#i keep getting played and taken advantage of and im so sick of it.

[badcountryofficial]

Last post I just wanna feel appreciated and valued 👍🏻

[selamat-linting]

living after experiencing sa is so weird like, the same piece of writing about assault could do nothing or it could send me into a week long spiral and its just a matter of dumb luck or pure chance that determines my brains' reaction to it. i've had moments where im legitimately triggered in the middle of re-reading something i actually enjoy as porn. over the years i figured it was because i had small triggers that are abstract or wasnt easily noticeable or doesnt feel like anything until its in the spesific context of sa. like being trapped in an enclosed space with strangers, begging to be sent home, being deceived, having your preferences and interests weaponized against you, the really lonely and painful walk home afterwards where no one comes to save you but maybe its better off this way since you dont want to be seen, those are things im particularly sensitive with. for example, a few years ago i got really messed up about this anecdote of a kid who got kidnapped by a neighbor for a few hours. he offered to see his cat and then lock them up in a room while theyre playing with said kittens. nothing actually happens but that made me legit depressed for a few days. while im fine talking with my friend about an incident where she got followed by a creepy guy who groped her while she's walking home. both situations are horrifying and bad ofc, but i cant exactly communicate or find an easy way to filter out the bad. like, i can handle hearing the graphic details, the bare bones account of what happens, but if it touches on how the victim was tricked or deceived or gets taken advantage of, even when its basically the least upsetting part, i just couldnt do it.

idk, maybe its because my experience was more in the mental stuff. yeah sure, it was only some groping, an almost kiss, and some sex talk. but the context was that i asked for help, someone friendly comes along, they say theyre just helping me but turns out they actually have ulterior motives. i was stuck in a car for hours to god knows where, fully knowing i was gonna get raped when the car eventually stops, trying to plead or at least delay it with someone i thought was a friend without being too harsh because i know they could do even worse things if i drop this thin veneer of friendliness we got going on. and all the while this asshole kept touching me in spots i didnt even realize was a sensitive place for me and i had to keep a straight face the whole time because if they see a hint that i liked it, its over. did i like though? yeah. do i want it? fuck no. never in a million years. and i felt betrayed because im supposed to have that moment of discovery with a boyfriend or a girlfriend and it was supposed to be nice and comforting but its not. and i might associate gentle touches with this forever. and there's also a part of me that said, hey somebody wants me. dont you want to be wanted? i might as well enjoy it because no one's gonna offer me hot car sex like this. i should try to get myself wet! this is a new experience that i should just see the bright side of. im supposed to be a kinky slut right? i just turned 20. and after all, i promised myself, after the first time i had my sa as a kid, the next time it happens im gonna fight. and what am i doing right now? i'm just running my mouth. im laughing at my soon to be rapists' joke and i tell him we should meet up later instead of doing everything right now since i had work later in the day. this isnt fighting, its bargaining. and all the while im wondering if i look pretty while im doing this. i hope i look pretty. im just wearing sweatshirt and pajama pants. this is sick, why do i want to look good while im sexually assaulted?

i never told this to anyone except a friend. but even she didnt get the whole account. she just know it happens. its the part that actually upsets me that i didnt tell her. the whole violated trust thing. and how dumb i am for instantly accepting help from an acquaintance i dont even know that well. and what happens after the car stops. all she knows is that when it stops, i pushed him off of me and i left the car and run.

to her it just seems like im valiantly fighting off an asshole. she didnt know that after i ran, a bunch of men saw me running. they asked me if i need help. they were kind. but i thought of the hassle of reporting to the police, being grilled with questions, have my entire behavior scrutinized, and my parents vacillating between unhelpful anger or chastising me for being so trusting and eventually isolating me because i cant be trusted to exist in a public space without being harassed and god i dont want to miss work today and theyre gonna ask why if i had to miss a day and theyre gonna know too. so obviously i shut up. i couldnt say anything. the fuck who assaulted me came, and get this, i went back to his car. i didnt sit next to him, i was sitting at the backseat, and he was angry and yelled at me the entire time while driving me back to the closest bus station. i didnt say anything, and i actually paid him money before leaving. i was a coward.

in hindsight, what happens after the next few month after that was just me trying to compensate for the shame and utter incompetence i felt. i thought i was good at being confrontational and assertive, but when it actually matters, i cant speak. it was awful. i mean, it was a moment of self improvement, i did evolve from being an awkward self-important debate kid to an adult who relies on being good with persuading people for a living. im proud of that. but the feeling of helplessness still remains. im still afraid that when it happens again, i'd just clam up like usual. even though i already successfully fend off several people trying to fuck with me before anything that bad ever happens because im a hot saleswoman now. it felt weird calling myself a victim or a survivor because, it just happens. i didnt survive shit nor do i want to be a victim. i dont want to be pitied. and i dont want to be called brave or anything because im anything but.

except that everytime something reminds me of my sa incident, i kept having this urge to tell somebody, and i'd wrote a long paragraph detailing everything that happened including all of the uncomfortable details that didnt make me look good as a victim. and then i'd delete it before sending because its not good to tell your personal triggers online right? but i have no one i want to talk about this irl. and i cant imagine any well-meaning response that doesnt make me angry. i kept thinking about it. if anyone acknowledged this happens to me, i have no socially acceptable response. im not sure if anyone could understand or be sympathetic. i mean, imagine someone told you a grave secret about them and then they get angry and throw a tantrum when you say youre keeping their secret to the grave. youre in the right to be angry and confused at them. and its one thing to write a retrospective like this, and its another thing talk about it directly. i wouldnt be self aware to control myself. i'd just ruin another friendship because i got pissed off for no discernable reason.

i dont really know where im going with this. i think i just wanted to get this out of my system. its been what? three years? im sick of keeping that shit in. i think i just need to talk about it, sort of like a confessional before moving on for good. anyway, your usual shitposting will resume shortly. bye bitch!

[souldivide]

vent long personal heavy ok

it’s really helpless and crushing how im always cornered back to the same sad answer of how i should have considered the future earlier. my legs are in so much pain, im crying from how much my body aches and im simply told, you shouldn’t have been in your room all day — despite the fact i wasn’t allowed to go outside, and there was seldom walking space in our awful house. i was always sick, and always dizzy. it is crazy how dangerous black mold can be and yet we had a complete infestation of that and more. i want to consider pursuing a career ive had since i was a child though, im so passionate about art and i still am which might be a blessing considering how much commissions are hurting me mentally and perhaps physically .. opening several, several batches a year, constantly cramming them.. i think i want to do college. but i didn’t take on the scholarship i had when i graduated! i didn’t take the aid that covered my first year.. truthfully i didn’t think id make it so far. im insecure, im suicidal, im fragile. the past decade, i could barely get through anything without crying. it was humiliating to exist as i was in middle and highschool due to the living situation i was in, with no money and feeling i had no true support or even solidarity with my own mother, who must have been under much more stress than i was, trying to provide for her child. but still didn’t sympathize with me at all. the situation was hard, but i should have worked harder .. honestly, i do feel selfish for not having taken advantage of my moms effort to keep me in school, but ahhhhhh, i think it was just too much. i didn’t want to live like this. i was ashamed and disgusted, i still feel discomfort associating myself with that life. i cling to childhood and youth and traditions i missed out on because i lacked so much of that routine as a kid. is it so wrong to cry and want to die that you never got to experience a proper, loving christmas like everyone in your schools did ? no toys, no cable, only a tiiiny tiny laptop (like a 2008 chromebook-like thing) to keep me busy.. i wasn’t allowed to go outside of my own house to play with the dog, nor was I allowed to have anyone come over. wasn’t allowed to visit other people’s houses… not like i remember of that much anyways, as i barely remember anything from childhood except mortifying things.. i recently saw a way to connect to my mother by opening up. i confessed to her a lot of things as i was a mute child and never shared anything, never felt comfortable to — about how it affected me, about how i feel like im in stasis. i told her about what happened between me and my father, what happened between me and my brother, and i felt empty when she looked away from me and didn’t answer. No closure or comfort, and simply said that i should have taken advantage of my opportunities when I had them. And i have sabotaged myself. nothing else can explain for my disability, my mental health, and my plummeting education.

It took me 6 years to get an ID. 5 years to get a bank account. I don’t know how to learn how to drive and I am scared but I have to. i cannot go anywhere without someone’s help, primarily hers.

it feels too unfair, and i am still grieving for every year that passes by, even the previous year, that i am still locked in a house. i have never experienced much that i can call positive memories until i went to be with my best friend and my boyfriend. but that just made the memories painful too; when I think about how I have to end the trip. Board the plane or get in the car, and cry about how I have to go back home and be with my mother. it is not normal, to dread going back there so intensely. i wish i had a different life very badly, honestly, but a comfort i have now is that i think i am now strong emotionally and legally that i can make my own plans, manage my own bank, decide who i can visit without the permission of my mother. but. that is not because of my strength, and it is actually because she is sick. and she now has cancer as of september. I feel like i have been held in my mothers arms forced still for an entire two decades and the only reason she’s let go is because she is, her health is not well. And she has prepared me this week, a conversation of where to find her records, her files, her will, her passwords. Everything, if she passes away soon. i want to sleep forever, because i don’t want to wake up to a day wondering if it will happen soon. I don’t want to be in this position. I am scared. I wish I was with people I loved who loved me. i am shaking and sad. I wish I was too drained to cry anymore because I do it too much, for years. I wish I wasn’t such a sad person. I wish I wasn’t so miserable, I wish I had more happier things to think about when people ask me how I am. I feel miserably

I was gifted breath of the wild a couple years ago, now i am finally playing it. it helps i think. i really enjoy it most for the animal interaction and cooking and exploration.

[silence-ensues]

Pt.1

I feel so shitty, I just want to be loved and appreciated. I want to feel equal, I want him to genuinely treat me with kindness. I shouldn’t have to have cramps or be sick or be in person to get affection or proper attention. He sees me as an after thought. I don’t care that he fucks up I just care that he fixes it, I don’t care that he doesn’t have time for me I just want him to be honest, I don’t care that he cares more about other shit I just want him to be honest with me. All I want is honesty and respect. Have the respect for me to put in effort, realize how badly you’ve fucked me up in the last year or two and genuinely sit there and say you’re sorry, I hate when someone else plays victim, I hate when someone apologizes to themselves, I hate when they need comfort when I’ve been the one crying. I have been so fucking understanding and patience and he keeps asking me for more, more time more understanding more patience and I just can’t. I’ve been worn down, I don’t have a sense of self anymore it’s been taken away again and again and again. Why do I have to keep my guard up? Why can’t I just feel secure? Why promise someone that this will be the one stable thing in their life just to make it the most turbulent? I’ve been through hell and I don’t fucking know what to do. I just want to be heard. I just want to be sat down and told “I’m so fucking sorry I did these things to you” with a proper explanation other than “I don’t know” why do I have to sit here and beg to be treated right? Why do I have to let myself fall so he can feel like he isn’t alone? Why can’t we both just be at different stages of our lives and have that be okay? People don’t know what they have until it’s gone but the problem is that I’d never leave him, so of course it won’t change, why would it? It’s easier to put it off than to confront it if there’s no consequences to doing so. maybe he doesn’t care, maybe I shouldn’t care, maybe all of this is toxic and unhealthy, maybe it isn’t worth it, but why don’t I know for sure? I want to feel a 100% confident when he asks me “is it worth it” or “is it going to get better” but I can’t decide if it gets better, I’m not the one causing the rift, I’m not the one with power, I’m trying so fucking hard to stay stable, to keep myself happy, to hold onto me. But people take selflessness and use it to their advantage. Everytime there has ever been an issue in the one to change, im the one to drop everything, and now he can acknowledge the fact that it wasn’t me who was causing this but he can’t sit there and give me a genuine apology without saying “I hate myself, im such a shitty person, it hurts me just as much as it’s hurting you, I wish I could be like you” that isn’t apologizing, that isn’t taking blame, why do I have to pick you the pieces that you’ve shattered? Im so close to just giving up and not caring anymore, im so close to telling him to just forget about everything and do whatever he wants, im so tired of making everything okay when i feel like im shattering little by little every time. If he doesn’t want to put the work in why do i try and make him? If there’s no work then the whole relationship won’t work and I’ve tried so hard to make it work but maybe I can’t. Maybe I’m not the right person for him, maybe he needs someone who doesn’t care if it sinks or swims, maybe he needs someone who doesn’t need him, maybe he needs someone who’s okay being an afterthought, but why can’t it be me? Why have I put 2 1/2 years into this for that person to not be me, would someone finally love me right if I was that person? Why can’t I just be me? Why isn’t anything unconditional?

[traumacat800]

Every Kiss Begins with Kill♡

okay so my story was taken down on a03 and my account was suspended for “abuse”. I literally don’t know why. I’m actually very angry about it and if I wasn’t going to jump off then I’m going to jump off now. So I’ll just be uploading the chapters here on tumblr.

Im honestly sorry about this folks, I really am. But I’m already living on the edge and a03 takes forever to fix problems so I might just stay on tumblr. This one isn’t as edited as the original because I usually do the formatting and stuff IN A03. So this is copied straight out of google docs. I know it’s not exactly convenient but this is what we have to work with 😕 I’m sorry yall

Now! Onto the first chapter!

No TW for the first chapter! (I think)

•

It was the big day.

Today was Halloween. 

You had to admit, you were excited, not for the costumes or cool decorations, more for the candy. It was always the candy. Last year, you couldn’t go trick or treating due to your dog being sick. You decided to stay home and watch over poor Brazen to make sure she didn’t pass. You didn’t regret it though, thankfully candy was cheap and the next day you went down to the dollar store and rewarded yourself with a big bag of lollipops. So as must do on Halloween day, you put on your costume and went outside. You dressed up as something not too overly complicated. It was a bit hot under the costume but you knew it might be cold.  Your mother reminded you to be safe before you left the house. 

You walked down the street happily, collecting candy from your neighbors. Although you felt you were a bit too old to be doing this, especially as a high school student. Your shame quickly faded when you saw just how full your candy bag really was. All that walking paid off, although you were a bit out of breath. It wasn’t surprising considering you couldn’t even run that one lap in PE. For someone who played sports, you were really out of shape. You couldn’t run for the life of you, not commenting on the fact that if you walked too much you also were somehow out of breath.

You happily stopped at the side of the sidewalk to examine your candy (and to catch your breath). You had a lot of Jolly Ranchers, your favorite flavor was grape but you thought blue was good as well. You had chocolate too of course, but you had more Snickers than Jolly Ranchers at this point. You settled for a few of the grape Jolly Ranchers, pulling out your phone, you watch TimeWatch (tiktok) for a bit before deciding to keep going. You stood up, stretching then you headed onto the next neighborhood, I mean, your bag wasn’t completely full yet. It’s not like God would get on you for taking advantage of the gifts of other people. 

“Hey is that Y/n?” A voice called out.

“I think so,” One responded.

“Oh god…” Another voice replied.

Oh yeah, he would.

Fuck.

Gluttony is a sin.

God dammit.

•

As per usual, your friends were absolute assholes. They made you feel unwanted, as if they didn’t want you to be there. Whenever you needed groups, they find some way to exclude you unless you did the work for them. They had no idea how smart you really were. You supposed it was their loss but still, they made you feel some type of way. So you left early, you just slipped away. They didn’t even notice, you didn’t think they ever did. It always hurts you to think about it, the fact that it even still surprises you.. You assumed they’d finally accepted you, but it stayed the same. 

You huffed, making your way back down the neighborhood. It was completely dark now, the temperature was a bit cold. You could feel the breeze on your face, you shivered a bit at it. However, you thought you’d saw something behind you, you brushed it off as you being paranoid. You didn’t blame yourself, it was cold and dark outside. You were almost home, you only had to pass through one more neighborhood before you got to your house. The neighborhood lights in front of you flickered ominously. There stood a man, he was large and red with long horns on the top of his head.

That’s when you heard it—

“Did you know that the human body tastes similar to pork?”

You were terrified for 10 seconds before realizing that he was probably just another trick or treater trying to scare you.

“Uh no? Nice costume by the way,” You said before casually walking away. 

He stopped in front of you once more. 

“Did you know that ribs are the hardest part for the average person to pull out?” 

Maybe they just were just very dedicated to the character. Probably a Game of Thrones fan. 

“Who are you dressed up as?”

“Mmh…a murderer….”  His voice was deep, it was smooth almost like soft velvet or tissue. It made you feel a sense of anxiety, I mean, you just met the guy. Somehow, you thought he was hot, classic you. 

It was kind of attractive if you thought about it. Nothing you couldn’t control though. 

He must be a horror fan, cool. 

“Cool, I thought you were the devil. You know, with the horns and stuff,” You pointed to his horns and shrugged.

He continued to breathe heavily, that’s when you noticed he didn’t have any candy. 

“Hey man, you don’t have any candy. You want some of mine?,” You said, offering your bag to him. He grabbed it slowly, picking up a piece of candy. (Specifically a blue Jolly rancher, the man had taste apparently) He ate it with the wrapper on and then smiled creepily at your terrified face. Perhaps you realized who he really was—-

“Did you just eat that with the wrapper on?” 

He stopped and looked at you. In fact, he looked confused. Who took the wrapper off? You grabbed another blue Jolly Rancher, you opened it right in front of him. He stared at you, still a bit confused at the point you were making. You shook your head, handing the candy over to him. He looked at you once more, giving you a skeptical look. He sighed and put it in his mouth. A burst of favor immediately hit him, the demon looked shocked. As if he was learning a great discovery. You, on the other hand, laughed at him. 

“You’re funny man,” Shaking your hand once more, you handed him an armful of candy. 

“I’ll see you around,”

And with that you headed home.

•

Bob was pissed.

It was his FIRST failed murder of the day, Halloween had just begun, it was only 10 pm. The kids didn’t shut down till about 1 am. Still, it really did make him think about you. He didn’t even get to pull out his knife before you were offering him something. There’s no way you knew who he was. Not with how chill you were acting about it. His usual smile dropped into a somewhat confused look. You’d left by now.

All Bob had to do was go through the other neighborhood, the more popular ones would sure have possible victims.

But he couldn’t help finding himself thinking about going after you. 

[miss-bvnny]

Yet another fan tweaks up TLK 2 and TLG: The Squeakel.

Im bored and in a lil pain. time to jot down all my personal ideas/headcanons for how I'd polish up TLK 2 and TLG to fit with the first movie a bit better, and create something more cohesive since like only about 3 people on the TLK2 and TLG teams paid attention to the first movie. I've seen a lot of hedcanons and AUS and whatnot in my day so I've kinda got a good idea of what i like and what I think might work better. Veteran TLK creators please interact with me and gib feedeback on my sick tricks

Uhhh TW for abuse and cub death

So...while there's TECHNICALLY nothing I'd change about the first movie, as it's pretty much done and solid, I wanted to play with my ideas for Zira's backstory.

YES in my version it'd be a one-sided love, kinda like how DemiiDee on dA and Silver-Wolf-17/@mask-of-prime see it, Scar knew she was obsessed with him since the day she met him as a cub, and took advantage of that. After he became king, he wanted loyal lionesses just in case Sarabi, Nala, Sarafina and the others got wise and rebelled. Zira and her pride sisters were all starving, and he knew that. He welcomed them in, promising food and comfort in return for their loyalty. Zira didn't hesitate to agree, and Scar loved her blind adoration of him. He WOULD have liked it if someone like Sarafina was so blindly in love with him (Scar had a gross unrequited obsessive crush on Sarafina growing up, and he constantly held it against her after she chose to be with Nala's father Mega instead. This is another reason why he was so hard on the hunting parties. He used his position as king to get petty revenge on childhood bullies and the like). Scar decided Zira would be his queen but like...ONLY because Sarafina had already made her choice. Zira didn't care, and knew she'd make Scar proud and produce a lot of wonderful heirs for him, in order to repay him for ''all he'd done for her'' (A very thin and insincere ''all'' if you ask me). So, Zira gets pregnant with who will eventually be Nuka, but...Rafiki takes a look at her and sees she's very weak and will probably only have one cub. Oh well. Let's just hope this one son is a suitable heir in Scar's eyes.

....Well-

Nuka's born. Weak, unfocused, and not at all what Scar wanted or was hoping for. He TRIES to teach Nuka and raise him as an Heir, but...it just doesn't work. Scar believes he was destined for greatness and for a prosperous, strong lineage. Nuka is none of those things, and it seems Zira will never be able to give him another heir (I KNOW the ''This woman can't have kids'' trope is icky but HOLD ON wait until you see where I'm going with this) Scar disowns Nuka and scolds Zira for disappointing him. Zira begs for his forgiveness, and swears on her life she'll find a way to make things worth Scar's while.

During this time, several of the male cubs who were born around the same time as Simba are being exiled. Scar doesn't want any males around to threaten overtaking him, and nips the problem in the bud before it ever becomes an issue. Many pride sister saw him doing this, and while they disagreed with it...it DID offer one bonus: Trustworthy males were leaving for better lands. They could take the new young cubs with them, since none of the sisters wanted their children to be raised in Scar's Pridelands.

Surprisingly, one of these lionesses trying to save her cubs...was Zira. Within the last few months, she'd...began to realize perhaps she was looking at Scar with rose-colored glasses. She was beginning to wonder if perhaps she was wrong to worship him the way she did. The thoughts were still kinda...new, and she wasn't sure what to do. But, during all her confusion, she DID happen to meet another male lion. Mpendwa, (Swahili for ''Honey'') was an old friend from her teenage years who was a wanderer by nature. Zira was VERY happy to see him again, after all these years. She met with him in secret, when Scar and the Hyenas weren't looking, and began to fall in love with him. REAL love. Mutual good love, where he loved her for who she was, and NOT what she could give him. Even Nuka seemed to like him, too! And...by some miracle, Zira and Mpendwa had a secret litter together! Four beautiful, healthy little cubs! It was perfect. SO perfect. Perhaps the problem had lain not in Zira, but in Scar the entire time. It served as more confirmation to Zira that...perhaps she was in the wrong to love him. Mpendwa asked her if she and their four cubs would come with him. Somewhere far and somewhere safe, where they could be happy together. Zira...was hesitant, afraid of disappointing Scar further, and even more afraid to leave her pride sisters behind. They were in this because of her, and...there were so many of them that it'd be impossible to get all of them out without Scar seeing something was up. Nevertheless, she knew she had to think about the future of her cubs, and NOT about Scar. She agreed, and plans were made for Zira and Nuka to meet Mpendwa at the border with her four cubs. In the dead of night, they'd leave using the rest of the evacuating males as a cover so they could make a clean getaway.

....Well...to make a very heartbreaking and gruesome story short...Scar knew about Mpendwa the entire time. And of course he saw Zira was pregnant. He overheard their plains to escape, and prepared accordingly. Mpendwa and three of Zira's cubs were killed as punishment for her disloyalty and attempt at mutiny. He lets her keep the youngest one alive as a reminder of her shortcomings, but ONLY if she'll swear her loyalty to him once more. With nothing else left to do, she swore her allegiance to him, and returned to the Pridelands with only Vitani and Nuka left of her family. In the coming days and months, Scar turns up the charm to further entice Zira, making sure she and Vitani are given the best of everything and taken care of, to ensure she feels terrible about what she did and she never acts out again. Sadly, it works, and Zira falls back in love with him, realizing SHE was the one in the wrong, and was an utter fool to betray Scar. Things are....steady for a while. Not bad, not good, but...steady for Zira and Scar. He of course ignores both cubs, and Zira has to reach out to him pleadingly if she wants to connect with him. Zira works as a willing mouthpiece to spout propaganda tot he rest of the pride, assuring then Scar is a GREAT king, their ONLY king, and that he will usher in a new golden age for them all. It pleases Scar and he is sure to...ever so slightly reciprocate his gratitude to her. If only to keep her totally convinced to stay with him. Zira can see he's...flaky and not too sure about her, and decides she MUST act fast to show him she is worthy.

She MUST somehow produce him a viable heir. And quickly. But with all the other males gone, there's not a whole lot of cubs being born. And her beloved Mpendwa is long dead. So...she has to figure something else out. One day, while hunting for Vitani and Nuka on her own, she runs across a skinny dark brown lone lioness taking a dead zebra somewhere. She tells Nuke and Vitani to wait, and begins to stalk this female, named Jibu (''Answer'') Jibu takes her kill to a secluded spot, and Zira notices she's having trouble catching her breath. It doesn't take Zira long to see...Jibu is pregnant. VERY pregnant, and close to giving birth. GIVING birth, actually! She's going into labor. Jibu cries out for mercy, knowing she is alone and there is no one around to help her. Zira, in a moment of maternal instinct and compassion, helps her. She, along with Nuka and Vitani, stay by Jubi's side as she gives birth to one little brown cub. Then, Zira gets...a really really REALLY terrible idea, just looking at the little cub. Calmly, she tells Vitani and Nuka that Jibu will need some water, and that they need to bring some back for her in some fresh moss. It's a big job, and the cubs are BOTH very willing to help. Vitani and Nuka leave on their big mission, and then Zira, Jibu, and the new cub are left alone.

Zira is quick about it. Merciful, even. By the time Nuka and Vitani get back, Jibu is dead. Zira sorrowfully tells the cubs that...the birthing process was simply too much for a weak and skinny loner like her, and that there was nothing at all that could have been done. Nuka asks what they're going to do with the cub, and Zira says she SUPPOSES they could take it back to the pride, as well as the zebra Jibu just killed. They return to the pridelands with food, and...Zira presents the cub to Scar. She tells him that his mother gave birth on the edge of the territory, before succumbing to her dehydration and fatigue. Scar looks the cub over, and is overjoyed. He declares THIS cub, this Kovu, WILL be his heir.

So, time passes, and before you know it, Simba returns. The TRUE Pridelanders rise up and reclaim their land. In the wake of his return, Zira's pride sisters see the error of their ways, and oppose the hyenas in battle. Scar is overthrown, and Simba takes his place as King. Zira is of course horrified, outraged, and...filled with a turmoil of emotions about it. Some part of her feels...free that Scar is gone, but the rest of her was so twisted by his words that she doesn't want to admit she's happy he's dead. She chokes those feelings down, trying to sit still and look pretty for Simba as he moves in. Nuka, Vitani, and little Kovu are doing well, and...as a mother that's all she should care about, really. But...deep down inside, there's a growing, growling, burning need for revenge in her soul.

As Kovu grows a little bigger and the pridelands heal more, Simba and Nala announce the birth of their OWN heir.....Kopa. Yep. Yes. That's right, I'm a Kopa theorist. Upsetting, I know. But like....it makes sense. Look at how overprotective and suffocating Simba was to Kiara in TLK 2. Almost like he'd dealt with tragedy in relation to a cub before, and vowed to never let it happen again. Huh. If YOU'RE reading this and you have no idea who Kopa is and the drama behind his very existence, first of all God I wish I was you, secondly, go here to learn what then entire TLK fandom is divided over:

https://disney.fandom.com/wiki/Kopa

Anyway, Kopa is begins to grow and learn as the next king of Pride Rock, good friends with Nuka and Vitani, and even their cute little brother Kovu. He's not...VERY old right now, but he'll grow and be able to play with them one day! Their mom, Zira, seems....a little upset about stuff. She always watches them from afar, never engages with the rest of the Pride, and doesn't seem to like Simba. Kopa, as a young kid determined to be a great king, takes a note to keep an eye on this. She might be really old, but she's part of his father's kingdom. Everyone else is happy and healthy, she should be too, right? Simba and Nala seem...worried about her as well. For different reasons, but yeah.

Ever the hunter and woman scorned, Zira has been...studying Kopa. He's young and naive, but...eager to learn and take over for his father. He's studious and intuitive, often finding trouble without meaning to, because he was trying to solve a problem or get involved in pride politics. Of course, all the other lions and creatures love him, and are eager to see him grow into a fine future king. There s NO doubt he's a jewel in his family's crown. But...he is still a cub. Zira remembers how devastated she was to lose Vitani's three siblings, and knows that Simba and Nala will be equally devastated if....something happens to Kopa. She knows exactly how she's going to avenge Scar now.

Simba and Nala were out on a little moonlight hunt together one night, like they enjoyed to do together. They were coming back to Pride Rock afterwards, only to hear a terrible commotion. Zazu rushed to meet them, telling of something terrible that had just happened: Zira tried to assassinate the young prince. Her pride sisters were now in arms against Sarabi and her pride sisters, trying to stop an attempted uprising. Simba and Nala quickly joined in to fight, Simba finding Zira with Kopa in her jaws. He stops her, and Timon and Pumbaa are quick to get Kopa to Rafiki for healing. Simba and Nala face off against Zira while she gives her side of the story. telling about how she's tired of being docile and pretending her heart isn't broken after Simba and Nala both took everything from her. Simba and Nala both see she's still...terribly twisted by Scar's words, trying to be patient but firm with her as they attempt to talk her down. She won't have it, and leaps at Simba, Nala gets involved, and they fight her off. Simba calls for her banishment, and she is thrown out of the Pridelands with the rest of her followers, and her three cubs.

During all of this, Rafiki is attending to Kopa and his injuries. They're...bad, but not fatal. With time, he'll be just fine. Zira left him blind in one eye, gave him a terribly ripped ear, nearly tore his tail off, and he's got a deep throat scar that will alter his voice quite a bit. With time he'll be alright physically, but...I'm not so sure about mentally. Kopa has...a LOT of PTSD over it. blaming himself for how he thought Zira was a friend he could help, wondering if he was stupid for never seeing her anger sooner. He begins to question his abilities as a future king. Yes, he's still young, and accidents happen, but...this event has left him a bit jaded all the same. Simba and Nala see it, and...want to do the best for their son. They can see the enthusiasm in his eyes to one day be king fading. It's devastating. And...while Simba isn't about to give up on him, he doesn't want to force Kopa into something he...clearly doesn't want to do anymore. On top of that...Simba fears Kopa may not be safe in the Pridelands anymore. Zira and her followers ARE in the Outlands, but...Zira is bold and full of hate. There's no telling what she could do next. After a lot of deliberation, meeting with Zazu, Nala, and Kopa...the king comes to a conclusion. He strips Kopa of his title as an heir, and sends him to live in the Oasis with Ma, Uncle Max, and the rest of Timon's family. He'll be safe and well-fed there, far away from Zira. It'll only be for a while, until the trouble with the outlanders settles down, and until Kopa is ready to return home. Kopa agrees to the idea whole-heartledy, and departs for the Oasis as soon as he's fit to travel. It's...painful and hard, but it's the best option for their son's mental health. Simba and Nala do visit often, and are glad to see it DOES seem to be working.

Okay. So Zira tried to kill Kopa in the name of Scar, got herself booted, and the origins of her three cubs have been dealt with. That's all the Zira/Scar and Kopa backstory stuff done and dealt with. I'm gonna cut it right here since this is gettin awful lengthy, and continue with TLK 2 and The Lion Guard in a part 2. Keep an eye out for that one.

[firefly464]

The Real World - Chapter 13

"Oh Im gonna take a small break and go easy on this chapter :D" - me the other day. i then proceeded to write the longest chapter so far for no god damn reason.

ALSO YAY COOL SYMBOLISM IN THIS ONE

Thank you @i-have-this-now​ for helping me with transitions because im a complete mess Thank you to @rivys​ for beta reading and editing!

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~~~

“They WHAT?!” Wilbur yelled, wheeling around to stare at the teenager behind him. 

“They uh, they’re going to try and bring our Tommy and Dream back?” Tubbo repeated, taking a step back. “Is that bad…?” Hadn’t this been what Wilbur wanted? For their own Tommy to come home? Why was he acting so aggressive about it? 

“Yes that's bad! Thats really fucking bad! Not Tommy obviously, but Dream?! Tubbo, Dream could come and break the peace treaty. He might start a whole new war, just out of spite. I cant… We can’t do that again. We just don’t have the resources.”

Tubbo paled as he realized what Wilbur was saying. Yes, they might have a chance to bring Tommy home, but at what cost? They would have to go back to living in fear, terrified that at any moment, Dream would come up behind them and try to kill one of them. He took another step back, shaking his head. He couldn’t go back to living like that. He just couldn’t. 

Wilbur walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, crouching slightly so that he was at eye level. “Tubbo, I need you to tell me something, and I need you to tell me the truth. Where are they going?” Tubbo shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. On one hand, he had promised Tommy that he was going to help him get home. He had given his word. But on the other, he couldn’t go back to living in constant fear. He just couldn’t. “The eastern dark woods…” he muttered, trying to push away the guilt that gnawed at him. He had to do this. For his friends. He had no choice. 

“Got it.” Wilbur stood to full height, his eyes set and determined. “Go get your things together. We’ve got quite the trip ahead of us.”

~~~

“You can’t be serious. This is all you have? Why are there- why the hell do you have so many buckets? How on earth are you going to carry them?” George shook his head as he looked over the meager pile of supplies that Dream had gathered. 

Dream just shrugged as he rolled up the bedroll he had found in one of the chests. “You never know what might happen. I’m just trying to be prepared.” 

“Right. So you decided the best way to be prepared was to pack 3 buckets, but not pack any food or actual fresh water. You don’t even have a flint and steel!” 

A snort of laughter sounded from behind them. Dream turned to see Tommy, snickering to himself quietly. When the teenager noticed that they were looking at him, he wiped the grin off his face and stood up straight, trying to look serious. It didn’t work. 

“You know, you could be actually helping instead of just standing there and laughing,” Dream remarked. 

“Aw, but where's the fun in that? It’s much more entertaining to sit back and watch you struggle.” 

“Oh really? I would love to see you do a better job.” He clipped the bedroll to the base of his pack. 

Tommy stepped forward with a smug grin. “Ok, I will, since I’m just so cool and awesome. First off, you need coal for torches and shit. Second, toss the buckets out. You’re not going to be pulling any epic mlg moves here. That's just not how physics work.” Dream grumbled to himself as he took the buckets out of the pile. 

“Shut up, both of you!” George cried out, bringing the bickering to a halt. “Clearly neither of you have any idea what's going on or what to do. So instead of arguing, why don’t you just listen to me and do what I tell you to do. We’re on a timer, aren’t we?” 

Dream and Tommy looked down guilty. They had forgotten about the 48 hour limit, and had ended up falling back into their carefree habits. “Right, sorry.” Tommy said. 

“Alright, Dream, I want you to go and gather some water. Once you’ve got a bucket full, I want you to boil it and bottle it. We can’t have you getting sick from dirty water. Tommy, go and gather some wheat. We don’t need too much, just enough to make enough bread for if we can’t find any animals. I’m going to go and get the horses saddled.” George’s voice was calm as he explained what each of them was going to do. The other two nodded and quickly rushed out of the room. 

~~~

“Alright I’ll be the first to admit, I’ve never rode a horse before. I’ve got no fucking idea what I’m doing,” Tommy admited as he tried to find his balance atop the large animal. The three of them had gathered up all of their materials rather quickly, and were now on their way towards the forest. “Seriously, how the fuck do people do this?”

“By shutting up and not complaining.” Dream seemed to have figured out how to ride his horse pretty quickly, and was now spending his time taunting the younger teenager. 

“Yeah, well maybe if you weren’t so damn annoying, I would have less to complain about.” 

"C'mon, Tommy, hurry up. The sun's setting." George said, while Tommy almost fell off his horse.

The three of them rode across the rough wilderness, as the moon rose slowly along the horizon. This was going to be a long night.

~~~

“We can stop here to make camp for the night,” George said as they came across a small clearing. The three of them had been traveling for hours now, and found themselves in the middle of a birch forest. 

"Eugh, birch. This is literally the worst kind of wood." Dream said jokingly. 

"Agreed." Tommy nodded.

"What? Oh come on, birch isn't that bad." George relatiated as he set up a fire.

"What?" Dream laughed. "George, have you seen these trees?"

"Dream, they're just trees. Plus, we aren't gonna be here for long. We'll keep travelling as soon as the sun rises." George rolled his eyes.

“Ughhhh, really?! But that’s so early!” 

“Tommy, shut up. Stop acting like a child. You’re just lucky that we found a place to stop at all.” George handed both Dream and Tommy a couple of torches. “Here, set these up along the perimeter. The last thing we need is a bunch of mobs trying to kill us while we sleep.” 

Both Dream and Tommy stared at him in shock. 

“What? Do you guys not have mobs in your world?” 

“Wha- No of course we don’t! I didn’t think that they were actually real here, holy shit…” Dream exclaimed. 

“Damn… A world where you don’t have to worry about getting eaten alive in the middle of the night. That honestly sounds really nice.” he shook his head, trying to clear his mind. “Never mind that right now. I need you guys to set up the torches.”

~~~

The sound of a netherite blade slicing through the air echoed across the quiet forest. It had been several hours since they had set up camp, and Dream had long since given up on sleep. The events of the day had played over and over in his mind, making it impossible to close his eyes. And so, he had quietly gotten up and snuck away to a small open area where he could practice.

Over the past week, he had found that practicing sword fighting helped him to calm down. The simple, repetitive motions helped to quiet the intrusive thoughts that continued to plague him. He had started to grow quite reliant on it to stay sane. Maybe, when he finally got home, he would join a fencing class. 

If he got home. No. No he couldn’t think like that. Pessimism wouldn’t get him anyone. He needed to trust Tubbo and Wilbur. They were going to get him and Tommy home. They had to. 

“You know, you’ve really gotten a lot better,” said a voice from behind him. A squeal of surprise was torn from Dream’s throat as he spun around, his sword at the ready. “Pffft, what on earth was that?” George stepped out from the shadows of the trees into the light of the torches that Dream had set up. 

Dream placed a hand on his chest, trying to calm his racing heart. “Jesus man, you scared me. What the hell was that about?” 

The shorter man chuckled as he stepped further into the light. “Gotta keep you on your toes. What's the point of learning how to fight if you’re not constantly aware?” He drew his own sword and held it out in the form of a challenge. 

“You are actually the worst,” he said, raising his own sword in response. 

With a grin, George rushed forward in attack. Dream raised his sword to block the incoming strike, allowing his instincts to take over. He had learned that if he simply didn’t think about what he was doing, he often did quite well. And so he let his mind go blank, instead focusing on surroundings. The stars, the leaves, the trees, even the man before him was all taken in as they sparred. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” George asked, most likely hoping to distract his opponent. 

Dream only shrugged as he feigned an attack at his friend's leg, only to come up and create a small cut on his cheek. “Couldn’t sleep. I was hoping that doing some practice would help calm me down.” 

“And? How's your success rate?” 

“Well it was pretty good, until you arrived and scared me half to death.”

“Aww, I didn’t realize compliments scared you so much.” 

“Yes, I’m quite shy.” Dream couldn’t help but grin. 

As the two of them joked back and forth, they continued their little duel. It had been going for a couple minutes now, and they seemed to be at a bit of a stand still. A rush of pride surged through him. In roughly a week, he had gone from completely and totally useless to actually able to defend himself. Now, he just needed to set himself apart. 

His mind began working overtime, analysing every small detail. Quickly, he reached back with his free hand and pulled out a loaded crossbow. George’s face transformed into surprise when he saw the weapon. The bolt flew past his face, only just barely grazing the side of his head.

Dream quickly threw the weapon aside and pressed his advantage. Suddenly, the favor was tipped towards Dream. George was unbalanced, startled by the use of the crossbow. Still, he managed to raise his sword just in time to block another strike. 

With his free hand, Dream reached into one of the pouches around his waist and pulled out a small sphere, roughly the size of a marble. With a slight squeeze, the sphere expanded to the size of a baseball. While George was distracted with blocking the strike towards his face, Dream tossed the sphere behind him. With a crash, the sphere shattered against the ground.

Suddenly, Dream appeared behind George in a shower of purple. With a sweep of his foot, his friend came falling to the ground. With a final motion, he held the sword above his throat, his green eyes bright with exhilaration and delight. 

“Alright alright, you win. I surrender,” George said with a laugh. 

“Did you see that?! That was so cool! Oh my god that was so awesome!” Dream exclaimed as he helped George to his feet. “That was so damn cool!!” he started jumping around the small clearing in excitement. 

“How did you even do that? I’ve never seen someone use a crossbow in the middle of a sword fight before” 

“I’ll be honest, I’ve got no idea. I have no idea what the hell I just did. I just know that it was cool as fuck!” 

He shook his head, chuckling as he watched his friend dance around the area. George had never seen Dream show any sort of emotion before, much this level of excitement. Even though he knew the reasons why, he couldn’t help but feel a bit weirded out by it. Watching the pure joy flash across Dream’s face was strange. Still, it was nice. “You are such a dork” 

He only responded with a wide grin. 

A thought flashed through George’s mind, causing him to frown slightly. Dream stopped his playful jumping and walked over, his eyes now filled with concern. “Hey, you alright?” He asked. “Oh shit, you’re bleeding! Hold on I’ve got a few bandages on me I think…” 

As Dream pulled out a couple white bandages from his bag, George let out a slight chuckle. “Do you even know how to use those?” 

“Uhhh, not really? I’m sure I can figure it out. How hard can it be?” 

He wasn’t impressed. With a roll of his eyes, George held out his hand for the bandages “Here, just let me do it. It doesn’t really hurt, I think it's just a small cut. Probably just needs to be cleaned.” Taking a bottle of water from his bag, he quickly wet the bandage and started to clean the blood from his face. 

Dream pouted. “Well what if I wanted to help?” 

“Then you can go and wash the blood out of these,” George said, tossing him the now stained bandages. “No point in wasting perfectly good bandages because of a small cut.”

He caught them easily, but otherwise didn’t move. “Nope. Not until you tell me whats wrong.

The brunette cursed under his breath. Since when had he been so easy to read? “I uh, I was just thinking about… Stuff,” he waived his hand vaguely. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Dream plopped down onto the grass and patted the ground next to him. “Here, take a seat.”

He sat. 

“Spill.”

“I’m just… Worried, I guess? I mean, in a few days, you’re going to be gone and… the other Dream will be back. I guess I’m just scared about what he's gonna do.”

The smile faded from Dream’s face as he considered what to say. “What was he like?” he asked after a few seconds. “The other me, I mean.”

“He was… Scary. All he cared about was the thrill of the hunt. The mask made it impossible to tell what he was ever thinking, which made it ten times worse. Of course, it only covered his eyes and nose, so that you could still see his grin.” He shuddered. “I watched as he blew up the gates of L’manberg with a massive smile on his face.” 

“So then… why did you follow him in the first place?” 

“I had no choice. When Sapnap and I showed up, he was the only other person here. It was either join him or be left out to die to the mobs. After a while I guess I just didn’t realize how cruel he was. He was a good leader, and super charismatic. Not to mention a really good actor. By the time the war started… I guess I just trusted him, if that makes sense. He had kept me alive ‘till then, so why would anything change?”

Dream nodded. He wasn’t going to pretend like he understood what his friend had gone through, but he could still try and help in his own way.  “He taught you sword fighting, how to survive. You felt like you were indebted to him, right?” 

“Yeah… Pretty much. God, its so stupid! I should have been able to realize how messed up he was. Why the hell did I not realize?!” He took off his round sunglasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut tight. “I was so fucking stupid.” 

Hesitantly, Dream reached over and placed a hand on his friends back, trying to comfort him. “Hey, that’s not stupid. You’d be surprised at how easily our minds can trick us into thinking we’re doing the right thing. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. That's not your fault.” A stab of guilt shot through him. He had been the one to add George onto the server. If he had waited a bit, would things have been different? Maybe if he had acted differently on stream, or not sent the declaration of war, maybe things would have turned out different. The other Dream might have turned out to be a decent guy, not someone that people trembled before and feared. 

“I should have been smarter… I should have joined Sapnap when he went off on his own.” 

The weight of George’s words finally sunk in. The other Dream was a monster, a killer. He was the living, breathing version of the mask Dream sometimes wore in his videos. The act of someone who enjoyed the hunt, and nothing more. These past two weeks had been peaceful and calm compared to what everyone had normally lived through, and it was all because the monster was finally gone. But now… now they were about to bring him back. They were about to bring everyone’s worst nightmare back to life. 

What choice did they have? It was either that, or let the entire world get destroyed. Either way, the other Dream was about to ruin people’s lives. He sighed. “It's going to be alright, ok? We’ll figure something out, I promise. You’re not going to go back to living like that. I promise.” 

Now, it was just a matter of keeping that promise. 

~~~

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[alilchameleon]

Im genuinely so tired of working as an event server. What started as a way to help me pay for college for a few years has turned into three+ years of 10+ hour shifts every weekend where I do the work of 3 people all while getting paid minimum wage.

My position is so understaffed, the managers don't help, and it feels like my coworker who also hates it here is now guilt tripping me into staying throughout busy season. I come home every fucking weekend exhausted, popping pain meds like candy, and being unable to fall asleep for hours because my brain and body hallucinate holding trays of food or taking drink orders still.

I make fucking 5$ an hour, like 2% of the event fee, and whatever money I get from tips which nobody fucking thinks to give since they think its included in their package. I made 85$ from 6 parties tonight. 6 parties where i got soft drinks, ran food, set up and cleaned up after them, cut cake, served alcohol, and so much more. An actual server told me she can make like a thousand a week with the same amount of hours i put in and doing less shit then I do. My last paycheck was 150.

Im so tired of getting taken advantage of by not only a corporation that doesnt give two shits about me, but now it feels like my managers and coworkers too. Im everyones golden child who keeps their cool and is hard working and kind and helps everyone out, and im sick of it!! Lets play the game of how many more shifts can I do until I fucking snap.

[starlightsearches]

please can i request a soulmate au for kylo x fem!reader because i just read the last chapter of office romance and im scared

A New Life

No need to fear! Chapter 13 will be out Wednesday 🥰

Requests are still open ✨

Kylo Ren X female reader soulmate! AU (Second part)

AN: Allusions to sex, but no other warnings here. This was so fun to write!

You’re standing at the foot of the bed in the quarters of Kylo Ren, the sheets a deep and familiar gray, and you’re gripped with a sudden terror. None of it had seemed real when it first happened, more like a game of pretend that you would play with the children, or a dream that you would soon wake up from. There had been no kind of panic in you—not when you had boarded the transport followed by a cadre of Storm Troopers, or before when your mother had held you so tightly in her arms you had thought they might break, whispering unintelligible goodbyes through her tears. Not even when you had run from your family’s small hut into the dim morning light and had your world thrown into screaming color at the sight of him, the electric red of his lightsaber burning into your retinas.

After that, leaving with him had been inevitable. How could you have refused? He had stood by silently while a Trooper explained to your parents that you were being taken, and that you would not be returning, and then you had packed up a few of your favorite belongings: your three nicest dresses, a small doll your mother had made for you when you were born, and your paints that your father had mixed, all in varying neutral shades that seemed dull and boring in comparison to all the new colors you could see. You had watched from the viewport as your planet disappeared behind you, the beautiful greens and blues turning into a jumbled mess just as you hit light speed, and it vanished from your sight. A single tear had rolled its way down your cheek, and that had been that.

You run one hand over the covers of the bed, testing the waters of your new life. The fabric is soft and cold—much nicer than anything you had ever seen before, and you feel terribly out of place. You’re the only spot of color in the room, and it’s easy to forget that you have sight now unless you’re looking down. The dress you’re wearing is one of your favorites, soft from years of wear and washing in the river, and you like it even more now that you’ve gained your new eyes. It’s a beautiful blue, like the sky was sometimes, your mother had said, and you sit on the edge of the bed and close your eyes, trying to imagine that you’re somewhere familiar, lying on your back in the tall grass, the heavens above you awash in the same color.

The door slides open with a mechanical whir, and you jump from your seat, embarrassed. It’s him again. He enters silently, movements slow and intimidating, like a monster from a children’s story, and you’re not sure if you’ll ever get used to looking at someone so frightening. He’s carrying a few items in his arms, and he sets them down on a low table. It’s fairly common for people who are rich or powerful to hunt down their soulmates, but you don’t think that was the case for Kylo Ren. He seems unprepared to have you here, a little shell shocked even, but it’s hard to tell exactly what he’s feeling behind the mask.

“I’ve brought you some clothes,” he says, and you hope he doesn’t see your distaste for the modulated timbre of his voice. “The refresher is over there so you can clean yourself off.”

“I don’t know how,” you say, and he looks up in surprise, “to use the sanisteam, I mean. There’s no running water where I’m from.” You explain yourself quickly, marveling at how stupid you’ve managed to make yourself sound. Your planet certainly isn’t the most technologically advanced—far from it—but you’ve made it seem like some kind of primitive hellscape where the people don’t bathe. He stares at you for a moment, and you worry he might be considering the idea of taking you back.

“I’ll go turn it on for you.” He says instead, and you breathe a sigh of relief. He disappears into the refresher, and you wander over to the table where he set the clothes. They’re black as well, and soft too, the material thin and slippery between your fingers. You recognize them as pajamas even though you’ve never owned a pair before, and you pull the fabric close to your face, running it along your cheek.

“It’s ready,” he says, and you pull the clothes away from you, heart thumping with embarrassment. You walk over to him and enter the refresher, the air thick and steamy already from the running water. He explains how the sanisteam works, and you focus intently on his instructions, making sure not to miss anything. The last thing you need is a refresher mishap to further cement yourself in his mind as some kind of helpless idiot.

“I’ll be outside,” he says and then makes his exit, the door closing behind him. You take a deep breath, and pull the fabric of your dress up and over your head.

The water is delightfully warm as it pours over you, and you scrub at your skin, vigorously removing what feels like years worth of dirt and grime with the various soaps and shampoos, luxuriating in the convenience of not having to heat your own water or bathe in the creek. It’s a supremely joyful moment, and before long you’re giggling as you watch the soapy water splash against the floor and run down the drain. You shut off the sanisteam as you had been instructed, and grab a towel from nearby. Sufficiently dry, you take the pajamas in your hand. That’s when you realize that he hadn’t given you anything to wear underneath.

Heat rises in your cheeks, and you fidget with the clothing. Was this a message of some kind? You know about what was supposed to go on between soulmates, of course, but … you didn’t know what he would expect from you. Would he be kind, if you said no? Soulmates weren’t supposed to hurt each other, but you had heard stories, still, and Kylo Ren seemed like the exception to every rule. You hadn’t even seen his face yet, only that awful mask, and the gravity of the moment sets you into a tailspin. You feel woefully unprepared for this.

Get a hold of yourself, you command, trying to quell the rising panic. There’s little that you can do now, and even if you don’t know him, you have to trust him. Determined, you put on the pajamas, ignoring the strange feeling of the fabric against all of you.

There’s a mirror on the wall behind you, and you take a moment to look at your reflection, seeing yourself in color for the first time. It’s strange, but pleasant too, like reuniting with an old friend, and you admire the color of your hair and eyes in your reflection. There’s quite a lot of skin visible, or at least more skin than you’re used to with your conservative and functional wardrobe. All of your dresses reach down to your ankles, but the bottoms that he provided are shorts, the hem brushing your mid-thigh. You know that if you think about it too much, you’ll end up hyperventilating on the refresher floor, and so you shut your eyes tight, turn away from the mirror and walk out.

You don’t recognize him when you leave the refresher, and Ren senses your trepidation for a moment before you realize that it’s still him, just without the mask. He’s arranged himself to sleep on the couch and you noticeably relax. He had felt your panic through the walls of refresher, and spent the last few minutes berating himself for forgetting to grab undergarments. The whole situation was embarrassing enough without having to worry that you might think he would take advantage of you.

“You can take the bed,” he says, looking determinedly at the wall next to you. He’s trying to avoid your gaze without drawing your attention; every time his eyes make contact with yours he feels a little sick. You’re very pretty—it hadn’t taken him long to recognize that—and soft in a way that he’s not used to, but it’s not your appearance that makes him so nervous. From the beginning he perceived that you had a calm demeanor, and intelligent eyes with which you take in your surroundings. Every time you look, he feels like you can see right through him, even with the mask, and he wants very badly to know what you see. If you like what you see.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say, walking over to him and sitting on the edge of the couch, turning the power of your eyes on him in full force, “I’m not used to sleeping in a bed anyways. This might be more comfortable for me.” You think he’s handsome. He tries to turn away from your thoughts, but it’s difficult to find control in a moment like this, and the pleasure of the realization reaches deep into his bones.

“I insist,” he says, but you make no move to leave, and instead to rest your hand on top of his. His throat is tight when he continues, “Wouldn’t you like to sleep?”

“I’d like to get to know you,” you say, running your pointer finger in little circles over the back of his hand. Moments ago, Ren felt too tired to keep his eyes open, fighting against his desire to drift into darkness, but now he is wide awake, and he doesn’t think about resisting when you take his hand in yours and lead him to the bed.

You pull the covers out of the way and lie down, and he joins you on the other side, leaving enough room between you so that there’s no chance of contact on his part, accidental or not. The lights go out, and he feels a little relieved now that he’s hidden from your prying gaze. Your hand finds his once again under the covers, and it’s a little more bearable this time.

“This is better,” you say, and he relaxes.

“What do you want me to call you?” you ask, your voice low and supple in the darkness, like the sound an ocean makes when kissing the shore.

“Ren would be fine,” he whispers back, and you repeat it, the name sweeter when spoken from your lips. There is a long pause in your conversation, and for a moment he thinks you’ve fallen asleep, until you begin stroking the back of his hand again with lazy shapes. He mentally weighs the potential embarrassment of asking you to say his name again, and just the thought of it is thrilling.

“If there’s anything that you need, I can have it brought to the ship. Some clothes, maybe?” He says instead. 

“That would be nice.” He can feel your hesitation for a moment, something that you’re not saying, and he squeezes your hand on instinct, but you still don’t speak.

“Anything else?” He asks, and then continues before he can decide against it, “I want you to be happy here.”

“I’m not sure, really. There’s so much I don’t know about life outside my home. But, if it’s not an inconvenience … some paints, maybe?”

“Of course.” You sit in silence, another long pause as he tries to ignore the feeling of your body only inches from his, the slight depression in the bed seems cavernous, and it’s taking quite a bit of effort to avoid falling into you.

“Ren?” you say, breaking the quiet; it fills him with joy to hear you speak his name again. He hums lowly to show that he is listening, and you turn on your side to face him. He can see your outline, your shadowy figure a little darker than the rest of the room. You pull yourself closer, your hands still intertwined, your arms parallel, and your hair tickles his shoulder, your breath grazes his neck.

“I think I will be happy here,” you say, resting your head on him gently, and for the first time he can remember, Kylo Ren sleeps peacefully.

[flamehairedwritings]

The Fire In Your Eyes: Chapter Twenty Eight

Characters: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY for violence, gore, character deaths, animal deaths, parent deaths, swearing, grief, sexual themes and unprotected sex, mentions of miscarriage, hanging.

Summary: Saved by Arthur Morgan when her town is attacked, a young woman’s past comes back to haunt her when she has no choice but to join the Van der Linde Gang.

Some scenes and dialogue have been taken from the game!

Read on AO3

The Fire In Your Eyes Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or re-post my work; credit does not count.

—

Absolution

“You’re a God damn idiot.”

Clenching her jaw, Ada raised her eyes to the woman whose life she was trying to save.

“Excuse me?”

Shaking her head, Sadie raised her eyebrows, practically wheezing out her breaths. “You’re an idiot. You’re not gonna go with ‘em? Gonna stay here with the sick and dyin’?”

“You’re not dying,” Ada muttered, the words cutting at her again as she pressed the scarf hard against the wound.

Sadie hissed out a sound that was a jumble of a curse and a prayer, having to take a few breaths before she spoke again. “Well, I’m gonna go.”

Christ, she’s even more stubborn than Millie.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, I am. Was gunna go even if you hadn’t’ve stayed. Just thought it’d get y’all off my back if I agreed with ya.”

The hand Sadie pushed her away with was gentle, but she also used the grip to help herself up, inhaling a sharp breath. Ada’s mouth dropped open as she looked at her, releasing an exasperated breath. Meeting Charles’s gaze incredulously, she raised her eyebrows.

“Charles, please help me here.”

The wounded man, leaning against a rock and sat in the snow, just shrugged his good shoulder as he shook his head. “You know we can’t stop her.”

She looked to Sadie again and found her smiling faintly as she reloaded her guns.

He was right and Ada hated it.

Licking her lips, she released another breath, this one resigned. “Fine, all right. But please just let me tie this around you.”

“Fine.” Sadie raised her arms to give Ada space as she rose up on her knees, winding the scarf around her torso and tying it tightly.

Once she was satisfied, Ada stood, wiping the blood from her gloves onto her coat. She hoped Abigail wouldn’t mind too much, all things considered, and, well, if she even survived. Glancing at Sadie, she didn’t know how the other woman was still standing. She was leaning against the rock, but the determination and fury she could see on her features must have been what was keeping her going. Ada wished she felt even a small drop of that. She still just felt nothing. Even when she’d watched Arthur and John go ahead, no emotion had overwhelmed her, no fear, no anxiousness. She knew she was pushing it all away, that at some point she’d break, if she didn’t die.

She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that, too, as they’d made the journey to the mountain and up it.

I could die at any moment.

The thought of something so final, so shattering to those that she loved, happening just... it was just a possibility. Not something that she would endeavour to avoid, just... something that might happen. And she didn’t know why. Numbness just overwhelmed her.

“You comin’?”

Sadie’s voice brought her back to the mountain, her eyes darting up to her. Her friend’s eyebrows were raised but concern was starting to seep into her gaze. Ada didn’t want to see it. Nodding, she cleared her throat as she looked to the path ahead.

“Yeah. Sounds like they’re making their way through.”

Shots echoed up from wherever the men were, a small comfort to them.

“That it does. Charles?”

Ada turned just in time to see Charles nod as he got to his feet with a jagged breath. “Yeah, I’m comin’. Don’t know what good I’ll do, though.”

“Just watch our backs,” Sadie said with a small smile, gun gripped firmly in one hand. “Now let’s go.”

They came across the three dead men in the snow, uncomfortably close to where they’d been, and moved over them, Charles hanging back for a couple of moments to take what ammunition he could find. Bodies littered the way as they followed John and Arthur’s boot prints in the snow, crimson blood staining the white, though they were still cautious, glancing up at the cliffs every few moments; Ada wouldn’t put it past any of Micah’s men to be lurking around, waiting. They could still hear the faint sound of gunshots, too, though they were growing closer.

Sadie stumbled, her boot falling further than she thought it was going to in the snow, and she cursed as the movement pulled at her side. She waved Ada off, however, as she approached to help. “I’m fine, I’m fine...”

They continued on, making their way through a narrow pass, and from the sounds of the shooting, Ada knew they had to be close now—

An explosion erupted, making the mountain shake.

“Fuck...” Ada gasped as she leaned against the rock, gripping onto it.

Sadie and Charles were doing the same, desperately hoping no fragments would break off and rain down on them. It held, though, and as the land settled, they glanced at one another.

They quickened their pace. Sadie moved surprisingly quickly ahead of her, but Ada hated the sound of her breaths, laboured and pained.

She hated more that the mountain was now quiet. They couldn’t be dead. They wouldn’t be dead.

They’ll be fine, they’ll be fine, they’ll be fine.

It wasn’t until, as they moved up a hill to an empty camp, they heard John’s voice that she felt herself take a proper breath, her shoulders dropping. He was calling for Micah, and as they came over the main peak of the camp and saw the watchtower, she saw the two men approaching it, alive and well, John continuing to call out.

“Ada.”

Tearing her gaze away, she looked to Sadie who was pointing to something in front of her. Following the direction, she found a sniper rifle propped against a crate. Shouldering her Repeater, she grabbed it, swiftly checking the condition and if it needed reloading.

“All right, good,” she murmured once she was satisfied, licking her lips and glancing up at Sadie. “You two stay...”

She trailed off at finding Sadie’s and Charles’s backs to her, their bodies rigid. Moving closer, her heart stuttering, she followed their staring gaze down towards the watchtower, and saw him.

Micah Bell stood before a firepit, arms lifted as he spoke though they were unable to hear his words.

“Oh, God,” Ada breathed, her grip tightening on the rifle. “He’s really here.”

“Yeah, he is,” Sadie murmured, a bite to her tone. “And he’s all alone.”

Ada’s gaze darted about the small camp down below and oh my God, he is.

She could feel a strange excitement starting to radiate off of Sadie as she shifted her stance.

“We could take ‘im alive,” she murmured to them, nodding. “We could take ‘im alive and let people see ‘im swing for his crimes. Get us all a decent reward, too.”

Ada glanced at Charles, who although he looked like he very much needed to sit down seemed to still be alert as he met her gaze, and she realised they could. They had the advantage here; it was five against one, no matter the state two of them were in, and there was no way Micah wouldn’t have sent his men out to face Arthur and John before he did... they could see him brought to justice and so could many others.

Nodding slowly, Ada licked her lips again. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah, I have an idea.” Turning to them, she held the rifle out. “You two stay here and keep an eye out with this, I’ll go down and—”

“Nah, lady, I’m goin’,” Sadie cut in, one side of her mouth lifting. “You’re stayin’ up here and keepin’ us safe.”

“Sadie, you can’t—”

“You got the steadiest hands here, Ada.”

Ada opened her mouth, then closed it as her gaze darted down to theirs. She wasn’t wrong there. Sadie’s were shaking slightly and Charles could barely hold his own gun now.

“Right, fine, I—”

Gunshots suddenly broke out down below and they flinched, their eyes darting to the men. They were firing at one another, John and Arthur taking for cover as Micah moved backwards, firing relentlessly at them.

“Shit...” Sadie hissed as their eyes fixed on their friends. “Ada, we don’t got time to argue about this, I’m goin’ down there now so you watch our backs, all right?” She continued even before Ada nodded, “If you need to take a shot and kill ‘im, do it, but we can take ‘im alive.”

“Okay, please be careful.”

“Oh, I will.”

Ada and Charles watched her duck low and move swiftly down the hill towards them, heading to the edge of the cliff. Gritting her teeth, Ada lowered to the snow, settling on her stomach, and aimed the rifle, peering through the scope at Micah.

Exhaling a long, slow breath, she settled her finger over the trigger.

—

Arthur’s heart, which he thought had stopped moments ago, was now racing.

Dutch was here. Alive. And with Micah.

He hadn’t changed, except for now having a full beard, and he, too, had a thick coat on. The large rings Arthur could have drawn from memory were still adorning his fingers, and his guns, one pointed at him and John, the other at Sadie, were the ones he had always had and prized. Arthur didn’t know to say, what the hell to do, but he didn’t have the chance to think anyway.

It happened so fast.

Micah spun, knocking Sadie’s arm aside and grabbing her. They grunted as they wrestled with one another, but Arthur would have been ashamed to have admitted later, if he’d had the chance, that he hadn’t been able to tear his gaze away from Dutch to see how she was doing. He felt John beside him, tense and hissing out curses as he watched, but Arthur just looked at Dutch, and Dutch looked at him.

The older man must have heard Micah greet them, must have had a few, private minutes as they’d shot at one another to process that he alive, so Arthur hated that his own feelings must have been playing out on his features now for all the world to see. His lips were parted, his eyes were wider and his gun wasn’t even raised. 

Dutch’s own features were expressionless.

Arthur had convinced himself, about a year or so ago, maybe even before, when Millie had been born, in a moment of pure happiness and contentment, that he’d forgiven Dutch, that, yes, he’d fucked everything, not handled it well at all, but he’d been doing what he’d thought was best for everyone around him.

Time had a fucking awful way of softening memories.

He saw now, despite everything that had happened, he’d still been trying to justify Dutch’s actions, to give him the benefit of the doubt... yet here he was, with Micah the rat still, and pointing a gun at him.

Dutch was the first to look away when Sadie released a yell through gritted teeth as Micah hauled her up from the snow where they’d been grappling and held her tight against him, his gun pointed at her head.

John was aiming his own gun at them, furious energy crackling through him as he just about managed to stop himself from lunging forward.

Micah knew this, a smile pulling at his lips as he gestured his gun at them. “Now, boys... Now... What were you sayin’?”

John swallowed hard, not knowing what the hell to do. Glancing briefly at Arthur, he found the other man frozen still, his fucking gun not even pointed at either of them, and not saying a damn word, just staring at Dutch. Looking himself towards the older man, John jerked his chin at him.

“What the hell are you doin’ here, Dutch?”

He just had one gun raised now, at him and Arthur. “Same as you, I suppose.”

He sounded so... unlike Dutch. Weary, John would have even said, like none of this mattered.

Micah, on the other hand, was drinking in every single moment. “Dutch and I are teamin’ up once more... We got money... We got dreams...” Glancing at Dutch, his gaze returned to John, his smile widening. “... Join us, boys... Join us.”

Arthur still wasn’t saying a fucking thing and John’s heart was pounding against his ribcage. He was aiming at Micah, the man’s arm still tight around Sadie, but he didn’t trust that Dutch wouldn’t fire at any moment and just kill him, end what he’d tried to let happen in those last few days. Licking his cracked lips, he exhaled a short breath.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

— 

Ada could hear her own breathing as she stared through the sniper-scope, her blood running cold, body frozen, and it wasn’t because she was lying in the snow.

“Is that...” Charles breathed beside her, “... What the hell is Dutch doing here?”

“I don’t know...” she heard herself whisper, “... I don’t know... I don’t know...”

This changed everything.

The fact he was still with Micah, after everything... She’d watched him walk away from Micah on that mountain, that was the one thing he’d done right in those last few days, the one thing that had given him a shred of redemption in her eyes over the years, yet here he fucking was... and he was aiming at Arthur.

She looked at her husband, saw how rigid he was and knew it wasn’t from the cold. There had been some dark days after the mountain, when he’d been recovering both physically and mentally. Days when he’d convinced himself he could have saved Dutch, that it had been his fault for not noticing the change in him sooner and the terrible things it had led to. She’d had to hold him, tears in her eyes and on his cheeks, and tell him over and over that he’d done all he could and it wasn’t his fault. It had taken some time, years, even, but on a quiet night soon after Millie was born, as they sat on their porch watching the sun set, he’d told her he'd forgiven Dutch. She hadn’t understood why or how he could, but she saw how at peace he was then at having done so, how relieved he was... and now that had been completely undone.

She didn’t think it was possible, but she’d never hated Dutch van der Linde more than she did right now.

Charles’s jagged gasp tore her from her thoughts and she watched as Micah drove Sadie into the snow, trying to wrestle the gun out of her hand. 

Lifting her head suddenly, Ada shoved the sniper rifle towards Charles, her heart racing.

“Stay here,” she murmured as she pushed herself up, “Don’t hesitate to pull the trigger.”

—

He wished he was just a few inches closer to Arthur so he could elbow him out of whatever had overtaken him without it being obvious. If he’d had time to think about it, he would have thought Arthur would have been enraged at the sight of Dutch, would have been demanding to know what the hell was going on, would have at least been aiming his gun at him, finger on the trigger.

But no, his brother was still silent.

Adjusting his grip on his gun, John kept it fixed on Micah. “Let her go.”

Sadie was staring at the ground, and probably wouldn’t have been upright if it hadn’t been for Micah’s grip, and the man just continued to smile.

“Now, I can’t do that, John.”

John could feel himself growing desperate and that was the last thing he wanted to show right now. “Dutch... Dutch, c’mon now!”

Dutch gazed at him, still expressionless. “You shot at me, son.”

“You shot at us first.”

All their eyes darted to Arthur as he finally spoke, his jaw clenched, voice tight.

Here was the anger now, and it seemed it had instantly provoked it in Dutch, too, his words bursting out of him.

“You betrayed me!”

“I could say the same thing. You left John for dead, me for dead. Didn’t even look back, after all them years.” Arthur’s tone was as cold as the silent air around them, though his gun remained by his side.

Dutch pressed his lips together, taking a few moments before he spoke. “I was tryin’ to do my best... you... you just cared for yourselves.”

“I think differently. All I ever did was care about you. I gave you my life, twenty years of it. Nearly died tryin’ to save you from this rat, yet here you are.”

The two men gazed at one another, silent as Arthur’s words lingered between them. It was Micah who broke the quiet.

“Join us, boys, c’mon... It doesn’t have to be like this...”

His arm was slightly higher around Sadie now, practically choking her, and she released a stuttered groan, trying to pull at it.

“Let her go!” John demanded, trying so hard to not take a step forward. “She ain’t well!”

“Do as he says.”

Micah’s barked laugh died on his tongue, and John felt relief wash over him as Ada appeared a short distance from his side, her Repeater raised.

Her gaze darted from the blond man to Dutch, and she saw nothing cross his features as he stared at her. 

And then a muscle in his jaw twitched and he raised his other gun to her.

“You—”

Arthur’s revolver ‘clicked’ as he aimed it at Dutch, the older man stilling instantly as his gaze shifted from the gun to him.

“I see,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” was all Arthur said, gaze fixed on him.

Micah’s laugh returned, long and exuberant. “Ooh, well, well, well, if it ain’t her majesty herself, still alive and kickin’!”

“Let her go.” Ada ignored him, echoing John’s words.

He sighed, grinning. “C’mon, now, I don’t wanna kill any of ya when we’ve just reunited. Join us! You can come, too, Miss Prissy Missy! If you’re good...” He tilted his head, leaning it against Sadie’s, the blonde woman gritting her teeth as she snarled. “Or are we just gonna stand around glarin’ at each other?”

“Dutch...” John’s voice silenced them all, even Micah falling quiet. He shook his head slightly as the older man met his gaze. “... Dutch, we all did our best for you. Ain’t our fault things turned out the way they did.”

He was silent.

“Killin’ us won’t solve anythin’, Dutch,” Arthur murmured, pulling Dutch’s gaze back to him. “John’s right, we did our best, and... Well, we came here for Micah, not you.”

Micah chuckled lowly, holding Ada’s gaze as he tightened his arm around Sadie. Ada grit her teeth, her finger hovering over the trigger.

Dutch looked between his two former gang members, former sons. It felt like a lifetime before he spoke.

“Do you remember the last time we were up in the mountains, all of us together... How long ago that was...”

John shifted slightly, unease weighing heavily on him like a rock. What was the point in this?

Arthur shifted, too, resting his weight on one foot as he nodded slowly. “Yeah, long time ago. Lot of things have changed since then, though, huh. Now John and I, we got families. He’s got Abigail and Jack, and Ada and I... we got a kid of our own, Dutch, and we wanna get home to her.”

Dutch gazed at him.

Micah barked out a laugh, raising his eyebrows at Ada. “You let cowpoke over there reproduce? Hell, the Lord save us all. What’s her name? Oh, go on, tell me,” he prompted at her silence.

Ada felt her lip curl as she stared at him, not knowing how she wasn’t pulling the trigger. 

"Amelia.” Arthur answered Micah, though his eyes remained on Dutch. “We call her Millie.”

Dutch still didn’t say a word.

“Ooh, well, congratulations on little Millie. Can’t wait to be introduced...” 

Micah laughed as Ada tried to take a step towards him, but John had swiftly reached out and grabbed her arm, keeping her in place.

"You fucking son of a bitch...” she hissed, her grip so tight on the Repeater her hands were almost shaking.

“You there when he killed that little girl, Dutch?” Arthur asked quietly, like it was just the two of them on that mountain.

Silence.

Ada and Micah weren’t looking away from one another, and Sadie was staring at her, too, wheezing out her breaths. John had released Ada’s arm but kept his hand slightly raised, just in case she went to lunge again, though he had half a mind to not stop her, while his other hand kept his gun trained on Micah, too. Arthur was still to the other side of him, so still... and Dutch... Dutch was silent still.

It enraged John, how passive he was, how unfeeling, and that he was here with Micah. He just couldn’t believe it. After all these years, after what Arthur and Ada had told him happened on that mountain...

“Say somethin’, Dutch!” he snapped suddenly, tired of the older man just standing there, like he hadn’t chosen this. “Say somethin’!”

Dutch glanced at him. “I ain’t got too much to say no more...”

They barely had time to take a breath.

Raising his other hand, Dutch aimed the gun held in it at Micah and fired.

The bullet tore through his torso as Sadie lunged out of his grip, falling to her knees. They should have gone to help her, but Ada, who had inhaled a sharp breath, and John and Arthur were frozen in their positions, eyes wide, lips parted.

Yet no one was more shocked than Micah. He stared at Dutch, watching the man holster his guns as he swayed slightly. Touching his gloved fingers against the hole in his chest, as if he couldn’t believe it was real, he marvelled, “You shot me.”

Then, he laughed, the sound horrible and low. Sucking in a breath, he nodded, teeth dragging over his lower lip.

“You shot me pretty good.”

His head rolled to the side, his eyes fixing on her, and Ada knew it was going to happen. Micah swiftly raised both of his beloved guns and aimed them at her and John. She didn’t hesitate. He was fast, but she and John were faster.

The sound of their bullets echoed across the snow, and not one of them was Micah’s. They buried into him and a spluttered, stunned groan slipped from his lips. He suddenly pressed them together tightly, confining strange sounds to the back of his throat as his arms dropped to his sides, his guns clattering on the rocky ground as they fell from his grasp. He gazed at them and his body turned a few moments later in a strange, jerking motion. His back to them, he took a few steps forward as he nodded again, raising his hands slightly, questioningly, and then his legs gave out. Collapsing forwards, Micah Bell died a second before he hit the ground.

Swallowing hard, it was several moments before Ada lowered her gun, her hands shaking.

She couldn’t believe it... she just...

“Thank you...” John said suddenly, stumbling over his words, no one else knowing what to say, the gesture awkward, but... Dutch had saved them. “I... I, uh...”

Her eyes darted to Dutch, who was gazing at John, then to the two men. They looked so utterly lost. They were boys again, for the briefest of moments, looking to their leader, father and friend in where to go from here. Arthur’s gun was by his side, as was John’s, and neither of them knew what to say. Was there anything to say?

Dutch didn’t seem to think so.

As John tried to find words, Dutch started to walk. When he passed the men, something akin to... disappointment shrouded his features, or maybe even faint contempt, anger. Or all three.

“Dutch.”

The older man paused at Arthur’s voice while John holstered his gun and hurried over to Sadie who was trying to get on her feet with a grunt. As Dutch turned to him, Arthur held the gaze of the man he’d have once died for, weariness overtaking him.

“We’re doin’ you a mercy here.”

Dutch didn’t react to the gentle warning, and for a few moments Arthur thought he wasn’t going to reply. 

“Maybe it is I who is doing the mercy.”

The warning had been reciprocated.

He turned away again as Arthur wet his dry lips, his heart pounding. He watched the man continue on, not looking back once.

Ada watched him, too, stepping to the side slightly so he could pass her. He paused before her, though, his eyes meeting hers. She didn’t look away and didn’t react, even though she had no idea what he was searching her gaze for. She didn’t know what possessed her to say it, either, as the silence went on. Perhaps it was the manners her mother had drummed into her.

Licking her lips, she cleared her throat. “I hope you can find happiness.”

She could have yelled at him, could have demanded justice for the death of her father but... what good would it have done? What would have been the point? Dutch was leaving without a fight, and he’d done them a favour. It would almost have been cruel to challenge him then, to execute him. She’d come to terms with the events of her life anyway, and killing this man wouldn’t bring her father back. Part of her told her she was just trying to be superior.

He gazed at her, mouth in a thin line, and she thought she saw a shine to his eyes.

She thought it was regret.

It was too late when she saw the rage that flooded his features.

Dutch lunged. 

He drew one of his guns in the same moment that he reached out and gripped the front of her coat, yanking her forward against him as yells erupted behind him. Her eyes were wide as she gasped, the Repeater falling from her hand, and she couldn’t look away from his furious gaze as he pressed the barrel of the gun against her chest.

A gunshot rang out and she flinched with a sharp gasp.

Dutch stared down at her, face inches from hers, exhaling short, harsh breaths. Tears slipped from his eyes as he blinked.

And then he choked as blood trickled out of the corners of his mouth.

He used his grip on her to steady himself now as he turned his head to look behind him, a quiet, strained sound coming from the back of his throat. 

Arthur didn’t move, his gun still raised, his breaths, visible in the cold air, coming slow and long.

Dutch released another strange sound, and his legs gave out. His gun fell from his hand as he dropped down to his knees, and he now gripped at the bottom of Ada’s coat. Wheezing his exhaled breaths, his other hand went to the hole in his stomach, as if, like Micah, he couldn’t quite believe it was real yet. He made another faint sound at feeling it. His hand resting over it, he gazed at the white snow behind her, his breathing jagged. His eyes moved after a few moments, trailing their way up towards the sky. A bird flew across the grey vastness of it, and when he blinked again, following it, tears dripped down his cheeks. The sun was trying to break through the thick clouds, a few shafts of light illuminating the dark feathers of the bird, before they were gone, vanishing as soon as they had come. His hand slid from her coat as he grunted, his body hunching over slightly, and his eyes fell shut. 

It was another moment or so before Dutch van der Linde collapsed onto the snow, dead.

Arthur stared at the body, finally lowering his gun. He exhaled a shaking breath, his shoulders dropping. Glancing at John, he found the younger man looking at him as he held Sadie up, eyes wide, but not shocked or saddened. He just nodded, and Arthur returned it, relieved beyond words that the guilt he had expected wasn’t coming. He returned his gaze to Dutch’s body, and he felt like he could breathe properly for the first time in a very, very long time.

It was Ada’s heaving sob that finally made them all tear their eyes away from the body.

Tears ran down her flushed cheeks as another sob escaped her, her hand pressed against her left side, just above her hip.

Blood was spilling through her fingers.

“Oh, shit...” he heard Sadie gasp.

Arthur felt like a knife had pierced his heart as he swiftly holstered his gun and strode towards her. “Ada... Awh, shit, oh, sweetheart...”

Reaching her, one hand gripped her shoulder as the other pulled hers away from her side, and he froze, staring at the wound that was bleeding profusely. Pressing both their hands firmly over it, his eyes darted up to meet hers, his chest twisting unbearably.

She was crying so hard she was barely able to take a breath but she was mumbling over and over in between her sobs something he couldn’t make out.

“What’s that, sweetheart? Are you okay?”

“Fuck, shit, here, take this...”

He watched her try to take a breath as John suddenly appeared at his side, holding out a strip of material he must have torn from his shirt. Arthur took it with blood stained fingers and nudged her hand away before pressing it over the wound. 

She hissed as her features crumbled, and managed to take in enough of a breath to say clearly, “... it’s over, it’s over... it’s over...”

Her gaze dropped to Dutch’s body beside her as she sobbed, every feeling she’d suppressed in the last several hours overwhelming her.

It was over, it was truly, truly all over.

Arthur’s hand went from her shoulder to her cheek, cupping it and stroking it gently with his thumb as he tried to meet her gaze. “Yeah, they’re both dead, sweetheart, it’s okay...” He swallowed hard as he felt the blood against his fingers. “... Oh, my darlin’, shit, I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t mean for you to get hurt, I thought with the angle you were at— Woah, hey, hey...”

Her legs had buckled and he caught her. Murmuring low, soft words, he swept her up into his arms, holding her against him.

The motion had pained her, he had seen it, and she gazed up at him, tears falling thick and fast down her cheeks. He swallowed again, having to blink to clear his vision.

“I’m so sorry, Ada, you’re gonna be okay, though, all righ’? We’re gonna get you some help.”

Her lower lip was trembling. “I’m fine... It hurts but...”

“All righ’, okay, we gotta get you to a doctor, though, all righ’? You, Sadie and Charles, okay?”

She nodded, one hand gripping at his coat as the other pressed the strip of John’s shirt against the wound. “I’m fine...”

He knew she was lying.

“Money...”

Blinking again, the voice almost startling him, he looked over at Sadie who was leaning against the wooden shack, looking so drained.

“What?”

She nodded at the watchtower, raising her eyebrows as she coughed. “Money from Blackwater should be in there...”

Arthur’s gaze darted to John’s before back to Sadie. “Really?”

She tilted her head, arching an eyebrow. “You think I’d say somethin’ like that if it weren’t true?”

Running his tongue along his teeth, Arthur exhaled a breath. “We gotta get off this mountain and find a doctor.”

Sadie chuckled, standing upright. “I ain’t leavin’ without it, we deserve somethin’, don’t we?”

Arthur glanced at John again, watching him already heading towards the tower. Adjusting his grip on Ada, he shook his head.

“You can do all the searchin’ you want, I’m gonna get back to the horses and you should be righ’ behind me.”

Sadie waved her hand, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, right behind ya.” Taking a breath, she looked to Ada before back at him. “She okay?”

He nodded as he turned, heading for the hill. “She’s gonna be fine.”

His heart was thumping against his ribcage. Strawberry was miles away and he wasn’t familiar enough with the land anymore to know what ranches were around and if they would have a doctor, so that just left—

“Arthur.”

He paused at Sadie’s voice and turned back to her, having to bite back a snapped retort as he raised his eyebrows.

Her lips were pressed together, the weariness having returned, and sympathy with it. “Closest town is Valentine.”

His jaw moved. “I know.”

He continued on up the hill, gritting his teeth as he pushed through the snow. Had enough time passed? Would they have forgotten about him and the gang? Would a new sheriff have taken over?

Truthfully, he didn’t fucking care.

Gazing down at his wife, his chest tightened as he found her eyes closed.

“Sweetheart...”

Mercifully, they opened at his voice, though not fully.

He managed a smile, his thumb stroking against her arm. “You keep those beautiful eyes open, okay?”

Her tongue drifted across her dry lips. “It’s so cold.”

“Yeah, you gave your scarf to Charles, you remember, to keep ‘im warm? Then I gave mine to Sadie to help her, and John doesn’t have one but he gave you some of his shirt. Looks like we’ve all been swappin’.”

 “You haven’t got anything.”

He smiled again, feeling his eyes sting. “Oh, I get to have you for a few more decades, all righ’? You gonna give me that?”

He thought he saw the faintest of smiles on her lips as she nodded.

“Well, you keep those eyes open, then.”

“Okay.”

Reaching the top of the hill, he found Charles sat on a crate, a rifle in his hands, staring at the snow. Lifting his head, he suddenly rose to his feet at the sight of them and was shaking his head before Arthur could open his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t find a safe shot, I tried to but I just couldn’t find it—”

“It’s okay, Charles, it’s all righ’.” He didn’t stop walking. “C’mon, we’re gonna get you both to a doctor.”

Charles followed by his side, gripping at his shoulder again. “Ada, are you okay?”

She hummed out a sound as her reply, and glancing down at her again Arthur found her eyes still open and fixed on the sky. Tears were trailing down her cheeks, and he knew she was trying to breathe steadily.

He hated the memory it dug up from the furthest corner of his mind.

Holding her tighter, he broke into a jog, fucking grateful that it was just downhill from here. Charles kept level with him, most likely grateful that it was just declines, too.

“Where are Sadie and John?”

“Back there. She said the money from Blackwater’s in the tower.”

“What?”

“I know.”

“How the hell did Micah and Dutch get it?”

“I don’t know.”

Charles fell silent, knowing his mind was elsewhere and there would be time for questions later... he hoped. His gaze dropped to Ada, watching her stare up at the sky. He had watched through the scope as Dutch had done the same, taking in his last few moments of life. He wanted to ask Arthur how he was feeling, if he himself was all right, but... questions later. 

They were silent the rest of the way down the mountain, barely glancing at the bodies they passed. Charles stumbled once or twice on the descent, but Arthur didn’t see, having taken the lead. Charles didn’t call out to him to slow down either, knowing he wouldn’t, and Charles didn’t want him to.

They found their horses grazing near the trees they’d left them at, their heads lifting instantly at the sound of them. Charles fumbled for something in his saddlebag as Arthur strode for Titan. Noka approached idly at scenting her mistress, but Arthur wanted to hold her as they rode because he didn’t trust that she’d stay upright. Even thinking that practical thought frightened him. Valentine was closer than Strawberry, but it was still quite a ride.

“There you go...” he murmured as he raised her in his arms, settling her on Titan as he gritted his teeth.

She gasped, her lips swiftly pressing together cutting it off.

The hand that had clutched his coat now gripped the pommel, her knuckles whitening, and he glanced up at her as he took Titan’s reins in one hand and prepared to mount and sit behind her.

His heart shattered.

She looked terrified.

—

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[harlot-of-oblivion]

A Rose of Unconscious Beauty (Part 6)

All work and no play make Dante a dull devil, but when he finds out about his brother's flowery friend he sees an opportunity to cure his boredom. Well, that and his curiosity about what kind of woman catches Vergil's attention. So, he decides to spontaneously visit your garden to see what all the buzz is about.

Hope you enjoy these two finally meeting! And gardening puns...just all the gardening puns. ��❤

Here’s the link to the list of all the flowers featured in this part. 🌹🥰🌹

Chapter 1: Meeting Dante

Life has been pretty good for Dante since he got back from his little foray into hell. He may still be in quite a bit of debt, but that never stops him from living life to the fullest. For the first time in a long time he does not feel so alone in the Devil May Cry shop. There is just one problem that plagues him now as he leans back in his chair, feet propped up on the edge of his desk as a huge overdrawn yawn escapes his mouth…

He is bored.

Very, very…BORED.

The occasional odd job usually keeps him entertained, but business has been slow recently. There is only so much games of pool and swimsuit magazines before Dante is positively itching to fight something…anything. Nero has taken advantage of this dry spell and is finally getting hitched to Kyrie. Even Vergil, who he annoys into fighting sometimes just for sheer fact that it relieves his boredom for a while, has taken to disappearing from time to time.

Oh yeaaaaah. The mysterious flowery friend.

Dante ponders the potential of that whole situation giving him something to do besides sitting alone in his shop. He did not think it strange when Vergil started to go out more…in fact, he is proud that his brother is finally embracing his humanity and making this world his home. But when his cranky brother came back to the shop with pretty little blue flowers wrapped around his beloved Yamato…well, now that just piqued his curiosity. He tries to goad Vergil into telling him where he got the flowers or where he has been disappearing off to lately, but that conversation usually ends with him being stabbed a lot. Dante got his answer one day when Nero asks if he knew this florist that his old man just recommended to him. It all just suddenly clicked. The constant visits, the soft cloud nine smiles, just the overall secrecy…

Vergil…has a crush.

Just the idea of his brother being head over heels for someone has Dante shaking his head in wonder. Vergil has already left the shop, probably visiting his florist friend if Dante had to guess. It happens to be the day that Nero and Kyrie are supposed to meet their savior of flowers. He wanted to tag along to see what all the hype is about, but Nero absolutely refused to let him. Usually, that is not enough to deter Dante, but then his nephew just had to sick Kyrie on him. And how could anyone say no to her? So, here he sits…extremely bored and very curious.

I have to know if it’s true…if my dumbass brother really is lovestruck…

A sudden idea pops into Dante’s head as he takes out his cellphone and begins to text:

Dante: Hey! Gonna see your old mans flower girl today, amiright?

Nero: NO. Forget it.

Nero: Im not spying 4 u

Dante: NO ONE said ANYTHING about spying!

Dante: Just a couple of pics!

Nero: NO U CREEP

Dante: OH C’MON!!!

Dante taps on his screen vigorously as he provokes his stubborn nephew to reply, but after a few minutes of continued silence he gives up. He rolls his eyes as he groans in mild irritation and drops his phone onto the desk. His nimble fingers stroke his scruffy chin in thought, wondering if there will ever be an end to this torturous boredom…then it hits him faster than the Devil May Cry van. Nico! Dante snaps his fingers and nods his head in approval at his own ingenious idea. He snatches his phone back up and begins to text again:

Dante: Heyyyyyyy

Nico: Wat

Dante: Wanna help a friend out?

Nico: Lemme guess

Nico: U want me to spy for ya, right?

Dante: A couple of pics is NOT spying

Nico: Yeah yeah whatever

There is a long pause and Dante almost thinks his last-ditch effort is a bust. Until…

Nico: Mayyyyybe I’ll do it

Nico: Wats in it for me tho?

Dante only has to think about her prize for second before replying.

Dante: I’ll let you check out my guns

Nico: Ive already seen my fair share of muscles

Dante: Im talking about Ebony and Ivory

Nico: U GOTTA FUCKIN DEAL

Dante clenches his fist in victory. Nico tells him to hold tight while she finds a good hiding spot and the perfect angle. So, he grabs the nearest swimsuit magazine to read while he waits for Nico’s sneaky photos.

He only has to read a couple of pages of articles and check out a few curvy ladies before his phone vibrates. “Well now…let’s see what we've got,” he announces aloud as his hand instantly picks up his phone and eagerly opens up the message. Here she is! is written below two pictures of a bubbly woman with a bright smile and lively eyes. In one photo she is sitting down at a garden table, and in the other she is standing by a bed of flowers. She is wearing white summer dress and has a white flower in her hair. Dante chuckles in glee because now he understands why his brother has fallen so hard: the local florist is a total babe!

Dante is about to get back to his magazine when another text from Nico comes through:

Nico: Yoooooooooo

Nico: U didnt tell me that Vergil was gonna be here!

Dante: Im not my brother’s keeper!

Nico: Im NOT about to get stabbed if he catches me

Nico: Im out

Dante: WAIT

Dante: I’ll sweeten the deal!

Dante: If you get a pic of them together

Nico: DANTE

Dante: Then I’ll let you check out my guns

Dante: FOR A WEEK

A very long pause follows and Dante thinks that Nico is still going chicken out despite his sudden add on to her prize when her response chimes in:

Nico: U better hold up your end of the deal, Dante

Dante: Nicooooo u know I always keep my word!

Nico: Cuz if u dont, I’ll run u over with the van

Dante: No u wont

Nico: VROOM VROOM BITCH

Dante’s amused chuckle echoes throughout the shop. “So, that’s where you’re running off to,” he comments to himself. “The secret garden.” As he waits for Nico’s next photo, he starts to wonder what kind of a woman catches the eye of his broody brother. I mean…sure, you’re a cutie, but Dante knows that Vergil is not so easily swayed by looks alone. Of course, he could be reading into this too much and you’re actually just a really adorable friend…which is why he has to see both of you together. If Vergil has that soft smile on his face and if you show any sign of reciprocating his brother’s feelings…

His phone vibrates and Dante immediately opens the message. How's this for ya? reads Nico’s text along with a bunch of laughing emojis and a video clip. He arches an eyebrow as he presses play. He sees Nero, Kyrie, Vergil, and you all walking together by a bunch of flowers. He cannot make out the soft conversation of the group, but he does hear a lighthearted giggle as you do a twirl. Dante squints his eyes when he notices your hand reach for something in your dress…then his eyes widen as you throw petals into the air. The distinct growl of his brother comes through the audio and Dante nearly chokes on his own laugh. Some of the little pink flowers you threw…are sticking to Vergil’s hair!

I’m totally saving this just for the look on his face!

Dante kicks his feet off of the desk and he leans forward in his chair, never taking his eyes off the screen as Nero and Kyrie step out of frame. He tilts his head when Vergil kneels and you start to pluck the flowers from his hair. Dante has to rub his eyes to make sure he is really seeing these events correctly. Things get really interesting when you move in closer. The awkward expression on his brother’s face is pure gold. But what really has him pressing his nose to the screen is when Vergil stands up and you both just stare at each other. It is like a scene cut straight from a romantic movie. Dante has never seen his brother look so…totally in love. And you are mirroring the exact same expression.

Jackpot!

The video starts to shake and he hears Nico quietly cursing up a storm. The screen is a blur for a moment before it just totally cuts off. Dante is still for a while as he takes in everything that just happened. He honestly did not expect Vergil to be bitten by the love bug. A genuine smile curls on his lips as he thinks that maybe you are exactly what his brother needs to finally let go of the past and start living. But he cannot be the helpful little brother that he is without at least meeting you first. The genuine smile turns mischievous as Dante texts Nico about happened after the video ended and where exactly is this secret garden in the city...

(A Week Later...Reader’s POV)

The late afternoon sun beats down as you wipe the sweat from your brow. You examine the rambling roses you are currently pruning, checking to see if you missed anything before standing up and stretching your legs. Sweet basil, it’s hot, you thought, taking off your gardening hat and fanning your face as you pocket your pruning shears. You think about Vergil and how he always seems to keep cool while wearing a long blue coat in the summer.

The power of Sparda must also include internal air conditioning. You giggle at your own quip as you put the gardening hat back on your head and decide to take a break. As you walk through the multitude of flowers you search for any sign of the Son of Sparda among the flora. He has not called to inform you that he is stopping by today, but that does not necessarily mean he will not show up unannounced…annoyingly startling you before buttering you up with an offering of beautiful blooms.

Vergil has been regularly visiting you in your garden now. Sometimes both of you read and drink tea under the fruit trees, other times you have to work and just let him read in peace while frolicking about your garden. Every now and then he insists on looming close behind you, claiming that he wants to observe how you arrange bouquets and care for the flowers. There are a few times that you somehow rope him into helping since he is so inclined to learn and you must admit…seeing a tall and imposing man handle tiny flowers carefully is so endearing, making you fall even harder for the handsome devil.

You step through the backdoor and walk into your kitchen, heading straight for the fridge and swiftly open the door. When the cold air hits your face you sigh and just stand there for a moment to cool off as you reach for a bottle of water. You close the fridge and head to your office to check the status of a shipment on your computer while you guzzle down half of the bottle. The flowers for Nero and Kyrie’s wedding are well in supply, but you ordered some extra ribbon, wires, needles, and other miscellaneous supplies. It is a little stressful that you only have so much time to pull this off, but that only pushes you to do your utmost best to give them the best flowers they have ever seen. All seems to be order, you mentally note, finishing off your water bottle as you tab out of the website.

Time to get back to work! You go back out to the garden, grab the garden hose, and turn on the outdoor faucet. You adjust the nozzle on the hose to spray into a mist and set off to water some flowers. “Alright, my darlings!” you say cheerfully as you step up to the first section of flowers. “Who’s thirsty?” You happily spray their petals with glistening droplets as you hum softly. One of the many reasons why you enjoy gardening so much is just how tranquil it can be, your mind slipping into a peaceful state as all your worries just drift away and you feel like a flower basking in the warm sunlight.

Although, you do find yourself ceaselessly daydreaming about a certain white-haired gentleman while gardening lately. You cannot get the feel of his slicked back locks out of your thoughts, yearning to do more than just pluck petals from his hair. You wonder if the bergamot scent is from a cologne he is wearing or the constant cups of his favorite tea. And the expression on his face after you picked the stray petals from his hair…cheeks slightly blushing as his gleaming silver eyes stare straight into your soul. The very memory of it has you shivering in delight as you turn around to water the next section of flowers.

“Holy hollyhock!”

The sudden appearance of a man in a long red jacket standing in your garden has you jumping back in surprise. Your foot steps on the garden hose, making you lose your balance and start to tip over. Thankfully, the stranger has quick reflexes and quickly leans forward to catch your fall. “Whoa! Easy there!” he exclaims as he sets you upright, doing his best to avoid the misty spray of the hose still clutched in your hand. That is when you notice his distinct white hair swaying in front of his blue eyes. And his face…if it was not for the slight fuzz of a beard or the care-free expression, he would be the spitting image of Vergil. Which can only mean…

“You must be Dante.”

“What gave it away?” he asks, dramatically holding his hands out to the side as he nods his head in confirmation.

“You wouldn’t be a Son of Sparda if you didn’t scare your local gardener to death!”

Dante tilts head at your answer and smirks as he examines you from head to toe. “I dig the overalls,” he comments as he gestures to your attire. You look down at your green gardening overalls, the phrase "I like big buds and I cannot lie" imprinted on the front surrounded by large colorful flower buds.

“Thanks!” you laugh, turning off the garden hose. “I’m Y/N! I don’t recall Vergil saying that he was going to finally introduce me to you.”

“So, he’s told you about me? Did he mention that I am the better-looking twin?” he jests as he takes a step back and strikes a charmingly rugged pose.

“Uh, he mentioned that you are a demon hunter, a foolish buffoon, and…whoa!” Your eyebrows shoot up as you closely examine his coat. “Your jacket does look really expensive!”

Dante rolls his eyes as he relaxes from his over-the-top stance. “He just can’t let that go, huh?” He shakes his head and lightly chuckles.

“So…what brings you to my garden?” you inquire kindly, not letting his surprise visit distract you from being hospitable. Dante did not mention his brother being present here with him, so you hope that Vergil does not mind you being friendly and helping his brother out if he needs it.

“The girls keep telling me I need something to brighten up the shop,” he explains as he scratches the back of his head. “So, I figured some flowers from my brother’s friendly neighbor florist might do the trick.”

You smile sweetly. “Okay! Do you have any kind of flowers in mind?”

“Well, my mother’s favorite flowers were-”

“Burgundy roses!”

Dante quirks an eyebrow. “Did you just read my mind?”

A giggle escapes your lips as you shake your head. “Vergil told me that his mother had a modest garden herself, and that she grew those roses a lot. Don’t worry,” you affirm as your hand sets down the garden hose. A big confident smile spreads across your face as you twirl in excitement, pausing to strike your own cute pose. “I got you covered!”

He nods his head in approval. “Right on.”

You make small talk with Dante as you lead him to the rose section of your garden, asking if by “the girls” he means the other two demon hunters that work with him. He confirms your guess and grumbles about how unfair it is that you know so much the crew while he knows next to nothing about you. That is quickly remedied though as he bombards you with the oddest series of questions…most of them involving strawberries and pizza. When you tell him that you used to work at the local pizzeria and bakery in your home town he enthusiastically asks if you made the pizzas. You laugh at his boyish glee and inform him that you sometimes helped with the pizzas, but you mostly baked the pastries and desserts.

“Here we are!” You point to a bush full of the dark reddish-purple roses as you step through the various buds and blooms. “Roses of unconscious beauty!” Dante studies the rose bush as you approach it, lean in, and inhale their lovely fragrance. You breathe out in delight and start looking for the best blooms for a bouquet. “Aren’t they lovely?” You look over your shoulder and see that Dante is barely paying attention. His blue green eyes gaze distantly at the rose bush, reminding you a little of Vergil’s silver blue eyes when he recedes into his head. You wait a moment before deciding to coax him out of pensive stupor.

“Flower for your thoughts?”

Dante blinks and shakes his head. “Sorry about that. I was just…remembering something.” He walks over and stands next you, a small grin appears on his face as he peers down at you. “These would look nice on my desk. I’ll take ‘em.”

“Alright!” You reach into your pocket, taking out the pruning shears still stored in there and begin snipping some select roses, carefully removing the thorns before sticking them in another pocket until you can properly tie them together.

Dante quietly watches you for a few moments before he crosses his arms and leisurely leans back. “So…you and my brother.”

You snip a third rose as you glance over at him. “Me and your brother…?” you repeat, hoping he will expand upon the conversation he started. Dante just continues to gaze at you inquisitively. Your brow furrows in puzzlement as you wonder what he is trying to imply…until it suddenly hits you.

No way. He can’t be…

“Are you…Dad-terogating me?”

“Am I what now?”

“You know…that thing fathers do when daughters bring home their boyfriends.” Your voice drops as you do your best impersonation a stern father figure. “What are your intentions little girl?”

“Oh man,” Dante snickers. “And what if I am?” he counters with a puckish smirk.

“Well, Mr. Sparda,” you begin with a cheeky grin, turning to him while you clutch a thornless burgundy rose close to your chest. “I only have the best intentions towards your brother, Vergil. They include smiles, laughter, and a healthy dose of poetry with dash of tea…Oh!” You dip your hand into the front pocket of your overalls. “And lots of flower showers!” Your grin turns cheerful as you toss pink hydrangea petals high into the air.

Dante stares at you closely for a moment, totally unfazed by the petals scattering around him before he chuckles softly. “Well now…how can I argue with that? My party pooper of a brother needs it.”

You giggle and go back to snipping more roses. A fourth one is freed and you begin to remove the thorns from the stem. “It’s sweet of you to look out for him, you know,” you point out with a genuine smile. “You’re a good brother, Dante.”

He smiles back and is about to respond when an awful hellish screech fills the air. Your head snaps over to the direction it is coming from, but you already know what those sounds mean. Dante casually looks over as well, but he does not look as concerned as you. His face reminds you more of the neighborhood kids when the ice cream truck drives by. “Looks like our flower pickin’ is gonna have to wait,” he surmises as he struts briskly towards the commotion.

You pocket the pruning shears and the rose in your hand as you hurriedly follow behind him. The screeching is now really loud and as you step into to a clearing you see the familiar forms of demons just beyond the gates of your garden. Even though you live in a city known for its constant hellish attacks, the sight of their malformed bodies never fails to freeze your blood. The closest one, resembling a large corrupted bat, flies over the gate and hovers near one of your apple trees. It shrieks as its throat starts to glow red. Anger floods through your body when you register what it intends to do to your lovely fruit trees.

“Oh, no you DON’T!” you shout as you run by the gardening tools still laying out, grabbing the garden hoe as you pass by and rush towards the bat-like creature. It swivels around just as you draw your makeshift weapon back and swing up at it with all your strength. The hoe connects and a pained squeal rings out as the demon is knocked back a little bit away from the apple tree. You let out a shuddering breath, quickly realizing that perhaps smacking a demon with a gardening tool was not the best idea.

Multiple gunshots startle you out of your internal dread as they streak up at the bat-like demon. It shakes violently before it drops to the ground and disintegrates. You turn around and see Dante holstering two guns behind his back before giving you a round of applause. “Not bad! Very inventive use of…” his hands pause as he inspects your tool curiously.

“It’s a hoe,” you bluntly inform him.

“Really?” Dante puts his hands on his hips as he circles around you, shielding you from the oncoming demons notice. “Well then…you really know how to handle a hoe!”

You snort and check your tool for any signs of it being broken or bent. “You know what they say…a dirty hoe is a happy hoe!” you joke, flashing him the disgusting bloody residue on the tip. Dante hunches over as a hearty laugh burst from his lips. You feel a sense of accomplishment at making such a clever gardening pun, but it is short lived as a series of terrible growls and roars remind you of the current danger. “Umm,” you mutter softly, “as much as I would like to give more demons a good hoeing…”

Dante reigns in his boisterous laughter and nods. “Yeah...get yourself to safety.” He runs and skillfully jumps over the gate. Before he goes to deal with the demons, he looks over his shoulder at you. “Even though I’m not a hoe I can still get rid of these nasty weeds,” he quips with a wink.

You laugh and shake your head at his own gardening pun before retreating back to your house, sighing in relief as your backdoor comes into view. When you are a few feet away from safety, a low rumbling growl reaches your ears, making you stop in your tracks. You still have your garden hoe, so you hold it up in defense as you scan your surroundings for any immediate threat. It is quiet for a moment…then a series obscure red streaks zoom around you. Your eyes try to track whatever is circling you, but you cannot see what is stalking you like prey.

Your body is quaking now as you turn around to glance behind you. A lizard-like demon with a vicious red blade protruding from one of its scaly arms is leaping through the air straight at you. Your instincts kick in and you raise your gardening tool up in defense, even though you feel certain that it will not enough to block that sharp blade. A series of tumultuous emotions sling around your mind, but one strongly overtakes you as the image of Vergil pops into your head…regret.

I didn’t even get to tell him that-

Before you are able to close your eyes and brace yourself for the deadly impact, a sudden blur of blue spheres pop up and knock back your scaly assailant. A familiar form clad in a blue coat suddenly appears next to the demon and proceeds to hit it with a series of slashes. When he finishes his ruthless onslaught, he turns his back on the demon and dramatically sheaths his sword. Just as the hilt of the sword slams into the case, the demon convulses in pain one last time before collapsing on the ground.

The regret you felt earlier fades away as your devilish rescuer turns towards you. The usual scowl on his face is now even more severe as he scrutinizes your appearance. He may be fuming with rage, but you do not mind, nor do you care. “Vergil!” you cry, trying to thank him for saving your life, but you feel so overwhelmed that no words come out. All you can do is smile gratefully as your eyes well up with tears, so happy that you get to see the man you feel so deeply for again after all.

Read Part 6 (Ch. 2) here

Read on my Ao3

My Master List if you want more ❤

Tagging: @drusoona, @thedyingmoon, @bettybattaglia, @veenus-ow, @meowykittenn, @fandomhell97, @vergilsangel, @venomous-lawyer, @alicewinchester

[orokin-made]

20 OTP questions

@orime-stories tagged me, thank you! ^v^  I’m not sure who to tag in return tbh, I don’t know very many people (yet)! But if you’re reading this you should probably consider yourself tagged. If you want to.

Doing this one for Elehal and Aloth since that’s who I’m feeling these days

1) who can out drink the other?

Elehal is a seven foot tall adventurer from the Deadfire who practically grew up among sailors and Aloth is a tiny wizard who has some unpleasant associations with alcohol this has never been a question.

2) who says “I love you” more?

Good question. Elehal is more open with showing affection but he really prefers to express the sentiment in nonverbal ways. Aloth is more reserved but on the other hand I can see him being the kind of person who would actually say “I love you” in the kinds of situations Elehal would go for a kiss or a special gift or something similar.

3) who has trouble sleeping alone?

They’re both pretty used to it, actually. Sharing a bed is nice, of course, and Elehal still has the occasional Watcher nonsense that having someone around helps with, but it’s not that big a deal. It might actually be kind of a pain to sleep next to a fire godlike I think, with the horns and the constantly glowing and the heat (nice in winter, less nice in summer).

4) who swears more?

Elehal was a sailor and he has the vocabulary to match, but rarely uses it within earshot of other people. Most often it’s during the immediate aftermath of an encounter with a wizard “challenging” conversation, when he has to find an out of the way corner or alley and let it know what he REALLY thinks of the person who just left. Sometimes it takes a while.

5) who does more of the housework?

Elehal has.... never lived in a house. He’s lived in a castle, and onboard most kinds of ships, and in his parent’s one room hut in their village but those aren’t houses. I don’t know for certain that he is aware of the concept of dusting. Aloth appreciates tidy-ness and would probably prefer to keep his space neat, but I’m stealing Orime-stories headcanon about some kinds of housework being triggering for him due to the circumstances of his Awakening. And besides, there’s always something more important that has to be taken care of first.

Please don’t let these boys buy a house.

6) who forgets their anniversary?

Aloth knows it off the top of his head, Elehal would forget but he keeps extensive field journals and definitely has it written down somewhere.

7) who steals the duvet in their sleep?

Who needs blankets when your boyfriend is a giant living hot water bottle?

8) who keeps the other awake at night with their snoring?

If it’s either of them it’s Elehal, his horns necessitate some sleeping positions that probably aren’t technically ideal for airflow.

9) who finds stray animals and begs the other to let them keep them?

Elehal’s tendency to collect strays includes animals as much as it does ghosts and actual, living people. The compromise they came up with is that some of the animals get dropped off on Hasongo with Eder, who lives on a farm and not a boat and actually has room for them.

10) who usually makes dinner?

Aloth is the one who actually knows how to cook. Not a lot of things, but like, enough. He understands the basic concepts of a kitchen. Elehal loves cooking for people but can only make Taar loaf and like, soups. Adventurer food.Stuff that can be cooked over a camp fire. Eventually he gets Aloth to teach him some stuff though, and it IS as cute as it sounds.

11) who plays their music out loud?

Elehal hums more or less constantly, to the point that if he’s not it’s a pretty clear sign of something being extremely wrong. He’s gotta practice his songs and chants too, but he tries to do it quietly unless he’s sure he won’t be bothering anyone.

12) who hogs the bathroom?

I mean, probably Aloth? He’s the one with, you know, actual hair that needs seeing to, and definitely takes some pains when it comes to personal grooming and appearance. On the other hand, I don’t know the specifics of what fire godlike personal hygiene entails so it could either be extremely fast and simple or very very complicated (I imagine the horns are an obstacle)

13) who gives the most compliments?

A pretty even split but Elehal gets particularly flustered and delighted by them so Aloth’s the one actively seeking opportunities to do so.

14) who usually starts/causes arguments between them?

The closest thing to an argument I could see them having would be the discussion around Aloth leaving to continue his hunt for the Leaden Key after the events of Deadfire, and that’s more of a “Neither of us are happy with this situation but we’re both too concerned with duty and responsibility to let something like personal happiness get in the way of what needs to be done. Not that we would be willing to admit to feeling hurt or upset anyway.” situation and less of a full on argument. Also Deadfire’s canon epilogue makes me SAD so sometimes I just ignore it!

15) who isn’t afraid to embarrass the other in public?

HAHAHAHAHAH no.

These are two people who have structured their entire lives around avoiding public embarrassment. The closest they would ever come would be Elehal breaking out his repertoire of love songs while Aloth’s in the audience and that’s pretty tame tbh.

16) who gives the other cringe worthy pet names?

Eventually they’ll work their way up to, like, “dear” but that’s probably as far as they’ll get. Not big on pet names, either of them.

17) who fusses over the other when they get sick?

Aloth considers getting Elehal to sit down and let himself be taken care of to be at least 50% of what he brings to the table in their relationship.

18) who finds it impossible to stay angry at the other for long?

Mostly only relevant to the events of the Deadfire epilogue referenced in the previous argument question but Elehal’s inability to just let himself be angry with people instead of bottling that shit up and letting it ferment like the finest, bitterest wine is going to make problems for him at some point and that’s all Im saying about that for now.

19) who clings to the other for comfort when they’re sad or scared?

Elehal is inarguably better suited to being clung to, which Aloth definitely takes advantage of, but he’s also the one having visions of torture scenes and intrusive past-life flashbacks and occasionally getting his soul ripped out to go have a chat with some gods so like. It evens out.

20) who is more ‘physically passionate’? (hugs, kisses, or maybe more…)

Elehal by a long shot. He’s naturally very physically affectionate but usually holds back for fear of making other people uncomfortable, and Aloth is one of the few people he can allow himself to loosen up a bit in that regard, after a great deal of reassurance that no, he’s not overstepping and no, he’s not in as much danger of breaking his tiny elf boyfriends ribs as he thinks he is.

[dissolveandbloom]

I am sick of being taken advantage of but Im letting it happen. But how do you cut off people who have been in your life for so long?

Everday theyre struggling to keep their masks on. To pretend theyre happy for me but I know are bitterly jealous cause I did the ultimate sin... get out.

Yeah I bet it kills them to actually have a heart for once.

They have to play nice

They've always made what I do about themselves and make me believe that I have to be responsible for how they feel

I shouldnt feel bad for leaving, I left for my health and sanity.

And they keep asking when will you come back?

No, I dont have to answer to them anymore. What are they going to do?

Cut off my phone? Fine, do it.

You want me to tell the truth, why dont you tell the truth for once?

What a delusion it is to tell himself I love him even though the way he abused and used me.

[ghostyprince]

wrap me up, with your heart

word count: 3.537 rating: T fandom: BuzzF. Uns. relationship: Ryan B./Shane M. summary:  Ryan's a little shit with a weakness to the cold weather (and Shane's jacket) and Shane isn't as tough against it anymore as he'd like to think. author’s note: 3.5k of nothing but pure self-indulgent fluff that took too long to write and now i’m just happy i don’t have to look at it anymore tbh, but enjoy!

[READ ON AO3]

Or read more here

"I'm fucking cold," Ryan says, arms wrapped around himself, grasping at the sleeves of his thin sweater with icy fingers as they're walking back to their hotel after a long, long filming session in a supposedly haunted prison. It wasn't much warmer in there either, but Ryan was too on edge at the moment to care. But boy, did he care now, late at night, probably like one in the fucking morning in the middle of Pennsylvania in November as his ears and fingertips are about to fall off.

Shane immediately lifts his gaze off his phone to look at Ryan. He looks cozy, sporting a soft-looking beanie and his farmer jacket that he always seems to have around, and yeah, Ryan is a little bit jealous. But he knows it won't take long if he plays his cards just right. Shane's eyes narrow and he pockets his phone and yep, there it comes. "I told you, man. Told you to put on something warmer. But no," he drags out the last word while he pulls the hat off his head and straight onto Ryan's with a swift motion, maybe a bit more rough than the situations calls for. It does make Ryan yelp and wheeze out a laugh immediately after, though.

"You have to be the cool manly man who's never cold. When we all know that's a bunch of bullshit, little guy." He huffs, genuinely annoyed and Ryan has seen it many many times but it never fails to amuse him and also make his heart flutter.

Shane takes off his jacket too, pushing it into Ryan's hands who only hesitates for a moment before putting it on. Purely for show, like it wasn't what he was fucking playing at ever since they stepped out of their hotel rooms that evening.

"To be fair, it wasn't that cold when we started filming."

Ryan does up all the buttons, feeling warmer already. Shane's jacket fits him just right to be one of the most comfortable things in the world, just a tad too big, considering how much shorter he is than the big guy. Though, Ryan's opinion might be biased.

And then Ryan catches a whiff of Shane's cologne and something that's just so Shane. It clings to the jacket and it will cling to Ryan too for the rest of the night. Which was the goal all along. It was Ryan's idea to check out this fast food place, tell Shane he wants to walk, to see the city, and complain about being cold eventually so Shane would baby him like he always does. All part of his stupid plan that seems to work flawlessly every single time somehow.

"No, it wasn't. However, I don't know if you know this Ryan," Shane leans to whisper like he's sharing a secret as they're walking and Ryan is already losing it, giggling helplessly into the back of his hand, "But you can use your big detective brain to figure out that it will be cold later at night."

"Shut up, Shane. I thought I would be fine, okay?" Ryan grins, tugging the sleeves of Shane's jacket over his hands even more.

"You always do. I'm starting to think you're doing this on purpose." Shane teases him, hands stuffed into his pockets. Ryan's heart jumps into his throat immediately. Maybe after about a year of intentionally leaving his jackets and warm clothes at the bottom of his suitcase or not packing any in the first place, Shane had finally caught on.

Despite the dread settling in Ryan's stomach he almost hopes he got caught. Just so he could get that push he desperately needed in the last year to finally confront his feelings, getting rejected or not. This awkward and albeit creepy flirting needed to stop, Ryan knew that much, but couldn't bring himself to actually end it yet. TJ and Devon knew too. They witnessed a handful of these scenarios and all it took was one glance at Ryan's shit-eating grin over Shane's scarf wrapped around his neck to figure out what's going. Shane's the only one who's so goddamn oblivious to it all.

"Are you telling me that you're not freezing to death in that flannel?" Ryan asks eventually, elegantly pushing the subject to another direction.

"Nope!" Shane answers cheerily. "It's pretty nice actually. You're just a wimp who got spoiled on the constant warmth of L.A."

"We all can't be weird cryptids who are immune to the cold, big guy." Shane laughs softly at that and bumps his shoulder to Ryan's. They're walking impossibly close now, and Ryan is tempted, he's so tempted to reach for Shane's hand. Blame it on the cold, wrap Shane's hand around his, let it warm him up from the inside out. Instead, he stuffs his hands deeper into the jacket. He's already seeing the entrance of their hotel, it doesn't matter now. It's not because he's a coward. It's not, it's just wasn't the right time. It's all not a big deal until Shane gets sick a day or two after they arrive back home in L.A. He doesn't show up to work in the usual time, so naturally, Ryan gets worried and shoots him a text when Shane is approximately an hour late, asking if everything is alright.

He gets a reply shortly, three lines sent in separate messages and he rolls his eyes at the dramatic nature of them, but then again, it's very Shane.

im so fuckin sick rxan i thing im dying take care of obi for me please

Shane has been complaining about his throat being sore and being a bit out of it. It's probably just a nasty cold, nothing to be worried about. At the same time, Ryan can't help but think he's at least partially to blame.

He rarely felt guilty for stealing Shane's warm clothes, because Shane kept bragging about how the cold doesn't affect him at all, that he's just peachy wearing only a thick jumper in the middle of a heavy snowfall. And well, Ryan believed him, took the offered jacket and scarf or gloves in spite of Shane making fun of his 'delicate skin'. He even thought Shane deserved to be cold, that asshole.

But now Shane has to miss work and feel like shit because he acted like a fucking child, instead of fessing up to his attraction and asking Shane on a date like a proper 28-year-old grown-ass man would.

Sure, it was Shane who offered his clothes all the time and without hesitation, however, Ryan was the one taking advantage of it. So he's going make up for his stupidity right now, it's decided. He doesn't have to worry about work, he can do the editing at home that day, it wouldn't be the first time.

Ryan's determination and confidence instantly disappeared into the void as he was standing in front of Shane's apartment, hesitant to knock or move or breathe. He has no idea what happened, he was doing so well up until this point. Sure, he spent like ten minutes in his car, frantically googling chicken soup recipes and being on the hunt for the best and easiest one to prepare.

He ended up going with an instant pack from the grocery store he stopped at on the way to Shane's apartment because he figured it's not the most convenient time to experiment in a kitchen that's not even his. He bought some popcorn too while he was there, the kind he knew Shane loved. It might not be the best choice of food when he's sick, but he can have it later.

He may or may not have gotten this ridiculous looking hot dog-shaped keychain for him also, sporting big googly eyes. That's how fucking guilty Ryan feels. He also thought it was absolutely disgusting, so naturally, he knew Shane would love it.

To be honest, Ryan never once stopped to think that maybe showing up to Shane's apartment out of the blue, when he's most likely feeling miserable and just wants to be left alone is overstepping a line. That maybe it's a little too much, even if they're as close as they are. Just a tad bit. He just went on his own little quest to do anything that would make Shane feel better and to ease the guilt that keeps twisting his stomach into knots without any regards at all to what Shane wants.

So he backs into the wall across Shane's door and fishes out his phone to send him a text, praying to every god he knows that he's not sleeping. To Ryan's absolute relief the little 'seen' pops up under his message shortly after it's been sent.

is it okay if i come over? bring you some soup and shit?

you don't have to

Ryan's heart sank into his fucking stomach and jumped back up to his throat with the same intensity as another message was sent.

but i could use some food. too sick to make anything.

well im kinda already here dude

gimme a minute

-

Shane scrambled to his feet, and apparently, it was the worst thing he could've done because everything went black for a few moments as he caught himself on the back on the couch with one hand. He has no time to worry about almost blacking out though because Ryan is waiting outside his car probably and Shane's apartment is as disgusting as he himself feels. He picks up most of the tissue paper that's scattered all across the couch and floor.

A small trail of them leads to the bedroom where Shane dragged himself out of earlier, a soft blanket wrapped around his shoulders like the world's most pathetic superhero just to watch some cooking show on Netflix because it requires the least amount of brain cells for him to use at the moment.

He attempts to make the couch look acceptable and runs a hand through his hair a few times, but it simply can't be helped. He does make his place look just a tiny bit more decent than it was five minutes ago at least. And that's when the knocks came from his door.

Ryan stands there, as Shane opened the door, hands stuffed into his jeans and paper bag hanging from one of his wrists. Shane would've taken note of his awkwardness if he wasn't so hyper-aware of the way his hair is standing in every direction and how he's wearing one of the less nice pajama pants he owns and an old worn t-shirt.

But then Ryan smiles at him, just like he always does like he's just happy to see Shane even when he's at his lowest and suddenly everything seems a little brighter.

"Hey, I thought you could use a little cheering up and something to make you feel better," says Ryan, almost sheepishly. He lifts the paper bag and giving it a shake. "Got you popcorn too, but you're not allowed to have any until you're better."

Shane frowns at him and honest to God pouts. It's the most hilarious, adorable thing Ryan has ever seen.

"Thought you came here to make me feel better, not kick a man when he's down, but come in, I suppose." He sighs, stepping aside and letting Ryan in who just barely catches the crinkle to his eyes and the mischievous smile Shane couldn't hold back anymore.

Ryan makes a beeline for the kitchen, immediately finding a pot so he can make Shane some soup and hoping it doesn't seem like he's doing this out of guilt. He's just helping his best friend out, not feeling horrible at all about how Ryan's shitty flirting technique got him sick in the first place. Nope.

Shane takes a seat at the dining table, chin propped up in his hand and watching Ryan bustle around in his kitchen. Reaching for a spoon without even having to look and standing on his tippy toes to grab a bowl from the top shelf, knowing exactly where they are. Like he's at home.

The sudden rush of fondness hits Shane like a sack of potatoes at the sight of it. The sheer domesticity of it nearly makes his heart melt.

Shane almost stands to help, but it's not needed, so he just huffs out a tiny laugh and wheezes a bit harder when he starts grumbling about "fucking Sasquatch putting everything on the top shelf on purpose". This is exactly one of the many reasons why Shane adores him so much.

And when Ryan still turns to grin at him, like he always does, even if he's being fake pissy, Shane physically has to stop himself from getting up and just kissing him silly right there. He distracts himself with getting the popcorn out of the bag and that's when he spots the little keychain. A big grin finds itself onto his face as he traces a thumb across the little charm. It's cheap-looking and fucking ridiculous but Shane couldn't give a single fuck, he is so in love.

"Really?" He asks voice strained from trying not to laugh. He holds up the keychain, hooking it on his middle finger and dangling it when Ryan turns to look. He immediately rolls his eyes and oh man, he's definitely blushing, it doesn't matter he's turning away, doing his best hide it, Shane still catches a glimpse of it spreading out on his cheeks and ears beautifully.

"Look, your stupid animated food series ruined my life and I know you have zero taste, so it's a perfect gift." Ryan wouldn't meet his eyes, but Shane can see part of his smile, hears the waver of his voice, despite Ryan being so defensive about the stupid keychain.

"Thank you, Ryan. I like it a lot."

The sincerity which he said that with even surprised Shane, not to mention Ryan, who almost spilled the hot noodles all over himself while attempting to pour them into a bowl.

-

"Why are you here? Not that I don't appreciate the food and treating me like a princess, I sure do, I'm just curious." Shane says, much later, when he's all wrapped up in his soft blanket, belly full of soup.

Which was mediocre at best, but Shane was starving, too sick and lazy to make himself anything earlier, so that damn soup tasted like the most delicious thing he ever had. Of course, it has nothing to do with the fact that Ryan made it for him.

Ryan turns his head towards him now, and Shane's a little taken aback by how close they are. Not even ten minutes earlier Ryan was sitting on the other end of the couch, and now they're practically pressed up against each other, from legs to shoulders, the only barrier between them being Shane's blanket. He must've migrated there while they were having a heated discussion about the contestants of the British Bake Off. (Ryan always picks the worst fucking people, goddammit.)

Shane can't believe he hadn't noticed the warmth of Ryan next to him earlier, or the whiff of that cologne Ryan always used lately Shane learned to love. Now that he's very much aware of it, the heat radiating off of Ryan is almost too much, combined with the blanket, so he shrugs it off. If anything, it's worse because Ryan's bare arm is now completely pressed against his and Shane's heart takes that as an excuse to pick up the pace.

"Because you're my friend? I just- I wanted to make sure you're okay. Wouldn't want you to die because of a little cold, what would happen to Unsolved?" Ryan jokes, playing it cool and casual. If Shane wouldn't know him extremely well, maybe he'd even buy what he's selling.

"Sure, that makes sense. Except, all those other times I've been sick you just gave me a 'gross, keep your germs away from me, please' or a half-hearted 'get better, dude'. You never showed up in my apartment and cooked for me. I didn't even know you knew how to work a stove!" Shane grins at him brightly. Seems like they can't have a normal conversation without insulting each other. "How do you explain that, Ry-guy?"

Shane doesn't expect Ryan to go quiet and stare at his hands, the TV, the ceiling. Anywhere but right at Shane. And he doesn't expect the guilt written all over Ryan's face when he does finally meet Shane's eyes.

"First of all, I don't sound like that. And second- I'm not proud of this, okay? Just don't be too mad." Shane's about to open his mouth and ask what the living hell Ryan is talking about, but he gets cut off.

"You're sick because of me. You kept giving me your jacket, remember?"

Shane does remember, but he has no idea what that has to do with him getting sick?

"Ryan, how is that your fault? I was the one giving you my jacket cause you're so goddamn cold all the time. You didn't force me. And here I thought I was the one who tends to overthink."  Shane says jokingly, and he immediately realizes they're having one of those rare Serious Conversations because Ryan doesn't laugh. If anything, he looks even more on edge,  his hand fisting into the blanket pooled around Shane's hips.

"I didn't force you," Ryan repeats, still not quite meeting Shane's eyes. "but I did leave my warm clothes at the hotel on purpose."

Ryan shuts his eyes as soon as the words leave his lips. If he can't see Shane, Shane can't see him, right? He almost looks relieved, finally putting it out there, lifting the weight of it off of his shoulders. And he can't stop there now, he has to push through while he's on a roll.

With a sudden surge of bravery Ryan doesn't know where he mustered up from he looks right into Shane's eyes, takes in his utterly confused expression and flat out ignores it for now, even when dread grips at his heart. It's worse than any haunted place they've been, but he's gonna say what he has to say right now, fear of rejection be damned.

"I wanted your clothes because I love- liked how it made me smell just like you." He says, voice cracking despite all the determination and courage he could muster up to say it. Ryan closes his eyes then, waiting for Shane's judgment. He braces himself for the outcome, for Shane to call him creepy, or even ask him to leave.

His heart would break, oh yeah, it sure fucking would but he could do it, he could walk out of his life if Shane would ask him to. There was very little Ryan wouldn't do for him.

It's dead silent around them for about a minute, thanks to one of them pausing the baking show while they were talking. Just as Ryan's about to open his eyes and face the situation, Shane's lips pressed against his in a split second.

It's a soft kiss in general, but it could be so much better, so much more if Ryan wouldn't be so damn difficult. As soon as Shane's mouth brushed against his, Ryan flinched back, even letting out a yelp, because he was just caught off guard, alright?

And Shane was looking at him now, embarrassed, like he did something wrong and oh God, Ryan can't have that, absolutely not. So he reaches out, not paying any mind to the uptick of his heart as he practically crashes their lips together.

Shane makes a surprised, muffled sound and shortly turning his head out of the kiss, fucking wheezing at him while Ryan's about to jump out of his skin. However, it soon turns into a coughing session and another pang of guilt hits Ryan's chest. At least Shane's smiling when he can finally speak again, eyes all crinkly. Ryan has the urge to kiss him again.

"Yeah, let's not do that unless you want me to choke." Shane's unfairly big hand comes up to cup his cheek and the way Ryan leans into the touch immediately says a lot about how gone he is for Shane. "Besides, wouldn't want you to get sick. I'm absolutely not dealing with your whiny ass."

"You're such a dick, Shane." Ryan barks out a laugh that maybe sounds a bit hysterical, but just as relieved. It's also not so much of an insult when it's said with all the fondness in the world.

We're okay, Ryan thinks, one leg draped over Shane's lap. They're basically pressed against each other as much as they can. Shane's arm fits perfectly around him as if it belongs there. Shane won't kick him out, they're more than okay.

And sure, Ryan moves to get up and move to the other end of the couch, or fucking leave every five minutes, refusing to put up with Shane's bullshit and terrible choices in bakers. But Shane grabs his wrist every single time, pulling him close and not letting go, even when his side hurts from laughing and Ryan wheezes into his neck.

[atzfiles]

getting to know jeong yunho

hi! i will be looking into yunhos natal chart and share some of the information i have gotten out of it! thanks to yunho, we know the exact time he was born! i am not entirely sure if the place of birth is that exact though. so as always, this is not 100% accurate and i am not saying i know everything about astrology. this is a hobby of mine which i taught myself.

Sun Aries 

aries is the first sign of the zodiac which shows in their characters

they’re always first to start and always first to finish

aries people are natural athletes which, in my opinion, fits to yunho quite nicely

they cannot sit still for longer periods of time

their natural instinct is to use their bodies to get things done

they live a “simple” live, dont like long/drawn out moments and they also dont like planning ahead

aries sun are known for being direct, straightforward and uncomplicated

they also tend to live in the moment

whatever happens right now is most important to an aries

this trait can make them very impatient but also highly innovative 

aries suns are also very brave 

they dont like the long way to a goal, they need to take the quickest route

they also have some childlike qualities which makes them real charmers

yunho has a strong personality, entrepreneurial spirit, ambitious, self-willed and stubborn

possible downsides of an aries sun: very nervous, impulsive, wasteful, provoking and restless

Sun in V

yunho wants to be recognized for what he is doing

he has a lot of unique and special qualities and he wants people to pay attention to those

he has a flair for drama and sports (now we all know what sorta high school student he was lmao)

yunho is proud of the fact that he has such a positive outlook on life

expressing himself brings him happiness

he needs to be careful because sometimes those things can make him look like an attention seeker to others

188 Conjunction Sun in Mercury

he owns a lot of mental energy because his ego and mind are on the same level

yunho is very intelligent and he takes pride in that

he also loves to communicate with other people

he talks and expects others to listen but he himself can have a hard time listening to others, that doesnt mean he dominates every conversation

and here you can see yet again that he has great joy in expressing himself

he studies best when reading over the material rather than listening (to a teacher for example)

this also comes from the strong need to communicate

yunho cant listen and absorb information well, he has to act on it

he has his own opinions and those are set

very independent thinker

if not listened to, he can get quite butthurt

he also cant handle criticism too well when it comes to his own opinions

he has a very witty, bashful and playful sense of humor

272 Conjunction Sun in Jupiter

extremely generous, helpful, good-hearted, well-informed, friendly and possesses strong morals

seems like luck is always on his side

he attracts good and positive things like a magnet

yunho is not very competitive which, as a result, is the reason why a lot of people like him

he also loves to travel because he is interested in foreign places and people

he has a lot of faith in life and people 

he does believe in orders and rules and generally dislikes people that tend to break the rules or even go against the law

very impatient with the wrong people around

he can be trusted very well, is sincere and is good at keeping promises

as mentioned before, very optimistic 

laughs very easily

240 Sextile Sun in Neptune

very sensitive and dreamy

strong appreciation for music

he is naturally very compassionate

very open minded; realizes that there is more to the world than whats in front of his eyes

yunho is attracted to spiritual subjects which works in favor for musicians and artists

he can be taken advantage of because he feels strongly for those who are suffering 

very humanitarian; adores animals

very imaginative, inspired and emotional 

Moon in Gemini

people who have their moon in gemini tend to be very witty and charming

but they can also become very moody and irritable, especially at home or with family

very curious 

a certain nervousness and worry are also known for lunar gemini

he needs way more stimulation than other people

there is a lot going on inside of him

here we can also see his urge to express himself again

lunar gemini think and talk a lot

they like their homes but tend to hate housework

yunho can get a bit messy

he does like improving his home though

re-organizing is something he seems to enjoy

very easily bored

is in touch with his own emotions but he can struggle with handling others complicated emotions

inside the family he is the one getting everyone together for a meeting

doesnt like repetitive routines

yunho likes having to do a lot of stuff

very sociable, friendly and talkactive

comfortable around a lot of people and can speak well in front of crowds

very open to new ideas

wants to talk about problems as soon as possible

sharp intellect

-57 Square Moon in Mercury 

his head and heart get in the way of each other

he can be too emotional or too logical

can be very jealous and possessive

can sometimes feel the need to change partners quickly because he gets bored

imaginative sense of humor

can be hypersensitive because of mood swings

because of the what he talks, yunho tends to misrepresent himself

very happy when he can escape in his own little world 

cant find his ideal world on the outside so he creates his own, imaginative world

loves drama but reacts negatively when he is the one getting criticism 

Mercury in Pisces

soaks up feelings and moods from the people around him

which can affect his own mood quite drastically 

very tactful, tries not to offend people

15 Trine Mercury in Lilith 

can get quite provocative in communications

sees flaws very quickly

Venus in Taurus 

likes sensual surroundings

looks like he would be a satisfying lover/partner

needs to be able to depend on his partner

can become very possessive of his partner

he needs “hands on” expressions of love

loyal

cant get pushed into a relationship

likes comfortable things

he needs a lot of time

his partner would need a lot of patience

“love arrives slowly, but with force”

Venus in VI

he wants to help sick and poor people all the time

wants a job in a medical or social setting

likes being of service to his partner

goes to extreme lengths so always be available for his partner

he isnt ‘showy’ with his love/bad at expressing it but much rather shows it by his availability, doing practical things for his partner or other thoughtful things

pays attention to small details

he is scared that, if the relationship he is currently in ends, he might not be able to find better

-224 Opposition Venus in Mars

from affairs over to full blown relationships; love is what gets this boy out of bed

this can get challenging in youth

he can have a hard time finding a relationship that meets his expectations

very creative

passion for romance is often channeled in his creative output

prone to have love-hate relationships (the fanfics have been right all along)

can get angry quickly but that anger disappears just as fast as it came

likes truth and justice

he never plays false, his sentiments are deep and sincere

might be into someone older because he appreciates peoples intelligence 

-95 Square Venus in Neptune

his ideals are not always easy to achieve 

easy going

yunho is in love with being in love

very romantic

can be a little too romantic; his romantic dreams might get shattered by the reality of relationships

sees what he wants to see rather than what really is

clings to romantic delusion which can be very dangerous and unhealthy

tends to devote his all to someone who is unreachable

he is also prone to loving someone who treats him badly all while he is clinging to an idealized image of his partner

he thinks that loving someone requires self-sacrifice 

:((

Mars in Scorpio

likes to challenge himself to do the impossible

keeps his cool on the surface very well

does not let people in easily 

scorpio in mars is known for having the strongest sexual stamina

even though he tends to dislike people who break the rules, he often fantasizes about breaking taboos

he like the scenario of their partner giving into them, wants his partner completely and will do absolutely anything for them

im sweating

his sexual appeal is strong enough to get what he wants

very jealous, doesnt want to share

doesnt find pleasure in compromises: needs to hear either yes or no

constantly tests himself and others

thinks that life isnt fair  

Mars in XII

puts all of his energy into his working life

likes to research

jobs like a doctor, teacher, police officer would fit him well

he should try to give things a real shot instead of feeling defeated instantly 

he can handle a lot of things by himself in his own unique ways

works more for others than himself

ignores his own needs and desires for others which secretly makes him very angry

takes time for him to warm up to a new sexual partner

likes to solve problems

likes to overcome obstacles

he sometimes can seem cold when he is in his work-mindset

-117 Square Mars in Uranus

tends to be eccentric and too headstrong, impatient

Jupiter in Aries

attracts good things in life

he is initiating, inspiring, enthusiastic and brave

likes doing things on his own

likes games

gets distracted easily

lucky in love and his profession

adores children

generous 

yunho likes helping people in difficulty

Saturn in Taurus 

dislikes greedy people

needs to learn that he is also deserving of good things in life

likes precision

a true worker

possesses all the necessary qualities to be successful in the medical field

Uranus in Aquarius

gets overly excited when starting a task but quickly loses interest

this can give others a banal impression of him

doesnt like routines

-10 Square Uranus Lilith

he can have difficulty finding a peaceful love life because he is the type to fall in love at first sight

seeks adventures which can be harmful to his relationship

Neptune in Aquarius

generosity 

solves other peoples problems just to see them happy

cold facts are hard for him to absorb#

he can get quite nostalgic

Pluto in Sagittarius

love and sexuality are idealized

Ascendent in Scorpio

he has a lot of presence

their manners command respect and he lets people know he shouldnt get pushed around

very powerful and determined 

he can look right through people which can make him very intimidating 

he often gets confused when he earns such strong reactions from people though

yunho likes to read between the lines

values his privacy a lot, so much that it can even cause paranoia

he feels the strong urge to always be in control of his environment 

he plans out every move very carefully and lets no one look into his plans

he is drawn to down to earth and natural partners on which he can rely on

he needs full commitment because flighty partners make his patience run thin

House II in Capricorn

he sees spending and making money as an adventure which can cause financial risks for him

nothing is left to a chance

likes to calculate his plans and dissects them slowly

House IV in Aquarius

he may leave the family home very early on

wants a life that is out of the ordinary 

doesnt like traditions 

House VIII in Gemini

this placement is known for making artistic people generally very successful

House X in Leo

great leadership qualities

the way he is seen by society grows more important to him as he gets older

wants surround himself with equally artistic/influentiual people

if you really read this far...god bless u lmao

i tried keeping this as short as possible, leaving out some constantly repetitive traits and placements and trying to combine his placements rather than to dive into each one individually. please dont forget that i am doing this purely out of fun and interest. My ask box/messages are always open if you want to talk or have questions! please also let me know which member you want me to analyze next :)

[flightsrsk]

hello hello all !!! my name is riley and this is my actual trash son maverick, aka the flight risk !!! i am so so hyped to get the ball rollin on this, so check out info on my kid under ze cut !!

warning: this got rlly mcfreaking long and i am so sorry fjdklsjs i am incapable of writing a short intro post

unfortunately i will not be able to be around for the official opening bc i’m on vacation w my fam and godparents, but i will try and intermittently read intros and chat to you guys about plots !!!! PLS feel free to bombard me through IMs or through discord if any plot sparks ur interest or u think mav could fit well in one of ur plots!!! :’)

THE BASICS

Name: Maverick Hobbes Braxton

Age: Twenty-one

Gender: Cismale

Pronouns: He/Him

Major & year: Philosophy, Third year

Faceclaim: Alex Fitzalan

Occupation: N/A

THE FLIGHT RISK

Maverick Braxton, as you might see, is an enigma—or rather, has evolved into one, slowly: a transformation that begun with his first breath. In his early years, the stage had been set for him, line by line. Act One: attend prep schools, excel in classes. Act Two: attend Covington, take center stage—you know, all of the things his older brother, Richard had accomplished with ease, just one year prior to all of his expectations. It was simple, really: a blueprint laid out ahead of him, with little to nothing in his way.

The only problem was that Maverick didn’t exactly see the point in choosing that path, that stage, that story. To him, it wasn’t challenging.

That, and the fact that the life laid out in front of him offered him absolutely nothing.

A series of banal expectations, unfair comparisons, and heartbreaking betrayals, and the traditional life of the Braxton child was thrown out the window—at least, in his brain, it was. See, Maverick Braxton, while independent, coy, and arrogant, isn’t stupid. He knows if he pleases his parents just enough, they’ll still distribute his trust fund and still bail him out of legal trouble when he inevitably tiptoes too far down the delicate line between ambition and rebellion. Perhaps it’s a bit selfish, but what does he owe to a family who paid him no attention, who never asked of his well-being, his own ambitions, his personal dreams?

He’s the kind of person to drive down the highway, windows rolled all the way down, cigarette lit—not because he necessarily likes the taste of nicotine, but because he likes the way the smoke creates clouds that obscure reality. He’ll surprise you in class when he interjects with a sarcastic but surprisingly salient point before throwing up his hood and retreating to the back corner for the rest of class. He’s the kind of person to start reading a book, flipping incessantly through the pages, both impatient by the pace of the plot, yet put it down before he reaches the final pages because he doesn’t want to be disappointed by the ending. He’s the kind of artist who rarely finishes a sketch, the writer who is never satisfied by a poem—for fear, of course, by deep-rooted insecurities that nothing that he will ever do will be enough.

A once-broken heart had taken time to mend, even though it seems ice-cold and whole from the outside. It’s why he has commitment issues: he doesn’t want to be burned again. He plays off his flirtatious bit as a personality trait, someone who is bored by the prospect of being tied down—and yet those who share his bed might consider him Covington’s most surprisingly deep pillow-talker.

An enigma, you see—one who doesn’t stick around long enough for anyone to truly understand, truly a Flight Risk.

BIOGRAPHY:

( You can read his full biography here! Still in the process of editing it a bit, but below are some important bullet points! )

Maverick was born the second of three children to the Braxton family—and as per usual with the Braxton children, he was born into a life filled to the absolute brim of expectation.

His father, a playwright, his mother, an actress. His brother, a theatre prodigy—what part did that leave him to play? The assumed expectations were to follow in his mother and brothers’ footsteps and take center stage; he excelled, for a while, but Maverick always felt lost.

Neighbors and family friends would always ask if he had measured up, in each and every shape and form: it was like the entire universe had a scoreboard with their names titling each section, and Maverick was always playing catch-up, never knowing where the finish line was.

For a while, he stuck to the script that was given to him: study, succeed, repeat. He tried to understand the ins and outs of his father’s work, of masterful acting techniques, trying to make a large enough splash to where his family would even notice the work he put into his life. Surprise: it didn’t.

It took him seventeen years to truly understand that his role in life was not exactly the story his parents had laid out for him, but rather, his sibling, instead.

Downcast emotions transformed quickly into cynicism. What used to make him feel sad now fueled a blue fire within Maverick’s chest, one that felt wronged by the system he was placed in: a complete first-world problem, but it was then and there when he decided to take advantage of his situation, given that he had spent his entire life dedicated to a part he wouldn’t play.

Hypocritical as he was, he still enjoyed the fruits of his parents’ work, cashing the unlimited checks with his name on them, as if it was some sort of sick version of love.

One piece of recognition that Maverick finally earned was an acceptance to Covington—and even that couldn’t be tainted by his brother’s success or his legacy status.

At Covington, Maverick has both lost and found his footing, multiple times. He’s quit acting, quit studying theater, in favor of a topic that stimulates his brain more than reading lines and

PERSONALITY:

Maverick Braxton is certainly a paradox. He’s charismatic, funny, and has a witty sense of humor –– and is generally appreciated by his peers because he’s able to move conversation and discussion without making topics seem dry.

Despite his apparent inferiority to his sibling, the Braxton family still breeds the cream of the crop. He’s certainly a bit arrogant sometimes, given that he’s intelligent, innovative, and clever, and wants to be recognized for it –– however, even if he might not show it on the outside, he appreciates a good challenger. He thinks it keeps his wit sharp, and of course, his ego would never show it, but he does appreciate learning from people. After all, his passion in philosophy, his current area of study, makes him certainly interested in how the world works.

Those who happen to get to know Maverick outside of the surface-level stuff, outside the initial cockiness and flirtatious front he puts on will know that he’s actually quite thoughtful. His lonely childhood has made him extremely loyal to those who have shown him similar trust and friendship –– he would never turn his back on them.

He asks probing questions, is a good listener –– perhaps because he’s interested in human decision making, but is also because he doesn’t quite know what it’s like to be loved unconditionally –– though he wants to.

Deep down, what almost no one knows is that he’s really quite soft. He passes his curiosity off as wanting to understand people, when really it’s a mechanism for hoping someone asks him questions in return, to give him the time of day he wished his parents ( and the rest of the goddamned universe ) had given him.

Despite his theatre prowess, he isn’t actually a particularly good liar. Those who spend enough time around him can hear his tone of voice incline slightly and see him scratch his brow.

AESTHETICS:

coffee-stained mugs, walking with headphones in but nothing playing, untied shoelaces, black hoodies, a cheeky smirk, small books in his back pocket, writing in the margins, unfinished poems, quoting old authors on a daily basis, incessant eye-rolling, pen ink stains, an unmade bed, mismatched socks, floral ties, empty bottles of liquor, rose thorn pricks, old worn poetry books, polished dress shoes, calloused fingers, unlit cigarettes between teeth.

HEADCANONS:

Funnily enough, Maverick’s name means ‘independent, a noncomformist’, which is exactly the path that he has taken to stray away from his family’s expectations.

He does have one strong connection to his family, though: his grandmother, on his father’s side. She understands the pressure he undergoes, who saw the pressure Maverick’s father endured to obtain the success he has. She is one of the only reasons that Maverick has not just jetted off to take on his own adventure. He loves her dearly, and wishes that her empathy and wisdom would rub off on the rest of his family.

Maverick has some form of synesthesia, which allows him to remember a lot more than the average person. He associates colors, smells, sounds, to words –– and allows him to efficiently study any subjects he doesn’t have immediate passion for.

In the privacy of his own bedroom, he sometimes writes poetry and sketches his thoughts and muses –– when he knows he’s in complete privacy. Faces and features that appear in his sketchbooks are often those he’s thinking of often, those who intrigue him. He’s actually quite good a sketching, maybe not quite as good at writing poetry.

His room is spotless –– evidence that he is a bit of a control freak sometimes. It shows that during his adolescence, he reveled in the parts of his life that he could control and perfect.

tw drugs. He more than dabbles in drug use, smoking marijuana maybe every other day, while partaking in harder drugs like cocaine and adderall and others probably once a week. He feels like he’s in control of his use, but it may start to get the best of him. end tw.

Maverick is left-handed. He hates that he gets pen ink stains when he draws, writes poetry, takes notes. His left palm is probably perennially covered with ink.

Though he’s often wearing headphones ( airpods, of course, the nerve of this rich kid ), half the time, nothing’s playing. Sometimes he forgets to press play on his phone, sometimes he purposely likes listening to decision-making and conversations of strangers. it lets him think about the nature of mankind.

Maverick’s favorite philosopher is Albert Camus, known for his work that heavily developed the idea of absurdism ( much to do with the meaning of life, and human inability to discern an answer ).

Maverick’s preferred method of transportation is his skateboard. he loved it first because his parents hated it: pushing himself around on a board like that would get him injured—besides, why not just take the car to school, the driver had been paid for anyway? It was his first taste of rebellion. Now at Covington, where skateboarding is far more efficient than walking across campus, it comes in handy when he sees someone he’d rather not stop and chat to.

Maverick could die with a poetry book nestled on his chest—it’s the one thing he got out of the impressive book collection his family owned. There was something daunting and beautiful about the way poems would transform metaphors into something fantastical, like the emotions were clearly there, but the words were skirting the issue. Kind of like how his parents would never really tell him they loved him.

Maverick often has headphones in when he walks to class. not particularly because he’s actually listening to music or a podcast, but rather because he’d just … rather not be bothered to stop and talk to people.

Maverick loves to draw. He’s mostly self-taught, with a bit of mentorship from his high school art teacher. Evidenced by the rest of his fleeting personality, he rarely finishes a sketch or painting. He claims he never has time to finish them, but the number of crumbled-up, half-finished sketches in his trash bin might say otherwise.

PLOTS

** see my wanted plots tag here too! // and my plots page here !!

* FIRST LOVE / OPEN.

It wouldn’t be easy to make Maverick feel like even more of a disappointment than he already had with his parents, his family—but your muse proved this feeling wrong. He loved them, more than he’d ever loved anything before. In the midst of confusion about where he belonged, he felt safe with your muse; he’d do anything for them. Things ended, he felt betrayed ( though the break-up could have easily been due to a fault of his ), and the split made him the one who now struggles fully with commitment. He doesn’t want to have his heart broken again. See: this entire pinterest board.

but also if u give me this ……………… i’ll name my firstborn after u

* BEST FRIEND / OPEN.

Those who go through similar childhood traumas are often able to understand each other –– that was how it worked with Maverick and your muse, at least. They’re thick as thieves — and have likely seen the ups and downs of Maverick’s life in real time.

* CHILDHOOD FRIENDS / OPEN.

Self explanatory—and also probably knows about the pressures the Braxton family imposes on their children.

* EX-FRIENDS / OPEN.

Friends who were close, close no longer. Maverick’s a real piece of work, and an asshole, too—there are myriad possibilities for why Maverick could have pushed them away. He wouldn’t openly admit that he misses being around your muse, but he certainly would feel a bit of guilt given that they’re no longer the closest of friends.

* MOMENT OF WEAKNESS / OPEN.

Your muse, in whatever unfortunate setting, saw a glimpse of Maverick’s soft side that hardly ever makes an appearance. He’s not going to let them tell the world about his vulnerabilities, though. Not a chance.

* DISLIKED / OPEN.

Maverick is sarcastic, cold, and sometimes emotionless. It’s not surprising that not everyone gets along with the middle Braxton. The possibilities are endless—throw in some sexual tension and I’d actually fall at ur feet.

* PREVIOUS ROOMMATES / OPEN.

Your muse, at one point, probably knew Maverick better than everyone else at Covington. They overheard some of his phone calls with his parents, saw his notes for how he was to achieve his life goals, heard him crying in the middle of the night when he thought your muse was asleep. They could be extremely close now, as in one of the few people Maverick opens up to, or could be distant friends who know about one anothers’ struggles. The possibilities are endless, tbh.

+ ANYTHING LEGITIMATELY ……… IF U THINK THERE’S POSSIBILITY FOR SOMETHING COOL W MAV AND UR MUSE. SIGN ME THE F UP. THANKS.