#i hope your pain gets doubled and transferred to this person

[the-apocalypse-is-upon-us]

ideas for your story :) <3

cock and ball torture

ketamine addiction

chop off penis mid fic (diy bottom surgery)

electrocuting nipples

they work together to get coke (drug) back in coke (drink)

they get into ancient make up and use charcoal for eyeliner

they find a secret supply of arsenic and eat it thinking it was one of those edible rocks

souda breaks into the ward and replaces the blood in the blood bag with oil

side charcater named after ur co writer (they bekong in a psych ward

hinata hair antenna his rock solid because he has a phobia of washing that one part of his hair

water phobia so since they cant shower they lick each other like cats

picnic date!! <3

i hope these give you some great inspo!! :) i love buffkitties writing and am a huge fan of both of yours!!! please dont judge, i know my interests are weird :( <3

(´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

[adventuringblind]

Drive with you Forever

Chapter Nine: Find me at your doorstep

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader

Chapter summary: summer break is interrupted, Guenther is exasperated, Seb is a father to four kids who can't communicate, and the reader reveals an interesting piece of information

Warnings: kidnapping, medical abuse, physical abuse, drugging, lack of communication, throwing up, sickness, blood, mild gore, Jos Verstappen and his great parenting skills, mentions of SH

Notes: Listen, Y'all, this is probably one of my favorites so far. It's definitely not as comical as others, but it's dramatic and has some action.

Previous &lt;-

Masterlist

She probably shouldn't have been alone. She got comfortable in the safety of their apartment. Her newfound willingness to not let her father get to her.

She shouldn't have left that day as she walked down the streets of Monaco. Pascale had invited her over for lunch, and although she could have driven, she wanted the fresh air.

It was stupid to leave the house, she thinks, as her body refuses to work. Her useless visions apparently don't show what happens to her directly, just what happens around her.

Now she's in a strangers car, her phone broken, and the energy that had doubled since her dad stuck her with the needle not working.

Her healing had gotten better, and she'd discovered how to make new things out of old things. Her visions are clearer and more consistent, and the telekinetic abilities made her feel more like a Jedi from Star Wars every day.

Again, it's all useless now.

~

"Has anyone heard from y/n?" Shouts Charles from the living room where he had been lazily lounging on the couch.

"No. Why?" Max pops his head out of the kitchen. It's grown on Charles to see the Dutch being domestic. He's protective of his kitchen and Charles being the number one threat is not allowed anywhere near it when he's cooking.

"She was supposed to be at my mom's house by now, and apparently, she's not there."

"She did walk there, so maybe she just took the scenic route?"

"But an hour late feels like a lot for that." The anxiety in Charles’ voice is evident.

"Let's not worry about it for now. She knows how to take care of herself."

~

Nobody had heard from her that night. Or the next morning.

The boys couldn't sleep. On the phone with anyone who might know where she is.

Nothing. It's like she disappeared off the planet.

"Do you think it's her dad?" Pipes Lando. The Brit had been pacing a hole in the floor, and both Charles and Max had made him slow down to breathe properly multiple times.

None of them wanted to consider the possibility, but it could be a likely option.

"god I hope not."

~

Her room hadn't changed. The small window is still letting in a cold draft at night. The only thing telling her how long she'd been here.

Five days. Five horribly long days.

The ties around her wrists ached. Her body hurt from being repeatedly drugged and tossed around like a sack of potatoes.

There were more people here now. More then she remembers there ever being at least. She knew there were people, men, who would come in and out but she was never allowed to speak with them.

For what it’s worth, whatever they were doing to her was making her stronger. She’d been able to transfer the wounds from one person onto herself. It’s keeping her captor at ease for now but she knows he wants more.

It’s not ideal and it’s painful. It’s like she can’t get past a mental block that will allow to simply heal. She can feel it somewhere deep within. She knows she can.

Bringing someone back from the dead however, that’s not healing.

Maybe if she’s able to bring back the corpse of her mother, they’ll trade places. Her soul finally giving into the peace of permanent unconsciousness. At least then her boys wouldn’t have to worry. They could move on without her. Find solace in each other.

Maybe, she thinks.

~

Sebastian is going to lose his mind. His daughter is missing and it feels like the only thing the journalists are writing about is how she probably ran off to be a slut for a different group of guys. He was going to have the heads of whoever wrote that if he ever sees them.

The boys had been staying in Germany with him. It hadn’t taken long for the authorities to determine she’s not in Monaco. They’d come here in hopes of reevaluating. Though they were at each others throats when they got here.

Seb had practically forced them to sit down and communicate. They started working together after that.

Hanna had been forcing them to eat proper meals. Seb made sure at least one of them slept at a time. Lando had recovered from four separate panic attacks over two days. Max is trying to look strong but his puffy red eyes give him away. Then there’s Charles; the monegasque had been blaming himself for not walking with her when he could’ve.

Seb had a feeling they were going to find her. She’s a fighter. The when part is much harder to figure out.

And for all their sakes, he hopes it’s soon.

~

Two weeks.

Two weeks of this nonsense.

She wonders if everyone is racing again. Or at lease getting ready too. This was not how she intended on spending her break.

She was getting closer to giving her father what he wanted. She was pulling herself to the edge of no return every time she worked in that rotting corpse of her mother.

Tonight, though, may be her only chance at escape.

They’d forgotten to drug her before leaving her in her room. The alcohol in their systems already taking effect.

She’d been able to slide off her restraints with ease. Her abilities strength coming in handy at the current moment.

Now she quietly is pulling out her window frame. It have never been sealed but she can’t help but feel satisfied when the screen pops out with a satisfying click.

She could care less how far the drop is. She’s two stories up with grass beneath her. She push herself out the window, her body facing the wall and hand gripping the ledge.

She swings herself outward and hits the ground with a soft thud.

Then she runs.

~

She had a destination in mind. Someone at the gas station she stopped at was nice enough to let her use their gps to see how far away she was under the guise of hers being stolen. Technically, she didn’t lie.

The walk to the Haas headquarters was six hours. But she didn’t stop until she got there.

Now she can’t help but lean herself against the front door, hoping someone notices her.

~

Guenther whistles a tune to himself as he arrives at work for the day. The sun is out and the birds are chirping. The definition of a great morning to him.

The familiar female figure slumped on the ground in front of the front door completely changes his tune. He quick to get her inside and find some fresh Haas shirts lying around for her to change into.

Once she’s awake and refreshed he sits her down in his office.

“Are you going to tell me why you spent the night outside the front door?” He sounds like a stern parent. She curls into herself. It’s reminiscent of how she was when he first got her when she was fifteen. Scared, shaking, and so quiet.

He’d known she went missing a little over two weeks ago. It was the reason the summer break had been extended. The FIA had been trying to get more security measures set in place.

“I need to call Seb, please.”

~

The boys were there the next day.

Guenther had taken her to his house despite her adamant refusal. The girl had been to tired to fight and eventually gave in.

It’s not long before she padding softly down to the dining room, halting in her tracks when she sees everyone. She doesn’t say anything. She can’t say anything. The boys don’t either. They don’t know how to approach her.

He led the four males inside and sat them down at his dining room table. “She’s sleeping right now.” Questions come flying at him from the three younger men. Seb shoots them all a look that says shut up and let him explain. “I’ll warn you that she’s a bit of a mess. Her father did a number this time around.”

after an hour of sitting, the anxious boys see the female peek her head around he corner. none of them know what to do. They don’t want to scare her away after what she’s been through.

Seb goes to her first. He approaches her slowly taking her in his arms. Then everything in her snaps. It’s just like when she had night terrors and was finally able to wake up from it. This time however, it had been real.

~

She spends the night in bed with Max. The house they're staying in lacks a bed big enough for all of them.

They had played a game of rock paper scissors, which Max won. He claimed his spot next to her with his signature winning grin.

Charles and Lando decided not to take a different bedroom and are curled up at the floor at the foot of the bed instead. Their soft snores confirm that they are, in fact, asleep.

Max holds her close. Every second with her precious. She'd been crying since they arrived. No matter what they did, she seemed to have a never ending supply of tears.

He'd been the first to assess the damage done to her body.

Diagnosis: terrible. He had half a mind to get Guenther to show him where the hell her father is staying so he can personally drag him to hell.

The cuts and incisions along her torso and chest are still red and puffy. The bruises that littered her skin are awful shades of blue, black, and yellow. Her eyes are dull with dark circles beneath. Her body seemed just as fragile as the day he first met her.

He felt himself slipping back into memories from years ago. Gentle touches so he didn't scare her, slow movements because she flinched away from anyone who moved fast.

Quiet until someone tried to say something mean to him or Seb.

Now she lays on his chest. Tears still fall onto his lightly colored t-shirt. And he finds himself wishing he'd have found her years before he met her, if only to tell her he'll be there for her. No matter what anyone says, he'll always find her.

~

Seb watches carefully as she picks at her piece of toast. According to Guenther, she hadn't been able to keep much down since he found her.

She protested eating anything, but Seb is a good negotiator. He promised that when she could keep food down that they would go home to Germany. Not back to Monaco yet because people are aching to get pictures of her.

"At this rate, I'll be old and wrinkly by the time you finish."

She shoots him scowl. "Aren't you retiring? Dosen't that mean you're already old?"

"Old is a state of mind."

She takes another bite. The taste could be that of a brick, but she's so hungry it would still taste delicious.

"I can't stop thinking about the car that got me."

"What do you mean?" Seb asks gently. She hadn't talked much about the whole ordeal yet. Little bits of information here and there but nothing to help him get a picture of what went on.

"The man driving the car. I knew him."

"But he wasn't your father? Or the man at your door?"

"No, he was older than my father and larger than the man at the door." She rubs her tembles in a struggle to remember.

"No need to think about it now. They're not going to get you again. Mostly because I think your boys might start a war if they do."

Their soft conversation is interrupted by Max speaking to his phone in angry Dutch. A clear sign of Jos being on the other end.

"je doet raar." (You're being ridiculous)

Her head perks up at the phrase. A familiar one Max uses with Charles when he is oblivious.

Max hangs of the phone in a huff amd site down with them at the table.

"Can you say that again?" She looks at Max. Her request odd to him, but he obliges. "je doet raar."

"He was on the phone speaking Dutch. He used that phrase." Her head gets a shooting pain, and lights dance through her eyes as she finds herself receiving the car ride.

This time watching scenes unfold in that past. This is new. Both with her and in the context of the situation.

She's in the passenger seat, and next to her is none other than Jos Verstappen.

~

Charles has never seen Max so angry. Which is saying something because Max is angry a lot.

The scene him and Lando walked into had been nothing short of catastrophic.

A female body tucked into Seb on the couch, the German attempting to get the attention of a specific Dutch. Max obviously is not listening and is letting the most foul things he's even heard him say about his father ring through all their ears.

It's interesting in a sense. The other three had never hesitated to show their distaste towards Jos, and Seb had managed to call him a poor excuse of a father to his face on more than one occasion.

There had been a time that Max had a tire malfunction and ended his race in the wall. Jos had gotten more aggressive then any of them would have liked and he is very lucky that nobody aside from Seb had been around to see it.

Seb has a sway with words. He knows how to make them stick. So when he saw Jos' hand land on Max's cheek, he didn't hesitate to step in.

The German gently tucked Max out of the way and faced the older Dutch with fire in his eyes.

"Didn't know a tire failure was deserving of a slap."

"This is between me and my son."

"As far as I'm aware, he's dating my daughter, which makes him mine also. Touch him again, and I'll take legal action."

It was one of the only times Seb had to hold Max comfortingly in his chest. Reassuring the boy that he did not deserve any of that even as Max explained why he did.

Lando is the fastest to act. His arms encircled around Max's body. He can visibly see him relax into the Brits hold.

"Jos was the one who took me originally." The female explains. Her knees tucked up to her chest, and her head rests on sebs shoulder. Charles makes note of how she looks more exhausted now the the last time he saw her.

The words didn't register with him. Not entirely anyway. It didn't make sense. How is it even possible that Jos is in kahoots with the devil?

It would seem they are both devils that somehow raised angels. Charles will only thank them for that, and only after he's killed them.

It's terrible really, the way they look at him. She is teary eyed and apologizing while Max looks clueless. And for the first time since Charles started dating him, Max is pleading with his eyes for help. The Dutch is clueless on where to go from here.

"Knowing that, Max, if you want to leave your dad out of this, we can." Mentions Seb. He knows that the way Jos brought up Max left him confused. His dad praised him and rewarded him one second, then hit him the next. It made thinking fuzzy for him, and since his father was never all bad, he told everyone that it was a good thing. He was attached to him regardless of the circumstances.

This was different.

"If he's going to kidnap my lovers, then he needs to be put away."

"That makes this easier. Know that my home is your home as it always has been, in case things get ugly."

Max nods his head at the German. Really, Seb had been his father figure since he was seventeen. Jos didn't have much say in his life anymore

~

After a third attempt at eating toast, she was finally able to keep it down. It was forced, and she had gagged multiple times, but it was still in her stomach after an hour.

They left soon after that, thanking Guenther profusely for , once again, rescuing her at her worst.

The perks of dating a world champion is that he now owns a private jet. They got home sooner than she expected because of it.

Hanna greeted them at the door and gently latched herself to her daughter. The relief coming in the for of salty tears.

She likes being at home in Germany. Seb had made sure to keep her old room clean. He even got a bigger bed once he heard Lando joined them.

The room feels comfortable and familiar. She's even able to fall asleep when she sits on top of the soft covers.

That is how the boys found her. Snoring softly, draped over the bed with her shoes still on. They carefully slip her shoes of and reposition her where she'll be more comfortable.

Then, they leave the room and shut the door behind them. Their conversation nothing but whisper right outside the door.

"Will she be able to drive next week?"

"I hope so. Maybe Charles will have a chance if she can't, though." The Dutch snickers. Charles hits his shoulder playfully. "I'm not sure how to move forward now. It seems like anything we do only prolongs the inevitable."

"We take it on day at a time then."

~

She managed to get herself to the race track. Driving may not be an option yet, but at least she was there. Christian wasn't going to let her drive until he got her physical report back.

Really it was Max telling him the truth about how she still can't keep down a full meal and is now dropping weight because of it.

She did eat some crackers and was fine. She's proud of herself for that one.

Despite Sergio driving the second redbull, she was happy to be back. The paddock felt similar to home in some ways.

The only new thing is that she's never alone. When free practice 1 comes around, Max dutifully places her on the pitwall next to Christian. She dosen't move until somone comes to get Her.

She feels mildly like a nuisance to them since they have to pay extra attention to her now.

She's stays in their hotel room the rest of the weekend until right before the race. Everyone in the garage is shocked to see her walk in alone.

All her boys end up on the podium, and it's the first time she's celebrated since she came back.

~

Three quarters through the season, and she's still not driving. Still training in more ways than one, but not driving.

She doesn't feel like she can. Her body is still physically decimated. She's able to keep down more then just toast now, but that's on a good day.

Her powers are at the strongest they've ever been. She's managed to learn more about self-defense in case someone tries to nab her again. But with that comes sticky note threats in Jos Verstappens' handwriting.

It's starting to look desperate.

Despite the state of her uncooperative body, she still went to every race. Attempting to be as supportive as possible from the sidelines.

It didn't feel as painful as when she felt as though she lost her spot the first time. This time, she still had purpose. She is doing her best to learn how to keep her family safe. That's all she could ask of herself.

All of them were glad she wasn't pushing to get back in the car. They all know about her aptitude for pain. Christian is amazed by how she's coping and fully supports her decision. Seb seems to be cheering her on in the pits even though he's the one driving.

She doesn't even bat an eye when Jos makes a vaugly threatening statement towards her. Because if she wanted, she'd have his head through the wall in a second.

She doesn’t let herself get comfortable this time. The nagging feeling that something worse is coming a constant in the back of her mind.

~

Next ->

Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @jayda12 @faithm120601 @eugene-emt-roe @lpab @yaaadii @80sloverry @spongebeck3101 @eviethetheatrefreak

@chanshintien

[mr2swap]

Happy valentine's revenge

-Hi Babe! are you ready for our da...- Derek was silent halfway to the living room and the entrance of the apartment that he and his boyfriend shared, he had no words to describe what was in front of him Johnny Peterson the bully who had done his entire adolescence hell was now in his apartment.

Johnny slowly approached taking big and noisy steps towards Derek while he was only wearing a tiny pink thong, when they were only a couple of inches away Johnny with her thick and powerful voice whispered in his ear -Make me your bitch...-

—3 hours before

Johnny Peterson had walked into the trap like a hungry animal, 3-for-1 on protein powders, dietary supplements, and plus-size sportswear in a lonely alley? He was too obvious and suspicious, but for someone as big, powerful, arrogant, and stupid as Johnny it was like finding a gold mine.

Johnny was the biggest, strongest, and most arrogant guy in town, nobody messed with him. But he used to pick on everyone, especially the smallest people he could find, like my current boyfriend Derek. I love Derek. I would do anything for Derek even this.

 He and Johnny used to go to the same high school. Johnny was the statewide wrestling champ and Derek was a member of the debate team, and there was nothing more fun for Johnny than treating my boyfriend like shit. He still has some scars on his thin and delicate body, and he still has more scars on his soul every time he talks about Johnny and how he treated him like his personal punching bag, it makes me boil of Blood.

That's why I planned all of this. -WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO ME, SON OF A BITCH? LET GO OF ME OR I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!- Slowly the muscles, the height of Johnny's entire appearance, was quickly and painfully transferred to me. He could feel my muscles bursting as he sank in front of my eyes, The arrogant and handsome Johnny deflates and became the person who looked at himself in the mirror every day, we were exchanging our bodies.

When the process was over, the arrogant Johnny was now on his knees with a flushed face and tears in his eyes from the pain. Finally, the magnetism that had made it impossible for both of us to let go of our hands disappeared. I think my body doesn't resist the process so well because the instant I let go of him he passed out.

I flexed my powerful new arms and that made my shirt rip thanks to how huge it was now, my clothes had ripped in the process, but Johnny's clothes were still intact, I undressed him without any problem right now he was double the size it was a few minutes ago I had to admit it felt fantastic to be this powerful too bad I couldn't enjoy that sweet moment with Johnny I had a valentines date with my boyfriend and this muscular ass was screaming to be fucked.

Happy valentines day, I hope you like your gift, I wrote this last year for this date, you can check out my patreon and see all my stories to give yourself a gift wink wink ♥️

[forabeatofadrum]

Ljubili se (9/21)

Notes: Oh Blainers.

AO3 | S&C

–

CODDLE

Blaine looks up. The office building is huge, although Blaine knows his dad’s company only occupies a couple of floors. The New York branch isn’t as big as the one in LA.

“Okay, I can do this,” Blaine says to himself. He has his dad’s recommendation, and Tadeja also offered to put in a good word for him if needed. He’s told Tadeja what he’s planning and she’s also hoping for him. Quinn is also rooting for him today.

Blaine goes inside, rides the elevator to the right floor, and tells the person behind the reception that he has a meeting with the executive.

“Please wait, Mr…” the receptionist does a double take when he confirms Blaine’s last name, “… Anderson?”

It’s a common last name, but Blaine looks like his dad and the receptionist notices.

“Yes,” Blaine has his ID in case he needs it, but the receptionist just gives him direction to the right office.

And after a short wait, Blaine is asked to come in.

Mrs. Bauer is an intimidating woman. Blaine’s heard a lot about her. People call her a bitch, but Blaine also knows people are quick to judge. His father always speaks highly of her, though. She does great work and she’s a great boss.

“Mr. Anderson,” she extends her hand.

“Mrs. Bauer, thank you for meeting me on such a short notice,” Blaine says.

“Ah well, your father requested it,” she says and the two of them take a seat, “You are interested in transferring to the New York office.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

After that, it’s a relatively small interview. Blaine talks about what he’s achieved in Ljubljana. He also brought his resume. Blaine tries to come off as professional, yet charming.  

“That’s all neat, but what is your true motivation?”

“Pardon me?”

“All I hear is a polished sales pitch.”

“Well…”

Blaine wants to argue that every job interview is basically that, but he holds his tongue.

“Give us one reason to hire you.”

Blaine doesn’t really know what to say to that, but that is of course something he cannot say.

It’s not like he can say the truth either.

‘Turns out I am gay and my secret boyfriend lives here, so I want to move to New York to be closer to him and this gives me a great excuse to move across the country’ probably doesn’t cut it.

When Blaine remains silent, the executive scoffs.

“Thought so.”

Blaine frowns.

What does she mean?

“I am going to be frank with you, Mr. Anderson,” the executive says, “I respect your father and this company a lot, but I am not a fan of nepotism.”

And that’s the moment Blaine knows for certain that he will not get this position.

“People work hard to climb the corporate ladder,” she continues, “And I don’t like it that your father basically asked me to meet with you, just because you’re his son. I am not here to coddle you.”

Blaine likes to argue that he also works hard, because he thinks he does, but he cannot deny the fact that being the CEO’s son has already given him more opportunities, like fucking off to Ljubljana for half a year.

“I… see,” Blaine says slowly.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but your efforts to the Ljubljana branch have been, uhm, nihil.”

Mrs. Bauer then goes on to list more reasons why Blaine isn’t qualified. At least she seems pained to say it. She really doesn’t want to hurt Blaine’s feelings, but it’s harsh.

The worst part is that she’s right, in a way. Blaine’s always known that his time at the Ljubljana branch didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. He was there to shake hands on his father’s behalf.

Which definitely doesn’t negate the nepotism accusation.

“I see,” Blaine says again, trying to keep himself composed, “Thank you for your time.”

“Thank you for coming in,” Mrs. Bauer says, after she just rejected him. The professional world is insane. “I wish you luck in your career, even though it won’t be here.”

After a brief, professional, but awkward, goodbye, Blaine leaves as soon as possible. He says bye to the receptionist on his way out and rushes out.

Once the New York city air hits his face, the realisation sinks in.

This did not go as planned. He didn’t get a reason to move to New York.

Obviously, Kurt is the main reason and Kurt’s still here. For a split second, Blaine imagines himself uprooting his entire life just for Kurt. He can leave. Apart from some friends and colleagues, there’s nothing left in LA for him. His family is doing alright. Quinn has Denise. He can just go.

But then Blaine shakes his head.

He cannot just do that. He does have things to arrange back in LA, and even though he thinks his relationship with Kurt is extremely strong and solid, it’s a bit much to just move across the country for him. What will Blaine be doing here?

His phone rings and that pulls him out of his thoughts.

Speaking of his life in LA…

“Hey, how did it go?” Quinn asks the moment Blaine picks up.

“Not great, Quinnie,” Blaine sighs.

He proceeds to tell Quinn everything. Quinn listens attentively. After all, he can’t tell Kurt, and it’s evening in Ljubljana, so he doesn’t want to bother Sunil and Tadeja.

It’s nice to be able to tell Quinn.

“Blaine, can I be honest with you?” Quinn says.

“Always.”

“Was this ever a great idea to begin with?”

Blaine blinks a couple of times.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what were you going to do there? The same as in Ljubljana?”

Blaine had hoped that Mrs. Bauer or another higher up would just tell him what to do, which in an instant proves Quinn’s point: what is Blaine doing?

“Blaine, don’t you think it’s time to look past your dad’s company?”

Honestly, Blaine’s never considered it. Just like Cooper, it was almost his great destiny to work for his father. His dad has worked hard to make this company work. He started out at Blaine’s grandparents’ attic and now he’s branching out to Europe. Blaine’s proud of his dad and wants to continue that work.

So he’s never thought of something else.

“Blaine?” Quinn says after a while. Blaine’s been silent.

“I will think about it,” he says, and he means it.

“Okay,” Quinn replies. Then, after a small beat: “By the way, my mom will come to visit next week.”

That stops Blaine in his tracks. He’s glad to move subjects, since he doesn’t want to dwell on his interview, but this is another big thing. He didn’t expect this, and based on the tone of Quinn’s voice, neither did she. Quinn tries to sound casual, but he can hear the hint of nervosity in her voice.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. She got some extra vacation days saved up, so she’s first going to see Frannie in Chicago and then come to LA.”

“That’s sweet,” Blaine says honestly.

“It is,” Quinn says, “But also unexpected. Blaine, I think we should tell her that we’ve broken up.”

Blaine hums in agreement. It does sound like a smart choice, but do they want that? Blaine asks Quinn that.

“… I don’t know, to be honest,” she replies.

“We don’t owe anyone-”

“I know,” Quinn says quickly, “I know, but also, this… this must be a sign, right? My mom and your parents in the same place.”

Blaine wouldn’t call it a sign, but it does help. Now they can tell their parents in person and at the same time. That’s ideal, or at least better than their original plan of telling Quinn’s mom on FaceTime.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Blaine says, “We’ll talk about it when I get back.”

They chat a bit more. Blaine tells Quinn what he’s been doing and Quinn also talks about Denise. After that, they say goodbye, because Blaine is meeting Kurt at one of Kurt’s favourite shopping locations.

The job interview did not go as planned and Blaine’s bummed out, but he is still in New York. He definitely has to savour it for now.

--

End notes: Mrs. Bauer was named by a random name generator, but as a Dutchie, I can't help but think... HEB JE EVEN VOOR BLAINE? (Heb je even voor Blaine?) MAAR WAT TIJD VOOR HEM VRIJ! (Maak wat tijd voor hem vrij!) IEDER UUR VAN DE DAG DENK IK STEEDS AAN BLAINE'S LACH ALLEEN KURT MAAKT BLAINE BLIJ!

I wrote this chapter before chapter 8, so that's why I decided to keep the joke running by calling Kurt's supervisor Ms. Joling.

I don't even like their music that much!

[octochick]

Bagina magical girl AU final part

First part here

-Anyways imagine some episodic episodes passes were Bagi becomes more used to fighting and she and Tina become closer

-Ok so Bagi home situation has been getting even worse. Its like they want her dead. Mãe put a password lock on the fridge and the cabinets. Cellbit stole her bank card and is refusing to give it back to her. She only has been able to survive because Tina shares her food at school with her

-Outside of Bagis family drama, there has been a lot of beasts roaming around, thanks to the increased ferocity of the neighboring areas contractants, that scares the beasts to the more peaceful areas

-Bagi has been fighting more and more, and everyday she arrives very late in the night, sometimes over 3 AM. Her family is remembering to close the bathroom window more often, so she sometimes has to sleep outside

-It's late one night, Bagi just finished fighting two beasts at once and she is feeling so, so tired. She doesn't think she got hurt in this fight, but she'll only be sure when she detransforms

-But before she can return to were Tina is laying down, another beast appears! But this one is different. It is covered in skin instead of pure muscle. It's 'pustules' are smaller, scattered all over its body, body that is double the size of the biggest beast Bagi fought, and even worse, in it's eyes there is a glint of intelligence.

-It talks. There hasn't been a lot of us here, right?

-But it doesn't wait for a answer and lunges for the attack

-Bagi has no time to react. She feels the beast slicing her in half with its claws. Oh, this will hurt in the morning

-The healing prevents her from toppling over, but she still almost feels tears sprouting in her eyes

-Inside her soul, Tina is panicking, and Bagi wants her to take control again. She can't do this.

-Meanwhile the beast attacks again, this time aiming for the neck

-This time she falls to the ground, and the beast goes to attack her again, but at the last second she puts her frying pan to the use and blocks the attack. She pushes back the hardest she can, but the only thing she gets is a opening to get away from under the beast

-So the fight goes on, it tries to break her arms and legs and connects a lot more hits on her, but after Tina transfers even more of her power to Bagi they finally defeat it

-Bagi feels like there is electricity running under her skin, and not in the good way

-Were is your body Tina?

-...I wont let you detransform, Bagi

-No, it's fine, I can handle this

-You can't, not after all this damage!

-Tina... I have to go home.

-...can we go home like this then?

-...fine, but you have to leave before I enter the house.

-They walk slowly home. It's so late that there is no one on the streets

-But when they reach the street of Bagis home, they can see, there are two person on the front of Bagis home. She knows who they are.

-She forcibly expulses Tina from her body. The pain comes all in one wave. She feels her flesh opening, her blood pouring out of her. She doesn't know how she wasn't cut in half in this moment. She feels her throat splitting over, her blood going down to her gut and lungs. Her arms are crushed, and her legs colapse under her own weight.

-She falls in front of her bother and his boyfriend, and she hopes they leave her for dead. She doesn't want to know what they will do to her if she survives. Is this screams she is hearing?

-She doesn't know for how long she has been unconscious, but she wakes up to the familiar and nostalgic ambient of a hospital. How is she alive? She should be dead, should she? This is not like the concussions her brother used to give her, she should have died.

-She can't move, so all she does is stay still. She stays still for days. No one comes to see her, until one day

-Bagi wasnt expecting a visitor. And she surely wasn't expecting for this visitor to be her bother's boyfriend. They never got along well, and she doesn't even know what she did to him, but after enough abuse, she just gave up to prevent further heartbreak

-He just stands near her bed, glaring at her with a fury of a 1000 suns

-You hate me, and it's a statement, a truth

-Yes, I do

-What are you doing here then

-I just came here to warn you to stop hanging out with these gangs, you are dragging Cellbo's reputation to the ground. If you don't, I don't know what I'll even do to you...

-...there's no need for you to worry about it. Soon it will be over. Isn't his birthday in two days? Don't you have to buy something to him?

-Oh shit I still need to buy him something. But still, you better hear me or your state right now will be pleasant in comparison. Fucking bitch.

-Goodbye to you too.

-Bagi has no tears anymore. In two days she will be thrown out of the family and she'll be completely on her own

-At the very least she has a little bit of money on her bank account. It will be a little hard to find somewhere to stay but she will not starve too soon

-It's only a day later and another someone comes to see her. Tina

-Bagi always thought she was jaded of everything. She is hated by her family, she lost her memories, she is isolated at school. She always figured she must have done something terrible in the seven years of her life that she doesn't remember to deserve all of this, but she can't take it anymore. She breaks down in front of Tina, the only person she ever wanted to look strong to

-Tomorrow they will cut every ties they have with me. They will cancel my enrollment at school. I'll be fired from all my jobs and I have nowhere to go, I'm in this state and I just want to die. Why I ain't dead. Why did the neighbor think it was a good idea to call an ambulance for me? Doesn't he know how my life is? He should know, my mom isn't subtle when she argues with me! I should be dead! I should be dead! I can't take it anymore. I'm a dead woman walking, I should have died when I was 7. I have nothing, absolutely nothing.

-Bagi can't stop crying, and all Tina can do is to hug her, trying her best to also not break. She knew that Bagi family was not the best, but to do this to her? What did she ever do to deserve this?

-If Bagi wants to die this bad... maybe she can offer her some mercy?

-Bagi... there's really no other way?

-...I'm just being dramatic. When I get out of here I'll probably figure something out.

-...you know about the doors of hell, right? About how we are about to close it.

-So, we have a little problem... to close it we need the sacrifice of a pair of contractants.

-If you really feel that there is nothing left for you, if there's no other way... would you like to be this sacrifice with me?

-Bagi looks at Tina. She feels her tears that she never allowed to flow lest she gets another concussion, and they drop like rain.

-Yes. I'm sorry Tina, I'm so so sorry, but yes, please, please! I can't, I can't anymore. Please, please...

-They still talk more, about how Tina will contact the demons to say she has a sacrifice, to get everything ready for them

-Tina shares with Bagi some of her blood, and while this will destroy her from the inside out eventually, it will also help her recuperate enough for Bagi to get out of the hospital

-A week later, Bagi is released and she finds all her belongings in the trash. But despite this, she feels light and happy like she never felt before

-They finally arrive at the doors of hell

-Bagi looks at Tina, at their interwoven hands, and she sees uncertain in her eyes

-If you don't want, we don't need to do it...

-No, it's too late for that. At least you will be with me.

-The demon who is conducting the closing asks Bagi if she doesn't have anyone to say goodbye to

-The only person I want to say goodbye will be by my side. I have nothing else besides Tina. No one will ever miss me.

-The closing is done. No more beasts should be able to escape, and the ones who were left being will soon be dealt with.

-Tinas existence is erased from the human world.

-She was right, no one misses Bagi

-But at least, she has Tina by her side, forever and ever

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[lacunasbalustrade]

Not sure how long you wanted it, but it's done!

@fandomfan-102. If you want a specific yn personality, it would be good to clarify that next time as I ended up having to take yn's personality into my own hands haha

/ Rouga would never kidnap anyone. Y/N also didn't care whether or not he did. They weren't going to pass up the chance to kick his butt in person.

Fine, so it had been years since he'd went AWOL on them without even saying goodbye.

So maybe they had had time to bicker about it whenever they wanted, since soon after he'd left, they'd scored a military-funded transfer to Japan as a benefit of working as a local guide for the foreigner military, which needed trustworthy translators to assist in their war effort.

Yet....he'd had the nerve to vanish on their case once again, relocating to the wilds of Sengoku. The first time, they could still forgive, but the second? Rouga could yap all he liked about survival, but he really just loved to lick his wounds - what a coward. Y/N wasn't going to put up with it, and they had words to trade with Kiri for learning from Rouga's bad example and worrying everyone in this way.

--

Rouga stood in the doorway and it was like their traitorous heart jumped out towards him. Y/N mentally yanked it back in, reeling in the leash like their soul was a little overexcited dog that wanted nothing more than to greet its owner. They plastered a neutral expression on their face, garnered the remainder of their restraint, and proceeded to speak.

"ARAGAMI you get down on the floor and beg for mercy before I thrash you black and BLUE!"

Y/N screamed, grabbing the first thing that came to hand, in this case Tetsuya Kurodake's cap, and hurling it at Rouga the same way they used to skip stones across the dirty river back in Syria.

Rouga did a double take and just barely dodged, sidestepping. The cap slid across the floor and stopped in front of the Student Council members, who unanimously stared awkwardly at it and then back up at Rouga, who didn't pay them any mind, and chose instead to scoff at Y/N with a smirk.

"Me, beg for mercy? You don't know a thing about me, so don't waltz in here and act like I owe you the time of the-"

Next was Kuguru Uki's tablet, a green blur as it was violently flung at his head. Rouga caught it in a hand, looking distinctly unimpressed, but in spite of himself, his mouth curled up in a small, genuine beginning of a grin.

Y/N marched towards Rouga, stomping so hard that Shosetsu flinched slightly. Raremaro eyed the carpet, hoping it wouldn't wear out under their shoes.

"Are you ex-lovers or something? Cause I'm really getting those vibes. It's not cool to let your partner down, ya dig, Aragami?" Asmodai finger-gunned Rouga with a wink. Rouga blew him off with a casual scowl.

"Don't make me laugh. I wouldn't consider this pipsqueak if we were the last beings on Earth."

"Say that while looking at me, you insensitive, flighty, cowardly little kicked puppy." Y/N taunted with a ferocious glare, eyes flaring with anger as they set their hands on their hips and leaned in, getting close enough that they were in Rouga's personal space.

"What did you just say? You've gotten bolder. Not a good look." Rouga all but growled, eyeing them resentfully. Y/N moved on the spur of the moment, headbutting him. Rouga reeled back in agony, gripping his forehead as he stepped back to regain his balance.

"What the hell was that for! Come back here!" Shaking off the pain that clung to him, Rouga delivered a raging cry and ran after them as Y/N dashed out of the room angrily.

"Did I just see...what I thought I...." Shosetsu couldn't finish his sentence, staring after Rouga in disbelief.

"Guess even the great Aragami's only human afterall. Who knew?" Kanehebi remarked with a wry grin, sitting on the table as he watched them race away.

Hi again! Since you said, i can request a character x reader. I'll try to make this simple. I'd like to request a Rouga x Reader oneshot. A childhood friends to enemies to lovers. Not angst much. Like during the Sengoku Academy episodes, reader is good friends with Gao and the others, and went to go rescue Kiri. where Rouga appears in the office and he and the reader had a short reunion. (let's say that reader is mad about Rouga disappearing on her from their old home) and Asmodei being Asmodei teases/jokes if they're ex-lovers or something. Sorry if it's too long and thank you!

can do! I’ll have it out within the week.

[silvipeppers]

HI your most recent embroidery illustration has bewitched me both body and soul can I ask about it?? How did you do the line weight variations? Did you double up or is that a different stitch? What size of hoop is that? Is it large or are you using some kind of ultra fine floss? Do you wash the pieces before you paint them to get the pen off? What kind of fabric do you typically use? I don’t mean to be a bother this is a lot I know but WOW. I am captivated

Hi!! Of course you can, I sincerely love to talk about my embroideries but I feel like I'm being too much sometimes, so I'm so glad you'd ask!

The line weights I get by using different thicknesses of thread and by going over sections several times. I use polyester thread because it's stringer than mouliné cotton (DMC and Anchor for example) but I used to use these in the past and had awesome results too.

For stitches I use back stitch and stem stitch (with some couching to secure the more severe curves of the stem stitch).

The final wooden hoop is 8" but that is just for presentation; I work with a plastic 10" hoop and draw an 8" outline for guidance. The plastic hoop keeps a better tension over long periods of time and you don't have to keep tightening it constantly.

The pens I use to trace the drawings over a light table are heat-erasable (the brand is pilot frixion!). When I'm done stitching I can just iron over them or hover a hairdryer to erase the ink. To transfer the drawing I've also tried printable water-soluble adhesive interfacing but that has been a lot of trouble because, while dissolving the paper part is easy, there's always a sticky residue that it's very finicky to get rid off without disturbing the delicate stitching…it's a pain.

The fabric is cotton muslin! I try to find a hefty, good quality one which is a bit heavier than normal…but any good cotton should work. I personally prefer unbleached fabric because the warmth looks better in my opinion.

I also have a video about the process if you're interested in that. My process and methods have changed in the past 2 years but it's still a good overview:

Hope this helps!

[hollie911]

This is not my work. It is by the user constantwriter85 whose account had been deactivated on tumblr and ao3 and i am just sharing their work

The devil you know

Vampire!jefferson x reader

Series Warnings: 18+, Smut, Graphic Violence, Blood/Gore, Blood Drinking, Light details of an Autopsy/Medical Procedure, Angst, Fluff

Part 3/10

“Well, hello there.”

Your heart leapt in your throat. That wasn’t Jefferson—you had no idea who this woman was. You unlocked the door, standing aside as she brushed past you.

“Um, can I help you?”

The woman smiled broadly, although it didn’t settle your nerves any. She looked like a wolf about to make a kill.

“I certainly hope so…Y/N, is it? Assistant Coroner?” The woman waltzed into the lab, drawing her finger possessively across the cabinets. “I believe you are just the person who can help me find who I’m looking for.”

You simply stared at her and shook your head. “I’m sorry, who are you? This place is off limits to—”

“Oh excuse me, of course! I’m Regina,” she said, as if this explained everything. “I’m looking for a young man that was brought here, about 25 years old, brown haired and blue eyed, large wooden stake through his heart. I’m sure you couldn’t miss him.”

Jefferson. She was talking about Jefferson. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and something told you this woman was dangerous.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but that information is confidential. You’ll have to take all official inquiries to the poli—”

“No, I’m quite certain you can help me,” Regina said, her eyes flashing dangerously. “You see, I know he was brought here, and I know you’re lying to me.”

You slowly stood, edging your way towards your cell phone on the desk.

“I’m sorry lady, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. No one was brought here by that description—”

In the blink of an eye Regina was upon you, her hands gripping your throat tightly. She squeezed, and you felt your air being choked off as your feet scrabbled for purchase against the slick linoleum.

“Oh, poppet, I’m afraid you don’t understand the game we’re playing.” She squeezed tighter, and stars began to explode behind your eyes. “The game is, you give me answers and I won’t kill you.”

With superhuman strength, she threw you across the room. Your body collided with a shelving cabinet and the glass door shattered. White hot pain lanced through your shoulder and you fell to the floor, crying out as your left knee struck the floor hard.

For a moment you just lay there, gasping for breath. Struggling to your feet, you looked around for something to defend yourself with, but before you were able to get up she hit you again. You flew backwards into the refrigerated cadaver drawers.

Your head hit the sharp corner of the drawer and your vision went dark for a moment. When you opened your eyes again your vision was doubled, and you felt something warm and sticky trickling down the side of your face.

“Let’s try this again,” Regina cooed to you sweetly. “The body—I know it was brought here, where is it? I want to see it.”

You swallowed thickly, trying to think despite the cloud of pain and confusion in your head. This woman was dangerous—for all you knew, she was the one who had tried to hurt Jefferson. He meant absolutely nothing to you, yet something told you to protect him.

“Okay, okay! He was here—last night,” you panted. “I…I did the autopsy on him myself, there’s a copy of the report on the desk if you want to see it.”

Regina’s eyes narrowed. “He was dead? Where’s the body now?” She looked at the refrigerated cadaver drawers, but you shook your head.

“N-No, the body’s gone. It was picked up this morning and sent for private cremation, you can ask the Sheriff if you don’t believe me. The transfer papers are right there on the desk.”

Regina stared at you for a moment. Then she huffed and glanced around the ruined lab, clenching her jaw in irritation. You scuttled backwards as she leveled her glance at you and advanced upon where you lay. She grabbed you up by the hair and spun you around, and your hands flew to your throat, feeling a blade pressed to your jugular.

“You better be telling the truth, girl, or you’ll wish I had finished you here.”

A little flick, and a small trail of blood trickled down your throat. “I’ll be watching you,” she warned.

Regina released you, and you fell to the floor. She snatched the paperwork from the desk as she left, the doors slamming shut behind her.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there, curled in a ball on the floor. You were shaking, your eyes burning as your chest heaved in panic. Everything hurt—your throat felt raw and swollen, your knee and shoulder throbbed, and your head was splitting with a headache that made you want to throw up.

That woman—that horrible woman—was after Jefferson. She’d almost killed you, just to get information on him.

What had you gotten yourself into?

Okay, Y/N…damage control. Get ahold of yourself, get the situation under control.

Gradually your breathing slowed and you sat up, taking inventory of the morgue lab. Things had been knocked around, but at least not much had been broken, other than you. It shouldn’t be too hard to clean up.

Okay…okay…I can do this. Just pick up the pieces, put them back, and no one will ever know.

Grabbing a small towel, you dabbed at the blood on your head and shoulder with shaking hands. You limped around the lab, cleaning up the mess and wondering just at what point your life had become a series of cover-ups.

You wrote a quick note to Dr. Whale about the broken glass door, saying you accidently hit it with your rolling stool. Broken glass was swept up, supplies were replaced, and you blood was wiped from the floor. Before long, the lab was back to normal.

Staring around the clinically tidy space, you couldn’t feel anything other than the anxiety and fear brewing in your chest. What if she found out you lied? What if she came back?

You could still feel Regina’s hands around your neck. Her sickly sweet voice hissing in your ear. A razor-sharp knife pressed to your throat, ready to end you in an instant.

You had to get out of there.

Without a second thought you shoved a scalpel in the pocket of your scrubs and walked off into the night, leaving behind your bicycle and your jacket. You didn’t think, you didn’t even care…you just needed to be away from that place.

The minutes stretched on as you wandered through the woods towards town. The panic continued to build, and soon you found yourself at the broad avenue that ran through the park. Feeling lightheaded and near hysterical, you collapsed onto a nearby park bench.

Then the tears came.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, sobbing like a child. The sound of a soft footstep behind you had you on your feet, your heart hammering in your throat and scalpel raised in your hand.

“Y/N?”

***

Jefferson couldn’t wait any longer. He had to see her.

He had awoken at dusk, reborn again as the living dead like he always was, but with Y/N’s name on his lips and her beautiful face in his mind. All he could think about was her—what she had done for him, and how he could manage to see her again.

He wondered if she would be at the morgue tonight. It was a safe assumption; it was still the work week, and if she was working last night she was liable to be working again tonight.

Still, he didn’t want to bother her. Jefferson rocked on his heels, twisting his hands together. What if he was misreading their previous encounter? What if her attitude towards him and what he was had changed—after all, many things end up looking different in the light of day.

He still didn’t understand why she had helped him. What if she was horrified by what had happened, or even worse, disgusted by him? His head was spinning—he didn’t think he could take a flat-out rejection from her.

In another life, Jefferson wouldn’t have hesitated. But this was reality, and the truth of the matter was that he was a monster, the kind horror stories were made of. He wasn’t even human anymore.

Who could possibly love the likes of him?

So it was with a heavy ache in his chest that he went up to his study, instead. He pulled out the ancient spell book that had started this whole mess, and began deciphering and translating the ancient text.

Hours passed, and he had gotten nowhere. His mind kept wandering, but Jefferson was stubborn when he wanted to be.

“Why on god’s green earth are you sitting up here, pouring over that musty old book when there is a beautiful young woman who I’m sure would love to see you again?”

Jefferson’s head jerked up to see Mrs. Conrad standing in the doorway, holding a tea service in her hands. His mouth opened and closed, and she snorted as she set it on his desk.

“When’s the last time you fed, Jefferson, you looked peaked.”

“L-Last night—”

“I call that a small taste to bring you back from the jaws of death, my boy, not a proper feeding. You need to eat.”

She set a thermos down on the desk with a thud. Jefferson eyed it with disgust—it was blood from the local blood bank, he knew, and enough to keep him healthy, but he hated it nonetheless. That blood was meant to help save someone’s life, not for the likes of him.

“Drink it while it’s still warm, you know how vile it gets once it’s cold.”

Jefferson pointedly poured himself a cup of tea instead, ignoring the thermos.

“I’m fine.”

Mrs. Conrad scowled at him, and then her expression softened.

“You’re not fine. You’re depleted…weak. You’ve gotten in your own head again, I can tell. Sitting up here sulking, feeling sorry for yourself and your lot in life. Neglecting your health, all over a woman.” She nodded at the thermos. “Replenish your strength, and then get your arse up from behind that desk and go see that girl.”

“What if she doesn’t—”

“She does. Trust me.”

Jefferson blinked, staring at the thermos. He was hungry, dreadfully so. His jaw clenched as he opened the thermos, staring at the contents for a moment before pouring himself a glass of the crimson liquid. He hesitated a moment before downing it, hating himself for how good it tasted…and for how much he needed it.

Thermos finished, he sat back in the chair, eyes closed and breathing heavily, already feeling the blood’s rejuvenating effects.

“Well? Are you going to go see her, or not?”

Jefferson blinked an eye open in mock irritation. “You’re rather pushy, do you know that?”

“Young men need to be pushed.”

“I’m older than you, you old bat,” he muttered.

She scoffed. “Your bones may be old Jefferson, but your mind and heart are young…and naive. You need an old biddy like me around to keep you in line.”

Jefferson laughed as he stood and wrapped an arm around her waist, affectionately kissing the top of her grizzled, white hair. “I don’t know what I’d do without you Mrs. Conrad, do you know that?”

“Probably waste away to nothing, if left to your own devices…you’re lucky I agree to keep working here.” She chuckled and blushed at his display of affection, pushing his shoulder. “Get out of here! Go, see your girl—I feel like I’m in a gothic drama instead of the twenty-first century, with all this angst and pining.”

Twenty minutes later, Jefferson was out the front door, down his front steps and walking purposefully towards the morgue. It was situated on the edge of town, actually not far from his house.

Storybrooke was a typical Maine town, one long main street bisected with various side streets. There was the town park with a large wooded area that bordered one edge, near where the morgue and county offices were located. Jefferson’s house was located just at the edge of the woods, high on a hill overlooking the town.

Nervous excitement began to build in him as he pushed open the front door to the morgue. It was late at night, or rather, early in the morning, and the place was utterly deserted. Recalling his path from the previous night, he turned the corner and walked down the long hallway to the lab. Pushing open the door, he knocked and called out to Y/N, not wanting to startle her.

He was met with silence.

The lab was deserted as well. Jefferson frowned in confusion, then halted in his tracks—something was wrong. Everything was neatly put away, papers stacked neatly, and there was a slight tang of antiseptic spray that covered the general smell of death in the air. Common smells for a morgue, but underneath it all, Jefferson could smell fresh blood.

Her blood.

He followed the scent to the large red receptacle labeled ‘biohazard,’ and peered inside. Sure enough, there was a towel on top, soaked in red. All his senses immediately shot into overdrive.

“Y/N?” He called louder this time, and his voice held more of an edge.

She wasn’t here. Her coat was still in her open locker, though, and he remembered seeing her bicycle out front. Jefferson walked quickly to the front office and out the front door

Once outside he paused, sniffing the air and catching the scent of her blood again. He already knew it well. He looked down and saw a couple drops of red on the leaves scattered on the sidewalk. Bending down, he touched a finger to the blood spot and tasted it.

It was hers, and it was fresh.

Jefferson was on his feet in a flash. He walked quickly, following the faint scent trail into the woods and towards the town center. Something was wrong—he knew it. Why would she just leave her coat and bicycle behind? It was freezing out. Y/N was hurt, she could be in trouble, and Jefferson had the sinking feeling it had something to do with him.

The trail cut across to the park, and soon he found himself walking down the broad avenue that bisected the wooded area. His eyes narrowed as he spotted a figure sitting alone on a bench.

As he drew closer, the scent of blood drew stronger. It was Y/N, sitting on the park bench and crying into her sleeves. Her sobs broke his heart; in each he could hear her pain and fear. Jefferson stepped a little closer, and now he could hear her heartbeat, racing away in barely controlled panic.

Jefferson was starting to panic a bit himself. He didn’t know how badly she was injured, or what had happened to her. He hated it—it killed him to see her this way. She was so scared. Jefferson didn’t want to frighten her any further, so he let himself be heard walking up to her as he called out softly.

“Y/N?”

She gasped and whirled, stumbling to her feet. He heard her heartbeat kick up a notch, and the scalpel trembled in her hand, the moonlight glinting off the blade. Her eyes were wide with fear.

“It’s me, it’s just me—” he blurted, holding up his hands. “It’s all right, it’s just—”

“J-Jefferson?”

She took a wavering step towards him, and he closed the distance between them in a few strides, wrapping his arms around her. Being this close to her was almost unbearable, and the scent of her blood was doing things to him, things it shouldn’t have been doing so soon after he fed.

He could smell her. Her blood, the perfume she wore, her shampoo, and a scent that was just… her. It was like all his senses were heightened—he could see only her, every sharp detail, from the goosebumps on her skin to every hair that was out of place, all while her heartbeat thudded away in his ears. Despite his fear and worry for her, he felt a carnal hunger—a need that both embarrassed and frightened him.

Good god, what the hell is wrong with you! Pull yourself together, Jefferson, she needs you!

Whatever had happened, it had frightened her deeply. His heart broke to see her like this, and he murmured softly in her ear while she trembled against him.

“Shh…it’s all right, you’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Jefferson sank onto the park bench, taking her with him. He brushed his hands over her shoulders, pulling it away in shock when his hand came away slick with blood.

“Y/N, you’re bleeding. Y-You’re hurt.”

Now he was looking at her intently. She had a large gash across her temple, blood spilling down the side of her face and staining the collar of the scrubs she still wore. She was very pale, and he could see the bruised outline of fingers around her throat.

“What happened? Who did this to you?”

She clutched at him, burying her face in his neck. “It was that woman…that horrible woman. Regina.”

Jefferson went rigid at the name. In an instant, the carnal instinct that had been driven by her blood vanished, replaced with fear and guilt. This was all his fault, he knew it. But there would be time for the guilt and the questions later—right now, she needed help.

“You’re safe now Y/N, she can’t hurt you.” He brushed the hair back from her eyes, cupping her cheek. “You need a doctor, I need to get you to a hospital. You—”

“No! No hospitals.” Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Jefferson I lied, I covered it up…if we go to a hospital they’ll ask questions… she’ll know I lied.”

Jefferson’s heart sank. He had the feeling that this woman had done a lot more for him than just give him a bit of her blood. He had to do something. She was still bleeding heavily, and she probably had a concussion.

He nodded. “All right, no hospitals. You still need help though—come with me, my house isn’t far.”

He helped her to stand, noticing that she was favoring her left leg. At least she seemed to have calmed down somewhat. The temperature had dropped, and his jaw clenched when he saw she was shivering.

“Here—it’s freezing out, you’ll catch your death of cold.” He took off his topcoat, wrapped it around her shoulders, and she snuggled into its warmth. Jefferson didn’t mind—he didn’t feel the cold anyway.

After a few steps, he saw how badly she was limping, the pain and shock starting to wear in. Without a word he scooped her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest. She protested feebly, but quickly relaxed into his embrace.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe now,” he whispered.

[winter-doggo]

I mostly followed instructions from here. It's a bit involved, more difficult than the small handful of other games I've tried, but very possible. Search engines are your friend if you get stuck on anything! Some notes -

This is specifically for 3DS Capcom games, not any ports or other console's/company's games - they might need a different process.

The post suggests using Citra Emulator to get to the ROM's filesystem. Because both development and distribution of Citra has stopped, it's a pinch more inconvenient to get it installed and working. If you need an alternative and have a working+hacked 3DS, then you can just yoink the real files out of your copy of the game with Godmode9 and transfer the files over to your computer (either with your SD card or any other transfer method that works). This is what I did

It says to use a whole other program to convert textures/images into a usable PNG, but Kuriimu2 can also do this - double click to view a .tex and then there's an export button right there. (However, Scarlet can do them in bulk. The post suggests one at a time but I've had no issues with selecting a bunch of textures and putting them through at the same time with it.)

3ds max is a 1500+ quid professional program. I can only assume this contributed to making it a bloody pain to install even for the free trial. I wanted to avoid using this but alas, seems it is the only option short of learning how to reverse engineer this stuff yourself. But know that even if your first shot at installing it gets stuck (like mine did. at 97%. augh) there are Ways

When it comes to importing the models, check the "Import meshes" box or else you will just get bones. In my experience you don't need to check anything else if you're just after models.

Then, much like the original person who wrote this up, I did the rest in Blender because it's free and I know how to use it

I don't know if you're familiar with the workings of 3d modelling programs, but if you're not, I can write a post about that too?

Really hope this helps!! It's really interesting and fun digging into the guts of beloved games so I'm always willing to help :D

SUCCESS 2 🎉

It was a pain to get there but now I can also rip models from 3DS Capcom games, which means Ace Attorney and 3rd+4th gen MonHun characters/creatures/locations!! Although i've only done Ace Attorney Dual Destinies as of yet. (some screenshots of the courtroom under different lighting, and some of FFVII characters in there because of course there will be, under the cut)

I noticed that when not lit as it is in the game, Dual Destinies' courtroom actually looks quite a lot like the earlier parts of the series. Moody lighting always made it feel super different to me so it's surprising how alike it really is. I ended up leaving it like this for now lol

And you know what else! Creacher on the witness stand!! (also my lads are too dang tall for law unless I squish em down apparently)

Camera tests turned out great! Not 100% accurate but I am having fun

I will use this power very responsibly (I won't)

[ichigoromi]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐬𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐲𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 | 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

Oh, I love writing fights with Sakusa. It's not a happy topic to write about, but it's interesting.

Warning (s): may contain strong language, mentions of hospital and mentions of possible infidelity

Enjoy~!

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Recently, you and Sakusa have been fighting more than often. It started out with petty fights and escalated to big fights that made you spend the night at your friend's.

Things were just not going the way it was, like in the past.

You were emotionally tired and stressed from both your work and your relationship.

All these fights got you thinking if Sakusa was the right person for you.

You two have been together for so long that these fights seem unnecessary, but somehow, you two kept on fighting.

The two of you have stopped talking for a few weeks, and it was hurting both of you.

So you tried to end work earlier to prepare dinner for him and try to have a conversation where neither of you is screaming at each other.

You got fresh groceries and start to make all of his favourite dishes.

After you finish making dinner, you went to shower so that you can have dinner on time when he comes back.

But he never did.

You waited for a long time.

Feeling a loss of appetite and the warmth you used to have, you transfer the dishes into containers and put them back into the refrigerator.

You sat down by the sofa and wait for him. He was never this late.

Sakusa was out with his friends and teammates, drinking and having fun.

You heard the door unlock, and you rushed to the front door to see him kissing one of your close friends.

Sakusa sobered up and immediately pushed her away, walked towards you, and got ahold of your wrist.

You shrugged him off and started screaming and crying about how you ended work early to have dinner with him, and he never came back and kissed your friend.

He screamed back at how you became so clingy and was becoming unbearable for him to handle.

'Let's break up.'

'Fine, let's do it.'

You wiped your tears away, heads to the room you two shared and got out your suitcase.

As you were trying to get your clothes into your suitcase, you felt a sharp pain on the right side of your lower abdomen. You ignored it and tries to take a step forward, but the pain was too much.

You collapsed onto the cold wooden floor, and when you breathe in, the pain doubles when you exhale.

When you finally got up from the floor, the pain shifted and doubled, and you collapsed to the floor again.

Hearing the commotion, Sakusa decided to check on you.

It was a mess. Your complexion has gone as pale as a piece of white paper. The back of your thin camisole drenched in a cold sweat, and you curled in a fetal position, holding your right side gingerly.

He immediately rushed to your side, and you frowned at the slight movement.

"I'll g-get y-you to the hospital! Okay? Don't worry, I'll get you to the hospital fast." Sakusa reassured you and carefully carried you in his arms.

Every single movement was torture. The pain was getting worse, and you feel yourself slowly fading away.

Seeing you in this state hurts him. The one person that has been him through his ups and downs is you. You stayed with him and believe in him. He was your world, and he has already lost you.

The frown on your face and the tears that he caused spilling out made him feel that he does not deserve you.

He was the one who caused you to be in this state.

If only he worked it out with you and think more for you and not himself, you guys wouldn't be in this state.

"I need a doctor! Please! My girlfriend is in a lot of pain on the right side of her lower abdomen!" Sakusa exclaimed in a panic; the nurses by the A&E area immediately went to get a stretcher for you.

He laid you down gently, and you were pushed away to get a diagnosis.

"Please be safe..."

Sakusa never felt so lost before. You were perfectly fine, and suddenly you just collapsed. Or maybe you were ill for quite some time. Or he just never noticed how much pain you were in.

Komori and Bokuto rushed over immediately after hearing the news of your hospitalisation.

You had a ruptured appendix and require immediate operation as it is life-threatening if the appendix is not removed in time.

He signed the form over and handle the paperwork for you. Komori never saw his cousin losing his mind over anything, and for you, he was losing it.

"Kiyoomi, how about you go home and have a quick wash-up and come back? You need some rest. We'll be here."

He looks at the closed doors of the operating theatre and left hesitantly.

You woke up with a weight on your right arm and the worst pain on the right side of your tummy.

The familiar black curls and him hugging your arm to sleep.

"O-omi? What are you doing here? Where am I?" You asked him groggily; the tears threatening to spill in his eyes were enough to tell you that something went wrong on the night you two fight.

The tears start spilling before he even explains, and you pull him to you gently, careful to not touch your right side.

"Hey, I'm alright. I'm still here." You stroke his curls in a soothing motion. He was never this vulnerable in front of you, and it was the first time you saw him cried.

"You had a ruptured appendix and was out for the past three days. I was so scared that I might lose you. I don't want to break up. Can you take me back?" He sniffled and looked away from you.

You cupped his face gently and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"I'm not going to leave you. Omi, we are going to work this out together. Okay? Please don't cry; it breaks my heart seeing your tears." You wiped away the fresh tears rolling down his cheeks.

He wraps his arms around you tightly and let out a whimper, and he immediately lets you go and check on you.

"Sorry...I should have waited for that when you are recovered. I'm going to go call on the doctor to check on you. Wait here." He sneaks a quick kiss on your lips and heads out of the ward, with his cheeks blushing hard.

Well, this was quite torturing to write but I kind of enjoy it. Hope y'all enjoy this headcanon too!

Stay safe and healthy!

With love,

Rosalie🍓

[libraryofloveletters]

Love Delivered To Your Doorstep

Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of cheating, break ups and killing/serial killers. (<in a joking context) 

Category: fluff for the most part. 

Word Count: 3.9k

Author’s Note: Doesn’t follow canon, it has a little of buck begins in there but it doesn't follow a strict timeline. It also is written like Buck moves to LA and has his apartment from the moment he moves there while trying to figure out what he wants to do. 

-----

Texting and calling was never your choice method of communication. 

Letters had always been more of your thing. 

Truthfully, they hadn't been your thing until your boyfriend moved halfway across the country for university. The two of you met in high school, freshman year and became inseparable since. Growing together and promising to always love each other no matter what -you always knew that couldn't be true but it never stopped you from telling him. 

When he told you that he was going to be applying to UCLA during your senior year of high school, it came as a bit of a shock to you. The plan was always going to college together, get engaged when you were done school and then married with a house by 30. 

You held out the hope of that being possible until the day he showed you his acceptance letter. 

You were incredibly proud of him but it was real now, he was leaving. 

You watched him pack up his entire life and uproot himself from New York and moved across the country. You sent the first letter to him at what was supposed to be his apartment. 

September 30th.

‘Hi baby! 

Just writing to see how you're settling in. How’s UCLA ? Have you gotten a chance to go around and get to see the place ? I know you’re there for school but you've got to live a little too. Hope your neighbours are sweet, your mom told me it’s a pretty nice place and it’s got a good view, sounds like your type of place. Hopefully I can come visit you soon. 

I started my classes last week. My chem professor is a pain in my ass already, he expects us to read an entire textbook in a week - well not exactly an entire textbook but you get the point. My biology professor is a sweetheart, she showed us pictures of her kids and talked about them for an hour, I didn't realize being a mother was so interesting but she was cool. Also showed us a video of an appendectomy that one of her colleagues performed last week. How are your classes and professors ? 

Did I mention I bumped into Sam at the grocery store ? Yeah, he’s back and he’s not fine to tell you the truth. He seemed like he was ready to snap but that might just be my judgment. He said to tell you hello if I spoke to you so- hello :) 

I’m going to sign off here, I know this one is short but I don’t have much to update you on. Life’s been pretty dull without you. Hope you’re having fun out there, soaking up the sun for me.

Write me back soon, I love you. 

Yours always, y/n’

You mailed the letter the next day, a few weeks had passed before you received a letter back. Except this letter had a different sender name but the same address.

October 22nd. 

‘Hi y/n,

This isn't your boyfriend. (I'm assuming that’s who you're writing too based on the context of the letter) I’m Evan, I live in the apartment you thought belonged to your boyfriend or maybe you got the address wrong, I’m not sure.  I know you were waiting for an update on all these exciting things that are happening at UCLA. I do not go to UCLA nor can I update you in anything exciting that’s happening there, sorry.

Anyways, the reason I'm writing you back is because I figured you’d want to know that this isn't the correct address and the person you were looking for isn't here before you send another letter and get no response. I was debating if I should have even written you back, but here I am, writing you back. 

Your professor for chem seems like an ass to be honest (hope that’s not rude) and your biology professor sounds great, is she hot by the way ? because bonus points for that. Anyways, are you studying medicine ? I'm guessing yes because of the classes you're taking. I'm thinking of signing up to become a first responder but I haven’t decided yet on what yet or if I'm actually going to do it. Anyways, good luck on your classes and the shitty chem professor. 

Hope you find your boyfriend (again, assuming) 

Peace out, 

Evan.’

To say you were shocked would be an understatement. How could the letter you sent to your boyfriend’s apartment belong to someone else ? Why was there someone else living in his apartment ? You dug through your apartment, searching for the paper he left you with the address, you finally found it buried in a drawer.

The address on the paper was identical to the one that Evan sent to you and to the one you sent prior to that. Either your boyfriend was lying or you were losing your mind. 

November 4th. 

‘Dear Evan, 

I'm sorry that I sent the first letter to you and as you guessed, I was looking for my boyfriend who seems to be a bit MIA right now. His mother says that’s the right address and the place that she helped him move into. So I'm not really sure what’s happening there. Anyways, sorry for unloading all of that on you. 

To answer your question, yes, I am studying medicine and no, she isn't hot. My bio professor is a 65 year old woman who loves her college aged kids very much. If that’s your definition of hot, then yes - she's got milf status

Have you decided yet if you’re going to sign up to be a first responder ? That’d be pretty cool. Imagine all the girls swoon over you and how many girls you’d pick up just for being a paramedic or a firefighter. 

Wait, are you into girls ? Or guys ? You know, whoever you're into, just imagine how many of them you’d pick up. 

Also, you’re not a murderer or anything right ? because I rather not answer questions when the police come asking about why I've been sending letters to a serial killer. 

Anyways, signing off for now. 

Yours always, y/n. 

ps. if you do end up bumping into or meeting a guy that looks like my boyfriend, (tall, brown hair, brown eyes. he’s got a pierced ear and a little butterfly tattoo by his collarbone- though not sure why or how you'd see his collarbone) let me know or tell him that his girlfriend is looking for him.

Double ps, what size shirt do you wear ?’

Buck laughed at your absurd question. A person he didn’t even know was asking what size shirt he wore. The letter was set on the coffee table with the rest of the mail, getting buried under all of the stuff he had on there. It was almost the end of December when he realized that he hadn't written you back yet. 

December 21st. 

‘Hey y/n, 

Sorry I've taken so long to get back to you. Things have been hectic over here. I’ve been doing some ‘soul-searching’ - I guess you could call it that and honestly, I don’t think if this whole first responders thing is for me. 

I tried out bartending or well, the technical term is mixologist and I’m liking it so far, I think i’m going to stick with it for now. 

How have you been ? How’s school ? Surely, you’re on break for the holidays right about now or at least when you get this letter. I hope that you're spending the break doing something fun. 

I’m not going to make this very long, I’m sure you’ve been busy with whatever you’re doing right now. 

Also, I’ve been meaning to ask. Have you located the mysteriously disappearing boyfriend yet ? I haven't seen anyone that fit your description. 

well, that’s not true- I did and just to be sure I asked to see his collarbone, he looked at me like I was a mad man so I guess it wasn't him ? 

Anyways, I hope you have a good holiday and you're probably gonna get this sometime between holidays, so merry belated (?) Christmas and happy New Years y/n. 

Peace out, 

Evan. 

ps. medium or large, depending on what it is. Hopefully that answers your question weirdo.’

January 13th. 

The morning of the 13th, he went down to check his mail. A box was there with his name on it, the return address was one he had only seen on an envelope. The box returned upstairs with him, setting it on the counter before opening it. 

Upon opening it, there was a letter and some colourful tissue paper with what seemed like a sweater under it. He opened the letter first.

‘Dear Evan, 

Happy New Years! How was your holiday going ? Did you do anything fun ? 

I’ve been good and school is good too, I'm almost done my first year, isn't that crazy ? Just a few more months to go. 

How’s your job as mr. mixologist going ? I'm sure you’ve met some wild people and heard some interesting stories. 

As for the boyfriend situation, that's over. I’m not surprised to tell you the truth but it still kinda sucks. Anyways, so what happened was that his older brother had come home from college last year and brought a friend with him. She went to the same school as his brother but transferred to UCLA- anyways long story short, they hooked up while he and I were still together and he moved in with her after his mom helped him move into the apartment I thought he had. 

But! I’m single and chilling now so it’s all good. (bonus, she cheated on him and left him so yeah) 

I got you a little something for Christmas and as a “sorry for unloading all my boyfriend drama on you” present. I was in the gift shop and it made me think of you. Do you celebrate Christmas? I forgot to check oops. If you don't, count it as a just a “sorry for unloading all my boyfriend drama on you” present? 

I got a large because I wasn't sure if it would fit. I hope you like it. That’s all for now.

Yours always, y/n.’

He unwrapped the tissue paper to see a blue sweater with the letters NYU on it. He smiled, he assumed that’s where you went. It was sweet that you took the time to get him something, even if it was a by the way thing. Not a lot of people would send something to a person they had been talking to via letters and halfway across the country. 

February 12th. 

2 days before Valentine's Day, your least favourite holiday of the year. You weren't looking forward to watching all your friends going on with their boyfriends and girlfriends. The mail had arrived while you were out, you picked it up and headed in. There were two envelopes with your name on it,  a plain white one and a red one. The red envelope was more squared than rectangular, you assumed it was a card- both had the same sender name. 

‘Hey y/n!

Thank you for the sweater, it was nice of you to think of me and get me something. I didn’t know we were doing gifts or I would have sent you something as well and yes, I do celebrate Christmas. 

My job as ‘mr. mixologist’ was going well until I quit. It just didn’t feel like the right fit for me you know ? I'm going to see what else is out there for me. 

Sorry to hear about your boyfriend, he seems like a douche. Who would cheat on you ? You seem great I mean at least you are on paper (did you get my joke, it’s hard to tell) 

Also, remember how I was thinking I might actually give that first responder thing a try? Imagine me as a firefighter, that’s pretty cool right ? 

So I kinda did a thing and signed up and then I got in. I started two weeks ago and it was kicking my ass at first but I've gotten a hang of it and things are going pretty well. There's three other Evans in my class so everyone calls me Buck-I kind of like it. 

The other envelope, hopefully you opened this one first, is a little something for you for valentines. Hope you like it. 

Peace out, 

Buck’ 

The red envelope was on your lap, you pulled the edges carefully not wanting to rip it. Inside was a plain white card with bright red letters that made you laugh. The cover read ‘I’m not sick of you yet!” Opening the card, a $20 fell onto your lap. There was a little message inside that went along with the cash. 

‘Since we aren't together and can’t spend valentines together, there’s some cash to get yourself a box of chocolates and a teddy bear. Happy Valentines Day y/n

Love, Buck.’ 

You smile, this was the first time that Buck had signed with ‘love, buck’ it had always been ‘peace out, buck.’ You tucked the card into the drawer, one you didn’t use very often so you knew it’d be safe there. 

*4 years later*

A few weeks had passed since Buck had last heard from y/n. His last letter to her was at the end of June, telling her all about the day he had spent at Hen and Karen’s. He always described every little detail so vividly that it made her feel like she was there with him- but it was now July, end of actually and moving into August. 

4 years��had blown like nothing.

It felt like just yesterday he got the first letter in the mail. 4 years and they still had no idea what each other looked like but they knew every intricate and intimate detail about each other, their lives and the people in it. 

Y/n and Buck had grown rather close over the last few months- more than they already were. Y/n just went through a pretty shitty break up and Buck wasn't exactly big on relationships as of right now. 

He had just gotten home from work, his keys set on the counter when he realized that he forgot to check his mail. Stepping back out, there was a woman in the hallway and boxes scattered across her, leading into the apartment down the hall. 

She must be his new neighbour.

He wanted to go over and introduce himself but she was busy telling the movers where to set her couch so he decided that he would check the mail and then introduce himself when he returned so he did just that. 

Except, she was still busy. 

She leaned against the wall, watching the movers move what looked like a coffee table. She glanced up to see Buck walking by, she smiled and he returned the smile. 

Buck reaches his apartment, the mail in hand and steps in. He sorts through the pile, bills, ads, coupons and no letter from y/n. 

---

Your new apartment was a mess. You decided it was time for a change. You applied to a few hospitals after your break up and the one in LA hired you. So you dropped everything and moved- no family, no ties. 

A fresh start. 

It was a nice neighbourhood and the building was quiet. The neighbours you met were pleasant and welcoming. When you were having the furniture moved in, there was a blonde man who smiled at you and you assumed he lived in the unit down the hall because that’s where he stepped into. 

It was almost 11pm when you finally sat down. You had been on your feet all day and just wanted to eat something. The box with the dishes was beside the couch, you pulled the tape off and opened it. There was an envelope sitting on top of the stack of plates. 

Buck’s last letter to you. 

You must have tossed it into the boxes while packing and you forgot to write him back. Tumbling through the boxes, you find a sheet of paper and a pen from your bag. Sitting on the floor, the paper resting on an unopened box, you begin writing. 

‘Dear Buck, 

I’m sorry I've taken so long to get back to you. I quit my job, and uprooted my entire life. The break up sucked major ass as you know, so I decided it was time for a change. 

Guess where I decided to go ? 

Did you guess yet? 

No, not Canada, why would you guess Canada ? 

LA! 

Yeah, isn't that crazy that I ended up here of all places? Maybe we could get together one day (if you haven’t turned into a crazy serial killer that is.) 

Anyways, that’s why I've taken so long to write. I was packing when I got your letter and I tossed it in a box and just found it again. Anyways, I hope you’ve been good, how have things been at the station ? 

I promise I'll write again with more details soon, I just have to get settled in first. 

Yours always, y/n.’ 

Folding the paper, you slipped into an envelope. The address being scribbled into the back of the envelope. You were about to seal it when the building number caught your eye. 

It was the same number as the place you moved into. The same address, the building number, the same floor. 

The unit number was the only difference. 

There was no way you moved into the building that Buck lived in. 

You knew the address felt familiar when you saw the listing but you didn’t think anything of it nor did it occur to you that you knew the address. 

Stepping out of your apartment, looking at the number on the room and back down at the envelope in your hand. Buck’s apartment was down the hall. 

Part of you just wanted to mail it and keep things as it was but another part of you wanted to meet him, to see what he was really like in person. So there you were walking down the hallway at a quarter past 11 in the dead of the night to meet a man you had been sending letters to for the last 4 years. 

The end of the hallway, you stared at the black wooden door in front of you. Your brain weighing the options right now: he’s a sweetheart and welcoming and makes you feel comfortable or he’s a weird guy who’s been lying to you this whole time and you told him everything about you and now he’s going to kill you. 

Before you could register what you were doing, you knocked on the door. 

Glancing down at yourself, you were wearing a pair of old shorts and a t-shirt from high school that you found in a drawer while packing. Not an ideal outfit, maybe he’s sleeping and you can go home and change- the door opened, a man wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt stood there. He looked like he had just woken up. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” 

“It's alright,” he yawned, his hand covering his mouth as he blinked away a few tears. “What can I do for you ?” he leaned against the door. 

“Um, this is an odd question-” you shifted, glancing down at the envelope in your hand. “Are you Buck ?” 

“I am, who are you ?” 

“Y/n.” 

You had never seen a man wake up that fast, he seemed surprised, confused and concerned all in one. “How- uh, are you- What ?” he mumbled. 

“I found your letter in the box after I moved, I moved into the apartment down the hall” you point to your left, Buck sticks his head out of the doorway and looks at the door you were pointing to. You were the woman in the hallway that he saw earlier, he knew you looked familiar. 

“I just wrote your letter and I noticed that the addresses were the same, just a different unit number so I decided to come check. Sorry if I bothered you, we can talk another day- it’s late and you probably have work” “Would you like to come in?” he opens the door a bit more, looking to you for an answer. 

“Um, okay sure.” stepping in, you can’t help but glance around. The apartment was similar to yours, the layout was a bit different though. “Can I get you something to drink ? Coffee, water ? A beer ?” he rounded the kitchen counter, you took a seat on one of the chairs by the counter. 

“Water’s fine, thanks” 

He reached for a bottle from the fridge, sliding it over to you. You gave him a smile, he leaned against the counter and was now looking- studying you. 

“I know we’ve talked to each other for 4 years but this is kinda strange” you chuckled awkwardly, Buck can't help but smile. 

“Yeah, it is, isn't it? but can I ask why you moved to LA?” 

“Well all of that was in the letter” you slide the envelope across the counter and he picks it up, opening it. Giving him a few moments to read, you watch his expression like you were hoping for some insight as to how he was feeling or what he was thinking. He let out a laugh, “how’d you know I'd guess Canada ?” you smiled at him, a small wave of relief washing over you for some reason. “Lucky guess I suppose” 

“Do you-” “What are-” the sentences cutting each other off, the two of you awkwardly smiling at each other. “You first” looking at him, he hums. 

“Do you have work tomorrow or are you busy ?” His eyes meet yours, you found yourself leaning forwards towards the counter- towards him. He made you feel comfortable, you’d go as far as to say safe, in a way you’ve never felt before. 

“No, I don't start until the 21st. Why ?” 

“I was thinking - if you're not busy and if you want to, of course. Maybe I could take you out for breakfast and I could show you around ? Or lunch or dinner ? Whatever works for you actually” he rambles, fiddling with his fingers to avoid eye contact. 

A small laugh slips past your lips causing him to look up, his brows furrowed as he studies your face, looking for an answer. 

“Breakfast sounds good, what time should I be ready for ?” 

“Uh, is 10 okay ?” he asks, you nod. “I’ll be ready for 10 then.” 

“Okay, I'll pick you up” he smiles. 

“Buck, we live in the same building.” 

“Oh right,” he chuckles, “well I'll be by yours at 10 then” the two of you smiling at each other. 

“Okay.” 

----

taglist: @advicefromnixxxx @dralexreid @keenmarvellover @beth-winchester21 @fernandaweasley2 @yikesyikesyikes95 @hotchsdarling @duhbar1975 @hailsstormthings @averyhotchner  @captainxholmes @venusrosepetal @luke-alvez​ @looney-literature @caitsymichelle13​ @artemishunter18​ @anxiousblanketqueen​

[shushiyuii]

You’re my companion?

Apologises, I may, may not have speed ran this for a certain day. And I may, may not be sleep deprived hence there may be many grammar issues. I just hope its good to read wndjnjadna

Warnings: Soft vore, almost death and mistreatment. (It’s all fluff I promise, I know the warnings look bad-)

Words: 1.9K

Techno who’s lived for centuries, feared by so many as the blood god who’s ruined families, villages and won so many wars, be brothers with someone so contrasting to his personality get along? How did the gods decide this upon him? Perhaps to teach him a lesson about something like compassion or kindness?

In this world, people who are chosen are destined to be paired with what is called a “companion “. Companions are tiny beings of magic, the stronger the bond, the stronger the magic. They seem quite human despite the many defining traits that make them so different, the main trait being the companions’ small size, tiny even. They could be the size of your dog or the size of your hand. Many see companions as family, close friends, guardians even children in some cases, they’re bound to do great things. So how did somebody as horrifying and merciless gain a companion?

His companion was Tommy, a little companion by the size of the half of his hand, which by human standards, be about the size of their hand. Tommy was quite the energetic companion which complimented his magic, his magic being able to transfer his magical energy to his partner, which was Techno in this case. Tommy came in use in situations where Techno’s opponent somehow gained the upper hand, not many knew he had Tommy, so he came into use with those cases, Techno gaining strength and easily overpowering his enemies.

He and Tommy did not get along. When Tommy came to be, he tried befriending Techno so many times, it never worked. They always tried to avoid each other whenever possible, hence why they’re described as brothers by his mentor, Philza and his companion Wilbur. His relationship with Wilbur was so much different to his and Tommy’s, Philza was laid back and Wilbur was sociable so the two get along quite easily, they even get along with Tommy!

He didn’t understand how tough, how did they get along with somebody so irritating? He was so annoying, always yelling, loud, problematic. Overall a nuisance.

From Tommy’s point of view, he always felt mistreated and used by Techno, not in a bad sense but the only times Tommy would be able to act with Techno is in battle when Techno calls it. It’s frustrating, both he and Techno have a sense of adventure so why don’t they get along? It’s just Techno’s so stubborn.

Tommy huffed in frustration as he sat in a pile of flowers, the flowers always brought him comfort, he found it fun to pick off the petals one by one as time passes. It’s really the only thing he can do while away from Technoblade.

“TOMMY!”. Somebody yelled in the distance. He looked back as he had heard Wilbur, approaching in the distance. “There you are you fucking gremlin. Phil is worried about you”. Tommy huffed and smiled, “Why does that old man worry about me?”, “Because we care about you, dweeb”. Wilbur ruffled his hair as Tommy stood up. Wilbur was double the size of Tommy, his transparent skin and blue gradients in his sweater and hair, his eyes with no pupils, a full white. Very different from Tommy’s glowing gold hair, goat-like tail and horns.

They began to walk back to Philza’s cottage. “You worried about Techno again?”.  Tommy groaned, “COURSE I AM MAN! He just- He never lets me get along or help him! It’s annoying, I’m a companion for a reason”. He sighed, “You know that rumour Wilbur if companions don’t get along with their partner, they’ll disappear… I don’t want to disappear!”. Wilbur looked at him worriedly, “Toms, hey-“ Wilbur held his shoulder and looked at him in the eyes with reassurance. “You aren’t going to disappear, not if I have anything to do with it. You and Techno will get along, just give it time”.

They made it back to the cottage and there sat at the table talking was Philza with Techno. They were talking about their latest adventures and battles. “So, you really managed to defeat him so easily? The dream? The legend?”, Tommy and Wilbur made it to the top of the table thanks to Wilbur’s floating abilities. “Heh, yeah and it was pretty easy too.”. Tommy snorted, “It was easy because I gave you my energy, Asshole.”. Techno looked over to see his companion had returned, his red eyes narrowed as he exhaled through his nose, making his annoyance apparent. “Oh! Tommy, Wilbur! I’m glad to see you’re back safely!”. Philza smiled.

As the words came out of Philza’s mouth, Technoblade stood up and made eye contact with Tommy, making it apparent to him that they were leaving and went to grab his bag. “Leaving so soon?”. “Yep, got a couple of things to pick up in town before I leave off to the next adventure”. He laid his bag on the table for Tommy to hop into.

Tommy said his farewells as he hopped into Techno’s bag, the bag he’d probably stay in for the next week. Once he was in, Techno lifted the bag and made his way to the door, before he said goodbye for the final time, Philza cut him off. “Techno, before you go. Please, try to bond with Tommy”. There was a sad tone in his voice, when he looked back both he and his companion had sorrowful faces, something was worrying them. He knew what but he couldn’t even bother, so to put it simply he left through the door.

It had been about a couple of hours since that talk, Tommy had remained completely silent, not saying anything. Usually, he was trying to get Techno’s attention by now, by climbing out of his bag to his shoulder and yelling into his ear. Even more, time went by in the forest and no noise from Tommy, by then it was night. By the time he had decided it was time to settle down for the night, he heard a noise in a nearby bush.

He huffed as he went over to investigate it, as he peered into the bush it was quickly interrupted by something hitting him right in the face, the next thing he knew was that he felt incredibly weak. He was surrounded by glass shards. A weakness potion.

His mind immediately went to Tommy, his eyes rushed over to his bag. Only for a figure to dash over him and make it to his bag before him. The figure picked it up and began to rummage through it, only to feel something quite squishy and soft. He brought out the squishy thing only for it to be Tommy.

But Tommy didn’t look the same as usual, his glow was dim, and he looked to be fading. “Well, well, well. Look what we got here.” He held Tommy as if he were presenting an object to show and tell. “The Blood God has a companion, and it’s fading. Not a surprise”. The cloaked figure brought down his hood to reveal his white, smiley mask.

“Dream”. Technoblade’s voice was low with venom. “Let him go”. A low growl could be heard rumbling from his throat to which Dream laughed. Tommy woke up at the sudden noise, “Techno?” He groaned as he was waking up, not sure of the situation, “What’s going on?”. He wiped at his eyes. To say Tommy felt exhausted was an understatement, he felt so weak. He looked down at his hands to see that they were transparent, and some parts of his hands had disappeared. He screamed at the realization.

A low laugh could be heard from Dream, “that’s right, little one”. Tommy looked up at the hand who held him, he recognised it to be Dream. “TECHNO!”. He yelled in panic. Techno was drawn out of his thoughts and looked to Tommy, his eyes filled with worry. Techno realised something. He was a complete asshole to Tommy, he had a companion for a reason, the gods had given him someone who understood him, someone other than Phil and Wilbur, someone who made him stronger and better, and he’d taken advantage of it. “TOMMY!” He yelled back.

He stood up with whatever his body would allow him to and ran over to dream in a dashing tackle, trying to pin him down. Tommy fell out of his hands onto the dirt floor. Techno knew he couldn’t hold Dream down for long with the effects of this weakness potion. In a daze, he picked up Tommy and ran as far as he could into the forest, “HEY!” could be heard as he ran in the distance.

He ran and ran for what felt like forever and had managed to gain distance from Dream for a moment’s while. He looked down at his hands to see Tommy not looking too good himself, he was still fading. “Toms?...”. He whispered and got groan of pain in response. “Listen, we both know I’m not good with the talking stuff…”. He muttered and shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Please, just be, okay?! Please?! I hate seeing you like this!”.

“TECHNOBLADE”. Could be heard in the distance of the forest, it wouldn’t be long before Dream caught up to them, “Tommy please!”. He shook his small body then remembered something.

“Hey Techno!”. It was Tommy trying to gain his attention again, annoying him as he sharpened his weapon. “What?” he muttered in a low voice. “You know how you’re a piglin right? With that whole- second stomach- storage thing? What if you stored me and I could buff you up? That way you wouldn’t have to worry about me in combat and I’d be completely safe?”.

His memory faded to black as he looked back down at his little companion, Tommy looked so weak, he had to keep him safe. So, he gently lifted Tommy towards his face, and carefully placing him in his mouth. He could feel Tommy’s stiff and tense body, relax at the warmth of his body. He had to keep Tommy safe, the thought of that alone made him swallow him down despite voices screams. He was gentle as he could be as he felt Tommy fall into his storage.

“TECHNO!”. Dream had finally caught up to them, He looked over to him with fury in his eyes. “Listen Dream! Back off!”. He growled as he stood up, a hand laying protectively over his stomach. “Where’d your little companion go, huh?  Finally faded, did he?”. He which made Technoblade snarl.  “You wish, that kid’s got balls. He isn’t going any time soon.” And a small voice confirmed it “You got that right”. It was Tommy’s voice.

The next thing he knew is that he felt the strength of their magic. He smirked and immediately ran at Dream. After a few quick punches and kicks, Dream was running away. And so, Techno made his way back to his camp. “Let’s keep you in there for the night, Alright? I’m sure we’re both exhausted” He mumbled as he laid back against a tree. “Agreed”.

Both fell asleep peacefully that night.

And the next day, when Tommy was back out. He was normal, maybe even better. And from that day onward. He and Tommy were a lot closer.

[bookofmirth]

If you have the time/energy I would love to hear more of your thoughts about Az's persona! He's such an interesting character to me, and I feel like most of the theories I see about him centre around elain, and how his behaviour is mate behaviour (the double bond thing). Personally I think azriel has a lot of anger, isnt very open with his friends, and also feels like he has to be the one to fix everything (this comes out with elain but also all his relationships).

Can I just start this off by saying “what the fuck” at the double/true/created bond thing. I’ve seen some WILD shit out there in the fandom, wild. 

I have been writing and deleting and copy/pasting etc. this post forever and I can’t decide how to approach it, so I hope this makes sense! I didn’t pull out a ton of quotes because tbh it’s a lot of work and I’ve read these books???? So many times. And this is tumblr, not comprehensive exams.

I would agree with your characterization of Azriel! 

Anger - this comes out in really inappropriate times, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he turns his anger around on himself. We all know that Rhys described his “icy rage”, and later on his “cruel competitiveness”.

Lack of communication - yeah, when has he had a heart-to-heart with anyone in this series? When he does, it’s not about making himself feel better, or sharing his own feelings. It’s to be of service to someone else. All the IC have described trying to reach out to him in their own ways, and not being successful.

Needing to fix things - yes! I see this as his need to be of service. He’s always the first one to jump into work. It took Mor hundreds of years to get him to go to Rita’s, right? He’s a workaholic in a world with no labor laws. He always wants to be the one in charge of gathering intel, of finding people, or fixing problems. I think this is closely tied to two things: his lack of self-worth, and his anger. If he can stay busy enough and work hard enough, he can prove his worth to other people, if not to himself. This is why he loses it when Rhys or Feyre tell him that he can’t handle something. 

Funny thing, but people who have followed my blog since early 2017 know that I shipped moriel hardcore. I just loved it. I wrote so much meta and fanfic. A lot of the arguments that I see now remind me a lot of arguments people used to make about moriel - and it makes sense! Az’s behavior around both Mor and Elain are eerily similar. So I thought I’d compare his behavior towards them because that can tell us about his character!

To me, his treatment of Elain (and Mor) comes down to two things:

What his mother and Mor suffered (and he was unable to prevent), and

His lack of self-worth due to abuse 

Azriel and Mor didn’t know one another very long before she slept with Cassian and was left brutalized by her family. This happened when they were all in their late teens, which is not long after Azriel was tortured by his brothers, rarely let outside, and rarely got to see his mother. At the same time that Azriel sees his mother treated so poorly, he then feels intense guilt and rage at what happens to Mor. It’s enough to make him overreact in the future, any time that Mor (or another female) is in danger. So here are a bunch of examples of him being overprotective of Mor and Elain. But mostly Mor.

In acomaf, Azriel has the audacity to tell Mor no, that she can’t go to the human lands (chapter 41)

“I fought in the War, you will do well to remember-”

“No,” Azriel said again, refusing to break her stare. His shifting wings rasped against the back of his chair. “The would string you up and make an example of you.”

At the end of acomaf he is still highly protective of Mor

Azriel’s head lifted from where he was sprawled in his own blood, eyes full of rage and pain as he snarled at the king, “Don’t you touch her.”

Mor looked at Azriel - and there was real fear there. Fear - and something else. She didn’t stop moving until she again kneeled beside him and pressed a hand to his wound. Azriel hissed-but covered her bloody fingers with his own.

Then in acowar, of course, he explodes at the High Lord meeting after Eris says that Mor dresses like a slut:

Azriel stopped.

Eris gasped for air as those scarred hands loosened. As Azriel turned his face towards me-

The frozen rage there rooted me to the spot. 

But beneath it, I could almost see the image that haunted him: the hand Mor had yanked away, her weeping, distraught face as she had screamed at Rhys.

And now, behind us, Mor was shaking in her chair. Pale and shaking.

And of course in acowar Azriel goes with Feyre to rescue Elain. This ties together all of his issues with Mor and his mother. IMHO, Azriel sees Elain as a second chance. He saves Elain in a way he failed to save Mor, and so he begins to transfer his need to protect and serve onto her.

Azriel’s refusal to let Mor assist in dangerous situations is similar to how he says no, Elain cannot help.

Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, “There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.”

*Note that it’s an “outright sign of temper” - not an outright sign of protectiveness, or caring, or concern, or worry. 

If being protective of another character is “mate behavior” or sign of a mating bond, then Azriel and Mor would be mated. There is far more evidence of him being overprotective of her than of Elain. So while we know that mates are protective (naturally!), Azriel’s protective tendencies are coming from something else - a combination of his failures to protect his mother and Mor.

In acofas, what Cassian jokes is Az being a stickler for manners in forcing everyone to wait for Elain, Rhys explains as being related to Azriel’s mother - not Elain or Cassian.

Rhys took a bite, gesturing with his knife for me to eat. Let’s just say it hit a little close to home. At my beat of confusion, he added, There are some scars when it comes to how his mother was treated. Many scars.

Again, it seems all well and good that Az was thinking about being polite, but Rhys tells us that it’s because of Azriel’s mommy issues! Which are understandable and important, but a clear example of Azriel trying to make up for poor treatment in one woman by overreacting around another.

In the acosf POV, when Az questions why he wasn’t mated with Elain (and he can smell bonds so wouldn’t he smell his own?) it’s not so much about Elain as the fact that he feels he did everything right this time. He saved the damsel. He was of service. Elain is safe and healthy and she seems much more amenable than Mor ever has. So what did he do wrong? This is the source of his anger, combined with his loneliness and desire for a shiny lovely mating bond of his own. 

When we think about Azriel’s motivations, it comes down to service and self-worth. He sees his main value or purpose as saving others from harm, and when he was barely into adulthood he failed in that duty for the two most important women in his life. Hence his need to overcompensate around Mor, and now Elain.

[darkfearsandkittyears]

Y'all, it's Whumptober! I'm super excited!

Okay, uh...funny story [and super embarrassing for me] I am a highly unorganized person, I have a calendar in my room, but it's so much easier to check the date on the huge calendar in the kitchen! So, I calculated the days till October in August, and promptly forgot to write prompts and outlines, [even though I pants most of my works].

Fast forward to today, when I see my mom writing down the October events. I was like, oh, she's just reminding herself for next month.

Then I realized.

I literally forgot that September comes right before October.

I literally thought that I had another month to plan ideas.

One of you come whack me on the head, I really need it.

Anywho, let's get on with the show!!

"Come on, Damian! Reach for it." Jason dangled Damian's bottle, inches from the baby's hands. Damian whined and stretched his arms out as far as they would go, attempting to snatch his bottle.  Jason smiled at the child. "Scoot forward. Like this." He demonstrated, pulling his body along with his arms.  Damian stared at him as if he'd grown a second head, then cooed a little.  "Yeah, it looks whack. But come on." Jason shrugged and put the bottle down, wagging Damian's little toy dog instead. On what planet did this qualify as a dog? It looked more like a deformed elephant.  The woman at the store had insisted it was a dog….he had to get Damian some more toys. All the parenting books said that babies needed good toys for development. "Come on buddy, get your..animal." Jason called. Damian laid his head on the quilt and sucked his thumb. Jason snapped a quick picture as the little boy nodded off, tuckered out by 'tummy time'. "Come on Dames, don't fall asleep just yet." Jason said, grunting as he got to his feet. The wound he'd sustained wasn't helping any, and the painkillers weren't working right, thanks to the pit.  Oh well.  "Come on kid, you can't fall asleep on your stomach." Jason rolled the sleepy baby over on his back. Big blue eyes batted up at him, laced with sleep.  Looked like Bruce, a little.  House of Wayne.  Once upon a time, Jason had wanted to use the kid as leverage...but this was a baby, and his brother. He'd realized that, but realized it a little late. Damian deserved to grow up, shielded from batdad's nonsense and in a world without Joker.  Godamn it, Talia was right.  Having a 'family' around him had cleared his head. And screwed up his plans. Majorly. But he wouldn't trade it for anything.  Besides, he'd nearly had Joker's brains splattered against the wall yesterday, right in front of Bruce's face.  He'd make them watch, make them all watch when he pulled the trigger on Joker. For himself. For Barbara.  For Damian. Maybe then, when Joker was dead, he'd present Damian to Bruce. Let Bruce wage war against the House of al Ghul while he and Damian ran for the hills. Then they'd double back and destroy both families. He couldn't kill Bruce, not until Damian was older. Jason was no Willis Todd, he was far from willing to force his brother into a life with no father. Picking sides would be Damian's choice, when he got older. But for now, it was Damian, Jason and Talia against the Joker and Batdad.  Not a hard fight.  Especially when Jason had the upper hand.  "We're gonna be just fine." Jason smiled down at the sleeping baby. "We're already winning." Damian's eyelashes fluttered, and he let out a tiny snore. Jason picked him up and transferred him to his playpen, then wandered out of the living room and into the bedroom that he'd converted into a gym.  A rumble of thunder burst through the room, and Jason paused, hoping it wouldn't wake Damian up. That was pretty loud, for thunder. The ground seemed to shake with the sound.  The pull up bar he'd installed yesterday clattered to the ground, and he flinched lightly as an image of a crowbar flashed before his eyes. It felt as if something had hit him in the back, but he chalked it up to imagination. He was probably imagining the fog around him too.  Some things Joker gave him, he could never get rid of.  But Damian began to cry, loud, hysterical wails that sent fear up Jason's spine. Another rumble broke through the air as Jason sprinted out of the room. A sickening crack ricocheted through the house, and Jason unwillingly moved to the left as something brushed his right shoulder.  A support beam.  "Damian!" Jason had never moved so fast, weaving past and through the falling drywall and wood. He was only feet away from the playpen when Damian's wails choked to a stop, as if someone had turned them off. Through the fog and falling objects, he reached into the playpen and curled around the child, shielding him with his body as he tried to find an exit.  Damian's body was limp in Jason's arms, not a cry or a coo. Jason risked a

glance at the child's closed eyes and pale, dust covered face. He shoved the blanket up to cover Damian's nose and rushed blindly into the direction of the doors. Behind him, a beam fell and what was left of the house shuddered.  An eerie feeling washed over Jason, settling right in the pit of his stomach. Everything went quiet, but Jason tensed, alert.  A hot burst of air slammed into his back, and he knew he'd been right to keep alert. Jason grunted as he was thrown into what was left of a wall, which crumbled, pinning his legs down. His mind fogged like a static TV, and he could feel warm air.  Fire.  Then realization hit.  Damian was no longer in his arms.  "Damian. Damian!" His throat was raw, coated in drywall dust and dirt. But he yelled on, hoping, needing to hear anything from the rubble.  But there wasn't a sound.  Jason pulled his leg from under the rubble and plowed through it to the best of his abilities, climbing over and under and around piles of garbage that had once been a house. There was an odd feeling in his leg, the only other thought that wasn't an urgent repeat of, "Find Damian!". But he quickly suppressed the feeling, because through the fog and dust and smoke, a tiny hand protruded from under a beam. Jason attempted to lift it, but couldn't. Damian was trapped under an air pocket, but any wrong movement would send it all crashing atop him.  A lever.  Jason searched desperately for a board or pole to use as a lever, but saw nothing. But then his eyes scanned over his own leg, and he had to look back at it.  His foot was quite literally facing the wrong way. The odd feeling vanished and became a sharp pain that nearly took his breath away.  Focus, Jason. The League had trained him as a sniper, and he was good at it. He excelled, even.  But all snipers knew how to do one thing. Hyperfixate. And that skill, with the help of adrenaline, might just save both his and Damian's lives.  Jason looked around the room once again, eyeing the position of the beam that Damian was under. If he could manage to get across the rubble, he could crawl into the air pocket and rescue Damian. Jason pulled his body up and over rubble, ignoring the extreme pain that was now burning through his body. At some point, that white agony would get the best of him, but for now, adrenaline was masking most of it.  "Damian!" Jason called again, nearly falling over a piece of wall. His broken leg slammed into a sheet of metal, which dislodged. The beam began sliding, and Jason screamed, unwillingly. He felt his legs propelling him towards where his brother lay, and he pulled Damian into his arms and cringed as the beam fell down around them.  "Damian...Dames." Jason panted as the dust settled, smoothing the dirt off his brother's pale face. The baby was too pale. He had to get him out of here. The falling rubble was controlling the fire, but smoke inhalation would kill them. And Damian had been unconscious for far too long, but there wasn't a single scratch on the child to evidence any injuries. Jason growled in frustration. "Damn it!" His entire body hurt, his leg most of all. Adrenaline was wearing off...the pain was mixing with the green light of the pit, and together they nearly blinded him.  Rage, and pain. Great combination.  He looked around for a way out. It was like a grave. Tight, and hard to breathe.  No Jason.  No.  His breath caught, and he knew he'd just screwed up. There wasn't enough air in his lungs, and he could breathe it in quickly enough. He clutched Damian to his chest and tried to get in a breath, to no avail.  Whimpers punctuated his breath, and the rational part of him could have laughed at himself.  But he couldn't. Whimpers turned to screams, and nothing made sense anymore. He screamed the only name he knew would come for him. "Bruce! Bruce, please!" He could hear his own screams dying out, feel himself losing a grip on consciousness. "Dad! Dad...Bruce…" His voice rasped into a whisper, and he gritted his teeth. "Batman! Dad! I need you! Please...please dad!"  Not a soul

stirred.  "That's right. He's not coming for you." Joker whispered sadistically.  Jason shook his head desperately, tears mixed with blood running down his face. "Shut up, you stupid clown! Please! Bruce. Bruce! Please!"  Like a miracle on Christmas eve, a ray of light shone into their prison, and a familiar shadow fell across Jason, along with another pound of dust. Damian wailed, and Jason shielded himself and the child against the dust, then spiraled into an exhausted darkness.  Four hours later, he pulled himself out of the pit of unconsciousness. "Dami?" Jason slurred, exhausted.  "He's fine, Jay. With Alfred."  That voice.  Jason made an attempt to bolt upright, only to find that he was secured to the bed.  "You have two broken legs, five ribs, son." Bruce muttered, undoing the restraints.  They must have given him some hefty painkillers, since he could feel nothing. "Call me son again-" Jason snarled, his voice cracked and dry. "How am I your son, if you had the nerve to let him live?! I gave you the choice last night, Bruce. Save me, or save him. You threw a batarang at my throat instead."  "Jason-" Bruce looked wounded, his jaw working with words he didn't know how to say.  "No! You don't get to "Jason" me. Not after what you did. You don't deserve to have your son."  "Jason."  Jason looked up at Bruce. "What?"  "I put a batarang in your throat?"  Disbelief surged through Jason. "You didn't know? All those years of aiming those damn things, and you didn't know?" Bruce's face was as stone cold as ever. "No." Jason had probably imagined the look of sorrow on his father's face. It wasn't like Jason meant anything to him anymore. "It only nicked me, lucky for you. Doesn't even matter, I'm alive. Surprising, isn't it? You wanted me dead and him alive. What, you got a crush on him?" He looked away, unwilling to meet Bruce's eyes.  "I hate him, Jason. I just can't kill him."  "You screwed me over Bruce. All this," Jason gestured to himself, "Is your fault."  "You have a son, Jason." Bruce said softly.  "He's not my son. He's my brother." Jason replied, tone dark. "He's your son."  There was a dead silence that almost resonated. Jason chanced a look at Bruce.  For once in his life, the man looked truly stunned.  Did he break him? "Bruce…?"  "Talia's child?" Bruce whispered.  "Yes." A sudden whim forced him to add, "And you can't have him. You're not going to get him killed too." "I wasn't going to make him a Robin."  "Cut the bullcrap, Bruce!" Jason screamed, startling both himself and Bruce. "Yeah, maybe I almost got us both killed, but I've never put a gun or a batarang in his hand and told him to throw it!"  Bruce hesitated before speaking. "It wasn't your fault. The city was destroying a building, and the explosion shook the foundation of other buildings. I couldn't get to you two as quickly as I should have. I'm sorry, Jaybird." Bruce sighed. Sorry. Sorry doesn't cut it, Bruce, Jason wanted to say. "Whatever, Bruce.", was all that came from his throat. "Not the first time you've forgotten me, anyways."  "If I had known-"  Rage surged through Jason. "Save it! Why the hell is he still alive? That's my only question. Why. Isn't. He. Dead? Don't kill him. Fine. But let me kill him. Look at Barbara! Isn't what he did to me enough?! When will it be enough, Bruce? When he murders Damian?" Hands gripped Jason's shoulders, and he stopped his tirade. "Son…" Bruce began, then stopped. Jason could feel his face crumple, not a word slipping past his dry lips. "I can't kill him, Jason. I can't let myself go off that edge. "You failed me, Bruce. When will it be enough?"  Bruce didn't answer. Jason swallowed against the knot in his throat and spoke roughly. "I just want him dead. All I ever wanted was to make you proud...then you left me with him. That, the abandonment, it doesn't even hurt anymore, but I wanted you to kill him. For me." Jason's face twisted into a scowl that thankfully repressed the tears. "Make him die." He spat. "I can't, Jason. I'm sorry Jason. It's meaningless, but I'm

so sorry." Bruce looked physically pained.  He's acting, Jason told himself. "If you're sorry, don't let him hurt anyone else."  "I can't promise that."  "I know you can't. But I can!" Jason yelled, finally. But instead of his rage getting the best of him, it all just evaporated. He felt nauseated, as if someone had punched him in the gut. But all he vomited up were words, words that he shouldn't say. "All I ever wanted was to make you proud...then you left me with him. I don't care about that...but didn't you care about me?"  Bruce's expression darkened to something that Jason had never seen before. "I put the Joker in a body cast for a year. That permanent limp he has is evidence of it. I couldn't bring myself to murder him, because in his dead eyes, all I saw was myself in him. And it was all too peaceful. He tortured you for months. I'll torture him for the rest of his life." Bruce said the words like a vow, determination lacing his tone. Jason stared straight ahead in shock. Silence settled over the room.  "You-when was Joker dead?" Jason finally asked, almost dreading the answer.  "Dick killed him when he found out what happened. I couldn't let him live with the remorse, so I revived him." "Dick….killed him." Jason repeatedly slowly, almost dumbly. He wanted to feel anger that Bruce had brought the damn clown to life, but he couldn't.  "He always had a temper." Bruce said lamely.  Oh great, both of them were shutting down their emotions and verbalization. "Didn't think he'd go that far." "I did. He loves you, Jason."  "Don't talk to me about Grayson. He managed to do what I've been trying to do." Jason managed a rough laugh. "Isn't it funny, Bruce?" Bruce only stared at him, a near pitiful expression on his face.  It wasn't until Bruce hugged him that Jason realized that there were hot tears streaking down his cheeks. Slowly, Jason hugged back, blinking back the stinging wetness of his eyes.  This, all this 'emotional seminar with the Batman' was a total mistake. So Jason let go of Bruce and pushed him a little to regain personal space.  Bruce unsurprisingly was fine with taking back his boundaries. "You're doing alright, Jaylad. You took in a son that wasn't yours and you're raising him."  "I took him in for all the wrong reasons." Jason bit his tongue. "And what are your reasons now?"  "Touchè."  Parents...and adoptive older brothers make mistakes with kids. They fail them and screw them up. But Jason's mistakes with Damian could be fixed.  Jason couldn't. Not until the clown died. "You can always make the present better than the future." Bruce said.  Dammit, old man. "Whatever." Valid points.  Very valid points. "Who else trained you in manipulation?"  Bruce just looked confused. Either this was more manipulation, or Bruce being bipolar by the days.  Whichever one, Jason would try his luck. It was a mistake, destined for disaster.  But he just couldn't help himself.

[scripttorture]

In what instances would ICURE fail to change someone's beliefs? Would access to outside information or (not very good at their jobs) guards discussing events without tact help someone realise something fishy was going on?

Very broad question without clear, satisfying answers Anon.

 Basically: there is no guaranteed way to change a person’s mind. There are strategies we know can’t work. But everything that has a chance of success also has a chance of failure. And it isn’t a clear cut thing that I can give you a clean list of factors for.

 Humans are difficult creatures to study because they come with a lot of inbuilt confounding factors and individual variation. This makes it very difficult to identify clear reasons why something didn’t work. Because we have to assume that multiple factors are at work and the interaction of those factors may be as important as each factor individually.

 Even if you write your villains performing ICURE ‘perfectly’ there is still a chance of failure. And therefore it is realistic for you to decide it fails for this character.

 We can’t really study which ‘bits’ of ICURE are most effective. Partly because of that little thing called ethics but partly because setting up a study would be incredibly difficult. It’s hard enough to measure belief. Finding a large enough sample size, controlling for every possible confounding factor or variable and studying people for the years it would take to get any answers… It’s a big ask. It’s probably never going to happen.

 So with the caveat that we can’t tell if any of the parts of ICURE are more important let’s talk about how they can break down.

 ICURE, for everyone who hasn’t heard me talk about it before, is a set of techniques which can (sometimes) be used to manipulate a person into changing their views. They take months or years to have any real effect and as mentioned they’re not always successful.

 The acronym stands for Isolate, Control information, create Uncertainty, Repetition and Emotive responses. And if you’re writing a story where villains are trying to apply this but not doing it well it can break down at literally any one of these points.

 I would say based on what I’ve read that different groups focus more heavily on different aspects depending on their setting and strategy. Groups that are straight up kidnapping or imprisoning people often seem to focus more heavily on isolation and controlling information but often fall down on the other three. Whereas the impression I get of cults and some extremist political groups is that they focus more on creating uncertainty and emotive responses, which they can then use to further isolate members from family and friends.

 Controlling information is a common place for ICURE to break down nowadays. The rise of the internet and the decreasing size of devices has made it easier for victims to access unauthorised sources even when imprisoned.

 But repetition is also a very common place for ICURE to break down because in large groups not every individual is going to follow the same script perfectly. Group members can also undermine ICURE by lashing out, physically or verbally, driving their target away.

 Creating uncertainty doesn’t always work. Sometimes victims straight up do not believe what they’re told. Some attempts to create uncertainty around core beliefs lead to a knee-jerk rejection of what’s being said. Sometimes targets know more about a given subject then the person trying to create uncertainty and as a result the attempt is absurdly obvious.

 Emotive responses are similarly… charged. Attempting to instil a sense of disgust or rejection of something an individual supports won’t always work. Over a long period of time it can. But I can think of a lot of cases where it has instead taught individuals to lie to the group, hide their beliefs or activities and served to drive them away from the group.

 Isolation is either difficult or easy depending on the context of the story. A character who is in a literal prison can easily be isolated from anyone but vetted individuals. A character who has been targetted by a cult, but is still going about normal day to day business, is a lot harder to isolate completely.

 Cults and extremist groups tend to rely on uncertainty, repetition and emotive responses because they know that if they can shift a target’s beliefs the target will isolate themselves.

 Let me give you an example to illustrate this. Imagine a country where there’s a big, culturally important celebration that involves eating candied orange peel and wearing red. Now imagine a cult within the country that rejects candy as sinful and wearing red as a sign of bad character.

 A character targetted by this cult might feel increasingly uncomfortable with this festival. May be at first they go with their friends and family, wear red but don’t eat the candied orange peel. May be the year after they decide not to go, missing a chance to spend time with their friends and family. May be a few years later their rejection of the festival is so deep they try to persuade their friends and family not to go.

 This leads to a big argument. They and their friends/family say things in the heat of the moment. Now all sides are upset and communication becomes harder.

 These kinds of patterns of behaviour lead to the target isolating themselves from friends and family, as their views become more extreme and drive away people who aren’t members of the cult.

 But crucially they can still choose to socialise with people outside of the cult. This will probably be met with social censure from the cult, making it difficult and painful. It is still possible. And outside friendships or activities can help a person to break free or resist ICURE techniques.

 All of this basically means you have a lot of options for your story because there are plenty of things you can weave in that would undermine ICURE.

 Your character is in prison, so breaking isolation is more difficult. But if the prison is overcrowded or there’s a sudden influx of people being transferred between facilities the character might end up with a… poor choice of cell mate from the guard’s perspective. Some one with beliefs radically opposed to the guards or someone who could support and shore up the character’s old beliefs.

 There may also be opportunities for covert communication and bonding within the prison. Perhaps prisoners can gather during breaks and have worked out a cant or code to talk about beliefs the guards are trying to stamp out.

 Control of information can break down because isolation has broken down, with prisoners trading information. It can also happen through the prisoner trading for a phone or a similar item allowing them to access forbidden information. Or it can happen through things like guards inadvertently giving out information.

 Uncertainty is difficult to create around core beliefs. The impression I get from anecdotal accounts is that pushing too hard at core beliefs too early often causes targets to withdraw from the people attempting ICURE. It can also lead to targets doubling down on their beliefs.

 People attempting ICURE can also mess up on creating uncertainty, as described above.

 Repetition can break down because guards don’t all do or say the same things consistently. They could contradict each other. Or they might just not repeat the same thing very often.

 Emotive responses can break down in much the same way creating uncertainty does. Not everyone responds emotionally to the same things or in the same way. Once again different guards can undermine the desired response. The character might dig in to their original position, they might withdraw from the people attempting ICURE. They might just learn to lie to them.

 I think as a writer the best approach to this is to use a mix of internal and external factors effecting multiple parts of ICURE. Just because I think that would create a better story.

 The readers can see the internal struggle and resistance in the character. They can also see the guards messing up and how that impacts the character. May be the importance of support from other people, fellow prisoners or cleaning staff or doctors or anyone else that fits with the setting.

 Basically including multiple elements will give you a more fleshed out story with more emotional depth and impact. That’s a good narrative reason to include it.

 I hope that helps. :)

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