Solomon had been virtually alone when he took the throne. Lucifer was lucky to have the support he had, so incredibly lucky. Of course he'd had Simeon, but that was it. In comparison, Solomon's life was very lonely.

"I think that you are absolutely correct, you are an incredibly lucky king, Lucifer. Incredibly Lucky."

Solomon turned his head and met Lucifer's gaze. He nodded, and a silent understanding passed between them.

They were two kings with two very different backgrounds.

Two incredibly different lives.

Two different histories.

Yet, now they both held one mutual respect for each other.

Solomon understood so much more than when he had first come to Arcadia. He had been an invader to this family, someone who was coming in to take one of their own away.

Lucifer cared for his brothers, and Solomon was taking Asmodeus away.

Solomon wouldn't always be in Arcadia, and Asmodeus would be going with him.

"Arcadia is lucky to have you."

They're lucky to have you.

His eyes went over to scan the crowd once more. Luke was holding up a piece of cake excitedly towards Simeon, Barbatos standing not too much farther behind. He also caught the glances that Simeon threw towards Barbatos and it was something that he quietly tucked away in the back of his mind. Azazel was off to the side conversing with a few of the servants. Beel was loading his plate full of food from the table, standing in between Levi and Mammon who were lightly jabbing at each other, Satan seemed to be attempting to get Belphie to join their little group, and Solomon swore he caught the slightest of smiles on the younger's face.

Everything was perfect.

The minstrels struck up their instruments once more. Diavolo's ears perked up and his head immediately snapped towards Lucifer, his expression nothing short of elated as he strode his way across to close the distance. "It's our song," he grinned before bowing down and offering his hand.

"They are indeed," Lucifer then turned to address Solomon, "It seems I must bid you adieu for now." Then he allowed Diavolo to whisk him away without a second thought.

Solomon admired them for a moment. They glided like a singular being. Diavolo seemed to be nothing but adoring, and Lucifer's face was the fondest he'd ever seen it. When he first came here, he didn't think it was possible for royals to form deep romantic connections. Yet the bond between Diavolo and Lucifer was undeniable. Every touch between them held a secret meaning and every look held a deeper conversation. They were two halves of the same whole.

Maybe destiny did bring people together.

Perhaps there was such a thing as soulmates.

Solomon's gaze drifted back towards Asmodeus. He was also gazing at the couple longingly, and finally Solomon understood why. It wasn't until he had gotten close to him and held out his hand that Asmodeus noticed him.

"You mentioned you liked dancing once. Would you indulge me?" Solomon asked.

Asmo didn't even take a single second to think. He took Solomon’s hand and almost removed his arm in his rush to join some of the other dancing couples. Solomon swore he caught a glance of Levi approaching one of the knights. Once he composed himself, he let Asmo decide what position he wanted to take.

Nimble arms wrapped around his shoulders and held on tight. He hoped his steps were confident enough. It wasn't often that he danced for pleasure.

"You're stiff," Asmo noted as they twirled between other couples.

"I remember mentioning that I haven't danced much," Solomon was trying to keep the tone light despite how nervous he currently felt.

"Well you'll have to fix that before our wedding," Asmo giggled, pulling Solomon into a twirl. That earned his fiance a smile. Despite the position he took to dance in, he still wanted to have a little bit of the lead, and Solomon wasn't about to start complaining.

"I will certainly try to, for you," Solomon moved his thumbs over him, gently caressing the skin he could reach, "Will you sing at our wedding? You have a beautiful voice and I'd love to hear you sing for me again."

"Oh I would love to!" Asmo squealed, "Even if not at our wedding, I'd enjoy singing for just you. Although, I might pick a different song."

"And why do you say that?"

Asmo pondered the thought before he spoke again, "Well, the song we used at the coronation is an old Arcadian story about the first ruler of Arcadia. It talks about how ancient deities took pity on them after they lost everything. They gave them magic and still stay with the royal line to this day, or at least that's how the song goes."

Pity?

This version was different from the one that Solomon had read. He'd heard that it had been a gift, but one of pity?

"Does it include the Heart?"

They twirled again.

"Another section. It's my favorite part," Asmodeus sighed, "It's a love story. Well, a tragedy… A tragic love story. Two people fall in love. A love so wonderful that it transcends the very fabric of existence itself. They're destined to be together in this life and any one that comes after." He leaned closer against Solomon, head close to his chest. Solomon swore he could hear the soft thud of his own heart. "However, one of them dies. There's different variations on how, but in all their love is still distraught. So, the royal takes a dagger and cuts out their own heart and fuses it with their dead lover so that they may live on together forever. To this day the Heart of Arcadia still beats beneath the land, bringing life to all," he finished, "I think it's beautiful. Knowing that you're that dedicated to someone, knowing that someone loves you that much."

Solomon caught his faze wandering again and followed. He was looking at Diavolo and Lucifer again. Diavolo was laughing as Lucifer rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face betrayed his true feelings. Asmo clenched the back of Solomon's collar a little tighter.

After a few moments of silence, Solomon spoke up, "They're happy together."

"Incredibly so. They're perfect."

There was that edge of longing again.

Solomon cleared his throat, "Asmodeus, you are aware that I meant what I said in the woods, back when I gave you your gift?"

The skeptical look Asmo threw his way said otherwise, "You didn't just say it because I was kissing you? People say rash things in the heat of the moment."

He shook his head, "No. I'm sure I meant it. I do genuinely think I'm falling in love with you. I don't know how you charmed me but here I am."

"You promise?"

"On my honor."

He felt Asmodeus' muscles relax. Solomon hadn't even been aware that he was tense. They continued to dance together well into the next couple of songs. Every now and again the two

Would start up a new conversation, and the longer they danced, the more confident Solomon became in his footing. Dare he think it, but he was actually having a bit of fun dancing.

***

It happened as the celebration was ending.

Asmo was curled up on his arm, whispering quietly into his ear as they waited for Lucifer to make his final remarks to end the ceremony.

The family was gathered together, preparing to send everyone off back to what was considered normalcy. They'd go back to empty streets and quiet days. Back to staying inside palace walls.

He was just about to lament their return to normalcy when the glass above them shattered. It took his brain a while to catch up with him as the stained glass window rained down upon them. He vaguely felt himself go to cover Asmodeus as the shards hit the pavement.

“Lucifer!”

The voice drew Solomon’s attention. He turned his head just in time to watch Diavolo throwing himself in front of Lucifer, engulfing him in his arms. Screams were deft to his ears. They sounded so far away as the crowds scattered and the guards tried to calm them.

But the image that would stay ingrained in his mind for years to come was the arrow that pierced Diavolo’s back.

His mind tried to take in too much at once. The way Diavolo and Lucifer’s eyes met. The confusion and horror written on the king’s face.

Mammon was the first to jump into action. He bolted off, pushed past the crowds and out into the streets. Asmodeus, scrambled out of his arms and was quick to follow in pursuit, and Solomon found himself in hot pursuit.

His legs were moving without him, he was deaf to the voices of the others and the guards telling them to wait. He couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. Confusion quickly turned to anger. How could they? How dare they? Mammon was pulling ahead, but Asmo was staying hot on his heels. The closer Solomon came to him, he saw hot angry tears brimming at his eyes.

Out of every person in the crowd, out of every one of them, Diavolo was the least deserving of death.

Diavolo was a kind man. He tried to make Arcadia feel like home. That arrow had been trained on Lucifer, and Diavolo wasn’t about to let his husband take the fall. The image of them dancing together crossed his mind again, then them sitting at breakfast. Images kept flashing in his mind.

Something blurred past his vision, hopping off one of the buildings and ducking back into an alley.

Mammon didn’t need to process, his heels turning sharp into the alley in pursuit of the invader. There was a crash, dust flew up from the ground as Mammon grappled with the assailant. The three of them didn’t say a word, not even as Mammon slammed the figure against the wall. His teeth were bared. “I should kill you myself. You low life piece of shit,” he growled, Solomon swore his eyes were glowing, and he had no intention on stopping Mammon from whatever he had planned “What gives you the right to-”

As quickly as the anger flared, the words died on his tongue as the hood fell to the side.

Something was incredibly wrong.

The mouth was a little too wide.

There were too many teeth.`

Too many rows of teeth.

The skin had a sickly greenish tint.

The texture looked too rubbery

The pupils and the irises were ovular.

This was wrong. It was incredibly wrong.

The creature tried to let out some attempt at a gurgle, eyes narrowing and coming into focus. Was Mammon too close or was the sun hurting it’s eyes? Was it human? Or was it something else entirely? Strength seemed to be a weak point in it. Or was it just confused?

“What the hell?”

They were the last words before the guards came rounding the corner after them. Solomon had to wonder if they had the same thoughts running through their heads. Finally one of them stepped forward. “My lords, we’ll take it from here,” he said, “Please step away from… from the suspect.” He was at a loss for words just as the rest of them were. Mammon, while in shock, struggled with the idea of letting someone else take them from him and the guard stepped closer.

“My lord, please step away,” the guard’s voice was more forceful this time.

Finally Mammon let go, but not before shoving his prisoner against the wall, “Make sure it suffers Henry.” His voice cracked. Asmodeus nodded in agreement, and Solomon found himself mirroring him.

Whatever the creature was, it did deserve to suffer for making Diavolo fall.

Solomon did not consider himself a vengeful man, but he craved bloodshed. He wanted to avenge his friend.

“I assure you that we will find a suitable punishment,” Henry motioned for his men to detain the creature, “But my job now is to also escort you three back to the palace.”

With adrenaline pumping through his blood, the three of them were guided back to the palace grounds. The crowds were completely dispersed. Decorations were scattered, broken, and dulled on the ground. Tables were overturned. Food laid wasted. Doors were locked tight.

Had they even had a celebration?

Lucifer was on the ground, stroking back Diavolo’s hair. His lips were moving, but Solomon couldn’t make out any words. Leviathan was close to his one side and Beel was on the other. Belphegor’s expression was unreadable, he seemed to be somewhere else far from where he was. Azazel stood behind Lucifer looking down at him as a healer and a stretcher came before them. Diavolo himself appeared to be teetering on the edge of consciousness as his eyes were fixed on Lucifer. A dark crimson puddle dripped from him and onto the ground below.

Lucifer seemed reluctant to give up his husband, but Solomon didn’t think he had a choice.

Slowly, Solomon let his gaze wander upwards. Lilith’s window was shattered. The first shotey had been so crude. Why had the second one hit? Why didn’t they move? They’d been taken completely off guard.

Slowly Solomon reached out to intertwine his fingers with Asmo’s. He wasn’t sure whether he was attempting to give comfort or looking to receive it. Whatever the case, Solomon felt Asmo squeeze his hand.

For the first time in a while, Solomon found himself being left with more questions than answers.

[positivementalaxolotl]

The point of Danganronpa is to use evidence to find the truth...

So why are there so many people who don’t look more into the characters to figure out more about them before posting that their opinion of this character is the right one...?

Kokichi for example is hated because he killed off both Gonta and Miu and is such a horrible person and lies all the time... But if you look at the evidence actually in the game (Not even including the words coming out of their mouths) then you’ll find that Kokichi actually cares about the people around him and a lot of the bad stuff that he does is his way of coping. You literally get to watch Kokichi as he starts off with pointless lies and teasing people, and the more that his FRIENDS DIE, the worse he gets so like, even to the point of freaking doubling down EVEN HARDER after Gonta’s execution about how terrible he is- There’s also the point that Kokichi was trying to end the killing game from the very beginning (As if proven by the pile of evidence in his room from the very first case onwards) so clearly he was lying when he said that he was having fun during the game. (Which proves that his last words were indeed true to heart) But y’all are so insistent that he’s a terrible person for the hell of it that you don’t want to accept the truth, y’all just wanna hate Kokichi for no reason than to hate him- but y’all don’t realize you can hate a character for no reason so you come up with all this dumb shit. 

Also with all the “These characters aren’t gay!” Just so y’all know, MOST gay people don’t announce it to the world that they’re gay or bi or whatever. Kokichi is canonically gay for Shuichi, Shuichi canonically is bi (Maybe pan Idk he likes boys and girls both) Komaeda canonically likes Hinata. Does this mean their ships are canon? No it doesn’t, but it does open up the possibility. This dialogue that characters are straight until they admit to being gay is stupid cause that isn’t how it works in reality so why should it work in anime, games, shows, movies, etc. Kokichi literally says he likes Shuichi (In the Japanese version the phrase used is almost always used in a romantic sense) when no one is around, so therefore no reason to lie, and in his love hotel event, Shuichi is himself. The even itself isn’t canon, but the fantasies of the characters are and Shuichi isn’t suppose to be himself when he’s in there, so Kokichi calling him Shuichi (Followed by the detective being surprised-) is literally saying Shuichi is Kokichi’s fantasy, oh no! B-But he’s not gay because he doesn’t explicitly say, “Hey! I’m gay and I want you to fuck me in the ass!” 

Shuichi during a free time event with Kaito thinks TO HIMSELF “I shouldn’t be thinking of boys like that...” After praising Kaito. Also in Kiibo’s love hotel event, he accepts being in a romantic relationship with the bot- clearly they aren’t really because the event itself isn’t canon, but it very clearly shows that Shuichi doesn’t give a shit about being in a relationship with a being that identifies as male.

Komaeda, I’ll admit it’s been a while so I might get some shit wrong, but Komaeda literally says he loves Hinata, doesn’t he? Or like, he starts saying it and then takes it back or something idk. I’m not too sure about Hinata but I hear there’s a lot of content where they imply that he’s crushing on Komaeda or something, Idk. Either way, Hinata never says he’s straight, so there is a possibility that he’s bi or something. Maybe he’s straight, but at least I’m not excluding any sexualities here that are possible. 

And I mean, people should be allowed to like gay stuff because of the dynamics of the relationship, even if it’s impossible. Just because people like crack ships doesn’t mean they’re fetishizing gay people.

Before you go on saying that your interpretation of a character is the right one, no matter if it’s on ships, personality, or whatever, actually look them up. You’re allowed to have your opinions on a character but don’t shoot down others without at the very least some evidence to back yourself up. I learned about claim, evidence, warrant in fucking middle school, so stfu unless you’re going to have an actual intelligent conversation. I’m not even all that smart and have severe social anxiety and I know the basics of having an argumentative consversation.

If you simply don’t like these characters or these ships, that’s perfectly fine! You don’t have to! But don’t be shitting on people because of the stuff they like. Your insistence that people have to say they’re gay before they can be gay is incredibly toxic and damaging to LGBTQ+ representation in all media.

[soranis-sunshadow]

Why it’s not ok to compare Wrong Hordak to his defective brother.

It doesn’t sit right to me when someone pits two abuse victims against each other based on their coping mechanisms because their circumstances are never the same.

Wrong Hordak was immediately adopted by people who slowly de-indoctrinated him and offered him a supportive environment for all of that growth and healing to happen. When the BF squad kidnapped him, he was ardent about his service to Prime and he only followed them because they deceived him in believing they were servants of Prime.

By providing clear irrefutable evidence of Prime’s fallibility, deceit and the squad’s moral support throughout this moral crisis, they were able to wean him off of his programmed behavior and offer him a new onlook and an informed choice.

Hordak was a defective clone that was sent to die on the battlefield, in essence he was abandoned by his maker for being worthless and deflective. This is why his own disability is such a source of crippling shame and self-loathing, it made him unlovable in Prime’s eye, the person he was literally programmed to worship, love and blindly obey.

For all intents and purposes, Prime is the horde clones’ God. He appears to be all-powerful, omniscient, omnipresent and he is their literal creator. Through doctrine, clones are taught that all creatures are beneath Prime, only His light and His love is relevant. (Prime is that much of a narcissistic monster)

 Even while stranded on an alien planet, cut off from his Maker, it makes sense for him to prove his worth through the only means that he was ever taught (worship and conquest), perhaps, that way, he may repent for his failure of being created defective.

It makes sense for him, a brainwashed cultist, alone and stranded on a strange and hostile world to try and bring it into Prime’s light. He didn’t know that he could have been free of Prime if he chose to integrate with the natives. Every time he detected Light Hopes’s portals on the surface of the planet, he went to investigate, hoping Prime had come for him. That is how he found Adora after all.

Of course Hordak was brutal, brutality was all he had ever been shown. Of course he conquered in Prime’s name, that is why he was created. Of course he condoned the training of children to become soldiers once they reach maturity, that is how he was made after all, he didn’t know any better.

It's important to note that before Entrapta, Hordak is essentially a recluse. He hides away in his laboratory and he doesn’t directly interact with most of his underlings who avoid him. In many of his appearances he clings to the shadows or is only shown on a monitor. 

Instead of proving his worth to Prime, he seemingly fails at all of the (impossible) tasks he had set himself to accomplish in gaining his God’s favor: He doesn’t conquer the planet (it’s a whole damn planet), he can’t treat his defect (it’s gotten to the point that he’s an emaciated sickly wreck dealing with crippling chronic pain and is immobile without his prosthetic armor), his attempts at making a new body for himself have failed (he is defective, any clone made from his genetic code would also be defective) and he can’t even open a portal to go home (the planet’s magic does not allow an exit from the different dimension it is in). After decades of failure after failure, that he blames himself for, he has grown bitter and hopeless.

That is why Entrapta and her message is so important to him. She teaches Hordak that he has inherent worth as an individual. His imperfections do not mark him as something lesser, to be discarded, to her, he can be beautiful just the way he is. This is when he starts considering  to stall the portal project, a project that has been his purpose for years, and considers staying on Etheria with her. "There was even a time you wished I would not come for you." - Prime

When he is told by Catra that Entrapta "betrayed” him, he doesn’t want to believe it at first but his own self-loathing plays a huge part in why he buys the lie. He is after all a defective and worthless failure. Catra’s lie is so much more plausible than anyone ever finding worth in him. As such he comes to reason that another person he has dared to get attached to has abandoned him.

Whereas Catra believes that everyone leaves her, when really she pushes them away, Hordak genuinely has had everyone important in his life "leave" him, as far as he knows. This is why we see Hordak in his most evil during season 4 when he has the arm cannon and he is sacking Salineas. He's completely fueled by insecurity and loss, he has something to prove again, to Entrapta and to Prime. He was eager to face her and show her, on the battlefield, that he can be worth something (affection).

When Double Trouble reveals that Entrapta was sent to Beast Island, Hordak believed she is likely dead after so long. He thinks his gullibility has cost Entrapta her life, another failure to add to the long list of sins.

When he is teleported on Prime’s ship, he is terrified of him. He tries to appease Prime in whatever way possible. His body language, his meek, scared tone of voice, and the terrified expression on his face coupled with the fact that he is literally shaking in fear convey the fact that Hordak himself knows he will not be shown mercy. In order to adapt to Etheria and further his goals, he had committed unforgivable blasphemy, he had taken a name and shown initiative. Prime violates his mind and erases him.

It comes as no surprise that once his memories of Etheria resurface because of Catra’s presence, memories of abject failure, of loneliness, of grief and of betrayal, he submits himself to erasure once again. (in season 4 he had actually let Catra in, he trusted her, they had started a tenuous friendship that weirdly enough went both ways. She too was glad to see a “friendly face”)

Once he finds the crystal Entrapta gave him, he starts remembering her. Her memory is so dear to him that he actively tries to hold on to whatever fragments of her he can hold on. He even hides this from Prime (his only lie in the whole show).

In the final confrontation, while still linked to the hive mind and in the presence of his god, he chooses Entrapta, not because Prime was proven to be wrong or evil or fallible but because Entrapta found worth in Hordak despite his imperfections. He goes against his creator still believing that Prime is all-powerful, omniscient, omnipresent because he cared for Entrapta that much.

This is why Hordak's defiance against Horde Prime has so much impact, at least for me personally. Hordak is a character who never really got a choice up to this point. Arguably, it was less a decision and more of a last resort to protect Entrapta in whatever way he could. And even this choice was a zero sum equation. He either killed the one person that has ever shown him unconditional kindness or he turned against his God. It was a loss either way. The inescapability of Prime and the magnitude of his control over his clones is underlined by his possession of Hordak after he had declared his individuality and tried to kill him. In the deleted extended scene, Hordak himself is horrified at the fact that he had shot his Brother. His conditioning and indoctrination is still there. He never learned that Prime is a narcissistic monster and that he used his little brothers as chattel and had been consistently lied to.  He just wanted not to hurt Entrapta, this one choice is his first step towards individuality and freedom. This is the first time he actually exerts his own will and not Prime’s. He’s even making this obvious by saying "I am Hordak." I am someone, I exist.

I think Hordak is actually one of the best written characters in the show, and not because he's a sympathetic villain, but because he is very realistic to how a lot of children that experience neglect or other forms of parental abuse behave as they grow up. They only know anger and rage, never being shown love because they hide themselves in the shadows. Only when someone breaks down those walls can that person begin to heal.

Hordak and Wrong Hordak may be identical clones but their circumstances are anything but and it is wrong to pit them against each other. They are both victims of severe abuse. The comparison is not a fair one since one of them had all the means necessary to break conditioning while the other had all the circumstances necessary to enforce it. Despite what Hordak has done, he deserves to live and he deserves a chance to rebuild what he has destroyed in Prime’s name. Some of his victims may never forgive him, that is their choice. Nobody should have to forgive him. That is not how forgiveness works.  Etheria’s justice system is focused on rehabilitation, not on punitive vengeance.  Hordak too deserves a chance to heal after all that has been inflicted on him from the moment he was created. He deserves a chance at redemption.

I am open to more discussions on the subject if anyone is willing.