#its pronounced heavy water

[loafobsesses]

You ever try to make a cool character and the get stuck on the color palette?

[ahqkas]

BELLA ITALIA ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! in the moment of darkness, he was your light (or when theodore nott noticed a pretty girl struggling to communicate in english and decided to step up) (based off this req.!!)

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fluff, reader is from italy, italian theodore, translation of foreign language

WORD COUNT! 1.7k

NOTES! i’m trying to learn italian on my own and when i hear this man speaking italian i am WHIPPED 😿😿

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

MOVING FROM ONE COUNTRY TO ANOTHER CAN BE AN INCREDIBLY CHALLENGING EXPERIENCE.

The first problem is often the language barrier. Suddenly finding yourself in a place where you don't speak the native language can be isolating and overwhelming. Simple tasks like ordering food or asking for directions become daunting challenges, and the fear of being misunderstood or ridiculed can make even basic interactions fraught with anxiety.

The weather can also play a big role in the adjustment process. Going from a sunny, warm climate to a cold, rainy one (or vice versa) can have a profound impact on one's mood and well-being. It's not just a matter of dressing appropriately — it's about learning to cope with the changes in daylight, temperature, and overall atmosphere. You left the sunny shores filled with ocean breeze and moved to rainy afternoons that seemed rather sad than anything else.

And then, of course, there's the school. Being the new kid in class is never easy, but when you're in a completely foreign environment, it can feel like you're on an entirely different world. Everything from the way classes were conducted to the social dynamics among students was be vastly different from what you were used to, leaving you feeling like a fish out of water. 

But perhaps the most challenging aspect of moving to a new country was the sense of displacement, of not quite belonging anywhere. You longed for the familiarity of home while simultaneously yearning to embrace your new surroundings. You missed the way the sun kissed your skin and the way the sea felt against your movements as you swam in the water with your friends.

And you wanted someone to understand you.

Navigating the labyrinthine halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you clutch your time table tightly, eyes darting from one corridor to another in search of the potion dungeons. The castle's vastness is overwhelming, its endless staircases and hidden passages a far cry from the sunny, open streets of your hometown in Italy. You knew your first day here would be hell.

The weather outside matched your mood: overcast and drizzly, the persistent rain casting a melancholic atmosphere over the stone walls. You miss the warmth of the Italian sun, the vibrant colors of your old school. Here, everything feels cold and foreign, a constant reminder of how far you are from home. Everything was gray and dark, the opposite of the vibrant colors you were used to.

You spot a group of students huddled together, chatting animatedly as they stood by a stone wall. Gathering your courage, you approached them, hoping they can point you in the right direction. "Scusa," you begin, your Italian accent heavy, each word carefully pronounced. "Where . . . potion class . . . dungeons?" (Excuse me.)

The students exchange puzzled glances, clearly struggling to understand your accented English because despite your try, it still came out quite wobbly. One of them, a tall boy with a shock of red hair, furrowed his brow and shakes his head slowly. "What?" he says, not unkindly, but with a hint of frustration at this situation.

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You try again, your voice wavering slightly. "Potion dungeons," you repeat, gesturing with your hands as if that might bridge the gap between your language and theirs. "Next class . . . I need find."

The red-haired boy shrugs, casting a sideways glance of help at his two friends who stood next to him. They all look at you with the same guilty expression, as if they would really like to help but there was no way. The girl with bushy hair smiled at you with an expression of 'Sorry', and you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your chest. They don't understand, and you're too flustered to find the right words.

"Sorry," the ginger boy said finally, shaking his head again. "I don't know what you're saying."

Disheartened, you nodded and mumbled a quick "grazie" before retreating. You wandered through the corridors, frustration mounting with each wrong turn. The stone walls seemed to close in around you, the ancient tapestries and suits of armor blurring together in your anxious haze. You felt lost, not just in the physical sense but emotionally, adrift in this unfamiliar place where even asking for directions was like a challenge for you.

Your mind was still reeling from the embarrassing encounter as you hurried down the corridor, your thoughts tangled in a web of frustration and self-doubt. How could something as simple as asking for directions feel so impossible? The sting of the students' puzzled looks and guilty smiles lingers, making your cheeks burn with residual embarrassment. Lost in your thoughts, you rounded a corner too quickly and collided with a solid figure. Your bag slipped from your shoulder, and your books spilled across the floor. You gasped at the sight, your heart leaping into your throat. Could you embarrass yourself any more today?

"Scusa, scusa!" you blurted out in Italian, crouching down to gather your scattered belongings. The words tumbled from your lips in a rapid, nervous stream. You didn't even think the person wouldn't understand your sentences. "Non stavo guardando dove andavo. Mi dispiace tanto!" (Excuse me, excuse me! I wasn't watching where I was going. I'm so sorry!)

As you frantically picked up your books, you glanced up to see who you've bumped into. Your eyes widened in surprise and relief when you recognized Theodore Nott, the quiet Slytherin who always seemed to glide through the halls with an air of calm detachment and mysterious aura. You braced yourself for confusion, expecting him to look as puzzled as the others had.

But instead, Theodore's lips curved into a slight smile and a warm glint appeared in his usually cool eyes. "Non ti preoccupare," he replied in perfect Italian, his voice soothing and accent deafening. "È tutto a posto. Lascia che ti aiuti." (Don't worry. It's all right. Let me help you.)

The shock of hearing your native language from his lips momentarily left you speechless. You watched in amazement as he got down on his knees, helping you gather your books with nothing but ease. The knot of anxiety in your chest began to loosen, replaced by a flutter of gratitude and something else — an unexpected connection.

"Grazie," you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly. "Non sapevo che parlassi italiano." (Thank you. I didn't know you spoke Italian.)

Theodore's smile widened just a fraction, a hint of amusement danced in his eyes. "Mia madre è italiana," he explained, handing you the last of your textbooks from the floor. "L'ho imparato da lei." (My mother is Italian. I learned it from her.)

You stand up, clutching your books to your chest, and for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. Here is someone who understands — not just your words, but the feeling of being caught between two worlds.

"Grazie mille," you repeated, your smile genuine this time. "Mi sentivo così persa." (Thank you very much. I felt so lost.)

Theodore nodded, his expression softening. "Capisco. Hogwarts può essere un posto molto grande e confuso. Vieni, ti mostro io dov'è la classe di pozioni." (I understand. Hogwarts can be a very big and confusing place. Come, I'll show you where the potions class is.)

As you walked beside Theodore through the corridors of Hogwarts, the oppressive weight of the castle's vastness seemed to lift slightly. His calm demeanor and fluent Italian became a comforting anchor in this world full of unfamiliarity.

"Da quanto tempo sei qui?" you asked the boy next to you, trying to make conversation. (How long have you been here?)

"Questa è la mia sesta anno," he replied. "Conosco il castello come le mie tasche ormai." (This is my sixth year. I know the castle like the back of my hand by now.)

"Sei fortunato," you sighed, your hold on your bag tightening. "Mi sento come se fossi in un labirinto." (You're lucky. I feel like I'm in a maze.)

Theo chuckled and the sound was low and warm. He was nice. "Capisco. Anch'io mi sentivo così i primi giorni. Ma vedrai, presto ti abituerai." (I understand. I felt the same way in my first days. But you'll see, you'll get used to it soon.)

As you continued to walk, the conversation flowed more naturally, easing your nerves. "Cosa ti piace di più di Hogwarts?" you asked him, genuinely curious. (What do you like most about Hogwarts?)

"Direi la biblioteca," Theo said after a moment of thought. "È enorme, con così tanti libri rari. E i corridoi segreti. Sono divertenti da esplorare." (I would say the library. It's enormous, with so many rare books. And the secret corridors. They're fun to explore.)

"Sembra affascinante. Mi piacerebbe esplorare di più, ma ho paura di perdermi." (It sounds fascinating. I'd love to explore more, but I'm afraid of getting lost.)

He gave you a reassuring look. "Se vuoi, posso mostrarti alcuni dei posti migliori. Così non ti perderai." (If you want, I can show you some of the best places. That way you won't get lost.)

Theo was the kindest person you've met here in the entire time since the beginning of the school term and your heart warmed at his kindness. "Mi piacerebbe molto, grazie." (I'd love that, thank you.)

Finally, you reached the entrance to the dungeons. "Eccoci," Theo exclaimed, stopping before the heavy wooden door. "La classe di Pozioni è proprio qui dentro." (Here we are. The Potions class is right inside here.)

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. "Grazie, Theo. Sei stato davvero gentile." (Thank you, Theo. You've been really kind.)

He offered you a nod, his smile reassuring. "Prego. Se hai bisogno di altro aiuto, basta chiedere. Buona fortuna con la tua lezione." (You're welcome. If you need any more help, just ask. Good luck with your class.)

With one last grateful look, you pushed open the door and stepped into the dimly lit classroom. As you took your seat, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. Perhaps, with friends like Theo, Hogwarts might start to feel a little more like home.

[danibeanie]

Vibes & Beauty Astro observations 🩶

Stelliums💘

-i noticed girlies that have a stellium seem to have a stronger impression on people.Its very common to hear “I love your energy.”

-gemini stellium, love talking, mischievous eyes, sharp beauty,usually long brows,high pitched voice, playful,hair color very saturated like if you got dark hair it’s BLACK or light hair it’s super blonde.

-virgo stellium, just like their mercurial, but a bit more calm and reserved,down to earth voice,”girl me too”,natural beauty,can have a rbf,observant eyes.

-aries stellium, miss independent(love that tho), flushed cheeks, straightforward,intimidating, knows who she is, pronounced brows wether thin or thick they stand out,childlike eyes,gorg girlies.

-pisces stellium, eyes stand out wether it be color or shape you just notice them, kind & pure,high voices just like gemini but they don’t change it as much, cute, creates softness to the face,angels.

-usually when you have a stellium in a chart your gonna attract other people with a stellium as well

Eyes 👀

- water moon girlies have emotional eyes. Its even more pronounced when you have a moon conjunction with inner planets.

Cancer- looks through your soul, “what’s wrong you look sad?”,doe eyes,vulnerable ,pretty eyes ,guys nervous to look at your eyes,manipulative eyes.

Scorpio- intense,intense,intense,darker eyes DOESN’T matter the color, reads u like a book, hiding something,intimidating,mix of siren/doe

Pisces-so prettyyy,lots of eyelid space for some,in tune with other people,pure eyes,mysterious eyes ,long lashes, princess.

-I might just do a series on this!

-Lilith energy🖤

-When having prominent Lilith energy your just going to stand out somehow wether it be ur looks or personality. There’s just something to these people that makes u wanna watch.

-this may be a theory but I believe your lilith placement affects your looks even if it doesn’t tough your ascendant but it has to STRONGLY prounounced to ur personal planets.

-ex I have a Gemini stellium and I have sun moon and mercury conjunction all in 2nd house. My ascendent is in Taurus and my lilith in Gemini conjunct my sun and mercury but not my moon because it’s in an early degree cancer. I’m also a late taurus rising making half of my 1st house gemini. Also my Venus is in gemini in 1st house even though Lilith doesn’t touch my Venus it’s very pronounced in my 2nd house.(2’d house is Taurus home-connection to ascendent)

-All my life guys never approached me and when the few of them did they all had heavy mars energy wether being scorpio or Aries. I find myself attracted to Leo energy and I believe it’s because they match my strong energy. Insecure guys get intimidated by you and treat u like shit.Then get mad when you leave them but still keep on coming back?😭but for some reason expect you to be on the side like no sir we are all #1s here.I though u didn’t like me why are u trying to get my attention when u clearly didn’t want it yesterday.

-even if you try to hide your body for some reason it’s still noticed, “your so tiny” I’ve learned to embrace my body the older I get. confidence is key YALL!

-super black hair,I can’t tell u how many times people have commented on how dark my hair is😭

-mysterious vibe without even trying, my friends have told me this when I walk at the campus.

- I have a bestie with lilith energy as well but it squares her ascendent and mercury many people thought she was a b when first meeting her(even me).She also has mars conjunct ascendent lmao but I love her and our vibes just match each other. I feel like my Venus energy tames my lilith energy a bit more but it’s still there 😭

-guys just don’t approach u period :/

bye y’all thank u so much for the support in my last 2 posts lot of love🖤

[venerawrites]

Can I request an Imagine where a fem character is captured by the enemy and she’s under a genjutsu where she’s being tortured by Shikamaru (who she loves) but is pulled out of it just in time by Shika who actually gets there in time with a team? Comfort fluff, reassuring, and he admits he loves her?

author's note: I have been writing this literally for ages, but now that all my assignments are officially done, I finally had a chance to catch up! Thank you so much for your patience and this beautiful idea! I absolutely loved writing this one! I hope you like it! <3

warnings: mentions of torture; swearing

There is something comforting in darkness. Once it welcomes you in its embrace, all your fears, worries, and thoughts just... disappear. Your body and your mind relax and for once, it is all quiet.

And silence is beautiful.

Two strong hands wrapped around your neck, pulling you harshly out of the water and bringing all your senses back to reality. The sudden rush of air filling your lungs made you choke and you struggled to take another breath. The comforting silence, in which you were blissfully floating just a second ago, was interrupted by the rapid beating of your heart and the muffled sound of someone's voice next to you.

"-absolutely pathetic", your brain registered only the last words of what the person said. You coughed once again and another hefty amount of dirty water made its way out of your body, letting you breathe more freely. Your chest felt heavy and all your muscles screamed in pain, making this moment of awareness feel more like a punishment than a relief.

With a few slow blinks, the darkness started to lift and your surroundings started to become clearer. At first, all you could see was the sky - so grey and sad, a sure sign it was about to rain soon. Then your focus shifted to the trees and the strange way their leaves stood still, despite the wind around you. Finally, your eyes shifted to the silhouette sitting next to you. Blinking a few more times, their face started to become more focused and you let out a breath of relief, once you realised it was your best friend who saved you from what seemed like sure death.

"Shika...", you said weakly, not having the energy to even pronounce his full name. Instinctively reaching your hand toward him, you tried to get a hold of his hand, his warmth being the only thing your body craved right now. The said man let out a scoff, moving out of the way just when you were about to reach him. When you hand hit nothing but air, you slowly opened your eyes, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Shika?", you repeated, lifting your head just a bit, so you could see the man better. Sitting on a small stone next to you, he stared at you with a bored expression, a half-burn cigarette hanging from his lips. There was something in weird in his eyes, something which you have seen only a handful of times in all the years you have known him.

Was it anger? Annoyance? Hate?

You couldn't exactly tell, your brain still struggling to make sense of where you are and how did you got there. The last thing you remember was fighting a group of rogue ninjas near Amegakure, before something was wrapped around both your arms and legs, forcing you to the ground. You must have passed out because now you were on the river bank near Konoha, a place where you and Shikamaru played from dawn to dusk when you were children.

"He probably brought me here to clean my wounds", was the first thought that came to your your head, while you tried to lift yourself on your elbows.

"Shika, what-"

The words got stuck in your throat, once your friend's hands found their way around it once again. His nails dug into the skin and you winced in pain, your own fingers wrapping around his wrists in an attempt to pull him away. His power, however, was no match for you and all you could do was stare at him with wide eyes, a silent plead for him to let go.

"Just shut the hell up, troublesome woman! You always ramble on and on, and on...", the fingers on your neck tightened their grip and you opened your mouth, desperately trying to inhale some air and combat the dizziness that started to consume you due to the lack of oxygen. However, Shikamaru did not seem impressed by your struggle or the way you kept tapping his arm. Instead of freeing you, he leaned forward, pressing his full body weight on you.

"I've never hated any sound more than my name coming out of your lips! I fucking hate it! I fucking hate YOU!"

Hissing the last words through gritted teeth, he finally let go of your throat, only to smack his palm against your cheek. Your head whipped to the side, a few droplets of blood flying from your mouth. The burning feeling on your cheek, however, felt almost insignificant compared to the overwhelming feelings of shock and confusion that paralyzed your body. The echo of his words kept sounding in your mind, each repetition making your heart beat faster and faster in panic.

"What...", you chocked out, eyes searching his, "What's going on?"

A dry, almost sinister chuckle left his lips and the sound sent shivers down your spine. He lowered his head right above yours before grabbing your cheeks in one hand, squishing your face. A small whine sounded from you and the man narrowed his eyes, observing you with a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

"Look at yourself... calling yourself a ninja, yet you can't handle even a single mission by yourself!", he muttered with disdain, his gaze not leaving yours. You tried to pull your head away, but his grip was so tight, you were unable to move even a muscle.

Tears of frustration started to form in your eyes, a few sliding down your cheeks. Normally, in moments like these, Shikamaru would be the one holding you, muttering sweet words of comfort in your ears. His hands would stroke your hair, while he rocks your body back and forth till you calm down and fall asleep on top of him.

Now he offered nothing but a look of disgust.

"Wh-What are you doing?", your voice betrayed you, sounding smaller than you intended to, "Shikamaru, why are you holding me like this?"

The first rule of the shinobi was to never give up. It was a life full of pain and sacrifice, but the end goal was the protection of the people - and for that, you had to fight, even if you had no energy left in you.

But as you laid beneath Shikamaru, staring at his dark eyes, full of contempt, you couldn't do anything but let the tears fall freely from your eyes. A good ninja would probably seize the moment and use it as a distraction to draw their weapon and stab their attacker, but how could you do that, when the person on top of you was the person you loved and cherished the most in this world? The person that has been your best friend for more than 10 years? The person who was your rock during the hardest periods of your life? The love of your life?

Before you could realise what was happening, his hands lifted you by the neck, pushing your head below the water again. This time, however, there was no comfort in it - it was cold and unwelcoming, sending waves of shock through your entire body. It stung your eyes and it filled your nose and mouth, making you panic. Your mind screamed at you to fight back, to somehow wrench yourself out of his grasp. Throwing both your arms and legs around, you tried to throw him off you, but his fingers only dug deeper into your skin, his knees landing on top of your thighs to keep you still.

Just as your vision started to fade, he brought you back to the surface and you gasped for air, choking in the water still stuck in your lungs.

"I fucking hate you... Do you understand that? I hate the way you whine all the fucking time, clinging to me like a leech! You always cry, never taking any responsibility for anything!", his tone was low, but filled with hatred, "I hate you so fucking much, I've been fantasizing about how to shut your mouth once and for all for so long!"

Barely giving you a chance to even register his words, he pressed your head down once again. Unlike last time, you were under only for a few seconds, before he pulled you out.

"You are nothing but a burden! To me, to your family, to everyone in that damned village!"

"NO! STOP!"

Each word felt like a dagger piercing through your chest, crushing whatever hope remained that all this was just a bad dream and that you would wake up any moment in Shikamaru's bed, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back.

What the hell happened during your mission? When did he even appear? Did he save you? Why was he so angry with you?

Your head was filled with questions and soon there was nothing but a messy tangle of thoughts. A small voice at the back of your mind kept repeating his words.

"Nothing but a burden..."

The words hit deeper than you liked to admit. Back when you were younger you were the weakest kid in class, much to the dismay of your parents, both of which were great and strong shinobi. The other children rarely wanted to play with you - most of the time they viewed you as someone who couldn't keep up with their speed and energy. Naruto and Shikamaru were the only ones who reached out to you back then, the only ones who stood by you when no one else would.

While the blonde was a dear friend to you, nothing could compare to the bond you shared with the young Nara. He has always been a constant in your life, a safe haven to which you could run once the reality was too much to bear. Countless nights he held you in his embrace when you couldn't sleep because your family was fighting once again. He always left his window slightly open, an unspoken invitation for you to come anytime you wanted. Thinking back, sneaking into your best friend's bed at night was maybe not the wisest decision, as it was during one of these times you realised you were utterly and madly in love with him.

You remembered that night clearly. The two of you were laying side by side on his bed, the only light coming from the bright moon up in the sky. It was the night after Asuma's funeral and despite his initial warning for you not to come, you still made your way to his house at 2:00 o'clock at night. He didn't utter even a word when he saw you entering through his window, instead, he only lifted his blanket, making a space for you to join him. You laid down and he immediately pulled you under him, burying his head in the space between your neck and shoulder, his hot tears falling on your bare skin.

As he clung to you, your fingers gently rubbed his scalp, offering your silent support. What wouldn't you give to take his pain away, to bring back his beloved sensei, and to make him forget the horrors he witnessed that day.

"I don't know what I would do without you...", he whispered against your hair, his breath tickling your scalp.

"You don't have to think about that", you whispered back, your fingers still combing through his black locks, "I am here. I always will be."

Shikamaru didn't answer. Instead, he lifted his head and looked at you with his bloodshot eyes, before pressing his lips against yours. It was a quick and gentle peck, a promise of a friend, rather than a lover's confession. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, muttering a quiet 'I am sorry.', before rolling on his side and falling asleep.

Neither of you said anything about it afterward. The next morning you woke up and continued your usual routine, as if nothing had happened. There were moments when you wondered if it was all a dream - maybe you were so in love with him that your brain started to play tricks with you. Yet, there was a weird comfort in not knowing if it was all just an illusion. Sometimes you liked to think that it was, indeed, real.

Slowly losing consciousness due to the lack of air, everything started to fade, except the memory of that night. It kept replaying over and over in your mind, feeling so real, you could almost feel his chapped lips against yours.

How ironic and unfair was that? Your last moments are spent thinking about the man who is currently the source of your suffering.

Suddenly the grip on your neck disappeared and you felt something sliding under your head and knees, lifting you back to the surface. Too tired to fight or even open your eyes, you let yourself be carried out of the river. A frantic voice was shouting something right in your face, but you could not recognize it, nor could understand what it was saying. Your limbs, chest, and eyelids felt so heavy, all you wanted was just to relax and let your body rest.

The second you were laid down on a flat surface, someone's mouth was pressed against yours, blowing air into your lungs. The sudden rush of oxygen made your body jolt and you would've probably hurt yourself, if the person who was bringing you back to life did not have their hands on your chest, rhythmically pumping.

Finally, you took your first breath on your own and you coughed violently, turning your body to the side so you could spit the excess water from your mouth. The hands that saved you made their way to your back, gently patting it to help you stop choking.

"Shit, are you okay?", the sound of the familiar voice made your body freeze.

"No! It cannot end like this!", you thought to yourself, the feeling of panic already bubbling inside of you. What game was Shikamaru playing? He almost ended your life, just to bring you back... What type of cruel torture was that?

"Hey... can you hear me? Please, answer me. Please, I can't-"

Before he could finish, you turned toward him and punched him as hard as you could. The man stumbled back from his kneeling position, cupping his nose in an attempt to stop the flowing blood. You used the opportunity to drag your weak body away from him, ignoring the sharp pain that pulsated through each one of your muscles.

"Stay away!", you yelled, glancing back at him, "Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to kill me?"

The young Nara looked at you with a confused expression, taking a step toward you, but immediately stopping once he saw the fear on your face.

"Kill you? What are you-", the sudden realisation of what was going on downed on him and he lifted both his hands from his face in a defensive motion, "Wait! No! It's not what you think!"

Ignoring his words, you continued to drag yourself away, gritting your teeth at the feeling of your skin scraping against the ground. Looking in his direction again, you found he was already on his feet but he had not moved from his original position.

"Please... I'm not going to hurt you!", he begged, his voice filled with desperation, "Just stop for a second! Listen to me!"

Letting out a sigh, you dropped to the ground, too exhausted to continue your escape attempt. Deep down you knew there was no point - you were surrounded by nothing but a field and while you managed to create a significant distance between you, he was on his feet, while you were crawling on your elbows. It was clear that no matter what you did, you won't be able to run away from him. The only option you had was to just wait and hope he was going to finish this quickly.

"Why?", the question came out as a broken whisper and you were not even sure he heard it, "Why are you doing this?"

Shikamaru's gaze softened and he made a small step toward you, testing your reaction. When he saw you made no movement, he made another step before stopping again. Only the gods knew he wanted nothing more than to run toward you and hold you in his arms, making sure you were okay. The spark of fear in your eyes, however, made him control his urges and he used all his willpower to remain calm and rational.

Seeing you like this... it was like his world was falling apart. He was not a violent person, far from it, but somewhere back in his mind, he kept imagining bringing the rogue ninja that put you through this back to life, just so he could kill him again. And then again. And then again. As many times as it took for him to feel like he did you justice.

The image of your face twisted in a silent scream, your whole body covered in blood, was one that he was never going to forget. And oh, how he wished he could! Ino and Choji have never seen their teammate lose control like this, not even when their sensei died. The piercing shriek that left his lips the moment he saw you, the way he ran toward your body, the bloodthirst in his gaze, while he slashed the enemy's throat open... it was almost like something dark and demonic had possessed him.

"You were under a genjutsu... everything that you felt and saw... it was not real. It was NOT me", with each word he closed the distance more and more, till he found himself right in front of you. Crouching next to your form, he extended his hand to touch yours, brows furrowing when he saw you flinch back.

"Please! Whatever you saw, whatever that bastard made you believe... it was NOT ME!", his voice remained low, yet it was getting more distressed, "I would never, ever hurt you! Never!"

He reached out again, this time slower so he could give you a chance to comprehend his words and move back if you wanted to. Shifting your look between his eyes and his hand, you took a deep breath, before letting him touch you. The warmth of his fingers brightly contrasted with your cold skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"It's me...", his hand slowly moved up toward your face, cradling your cheek in his palm and gently stroking it with his thumb. Your muscles remained frozen, still unsure if this was a trick or not, "I'm here. I'm here..."

He kept repeating the same words over and over, while cautiously moving his body closer, so he could wrap his arms around you. Your eyes danced around your surroundings, finally appreciating that you were in fact NOT next to the river in Konoha. Instead, you were at the exact same spot where you lost consciousness during your fight. The pieces of the mystery of what happened finally started to come together in your mind and the reality hit you like a wave, washing over the lingering doubts in your mind.

You opened your mouth to say something, but all that came out was a loud sob. And then another... Soon, the tears started freely flowing down your cheeks while your body shook with the intensity of the shock of what actually happened. Shikamaru kept you pressed tightly against his chest, his own tears falling on top of your hair, while he rocked both of you back and forth.

"I am so sorry!", he muttered, pressing his nose into your head, "I am so, so sorry! It's all my fault!"

"Shika-"

"If I didn't waste so much time planning and strategizing, I would've been here on time! I would've been able to save you, I would've been able to kill that bastard before he had the chance to hurt you!", he rambled on, more to himself than to you.

"Shikamaru!"

The sound of his name, together with the feeling of your fingers on his face finally caught his attention and he gazed down at you, his dark eyes still glossy and red.

"You saved me...", you said tracing his jaw, "You actually came for me."

He let out a quiet scoff, squeezing you tighter. His lips found their way to your forehead, placing a small kiss on it and lingering for a few seconds after that.

"Of course, I came for you, you troublesome woman", he sighed, closing his eyes. Holding the person you were in love with for years and who you thought you'd lost forever had to be the most surreal feeling.

At least for him.

There were a few seconds of silence between you, during which you just held each other. No words were spoken, but none were needed - the way you clung to one another, ignoring everyone and everything else, spoke of all of the feelings and affections you kept hidden in your hearts. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear Ino's voice talking, but your mind could not focus on anything but Shikamaru's heartbeat next to your ear.

"I've thought I lost you...", the sudden admission was quiet, almost as if he didn't really want you to hear it. He gulped, moving his head back so he can look into your eyes.

"That night when I said I don't know what I would do without you... I meant it. I still do! I would choose death any day if it means I wouldn't have to face the risk of losing you."

His words made your eyes widen and you stared back at him, trying to read his emotions. The Nara was not a man who liked to talk about his feelings, so any insight into his mind and heart was always surprising. A slight blush covered his cheeks, a sign that despite his moment of courage, he was still feeling nervous about your response.

"I love you."

"I love you."

Both of you blurted it out at the same time, your expressions slowly changing from scared to shocked. You blinked a few times, your brain taking some extra seconds to process his words. Finally, a small smile broke on your lips. Shikamaru, on the other hand, tried to remain serious, but the corners of his mouth kept tugging upwards.

"I want to kiss you."

"Is that your way of asking me for permission or you are just telling me?", you raised a brow and he let out a small laugh at your words.

"I am telling you."

With that one of his palms found your chin, gently cupping it and lifting your head toward him. You could feel his minty breath mixing with your own as he leaned in, not moving his eyes from yours.

The kiss was light, at first you barely felt his mouth against yours. It was delicate and somewhat unsure, just like the kiss you shared that fateful night. The more your lips moved together, the more confident you both became and he grabbed the back of your neck, holding you into place while his tongue met yours. It was all so new, yet it felt so familiar - almost like you've done that a thousand times before.

Finally pulling back, he rested his forehead against yours, trying to catch his breath.

"You have no idea how many years I have been dreaming" about this", he landed one more peck, before scooping you in his arms and lifting you, "Let's go home."

cc artwork: Xiaodi Jin

[msmc-796-official]

I... have a confession to make, of sorts. There won't ever be a good time to admit this, unfortunately, so it's best I get this off my chest now, and ask for forgiveness rather than permission.

It has not been easy speaking with all of the flashclones who have made themselves known in the wake of Union's latest raids; both for myself, and the squadron at large. I must commend my squadmates for handling themselves with the utmost professionalism - while my own correspondences with these newest members of the Omninet have been what I would consider adequately polite, I've been biting my tongue the entire time, and I fear that my personal discomfort with the issue is starting to slip through the cracks.

To this end, I wish to share my thoughts publicly, that I might better express my own emotions towards this complicated, frustrating, and highly nuanced issue. I only ask that you hear me out in full before you render judgement, and pronounce your sentence carefully.

First: an observation.

MSMC policy requires that all pilots dictate an end-of-life plan at the time of their recruitment, that their final wishes may be carried out by the company in the event of their death under MSMC's employ. The options provided for this are effectively unlimited, allowing the pilot a great deal of choice and freedom in planning their postmortem arrangements. These plans may also be altered in the future should circumstances change, provided the pilot is of sound body and mind.

Under MSMC policy, in compliance with the policies set forth by Union, one of the available postmortem options is flashcloning.

In my fifteen-odd years serving under MSMC, I have only heard of three pilots who have willingly chosen to be flashcloned after death (thus prolonging not only their life, but their term of service under MSMC as well). Of these, I have only personally met one, affiliated with MSMC-808 "5Q8R3 L00P3RZ" - I believe their current iteration goes by callsign Lemniscate. While I do not know how many times they have been cloned during their term of service, their current iteration seems happy enough, and their squadmates reassure me that they've maintained a consistent identity (plus or minus the odd quirk, as is typical of flashclones) throughout their life (lives?).

Second: a digression.

I purchased my Dusk Wing, And The Voice of Apollo Spoke From On High (Apollo for short), from an SSC showroom on a planet whose name I no longer recall. The curated atmosphere called to mind the high marble pillars and lush green-blue waters of some distant Cradle mythology where gods roamed the earth and mortals strove to emulate them, punished and rewarded for their folly in equal measure with gifts and curses beyond name. Each frame was posed as the statues of old on Cradle, too-human limbs arrayed in too-human poses, each a machine of war turned living art piece.

Apollo, true to its future name, was arrayed in flight; hover-jets draped with sunlight-yellow gossamer, veil rifle aimed in its middle tier of manipulators with the same care and precision as an archer would take with their bow. To see it lowered to the floor after its purchase was to see Icarus fall; to climb inside its cockpit for the first time, to don wax-and-feather wings of my own and fly.

The old tales caution that divinity has a cost, and I too paid the price. A vial of blood, drawn with silver needle and spirited away into an unseen cooler before my pen ever touched paper. Apollo was mine, but SSC had received a far greater gift in its place: a sample of my DNA, unwillingly donated as the price for my divine armament.

Even now, this price weighs heavy on my head like the sword which hung above Damocles, poised to drop without a moment's notice with each new Union raid on yet another forgotten cloning facility. Who can say on what distant planet the children I did not birth sleep in stasis - children with my eyes, my hair, my nose, my smile; sons and daughters who will never be called as such because, to their creators, they are slaves, weapons, property - anything but human.

Third: an explanation.

I believe that flashcloning, in its current state as of 5016u, as approved by Union's Third Committee (and exploited by the likes of SSC, HA, and several countless others across the stars) is an inherently unethical practice; both for those who donate their DNA (willingly or otherwise), as well as for those persons produced by it.

To see countless lives created, manipulated, slaughtered, and recycled in the name of so-called "progress"; to see inherently human beings stripped of every vestige of humanity but the body in which they reside and then forcibly brainwashed and molded into soldiers, medics, mechanics, weapons, machines, slaves, property - it is an abominable and inhumane practice that should have died a slow and painful death in the darkness from whence it was birthed.

This being said: I cannot stand idly by as the products of this inhumane practice continue to suffer. No matter whether it is beneath the apathetic gaze of Union, the dehumanizing bootheel of HA, or the eugenicist scalpel of SSC, I will not allow my fellow persons to endure another day of abuse at the hands of those who would abandon their own creations as little more than imperfect failures for daring to remind their creators of their sentience.

Alone, I can do nothing. I too am but a cog in this great uncaring machine humanity has built, one which prospers on suffering and bloodshed and the work of hands which have forgotten the body to which they are attached. Even if I were to risk life and limb and reputation to make my position known, it is a battle which lies dead in the water - it is impossible to halt the wheels of progress without irreparably damaging the future which relies on their turning.

And so I fight. I fight for those who have forgotten their humanity, both willingly and unwillingly, that they might find something of their own - identity, purpose, desires, connection, life - that reminds them of what they were and are and always have been: human.

-- Angel

[specialagentartemis]

Citizen Science and Contributing To Scientific Endeavor When You're Not "A Scientist"

Comments on some of my posts about science and misinformation express frustration with scientific establishments, and want to see more accessibility and attention given to amateurs participating in the scientific process and having their scientific voices heard.

If being involved in the creation of knowledge and discovery is something important to you, that's something I strongly encourage! It's absolutely possible. Amateur researchers with a passion and an eye for detail have made some fantastic discoveries - but what is often glossed over in stories like these are the years of work, the patient dedication, and the collaboration with university researchers that often underlie such discoveries.

The search for truth and information and the passion for science is present in a lot of people who aren't official "scientists" - curiosity is natural! And if participation in scientific observation, hypothesizing, experimentation, and discovering new things about the world is important to you, there are lots of ways to go about contributing - and the new year is a great time to start.

What are you interested in?

Ecology

Observing the world around you is for everybody. Getting invested in the environment of your hometown is for everybody. And, as the Mythbusters famously said,

Some ideas for a local ecology project:

Record the temperature outside every day at the same time - at sunrise, or noon, or sunset, or midnight. Depending on where you are, the local weather recording station may be miles away or on top of a mountain - measure the temperature yourself and compare it each day to what your app says. When is it accurate? When isn't it?

Record the weather every day. How much precipitation? What time of day? What kind?

Record what animals you see every day, where, when, and how many. Or choose a specific animal, like birds, or bees on flowers, or turtles or frogs in a local pond, or whiptail lizards vs. invasive house geckos, and record the numbers you see each day.

Record when in the year you see the first, or last, of a plant or animal. When the crocuses sprout, when the buds appear on the maple trees, when you see the first clover flowers or prickly pear flowers, when the first robin comes out or the first lizards come out of hibernation.

If you have an outdoor cat or a free-roaming dog, attach a GoPro or similar small camera to its collar to see where it goes and what it does.

Identify the plants growing in your neighborhood, and check in on it regularly to keep track of how each one fares in different weather conditions, or if any animals particularly like or don't like to eat it.

Bulk order some test strips, then take a small sample of soil from a local park or water from a local waterway each weekend and test them for PH, lead, chemicals, or whatever. See if it changes over the year, or after a heavy rainfall, or during drought.

Take a photo of the same spot every day for a year.

Linguistics

The study of how people use language! Everybody uses language in some capacity.

Do you have any small children near you? Talk to them! Record how they pronounce things and what they call new (or even familiar) concepts. Look for patterns.

Ask people you know if "dog" and "blog" rhyme, or if "Alohop" is a good pun for a pineapple beer. My family gets ENDLESS amounts of mileage out of this one with each other. Ask people you know questions about how they pronounce things, or what they call things. Make maps of dialectical differences between generations, neighborhoods, etc. Track linguistic shifts in the modern world.

History

Everyone and everywhere has a history, and accurate history is pressingly relevant always.

See if you have a local historical society, library archive, or history museum that is looking for volunteers to transcribe or translate collections.

Get elbow-deep in local archives. You likely have some sort of local archive near you that has not been fully digitized. Go in with a topic you want to learn about - Black families, Jewish communities, how your hometown transferred from Indigenous hands to settler ones, women who owned their own businesses, immigration, inter-racial relationships, sports, ice harvesting, farming practices, contemporary opinions on a major world history event that now seems so inevitable, sports and people's reactions to sports - and read everything in newspapers, wills, deeds, photographs, or other available records about your topic of choice. See if you can find connections that you haven't seen anyone else talking about.

These are just some things that occur to me immediately as something that anyone can do, if you're sufficiently interested in a question and want to discover more about it. The more local your topic, the less likely anyone has a solid answer to whatever you're wondering - and the more immediately relevant to the people around you your discoveries may be!

Combining it with a New Year's Resolution can also get you more motivated to do the things you want to do. Is your resolution to get more exercise? Take a brisk walk each morning and take a picture of the same area every day for a year. Take a walk every weekend down to the lake and count the turtles and frogs you see. Is your resolution to keep a daily diary For Real This Time? If nothing else, resolve to write down the weather and precipitation each day! Do you want to volunteer more or meet new people? Look for citizen science or local history groups! Feeling like you're working toward something Real is a great motivator.

Henry David Thoreau's detailed descriptions of the nature each day around Walden Pond in the 1840s provides a valuable benchmark for modern ecologists to compare environmental and climatic changes since then on a granular level. Silly rhyming poems and idiosyncratic spellings in letters and diaries help linguists track dialectical and pronunciation changes across time. Amateur science is great and valuable! We all can have a part in understanding and paying deeper attention to the world around us, if we want to.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Mer!Azriel x reader: The Dregs of Tragedy - Part 2

A/N: We’re going H2O Just Add Water here

Warnings: drowning

Word Count: 4,143

-Part 1- -Part 3-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Tendrils of mist curl before you, cooling breath icing with the freezing temperature of the cave. Death is seeping into your bones—you can feel it. Life is steadily draining from your numbing limbs, alone and cold in a subterranean cave. What you wouldn’t give for a fire, or some other clothes, having discarded the sodden fabric in attempts to dry faster.

How long has passed since the mer left the tunnels? You never even learned his name—if the mer have names your tongue could pronounce. How do fish even communicate? You’ve never considered it before, having grown up with the screech of seagulls and the squeak of vermin. Sea-creatures have always had this innate connection to one another, shoals of fish automatically moving in synchronised rhythm.

It would be nice to have something like that, you think. To be so connected to other life forms communication isn’t entirely necessary, just being able to understand that movement is relentless and to know there is no wrong turn. To have absolute trust that everything will seamlessly connect.

A spasm wracks your lungs, briny sea-water dripping from your hair down onto numb shoulders. Death is coming swiftly, time ticking like the drip-drop of water to the slick stone beneath you. Either you stay here and die, or you venture the caves. He’d left with a warning; he had promised he’d return. But you’re not so disillusioned to trust the word of a mer, even if there’s a life connection between you now. You’d saved his life and he had protected yours, but there’s no trust. He has no reason to return, unless it’s once you’ve morphed to a corpse, where then cold hands will wrap around equally cold ankles, dragging your lifeless body into the icy pool to feast upon.

Warm-blooded animals like yourself like their food heated. Maybe his kind prefer theirs to be still. Cold, and stiff.

Throat rolls, and you get to your feet, nearly tripping over from being unable to move the frozen limbs. Ease deep breaths into your lungs—movement will be key to your survival. Having grown up on fish, your blood will take longer to freeze than an inlanders, fluid and thin in your veins. Yet the extra minutes or hours you’re spared will mean nothing if you don’t put them to good use.

Slowly and with great pains, you unstick your fingers, stretching hard, frozen toes, preparing for the dive. At least you can be thankful for the stagnant air—a breeze would have only catalysed your death. Breathe steadily, keeping a regular pace as you stretch aching limbs, hoping to get the blood flowing again to stand a chance of surviving the stormy seas.

If you even make it back to open ocean.

Stretch out the muscle, shaking out limbs, curling toes and fingers. Jump stiffly on your feet, staring into the icy water. You wouldn’t be entirely surprised if it froze over the moment you dive in. But you can’t stay here, trapped on the whim of a mer. Your life is on your conditions, and you won’t wait around for someone else to dictate its end.

With a deep breath, you stare at the tunnels. Remembering which one the mer had taken to escape, but not which one he came in from. What are the odds he took the one that would lead back to the ocean? What if the one he took simply guides further into his layer? What if—?

Click your tongue. You won’t get anywhere examining these possibilities. What if, what if. Stand and stare into the water, eyeing up an opponent. The three dark entrances that lie submerged in icy water. There’s a good chance that diving in will result in your death, but it will be better to go in head first rather than wait for death to come to you. Pray to the gods for any aid they can spare before glancing at the heavy pile of clothes. They’ll only weigh you down, but the idea of diving into mer infested water so utterly bare…

Turn back to the lagoon, sea lit by that strange luminescent glow. It would be nice if you weren’t in such a dire predicament.

Slow your breaths, calming your heart rate. Sinking into a quiet headspace. Prepare for the shock of water.

And step into the pool.

Head pounds as the ice swallows you whole, burning at your eyelids, ears popping. Pressure squeezes at your ribs but you hold the breath tight, reaching for the edge of the rock, hoping you find the right tunnel. Flip onto your back once you locate the lip, pulling yourself along the ceiling by the ridge of your fingernails, as though climbing.

Heart picks up the beat, adrenaline kicking in as you propel yourself through the tunnel. Dread begins creeping in when you feel the downward slant of the cave ceiling, being ushered deeper instead out outward. But you can’t turn back now. All you can do is continue on the route you’ve picked, even as your lungs ache and knees catches on the rough rock. Jagged in places, as though designed to be cruel to human skin. Prickling and barbed as it scrapes and grazes.

Throat and eyes burn, air bubbling from your lips as you force yourself onward, muscles screaming and pounding, head being crushed beneath the insane pressure of the ocean. You won’t last longer. Even if you make it out of the cave, you know their layers are constructed far beneath the surface. You would have to swim to the top, and you hardly have enough energy to make it forward any longer.

Tears prick beneath your lids, limbs slowing as nostrils sting, salt water pressing in. Something stabs beneath your lungs, lips parting on a mandatory inhale, body demanding breath. Icy water gushes in, and you convulse, fingers trembling as you reach forward.

So this is what dying feels like.

Eyes crack open, but the scene is blurred no matter how much you blink, the heaviness is weighing you down. Sinking your cooling body.

Dropping like a millstone through ice.

————

Heavy eyes struggle to crack open, as if held shut by sticky salt.

Breath is flowing into your lungs, skin fresh and soft, as if bathed in milk and honey. Dried by tender hands. Fingers and toes move with ease, no longer cracking and numb from cold, warm cotton brushing against lovely bare skin, able to breathe freely.

Inhale deeply, looking around, but all you can make out is the faint glow of yellow-orange light, as if cast by an unmoving flame. Rock is above you, far up in the heights, and you realise you’re in yet another cave. Sigh heavily, resting back into the— Brows narrow, groaning quietly as you make to sit up, but your bones are still aching, lungs sore and tender. It must not have been a dream, the drowning.

Swallow heavily as you sit upright, keeping the thin cotton blanket to your chest, but the air is warm without being cloying. Around the floor of the cave lie soft blankets, spongey bed padding, and pillows. Your hair is wrapped in some soft material, a few still-damp strands curling at the nape. A few balls of light are dotted throughout the cave, like floating candles, suspended by nothing visible. In the centre of the cavern’s floor is a pool similar to the one in your last confinement, the beds thickly covering the stone surrounding the rock around it. You can’t even see the cave’s floor through all the padded bedspreads.

“You’re awake,” a familiar voice rasps.

Muscle tenses, clutching the cotton tighter to bare and tender skin, littered with small scrapes. Find the mer at the pool’s edge, half out of the water, droplets trickling down blue-tinted skin. His long tail sways idly in the water, lazing about as it swishes slowly from left to right. Powerful arms lay crossed over the lip of the lagoon, yet the fabric beneath him is dry. Brow tightens as you shift away from the edge, keeping the thin blanket close.

“What…Where am I?” You ask, voice scratchy from the salt-water. Charcoal eyes bore into you, lashes thick, inky hair curling at the ends as water drips from the strands. “You’re in the incubation chamber,” he rasps, resting his jaw on the pronounced muscle of his forearm. “Where all humans are brought that we wish to keep.”

You just stare at him for a moment, reeling. Wish to keep? “What do you mean?” You manage to mumble shakily, fingers tightening on the blanket. “All humans? What’s going on?” That translucent film slides across his large, onyx eyes, glittering beneath the warm lights. “You left the sacred caves and drowned, like I warned. You died, and now you’re here, changing,” he explains succinctly. Too succinctly.

“I… What?” You manage, scrambling to catch up. “What do you mean I drowned? Why am I changing? Tell me what’s happening.”

His tail flickers behind him, but his features remain neutral. The indentations on his neck seem to be healing already, only faint lines remaining where light incisions once lay. “You went into the caves,” he repeats, slower this time, as if speed was the problem. “And you drowned. Then I brought you here, to incubate. And now you’re changing.” You’re afraid to ask what into.

“I’m alive…” you say quietly, questioningly. Voicing your thoughts. He nods in confirmation anyway. “I died,” you say, in that same hushed voice. Again the mer nods. “And you brought me here, once I was dead,” you ask, beginning to loose the string of events. “To incubate,” he finishes.

Silence passes, and you lay back into the padded sheets, staring up at the ceiling.

“You said I’m changing,” you manage, hoarsely. “What into?”

“A mer,” he answers, voice soft and rasping. “One of my kind.” You just nod absently, taking in his words. Transformation is impossible, but they’re creatures of magic. A horrible thought dawns, and you fight off nausea. “Am I going to have to eat humans now?” You ask shakily, fingers trembling as you ease in calming breaths, staring up at the rocky ceiling far above. Shake your head. “I can’t eat humans,” you declare decisively, “I’ll starve.”

“We don’t eat humans,” he rasps, the swish of his tail through the water like a hushing lullaby. “Yes you do,” you breathe. “I saw you bite at my—… You bit Alaric’s neck. Bodies wash up on the shore half-eaten. I’ve seen what you do.”

“We don’t eat humans,” he repeats. “Or at least, we avoid it. They don’t taste nice.”

“We don’t taste nice,” you echo, picturing the half-eaten bodies of stolen sailors.

“They don’t taste nice,” he reminds quietly, “you aren’t entirely human anymore.”

You have nothing to say to that, so you lay there silently, listening to the steady swish of his tail as it waves idly through the lagoon. Water splashes with slow movement, then a wet hand touches your arm. You recoil, muscle tensing as you squirm onto your side, curling away from the— He’s warm.

Large, onyx eyes watch you quietly, fingers lightly brushing the skin of your upper arm. He notes your stare, pressing his hand closer to you, palm flat. “You’re changing,” he reminds, “you’re becoming more like us.” His lithe tail flicks behind him, then he retreats back to the waters lapping at the edge. A soft breath shudders from your lips. “So I’m…” You trail off, unable to form the words. “I’m becoming a mer?” You ask, voice trembling.

He nods. “That’s right.”

Slowly, warily, you relax back into the padded bed-spread, keeping the cotton over your chest. “I’m turning into a mer,” you repeat to yourself, hardly even a whisper. Mind catches on what he’d said earlier, a small part he’d mentioned. “You said—” Swallow thickly, trying not to think too hard about it. “You said all the humans are brought here. Who you wish to keep.” Hands ball tight, keeping out the tremors. “Keep for what? And what others?”

“Humans hate us for taking their workers,” the mer explains quietly. “Their hatred is learned from those who came before them. Ours is in response to their cruel methods of torture and mutilation.”

He pauses, and you wonder if it pains him. If he knows the extent of the pain inflicted upon them in your town. “Still, there are occasions, rare occasions, where a human will show their-self to be compassionate, and with our dwindling numbers, and struggles with reproducing, we take who we can,” he finishes. Silence stretches as you comprehend the information. Raise your palm to your forehead, feeling the beginnings of an ache. Release a heavy breath. “My husband’s going to kill me,” you whisper.

The mer’s tail flicks suddenly, and then his hand is again around your upper arm, drawing your attention. Dark, large eyes locking with fear-filled irises, not yet fully changed. “He won’t,” the mer rasps firmly. “And you won’t return to the town you came from. Not at least while they would be able to identify you.” You shift uncomfortably, but the mer holds still, not quite a grip, but his touch lacks the softness you’d like. “You take me from my home,” you say quietly, “leave me in a freezing cave, allow me to drown, and now I can’t even return to the place I grew up? Tell people I’m okay?”

Something passes through his gaze, almost like sorrow, but it’s gone too quickly for you to place. His touch lightens, but he doesn’t fully release you. “They kill us. You haven’t even fully changed, and will have no idea of how to swim. It will take weeks before your muscles fully form, and at least a dozen days before you can learn our ways of movement,” he explains calmly. “The young take mere hours, but you’ve spent decades as a human who walks. It won’t be simple to unlearn those habits.”

You’re poised to argue back, that it’s your home and you can’t just drop everything and leave—though it had kind of already ended the moment your husband saw you free him, but… “Decades?” You snap, sitting upright, turning to him. His hand falls away, and he remains peering up at you silently. Outrage is replaced by infantile concern, “do I look decades old?” You ask, one hand holding the thin blanket to your chest while the other traces the skin of your cheek. The sea air can be harsh to humans.

“Forgive me,” he hedges, noting your worry. “It’s polite to err on the side of caution when speaking of someone’s age.”

“I look older than decades?” You fret, staring at him with wide, horrified eyes. The mer are devastatingly beautiful…maybe humans are just ugly to them. That translucent film slides back and forth across his large, onyx gaze, the only sign of his comprehending he allows. “I forget humans prefer to be seen as younger,” he mutters, “so backward.”

Your brows narrow. “Is that not the case with your kind?” He gives you a look that reads you’re part of our kind now, but says nothing, instead answering your question. “Life experience is sought after, yes. Naiveté and innocence, while not inherently negative, are not attractive qualities like they sometimes are for humans,” he answers. You blink, vaguely surprised. Dangerously interested. “Humans do have a strange fixation on their young,” the mer mutters, as an afterthought.

“How old are you?” You ask, eyeing him warily. Dark eyes lift to your own, tail returning to idle swishes. “Thirty-three,” he answers. Brows raise with open surprise this time. You had expected centuries. The mer notes your expression. “In mer years,” he adds on. Suspicion coils in your belly as you shift, legs crossing as you turn to face him, keeping a little out of his reach. “And in human years?” You ask, cautiously. “Around five-hundred,” he answers simply, “give or take a few decades.”

Lips part in surprise, staring at him. The mer doesn’t budge beneath your stare, tail swaying calmly at his back, as if it’s nothing out of the ordinary. You suppose it wouldn’t be for him. “And me?” You manage to get out. “How old would I be in mer years?”

“If you had grown up as a mer?” He asks. You nod your confirmation, feeling a little silly for having your interest so easily captured. “How old are you?” He asks, peering up from the edge of the pool. Your lips purse, but answer him anyway. “Twenty-eight,” you reply, somewhat reluctantly.

“You’d be around four and a half centuries,” he says. You blink—the idea of making it past fifty…

“Having grown up as a human though,” he says, pulling your attention back down to him. “Their bodies mature faster than ours do, much more rapidly, and so they have shorter life spans. Arguably, physically, you are four and a half centuries old, simply lacking the experience of it all.”

“Oh,” you say, unsure how to respond. You’d known they were immortal, but it’s only really hitting you now.

Wince as your legs throb dully, the bones aching. Jaw tightens to keep the sound of pain in, eyes flicking to your concealed lower body. He’d said you were changing…how does that even work? Is it going to hurt? Fear prickles at your skin, concern etching itself into your features.

The mer at your side shifts, beginning to push away from the rock. “You should come in,” he says quietly, raspy voice slightly muffled by the wash of water rippling. “It will help with the ache.” Hesitantly, you raise the blanket, allowing you to peek beneath the cover. They seem fine, no tail in sight, yet the skin looks more lifeless than before. Drained of the warmth of daylight. What’s going to happen to you?

“Your bones will ache for a little. It’s how your body shows it’s changing. Think of it like growing pains,” he says, drawing closer to the edge again when he sees you aren’t immediately coming in. “Is it going to hurt?” You whisper, lowering the blanket, still pressing the cloth to your chest. The mer blinks quietly with those large, onyx eyes. “Temporarily,” he says at last, your heart sinking in your chest, a cool sweat breaking across your skin. “Badly?” You ask, unable to keep the fear from your voice.

He sighs. “It won’t be pleasant,” he answers. “Had this happened closer to the quarters of the moon’s cycle, it would be easier for you.” You turn to look at him then, brows scrunched in confusion. “During a new moon is when we are closer to humans, while during a full moon we are at our strongest, most primal selves. Tonight we are approaching a waning crescent—days from a new moon—so you will not be in unbearable pain, but neither will you be free of it.”

“You couldn’t have waited?” You ask quietly, but it lacks the bite you want to put in. Too exhausted from the events to be angry. “Where would I have stored you?” He asks, seemingly sincerely. “Our citadel is beneath the waters, where you would be unable to breathe. Had I left you…” He pauses, dark eyes glittering. “You tell me what they would have done.”

Throat rolls, but you remain silent.

The mer nods, then pushes off from the lip again, floating out into the water. Gestures for you to enter, “the water will help. Come in.” Your eyes flick to the pool, remembering its icy bite. How it had made your head pound. But your legs are aching more now, and you would like it to stop. “Do you have names?” You ask quietly, heartbeat picking up. He blinks once, then nods. Tongue flicks out to wet your lips, “what’s yours?” But he doesn’t answer, instead beckoning you in.

Warily, you move toward the lip of the pool, eyeing the water and keeping the blanket to your body. Dip your toes in, preparing for the icy shock, but to your surprise, it’s gentle. Verging on warm. A blink betrays your emotions, one he doesn’t miss. “You’re cold-blooded now,” he rasps, keeping his distance, “your perception of temperature has already begun to shift.”

Your brow narrows, hesitantly lowering your feet into the pool, hanging your legs over the rim of the rock, sitting at the edge. “What do you mean?” You ask, feeling some of the pressure in your bones wash away, as if soothed by the lull of the ocean. “The sea feels cold to humans, because they are accustomed to a higher temperature,” he answers, waiting for you to come deeper. You remain at the lip. “Our skin feels icy to human hands, because of our different heat levels. Now that you are changing, human hands will feel like burning coals, while fire will be unbearable.”

You take in the information dutifully, helping to keep your mind off the ache in your knees and thighs. The slight twinge in your hips and abdomen. He raises his hand again, goading you deeper. “Come in,” he rasps, “once you’re submerged, you’ll feel better.”

“But I’m…I have no clothes,” you reply, pulling the thin cotton sheet closer. He blinks again, at last swimming closer. Muscles tense, but you don’t pull away. He means no harm to you anymore—you’re unsure if he ever did.

“Does that bother you?” He asks, floating a little way from your feet. You watch him quietly, assessing his presence. Dip your head, “do mer not…” Fumble your words, struggling to articulate the weight of nudity. “It’s…very private,” you settle on, eyes lifting to his.

“But does it bother you?” He repeats, swimming closer still. You blink, readjusting your hold on the thin blanket. “Do you know what humans look like?” You divert.

The mer nods his head, “when the new moon comes, we can…” Shakes his head, sighing quietly. Gleaming onyx eyes latch gently with yours, expression softening. “yes, I know what a woman looks like.”

You don’t know why that sets your pulse racing.

He shakes his head, soft-looking mouth tugging upward at the edges. “Humans always have been so bizarre about clothing,” he murmurs to himself. Eyes again lift to yours, features neutral, verging on bland, yet there’s a tenderness there. It’s more of a shock than the icy water—a mer displaying care.

A blue-tinted hand raises from the water, and you tense when he sets it atop your knee, skin tingling at the brush of such a dangerous creature. “Put the sheet away,” he rasps, “the water’s lovely.” If you hadn’t known his throat was damaged from the wire, you would think he had put you under a spell, so easily coaxing you into desiring the raging ocean.

Heartbeat spikes, fingers tightening on the soft cotton, before loosening.

His eyes remain on yours, not even appearing tempted to stray. Simply holding your gaze as he floats in the pool, waiting for you to ready. Throat rolls as the air touches your skin—suddenly feeling hot and dry. Yearning for the soothing lap of the sea to wash and saturate. You push the blanket to the side, fully discarding the thin sheet, before raising your hands to your hair, letting it free of its binding.

Slowly, you easy toward the edge, the mer’s large palms rising higher to help you slide in, making sure the rock doesn’t catch on your tender skin. Especially when it’s already littered with small scratches and marks. Teeth push against your lower lip, tensing as you slide into the pool, the rough flat of his palms spanning your waist to keep you above the surface.

Automatically, you set your hands on the solid width of his shoulders, feet moving with the same idle movements as his tail. Inhale sharply at the proximity, not having anticipated how your heart would beat so wildly, being so close to such a dangerous creature.

Almost terrifying enough to be exhilarating.

The mer doesn’t smile, but the edges of his mouth soften ever so slightly, and you realise the aches along your bones have begun to recede, just as he’d said. Limbs remain a little stiff in places, but simply by being in the water, the pain has lessened. Breathe in softly, dipping your head ever so slightly, confused with the unfamiliar grounds. “Thank you…” you murmur, keeping your eyes on his, unable to shake the feelings of wariness that have been ingrained since a young age.

He’s supposed to be a vicious, flesh-shredding beast, and yet…

“Azriel,” he supplies. “My name is Azriel.”

You nod again. “Thank you, Azriel.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde @marvelouslovely-barnes

tdot taglist: @mika-no-sekai-blog @blueeclipsepaperstudent @lalaluch

[zapreportsblog]

Yandere Jane and Alec Volturi and older sister.

❝family ties❞

✭ pairing : yandere jane volturi x unnamed reader x yandere alec volturi

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : jane and alec are possessive over their only remaining family member but it’s becoming too much and she wants to leave, unfortunately they won’t let that happen.

✭ twilight masterlist 2

Within the ancient and mysterious halls of the Volturi castle, the air was heavy with a sense of foreboding. In the heart of the coven's ruling family, there existed a sinister trio of siblings - Jane, Alec, and their older sister, whose name was seldom whispered in the castle's shadowed corridors.

Jane and Alec, the infamous twins with their eerie abilities, were known throughout the vampire world for their cruelty and devotion to Aro's cause. Their yandere tendencies had turned them into merciless enforcers, but their obsession with their older sister was an open secret among the Volturi.

Their older sister, whose name had long been erased from official records, was a shadowy figure within the coven. She had once been a fierce protector of her younger siblings, but something had gone horribly wrong. She had become their obsession, the object of their darkest desires.

Jane's obsession with her older sister was rooted in a twisted need for approval and attention. She would go to great lengths to please her, often using her painful gift to torment those who dared to oppose their family. The thought of anyone coming between her and her sister filled Jane with a burning rage that knew no bounds.

Alec, on the other hand, was equally obsessed but expressed his devotion in a more subtle manner. He used his power to create an aura of irresistible attraction around their sister, making it impossible for anyone to resist her. He was always lurking in the shadows, ready to eliminate anyone who posed a threat to their sibling bond.

Their older sister, aware of their intense fixation on her, walked a delicate tightrope. She had lost herself in the dangerous dance of her siblings' affections, fearing both their relentless devotion and their unpredictable wrath.

As the days turned into years, the Volturi castle became a dark and twisted labyrinth of desire and obsession. The siblings' bond, once built on love and loyalty, had warped into a tangled web of possessiveness and torment. And within this volatile family dynamic, the older sister remained trapped, a pawn in their relentless game of yandere devotion.

The Volturi castle, shrouded in secrecy, concealed the dark drama that unfolded within its ancient walls. The older sister walked a treacherous path, constantly balancing her siblings' affections while trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy within the coven. Her own desires and dreams had long been sacrificed on the altar of her family's obsessions.

Jane's yandere tendencies became more pronounced with each passing day. She'd seek moments alone with her older sister, her eyes a mix of desperation and possessiveness. "You know you're the only one who truly understands me," she'd whisper, her voice laced with a chilling sincerity.

Alec's influence was equally potent. He'd subtly manipulate situations to ensure his sister's undivided attention. Those who dared to approach her too closely found themselves inexplicably drawn away, as if caught in an invisible web of his making.

Amidst the chaos of their twisted dynamics, the older sister found solace in fleeting moments of clarity. She longed for the sibling bond they once shared, the laughter and camaraderie that had been lost to their obsessions. But breaking free from her siblings' grasp seemed impossible; any attempt to distance herself was met with unfathomable anger and cruelty.

The Volturi coven, under Aro's rule, remained oblivious to the storm brewing within their ruling family. The older sister's pain and desperation remained hidden beneath her stoic facade, as she struggled to navigate the treacherous waters of her siblings' yandere love.

As time marched on, the older sister faced an agonizing decision. She could continue to be a pawn in her siblings' twisted game, or she could attempt to break free and forge her own path, even if it meant defying the Volturi's most formidable enforcers. But with every passing day, the cost of such a decision grew increasingly steep, and the fate of the Volturi siblings hung in the balance, suspended between love and obsession, loyalty and betrayal.

The tension within the Volturi castle grew more palpable with each passing night. The older sister's inner turmoil had reached a breaking point, caught between her siblings' yandere love and her own desire for freedom and autonomy.

Jane's obsession had escalated to alarming levels. She'd often corner her sister in secluded chambers, her crimson eyes filled with a manic devotion. "You can't leave me," she'd whisper, her voice tinged with desperation. Her power, once a means of protecting their family, had become a weapon of torment, a tool she used to ensure her sister's compliance.

Alec's influence remained insidious, his power constantly at work to keep their sister within his orbit. His manipulations extended beyond their immediate interactions, subtly controlling her relationships with other members of the coven. Anyone who showed her kindness or friendship found themselves inexplicably drawn away, isolated and alone.

Despite their overwhelming presence, the older sister yearned for a sense of agency in her life. She longed to be free from her siblings' suffocating grip, to explore the world beyond the Volturi castle. But the fear of their wrath held her back, like an invisible chain that bound her to her yandere siblings.

One fateful night, as the moon cast eerie shadows through the castle's corridors, the older sister decided to take a bold step. She gathered her courage and confronted Jane and Alec in the grand hall, her voice trembling but resolute.

"I can't live like this anymore," she declared, her gaze shifting between her obsessed siblings. "I need my own life, my own choices."

The twins' reactions were immediate and intense. Jane's eyes narrowed, and her lips curled into a snarl. "You belong to us," she hissed, her power crackling in the air. "You can't abandon your family."

Alec's expression remained eerily calm, but his voice held a chilling undercurrent of threat. "Think carefully, dear sister," he murmured. "Are you willing to risk everything for a taste of freedom?"

The older sister's heart raced, torn between the love she once had for her siblings and the burning desire to break free from their yandere grasp. Her decision would have profound consequences, not only for herself but for the Volturi coven as a whole. As the castle's ancient walls seemed to close in around her, she knew that the path she chose would shape her destiny in ways she could scarcely imagine.

The grand hall of the Volturi castle seemed to hold its breath as the older sister stood her ground, her resolve wavering under the weight of her siblings' intense gazes. In that pivotal moment, she felt the echoes of their shared past and the cruel reality of their present obsessions.

Jane's power crackled, ready to be unleashed in a storm of agony. The older sister knew that defying her would come at a painful cost, yet the yearning for autonomy burned brighter within her.

Alec's subtle manipulations were equally potent, but his influence extended beyond the confines of his power. He had always been the calm strategist, and his words carried a chilling warning that lingered in the air.

The older sister took a step forward, her voice shaking but determined. "I love you both, but this isn't love anymore. It's possession, and I can't allow it to consume me."

Jane's fury erupted like a tempest, her power sweeping toward her sister. But before it could make contact, a firm hand grasped her arm, halting her attack. Aro, the ancient leader of the Volturi, had arrived, his eyes reflecting an odd mix of curiosity and concern.

"Enough, my dear Jane," Aro said, his voice silencing the room. "Let us hear what our sister has to say."

The older sister's heart pounded as she explained her yearning for independence, for a life beyond the walls of the Volturi castle. Aro, ever the astute observer, considered her words carefully.

"Family loyalty is paramount, my child," Aro finally replied, his tone measured. "But so is personal growth and happiness. Perhaps it's time for a compromise."

Aro's words hung in the air, a ray of hope amidst the darkness of the Volturi's obsessions. The older sister couldn't believe her ears—could there truly be a way to find balance between her love for her siblings and her desire for freedom?

As the Volturi coven watched in anticipation, the fate of the siblings hung in the balance, teetering between the crushing weight of yandere obsession and the possibility of a new, more balanced future.

[rhamrhanch]

Shepherd of Death, Don't Herd Me

Part Eight: Fire to the Flame

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Ramattra/Reader (gender-neutral pronouns)

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort

A/N: sorry this took forever, hope you all enjoy! now I can finally watch the arcane finale YIPPEE

chapter under the cut ↓

---

You stared up at the ceiling, eyes wide open and not any closer to the blissful numbness that your body craved so desperately. Fatigue sat heavy in your bones, pinning down your limbs until they became one with the firm cotton of your mattress.

While your body was worn and weary, your mind was racing, a living tempest beating against your skull. Ramattra’s words, deep and cavernous, echoed in your mind.

Sleep.

It seemed antithetical to his existence that his voice could sound so soft, gentler than you had ever heard it in its command. Its warmth was even more pronounced, and for that moment part of you understood how someone could be drawn to his cause. If not for his words, powerful in their fierce resolve, his voice held enough gravitas that surely some were entranced by it alone.

You pressed the back of your hand to your forehead, as though trying to smooth away the thoughts you had pushed to the far corners of your mind that now stood to consume you.

Something had changed. You weren’t sure what it was, or when exactly it had happened, but you knew that something was different. It was like the veil of hostility between you had lifted, and you could finally see Ramattra as he was, what shape he took without so many outside forces pressing down on him.

Everything he did was calculated. Words were used as throughways to information, not as a means for conversation. His countenance was still as standing water, his true thoughts hidden beneath the surface while he stood above it all—a quality that you had to admit you envied, as frustrating as it was for you at times. But there had been moments when the dam broke, and you would find yourself drowning in the cognitive dissonance of it all.

When he had hidden you from Talon soldiers, his arms circling your waist in a protective ring.

When he had allowed you the opening move in your first game of chess with him, and every game thereafter, despite knowing full well how much faster it would end were it the other way around.

And, most fresh in your memory, when he had met your determined declaration of inevitable victory against him by laughing—laughing!—in your face.

It should not have surprised you as much as it did. Plenty of times had you heard him laugh, but they all paled in comparison to what you heard then.

It reverberated from his chest, rich and mirthful in its robotic timbre. A laughter so rare that it filled whoever heard it with the overwhelming desire to hear it again and again.

You may not have liked him very much, but you were at least honest enough with yourself to admit that you really, really liked his laugh. As your eyelids drifted shut, you wondered what you could say that you may hear it again.

A sharp ping from your pager rang out in the silence, waking you much earlier than you would have liked. You ignored it, rolling back over. It was probably just another repair request, no need to answer it immediately.

To your misfortune, it pinged again, and again, each one even louder than the last. Groaning, you dragged your pillow over your face and pressed down, hoping to muffle the sound, but it was no use. You threw your pillow to the foot of the bed and angled the pager toward you, squinting at the message that appeared.

From: Winston. New assignment, report to the hangar ASAP.

You shot upright, flinging the covers aside. Damn, you were already late. You snatched your coveralls from the chair you’d thrown them over and yanked them on, all thought of the Ravager forgotten as you rushed out the door.

---

A few hours later, you were back in your workshop, gripping the edge of your worktable so tight that your hands trembled. Bits and pieces of the briefing you'd received surfaced from the fog of anger clouding your mind as you stared at the lifeless omnic in front of you.

His head and eyes were obscured by a device which could only have crawled out from your nightmares. Cylindrical rods jutted out from it like spikes, like the shell of some creature warning all those who came near to stay away.

You sucked in a sharp breath, letting it out gradually before gently taking the omnic’s head between your hands. With practiced grace, you rotated it slowly, inspecting the device closely. Whatever purpose it had been designed for was a mystery to you, but the condition it left its wearer in made you less than optimistic.

You tilted the omnic's chin up, barely revealing the dim glow of his LEDs beneath the shrouding metal—a somewhat good sign, though you felt little joy at its discovery. Carefully, you released him. He did not respond, head limp as it dropped back down.

Toronto. That was where he had been found. You tried to imagine it then, what it must have been like to see airships roam the sky, deploying Nulltroopers by the hundreds as one loud voice called out above the chaos.

This is not war. This is liberation.

If this was liberation, then it bastardized the word. Its meaning had been warped and distorted into something unrecognizable.

So much time had passed, so used to seeing Ramattra had you become, that you let yourself forget. Forget who he was, and why he was here. Why he was kept under lock and key, always under a watchful eye. Now, as if punishment for your ambivalence, you were forced to see the proof of who he was with your own eyes.

Even still, you were being spared. The omnic on your worktable was only one out of hundreds. So many more had been taken, an even larger number abandoned in the streets. All with their agency, their very being having been ripped from them in an instant like their lives and souls meant nothing.

And all the while you had been here, devoting your time and your empathy to the one responsible for it.

The shame of it all was going to burn you from the inside.

With one harsh motion, you shoved off the worktable, grabbing a cable and plugging one end into a port on the back of the omnic's neck and the other into the tower under your desk. You had been sulking long enough—there was work to do.

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you watched the monitor flicker to life, eyes scanning the ribbons of graphs as they oscillated on the screen.

All except one.

He was still alive, of that you were certain. But the line that represented CPU activity plateaued, cutting into your eyes like a wire. You knew from the flicker of his LEDs that the omnic was awake as well, though perhaps not fully cognizant of the condition he was in. Even so, that line should have been fluctuating, yet it remained unmoving, as clear an indicator as any that the omnic was little more than a husk of his former self.

For the rest of the day, you toiled in your workshop, running diagnostic test after diagnostic test and hoping, praying to see any change in the omnic's neural activity.

A day turned into two, and then to three, and by the fourth day of no change you had gotten deep into the habit of breaking things just to release some of the tension. Old scrap, broken projects, anything you could get your hands on, you would disassemble and then reassemble until your fingertips were sore, as if trying to prove to yourself that you still had the ability to fix something.

But eventually, that too ceased to bring any satisfaction, and you found yourself sitting with your head in your hands, an empty numbness overtaking your entire body as you stared blankly at the scattered notes on your worktable. Realization crept up your back as you felt a disbelieving laugh threaten to burst from your throat.

Trying to fix something like this was the ultimate catch twenty-two. You couldn't deduce the purpose of the device without removing it, and you couldn't remove it without risking the life of the omnic. No wonder Torbjörn had passed the buck to you for this. You wouldn't want this job either.

The fleeting urge to laugh at your circumstances dissolved as a familiar ache settled in your chest.

What if you couldn't do it? If even Torbjörn, a man who had decades of engineering experience on you, dared not to try, how could you possibly measure up? No amount of skill gave you the ability to conjure miracles out of thin air.

You almost resented it now, the amount of faith that your fellow agents put in you. How much your skill was esteemed, without even knowing how you had honed it.

All you had promised was that you would try your best. Your senior engineer had thanked you with a grateful smile, wishing you luck.

Don't thank me, you wanted to say. Please don't.

The thought made you recall the first conversation you had with Winston, when you had been on the cusp of joining Overwatch. He had wanted to discuss your previous work, mentioning a dissertation you had written long ago when you were still a fledgling engineer in your field. Something about simulated neuromodulation in robotics—you couldn't quite remember, as you hated reading your old work.

Inspired, you remembered him calling it. Ahead of its time.

Recalling the words now made you cringe. Your optimism when you had published that paper was blinding back then, leading you down a path that you took too long to realize led to nothing but despair. And now, because of the decision you made to shed your past life, you found yourself here, at the precipice of an indescribably important task and unable to do anything about it.

If only you knew the device's purpose, then maybe you could have an idea of where to start, some inkling of what to do. But the thought of even speaking to its creator made you feel ill, a mixture of disappointment and guilt and anger rising to your tongue like bile. Your failure at being able to solve this problem on your own made you feel useless enough; you did not need to rub any more salt into the wound by begging for help.

You did not sleep, staying up all hours of the night with your head on your desk as you waited for the tests to take their toll, watching the lines flicker on the screen and knowing that they would be the same as they always were.

You heard that same voice that once warmed you with its kindness urge you to rest. Rubbing your eyes tiredly, you banished it from your mind, refusing to indulge in something you did not deserve. You would not stop working, not while the fate of this omnic rested on your shoulders.

Hearing a signal from your computer, you lifted your head from where it rested in the crook of your elbow, feeling a familiar burn in your eyes as you stared at the monitor for what felt like the hundredth time. Today was the fifth day you had slouched over this table, monitoring the omnic for any sign of change, only to see nothing.

Hot tears of frustration sprung to your eyes as you gazed at the omnic on your worktable, motionless as he had been since the day he was brought to you. There would be no sixth, you decided then. Tomorrow, you would tell Winston that there was nothing more you could do.

Reaching forward, you took the omnic's hand in your own, realizing that you did not even know his name. You wondered to yourself what kind of person he had been before all of this happened to him.

Did he have a job? Any hobbies, a favorite song?

Did he have a family, someone waiting for him to return?

Your heart began to beat faster as the last question weighed in your mind. How could you give up on him, without knowing whether there were people out there who still needed him? What gave you the right to decide that, when there was still one last thing you had not tried?

Gently, you placed his hand atop his chest, before sitting up from your chair and throwing open the door of your workshop. You refused to let your pride stand in the way of helping someone who needed it.

---

Ramattra lifted his head immediately at the sound of footsteps, having heard their specific rhythm enough times to recognize who they belonged to.

He felt his body warm slightly at the expectation of your arrival. When you had not returned like you promised, Ramattra had initially thought nothing of it. You had other duties to attend to, and he welcomed the quiet solemnity that solitude offered him.

But when almost a week had passed and you still had not come, he had realized how much he had come to look forward to your visits, and how noticeable your absence now was to him. With you came the knowledge that for at least a few hours he would have something else to focus on besides the dull and colorless walls of the room, an element of his imprisonment that he was growing more and more weary of.

It was with this expectation that his internal fans began to circulate, his processor running wild to compute the possibilities of what you might do today. But when he finally caught sight of you across the hall, you were not wearing the expression he had grown accustomed to seeing.

Your eyes were dull, the shadows beneath it having grown darker since he saw you last. Clearly, you had not taken his suggestion to heart. But as tired as you seemed, there was a quickness to your stride that could only have come from determination.

The keypad outside the door beeped in rapid succession and then you were entering, something he couldn't quite identify clutched in your hand. Ramattra stood instantly as you came to a stop in front of him.

"You need to come with me," you said, and then your hands were around his wrists without warning. There was an urgency to your motions that was a far cry from the care with which you touched his wrist before, and he instinctively pulled away, finally seeing what exactly it was that you had brought with you.

Handcuffs.

"What is the meaning of this?" he growled, and you sighed as if frustrated.

"I'll explain it to you later, but right now I need you to—" You reached for his hand again, but he snatched it away.

"I will not be kept in restraints—"

"Winston won't let you leave this room without them," you said through grit teeth. "Just let me put them on." A moment passed, and then, "Please."

Ramattra analyzed your face, searching for signs of deception. Finding none, he let his processor run through the possibilities that your words implied.

Silently, he stepped closer to you, holding his hands slightly away from his body. You slid the restraints over his wrist, and he grunted as the bolts snapped into place. Immediately, he felt his body grow lethargic, as if it suddenly lost the strength to hold itself up properly. He lifted his arms slightly, actuators feeling like they were moving through tar with the movement. Electromagnetic handcuffs, he realized. That ape was smarter than he gave him credit for.

Ramattra had no choice but to follow you as you grasped his elbow, leading him away from the conference room. Though his body was weakened, his system remained unburdened, and he took every opportunity he had to memorize his surroundings, storing them away for future reference. As you proceeded further into the base, though, the halls became more familiar, and he soon realized where exactly you were taking him.

Your workshop was a mess compared to the last time he seen it, scattered papers and miscellaneous scrap covering every surface. When he saw the omnic you had sprawled on your worktable, one of his subjugators on their head and a wire at their neck, alarm sparked through his system. He tried to reach for them, only for his hands to strain against the cuffs, pulling a noise of frustration from his vocalizer.

"What have you done?" he asked, unable to mask the urgency in his voice.

You paused, as if surprised by his reaction, before your brow furrowed. "Nothing yet. Not until you tell me what this is for," you said, before pointing at the subjugator.

His optics flicked from the omnic back to you. "You cannot remove it," he said, not willing to disclose any further.

You held firm, crossing your arms over your chest as you fixed him with an inquisitive gaze. "Why not? Surely now that you are confined to this place, you have no need for soldiers."

"Soldiers?" His head tilted in confusion. "They are not soldiers."

Your shoulders slackened, meeting his confusion with your own. "They aren't? Then why… why would you do this?” Hands falling to your sides, you had a pained look on your face that he had not seen before. “How could you do this to other omnics, your own kind—"

Ramattra caught the waver in your tone, but it did not sway him. "All I have ever done, I have done for the sake of my people. This is a necessary measure, to keep them safe—"

"Safe?" you interrupted, eyes wide with disbelief. "You must be joking."

Irritation ignited in his processor. "I am not."

You seemed to have abandoned your earlier attempt to appeal to him as you stepped forward, eyes piercing daggers through his chassis. "How does robbing them of choice keep them safe? How does suppressing their entire being keep them safe?"

The logical part of his mind knew you would not understand, knew that this conversation would do nothing but unearth a deep bitterness that roiled inside him like thunder, yet still words rose in his vocalizer, a desperate desire for just one person to see things the way he did.

"Would you let your kind walk freely if it meant they were walking into fire?" he snapped. "Too many of my people would rather throw their lives away protecting the very humans that call for our destruction than dare to raise a hand against them.” His hands fought against the restraints as he spoke, feeling the familiar burn in his processor as his buried rage clawed its way to the surface. “I have chosen to walk the latter path, but I will not allow my people to put themselves in danger by standing in my way."

"But it’s a danger of your own creation!" Your voice was rising now, but Ramattra did not falter.

"It is a necessary endeavor I must take to ensure the survival of my people," he said, fighting to keep his voice measured as frustration at your refusal to understand began building in his processor. "Without being threatened, humanity has no motivation to ever treat us fairly. Omnics will forever remain second-class citizens, relics of the war to be whittled down until there are none of us left. If my people refuse to recognize that, then I must make them—"

"You have no right to decide that!" you shouted. "Their freedom is not yours for the taking! To so callously rid them of their autonomy, treating them with little more dignity than as a means to an end—" You stopped as you took a breath, punching out your next words with venom.

“It’s cruel!"

Ramattra stilled. Cruel? What could you possibly know of the word? As far as he was concerned, no human had the right to use that word against him, not after everything he bore witness to in his life.

Slowly, he walked forward, drawing close enough to you that his chest nearly touched yours. He angled his head over you, looking down at you silently. You remained as still as a statue, only tilting your head up to meet his gaze dead on.

Good. He wanted to see the look in your eyes when he said this.

"Do you know how many omnics there were after the war?" he growled, the sound sitting low in his vocalizer. Your gaze faltered slightly, and you clenched your jaw, but you did not answer.

"Do you know how many have died since then?"

Again, you had no answer, so he answered for you.

"One tenth," he said. "In less than thirty years, one tenth of all the omnics who have ever existed and will ever exist are now gone, forever. Just a single generation, and we have been decimated permanently.”

He watched the defiant fire in your eyes flicker out as his words sunk in, but still you did not look away.

“If you want to call me cruel, do not ever forget again why I have been forced to be.”

Silence hung between you for a moment, and he felt a lick of satisfaction at your apparent speechlessness. But it did not last long.

"If you do not let them decide for themselves if they want to fight," you said, your voice eerily calm, "how does that make you any different from Anubis?"

Something jolted in Ramattra's processor, a pointed memory that he had suppressed when the pain of remembering became too strong. An argument, just like this one, with friends long gone.

“I refuse to aid you in undoing all that I have worked for,” he said eventually, turning away from your gaze.

"Fine." You snagged the bridge between his cuffs. "Have it your way. I will do this on my own."

---

You sat against the wall in the hangar, your knees pulled up and your face buried in your arms. Now late in the evening, the blazing anger from your argument with Ramattra had flickered out, leaving you only with the sad reality of what you were now faced with. Having burned a bridge with the only potential lead you had, you were back where you began.

The worst part was that you could not convince yourself to hate him. You wanted to, so badly you wanted to, but after hearing everything he said, you could not fault him for how he felt. He was right, and the reality of it had slapped you in the face.

You had no idea what it had been like for omnics after the war. You had no memories of your own of the Crisis, only what it had felt like to live in the aftermath. Whatever you felt could never compare to the weight of experience that belonged to those who had existed since the beginning.

How many times had your hands swept over the broken bodies of omnics, your own undoing the imprints of hatred left behind by your fellow humans? How many times had you felt the urge to scream from the rooftops, your demands for others to look at the world around them repeatedly ignored?

Your own bitterness and frustration had led you to make choices you now regretted, and you were only human. What must it have been like for Ramattra, for all the omnics, to suddenly awaken from some horrible dream only to be met with hatred and violence for things they had no memory of doing?

You jumped at the sound of grinding metal as the garage doors of the hanger opened slowly, splitting from the middle as the anodized white of the ship’s hull peeked through. Wind from the ship’s landing gear whipped your collar around your neck as you approached it. The hangar closed behind it with a loud slam, echoing around the walls as the main door opened outward. Two figures exited, and you lifted a hand in greeting.

"Genji!" you said upon recognizing the neon green of his armor. "You're back!"

His head darted up, as though surprised to see you. "Oh, hello. I apologize, I did not realize you were waiting for us."

Us? "No, I was just nearby—" you began to say, before finally realizing who was standing beside him. Or floating, rather.

Your eyes flickered between Genji and the unfamiliar omnic before recognition sparked in your memory. "Oh, you must be Zenyatta!" you said, feeling slightly embarrassed at your rudeness and holding your hand out. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.”

The omnic bent his head down in greeting before taking your extended hand. "Hello. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise. Genji has spoken about you often." You straightened up, clasping your hands in front of you as you struggled to think of something to say. "Have you come to join Overwatch as well?"

"No, that is not the nature of my visit," he replied calmly, his voice smooth and tempered. "Genji informed me that my presence here was needed. For what purpose, I have yet to find out."

"I see," you said, looking down awkwardly. "Well then, I won't keep you." You moved to leave, only to stop when Zenyatta spoke again.

“My student has told me that you are quite an engineer. Would you be willing to have a look at my shoulder?” He placed a hand over it, rotating it a bit too stiffly for an omnic. “Perhaps one of my servos has locked up.”

"Oh," you said softly, haphazardly looking back in the direction of your workshop. "I suppose, but I really should be getting back to—”

“Wonderful!” the monk interrupted, placing a hand on your back and leading you in the direction that was not where your workshop was. You spared a questioning glance over your shoulder at Genji, but he only shrugged.

Soon you found yourself in the base’s common area, resting your elbows on the island as you watched Zenyatta leisurely float about the kitchen as he prepared tea. How he even knew where the kitchen was you had no idea, but you had no reason to complain.

After a moment, he set a ceramic cup in front of you. You brought it close, letting the curling steam warm your face for a moment.

“I thought you wanted me to check your shoulder,” you said, turning in your chair to face the omnic as he came to hover beside you.

"During my travels I have found that sharing a cup of tea creates a pleasant environment for conversation," he said, clasping his hands in front of him. “It’s good for an omnic to get to know his mechanic, don’t you think?”

You smiled softly, already endeared to this somewhat mystifying monk. One hand beneath your cup, you lifted it to your lips, feeling warmth spread throughout your body. The tea was sharp and bitter, but it gave way to a cooling aftertaste that loosened the tension in your shoulders immediately. For someone with no sense of smell or taste, Zenyatta made an excellent cup of tea.

"This blend is lovely," you said. "Where did you find it?"

"At a village apothecary in Huangshan," he answered. “That is where I was when Genji contacted me. The locals recommended it as a good visiting gift.”

"Isn’t the monastery in Nepal?" you asked, taking another sip. "That seems quite a distance to go just for tea."

Zenyatta’s chin tilted downward, and for a moment your heart leaped, fearing you had offended him.

“I have not been to the monastery for some time now. I sought my own path and have been travelling the world in the years since I met Genji.”

You set your cup down, sitting with rapt attention at Zenyatta’s words. “I see. What inspired your travels, if you don’t mind my asking?”

"A great many things,” he said. “But the idea had first come to me from a brother of mine, another monk of the Shambali, long ago."

“Really?”

He nodded. "Yes. He had grown dissatisfied with the teachings of the Shambali and wanted to search for a method toward peace for our people outside of the monastery. Back then, he had asked me to accompany him, but I declined.”

“Did you ever regret it?” The question slipped from your mouth before you could think, and you immediately kicked yourself internally. But Zenyatta only hummed in thought, his spheres chiming as they rotated around him.

“At the time, I felt I had more to learn at the monastery, that perhaps there was something he had not seen that I had yet to know. It was one of the points of disagreement between us, but he did not try to convince me to go, and I did not try to convince him to stay.”

“One of?” you asked, your voice curious. Perhaps your own ignorance was to blame, but you never imagined two members of the same monastic order could be that different. “Did you disagree often?”

"Sometimes. But our bond did not suffer for it. We both shared the same goal, so disagreements were only another way to understand each other. At least, we used to." There was something almost sorrowful in Zenyatta’s tone, hardly noticeable if you were not paying such close attention. "I often wonder what would have become of him, had I taken his offer from the beginning. But the past is a mirror that distorts the memory. I can only look toward the future now to guide me."

You looked down at the tea in your cup, seeing your own face reflected back at you. "Do you still believe people very different from each other can get along?"

Zenyatta tilted his head at you. For a moment, the gesture reminded you of Ramattra, but the feeling was fleeting. "Is there someone in particular you are thinking of?"

You felt a shiver run down your back at how incredibly astute he was. It took only one sentence for him to instantly pinpoint the true intent behind your question.

Your first instinct was to say no. You hardly knew Zenyatta, had only just begun speaking to him less than an hour ago. Yet you felt a strange familiarity with him, like you had met before somehow. Perhaps this was just the way all monks were—somewhat omniscient and easy to talk to. Something you needed right now.

"Yes,” you answered after a moment. “I want—need—to work together with him for something important, but we just… can’t seem to find common ground.” You sighed, feeling a dull pain in your chest at the memory.

“When two people feel passionate about something, it is usually because they care very deeply about it,” Zenyatta said. “Perhaps it would be fruitful to think about the ways in which your goals align.”

You leaned back in your chair, humming contemplatively. It would probably be good advice for someone in any other situation besides yours. Though, at this point, what did you have to lose?

"Maybe you’re right,” you acquiesced. “But I find it difficult to imagine how I could share any goals with the leader of Null Sector—"

The chiming stopped, and you paused, looking back to Zenyatta only to see that his spheres had frozen in place.

You were about to ask him what was wrong when he leaned forward, his voice earnest as he asked, “Ramattra? Ramattra is here?”

[muiitoloko]

Hello❤️ could you please write some Harry Hart x reader where reader has a deadly illness or something like that and doesn't know how to tell him please❤️

You don't have to though! Don't feel pressured❤️

Title: "Fight for me"

Summary: You fight for him.

Pairing: Harry Hart × Reader

Warnings: Angst, mention of death.

Author's Notes: Thank you kindly for nudging me back into Harry Hart's world! Gotta admit, I've been feeling a bit nostalgic about our old pal Harry. Those first fanfics with him? Whew, they were like the training wheels for my writing journey! But hey, even though I've come a long way, there's always room for improvement, am I right? 📝🚀

As the days passed, you found yourself grappling with the weight of the secret you carried, the knowledge of your impending demise lurking in the shadows of your mind. Deep down, you knew you had to tell Harry eventually. He was your friend, your confidant, someone you trusted with your life. But the fear of how he would react, of the pain it would cause him, held you back.

You and Harry had been through so much together, bonded by the trials and tribulations of life as Kingsman agents. You had faced danger head-on, stared death in the face more times than you could count, but this was different. This was a battle you couldn't fight with fists or gadgets. This was a battle against time, against an enemy you couldn't see or touch.

It had all started on a mission, just like any other. Some evil idiot with grandiose plans of spreading a new type of deadly virus in New York through the water supply. You and Harry were sent in to eliminate the threat, to neutralize the danger before it could spread. And you had succeeded, taking down the man responsible for the virus with precision and skill.

But what you hadn't anticipated was the insidious nature of the virus itself, its ability to infect even the most cautious of agents. Hours after the mission had ended, after the adrenaline had faded and the dust had settled, you received the devastating news. You had contracted the virus, a death sentence lurking in your bloodstream, waiting to claim you.

In the weeks that followed, you tried to carry on as if nothing had changed, as if the specter of death looming over you was nothing more than a distant shadow. You continued to report for duty, to fulfill your obligations as a Kingsman agent, all the while hiding the truth from those closest to you.

Only a select few knew of your condition, the Kingsman doctors who had been tirelessly working to find a cure, along with Arthur and Merlin, your closest allies within the organization. They had sworn to secrecy, to keep your condition hidden from the rest of the world, to spare you the scrutiny and pity that would surely follow if the truth were to come to light.

But despite their best efforts, you couldn't shake the feeling of isolation that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, the fear of facing your fate alone. And so, you continued to push yourself, to throw yourself into your work with a fervor born out of desperation.

Each day brought new challenges, new obstacles to overcome, but you refused to let it break you. You were a Kingsman, damn it, and you would face death with the same courage and determination that had defined you as an agent.

As the days turned into weeks, the black lines on your body began to appear, starting on your stomach and seeming to grow more pronounced with each passing day. Concerned, you made your way to the medical area of Kingsman to find out about it, showing the lines on your belly to Doctor Sarah, one of the organization's trusted physicians.

Dr. Sarah wasted no time assessing the situation, immediately ordering blood tests to better analyze the mysterious phenomenon. As she prepared to draw blood for the tests, she asked if you were experiencing any symptoms. With a sigh, you nodded, feeling a heaviness settle in your chest as you began to roll up the sleeve of your Kingsman suit, revealing your forearm.

"I've been feeling more tired than usual," you admitted, wincing slightly as Doctor Sarah tied a band around your arm to prepare for the needle. "And it seems like everything I put in my stomach is being repelled. I can hardly eat, and even walking has become painful."

Before Doctor Sarah could respond, there was a knock on the door, and Harry entered the room, concern etched on his features. Doctor Sarah scolded him gently for not waiting for someone, but allowed him to come in before she resumed her task of drawing blood.

"Kay, what are you doing here again?" Harry questioned, his voice filled with genuine concern as he focused his attention on you. "This is the third time this week you've been to the medical area."

You ignored his inquiry, your gaze fixed on Doctor Sarah as she finished taking your blood. With a smile, you thanked her and straightened your shirt, grabbing your suit jacket from one of the nearby chairs.

Turning to face Harry, you feigned ignorance. "I don't know what you're talking about," you replied, your tone carefully neutral as you made your way towards the door.

But Harry wasn't fooled, his brow furrowing in frustration as he followed closely behind you. "Kay, don't do this," he pleaded, his voice soft but firm. "You're avoiding me, and I don't know why. Please, talk to me."

Feeling Harry's presence at your side, you hesitated for just a moment, the weight of your secret bearing down on you like a leaden cloak. But with a deep breath, you continued on your way, your steps quickening as you made your escape from the medical area.

"I'm not avoiding you, Galahad," you replied, your voice strained with the effort of maintaining your composure. "I've just been... busy the last few days."

But Harry wasn't about to let you off the hook that easily, his determination evident in the way he matched your pace, his eyes boring into yours with unwavering intensity.

"Kay, I know you're hiding something from me," he insisted, his voice soft but firm. "And I'm not going to let it go until you tell me what's going on."

You stopped in your tracks, the weight of Harry's words hitting you like a ton of bricks. With a heavy sigh, you turned to face him, steeling yourself for the confession you were about to make.

"You're right, Harry," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you met his gaze. "I've been hiding something from you for a while now, and... it's time to tell you."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were about to reveal. But he certainly didn't expect what came next.

"I like you, Harry," you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them. "I'm... in love with you."

The confession hung heavy in the air between you, the weight of it pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. It wasn't a complete lie - you had harbored feelings for Harry for some time now, feelings you had kept buried deep within your heart for fear of rejection.

But now, faced with the prospect of your own mortality, you couldn't bear to keep the truth hidden any longer. And so, you had made a deliberate choice to reveal your feelings to Harry, knowing that it would provide a plausible explanation for your recent behavior and, more importantly, that it would drive him away.

Harry's eyes widened in shock at your confession, his features frozen in disbelief as he processed your words. For a moment, the silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken emotions and unvoiced fears.

But then, with a sigh, Harry reached out and took your hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Kay," he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of sadness and regret, "I had no idea... I'm sorry."

You shook your head, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Don't be," you replied, your voice tinged with resignation. "I knew you would never feel the same way, Harry. You're a Kingsman through and through, and I... I'm just a friend."

With those words, you pulled away from Harry's touch, your heart heavy with the weight of unrequited love. Turning on your heel, you walked away, leaving Harry standing alone in the hallway, his gaze following your retreating figure with a mixture of regret and longing.

But deep down, you knew it was for the best. You couldn't bear to burden Harry with the knowledge of your impending demise, couldn't bear to watch him suffer as you wasted away before his eyes. And so, you had made a deliberate choice to push him away, to spare him the pain of losing someone he cared about.

As you disappeared around the corner, tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You were a Kingsman, damn it, and you would face your fate with the same courage and determination that had defined you as an agent.

As the weeks passed and your condition worsened, you found yourself confined to your bed at home, the pain in your stomach becoming unbearable. You lay there, feeling weak and helpless, unable to get up or eat anything of substance. The black lines that had started on your stomach now snaked their way up toward your neck, a grim reminder of the disease ravaging your body.

You had been in bed for two weeks now, having left the Kingsman hospital wing after receiving the devastating news that there may not be a cure for you. Unable to bear the pitying looks from those around you, you had made the difficult decision to come home, to spend your final days in the comfort of your own bed.

Merlin called you practically every day, his concern palpable even through the phone. But you couldn't bring yourself to answer, having told him that you would only reach out when you felt that your time was near, so he could take care of your final arrangements.

Alone and in pain, you lay in bed, the weight of your impending death pressing down on you like a leaden cloak. The days stretched on, blending into one another as you drifted in and out of consciousness, the pain in your stomach a constant reminder of your mortality.

But amidst the pain and despair, there were moments of fleeting clarity, moments when you allowed yourself to reflect on the life you had lived. Memories of missions and adventures with Harry and Merlin filled your mind, bringing a bittersweet smile to your lips as you reminisced about the good times you had shared.

But as the days wore on and your strength waned, those moments became few and far between, replaced by a sense of resignation and acceptance. You knew that your time was running out, that soon you would be nothing more than a memory, a footnote in the history of Kingsman.

And so, you lay there, isolated and alone, the black lines creeping ever closer to your neck as you waited for the inevitable end. But even in your darkest moments, you refused to give up hope, clinging to the belief that somehow, someway, you would find peace in the end.

Today was another day like the others. You curled up in bed, the pain in your stomach a constant companion as you ignored the persistent ringing of the doorbell at your house. Whoever it was could leave; you just wanted to be left alone to wallow in your misery.

As the doorbell finally stopped ringing, you let out a sigh of relief, grateful for the temporary reprieve. But just as you began to drift back into the numbing embrace of sleep, there was a knock on your balcony door, startling you out of your reverie.

You sat up, a mixture of irritation and confusion clouding your thoughts as you made your way to the balcony. What the hell was Harry doing there? You opened the door, the cool breeze of the evening washing over you as you faced him, a frown marring your features.

"What are you doing here, Galahad?" you questioned, your voice tinged with annoyance as you met his gaze.

Harry waved a paper in front of your face, his expression a mixture of sadness and anger as he demanded to know why you kept it from him. Confused, you glanced down at the paper, your heart sinking as you realized what it was.

It was an exam paper, a paper from one of your recent medical exams, detailing your morbid condition in stark black and white. You felt a lump form in your throat as you tried to find the words to explain yourself, to make Harry understand why you had kept it from him for so long.

But before you could speak, Harry's voice cut through the silence like a knife, his words laced with pain and betrayal. "Kay, why didn't you tell me?" he demanded, his brown eyes searching yours for any sign of an answer.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat, choked off by the weight of your guilt and shame. You had never seen Harry look so sad, so angry, and it tore at your heartstrings to know that you were the cause of his pain.

"I... I didn't want to burden you, Harry," you finally managed to choke out, your voice thick with anguish as you met his gaze. "I thought it would be easier if you didn't know, if I just... faded away quietly."

But Harry wasn't having any of it, his frustration evident in the way he shook his head, his eyes blazing with emotion. "You idiot," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out and pulled you into a tight embrace. "Do you really think I would have let you face this alone? That I wouldn't have been there for you every step of the way?"

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you buried your face in Harry's chest, his words washing over you like a balm to your wounded soul. In that moment, you realized just how much you had underestimated his love and devotion, how much you had underestimated the strength of your bond as friends and comrades.

"I'm sorry, Harry," you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest as you clung to him like a lifeline. "I'm so sorry for keeping this from you, for shutting you out when I needed you the most."

Harry ignores your excuses and pulls away to look at you, his determination evident in the firm set of his jaw and the steely resolve in his eyes. He promises you that he will find a cure, that he will search the whole world if he has to, to ensure your well-being. But you shake your head, your gaze filled with resignation as you admit the harsh truth.

"There is no cure, Harry," you whisper, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper as you meet his gaze. "The only person who could even produce a cure is the creator of the virus himself. And... I killed him."

Harry's expression softens with understanding, his brow furrowing in concern as he processes your words. For a moment, he is at a loss for words, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air between you.

But before he can respond, you feel a sharp pain rip through your abdomen, doubling you over in agony. Harry's eyes widen in alarm as he rushes to your side, his hands gentle as he helps you to lie down on the bed.

You try to protest, to reassure him that you'll be fine on your own, but Harry scolds you, his voice filled with frustration and concern. "Stop pushing me away, Kay," he insists, his eyes blazing with emotion as he meets your gaze. "Just stop. You don't have to go through this alone."

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak as you meet Harry's gaze. "I'm sorry, Harry," you whisper, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "I didn't want to burden you with this. I thought... it would be easier if you didn't know."

But Harry shakes his head, his expression softening as he reaches out to brush a stray tear from your cheek. "How dare you even lie to me like that?" he murmurs, his voice laced with pain and betrayal. "Is that why you said you were in love with me? To keep me away?"

You don't have the strength to protest, to explain yourself, so you let him believe that his confession was nothing more than a lie. Harry continues, his voice filled with regret as he admits his own shortcomings.

"I don't want to lose you, Kay," Harry murmurs, his voice filled with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. "It hurt when you walked away from me, avoided me for so long. And when you lied and said you loved me... a part of me liked it, knowing this. I don't understand why, Kay. I've never known how to deal with feelings, and so I moved even further away from you, allowed it, thinking you would overcome your feelings for me."

You meet Harry's gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggle to find the right words to respond. "Harry, I..." you begin, but before you can finish, he cuts you off with a gentle touch, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender caress.

"Don't," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "Don't say anything, Kay. Just let me be here for you, please."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you nod, unable to find the strength to argue with him. In that moment, all you can do is surrender to the overwhelming tide of emotions that threatens to consume you, to let Harry's presence wash over you like a soothing balm.

And then, without warning, Harry's lips find yours in a soft, tentative kiss, sending shockwaves of electricity coursing through your veins. It's not the first time you've kissed him - on missions, it's common to pretend to be a couple to maintain cover - but this kiss feels different, somehow. It's filled with a depth of feeling that you've never experienced before, a silent declaration of Harry's love and devotion that transcends words.

For a moment, you're lost in the sweetness of the kiss, the warmth of Harry's embrace enveloping you like a protective cocoon. But as the kiss deepens, passion igniting between you with an intensity that takes your breath away, you can't help but feel a pang of guilt gnawing at the edges of your consciousness.

Harry loves you, he's confessed as much, but you can't bring yourself to believe it. It's just pity talking, you tell yourself, his concern for you clouding his judgment. But as Harry pulls away, his eyes blazing with an emotion that leaves you breathless, you can't deny the truth any longer.

"Kay," he whispers, his voice hoarse with emotion as he cups your face in his hands, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. "I love you, more than anything in this world. Please, let me be here for you. Let me show you how much you mean to me."

You shake your head, tears streaming down your cheeks as you try to push him away. "No, Harry," you choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. "You don't love me. It's just pity, I know it is. You're just feeling sorry for me."

But Harry's expression softens, his eyes filling with a tenderness that steals your breath away. "Kay, look at me," he murmurs, his voice gentle but firm. "I love you, with every fiber of my being. And I will do whatever it takes to prove it to you, to show you that you are not alone."

As he protests, his voice filled with desperation and determination, you feel a surge of conflicting emotions washing over you like a tidal wave. On one hand, you want to believe him, to trust in his unwavering resolve to find a cure and save you from the clutches of death. But on the other hand, you can't shake the overwhelming sense of despair that threatens to consume you, the knowledge of your impending demise looming over you like a dark cloud.

But Harry refuses to let you wallow in self-pity, his hands gentle but firm as he holds your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Kay, look at me," he insists, his voice hoarse with emotion. "You can't give up, not now. I refuse to let you surrender to this disease without a fight."

You try to turn away, to avoid his penetrating gaze, but Harry's grip on your face tightens, his brown eyes blazing with an intensity that leaves you breathless. "Even if it's too late," you protest, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to find the words to explain yourself. "Even if there's no hope left... I can't keep fighting, Harry. I'm tired, so tired."

But Harry shakes his head, his expression filled with a steely resolve that takes your breath away. "Then let me fight for you," he murmurs, his voice filled with determination. "I swear, Kay, I will find a cure, no matter what it takes. Even if I have to go to hell itself and resurrect that bastard who created this virus, I will not rest until you are safe."

You want to believe him, to trust in his promise to save you from the jaws of death. But deep down, you know that the odds are stacked against you, that the virus coursing through your veins is a formidable enemy that cannot be defeated with mere words and promises.

And yet, as you meet Harry's gaze, the flicker of hope in his eyes reignites something deep within you, a spark of defiance that refuses to be extinguished. "Please, Kay," he pleads, his voice soft but urgent. "Fight, if not for yourself, then for me. Resist, for me. I can't bear to lose you, not like this."

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to find the strength to carry on, to fight against the relentless tide of despair that threatens to drag you under. But as you look into Harry's eyes, filled with a love and devotion that transcends words, you realize that you can't give up, not now, not ever.

With a deep breath, you nod, a silent vow passing between you and Harry in that fleeting moment. "I'll fight," you whisper, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper as you meet his gaze. "For you, Harry. I'll fight until my last breath, if that's what it takes."

And as Harry pulls you into his arms, his embrace a lifeline in the storm of uncertainty that surrounds you, you cling to him like a drowning man clutching at a life raft. In that moment, you know that no matter what the future may hold, as long as you have Harry by your side, you can face anything, even death itself.

[forever-rogue]

The last episode, oh my...

Come the idea of something fluff of Joel saying the "oh, baby girl" to reader. Idk, perhaps she had a nightmare or she's recovering from an injury. Whatever you want write, thanks Bee.

AN | This got a little away from me, but I think you’ll find some good angst and fluff 🥰 

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Injury [reader has a broken arm]

Word Count | 2.3k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You hated this. It was stupid and pointless and you weren't even that hurt. 

There was no need for a cast. Especially not on your arm. Your entire arm. Ugh. 

You tried to climb up the counter to grab the cocoa powder from the top shelf but you fell short. You couldn't get yourself up the counter with one arm. 

"This is so stupid," you groaned to yourself. Maybe there was a step ladder or something nearby. You didn't recall ever seeing one but it was worth a look. With a heavy sigh you walked around the house to look for anything to help.

It was Joel's fault really; he was the one that insisted you go to one of Jackson’s few doctors. It was that same doctor that pronounced your arm broken in three different places. And then unilaterally decided to put you in a cast. It wasn't like you could have said no; Joel wouldn't have allowed you to leave without a cast. He was so overprotective sometimes - it was a blessing and a curse.

After you walked around the house and came up empty, you walked back into the kitchen with a huff. You still wanted your brownies and you were going to make them, come hell or high water.

You grabbed a kitchen chair and pulled it up to the counter. It was much easier to climb onto the counter with the chair and once you were almost eye level with the powder you reached for it. 

But - but - life couldn't make things that easy after all. You felt the chair start to wobble before you lost your footing and started to fall off. You mentally prepared to collide with the cold kitchen tile….but the crash never came. 

Instead you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist and then you were pulled into a warm wall. After a moment of panic, you realized what had happened and relaxed.

"Joel," you leaned into him and felt his long exhale before he hung his head and rested it on your shoulder.

"What the hell were you doing, huh?" There was a mixture of annoyance and panic lacing his voice, "what were you thinking?"

"I was just trying to get the cocoa powder do I could make brownies," you shrugged casually, trying to keep this situation from getting worse, "its not a big deal…?"

"No big deal?" He turned you around so you were facing him and you didn't like the look you found. You knew that he was about to turn this into a lecture, "you almost fell. You could have hurt yourself!"

"And what?" With a wince you lifted up your casted arm, "get another one of these? At this point I don't even care. I can't - I hate this. It's so hard to do anything with one arm, one hand. I hate depending on you or Ellie for everything!"

"Honey-"

"It's so frustrating," you threw up your free hand in exasperation, "I know you don't get - but if you were in my place you would be like this too. I just…ugh."

"Oh baby girl," his hands tenderly cradled your face as you looked up at him with big, soft doe eyes. Despite your best efforts, a few big, fat tears streamed down your face. He gently brushed them away with his thumb, "I know it's hard. That it is frustrating."

"It's your fault I have to deal with this," you tried to be stern with him. Everything he did, he did for you and Ellie. Everything he did, he did with love. If he hadn't cared, he would never have forced you to go to the doctor, "this could have been easily prevented!"

"If you hadn't been so clumsy and fallen off your horse, then yes, it could have been prevented," you couldn't even pretend to be mad at him. He was right after all, "but here we are. And all I can do now is take care of you."

"You don't hate me?" your voice cracked as you looked away, staring at your feet. And he laughed - a warm, affectionate chuckle that went straight to your heart, "don't laugh at me, Joel Miller."

"I'm not laughing at you," he promised, peppering a few kisses to your cheeks, "with you. Always with you, baby. Why would I ever hate you?"

"Because I'm a big baby," you huffed, "something happened, something that realistically is not that big, and yet I can't even handle. I've gotten soft!"

"I like you soft," he whispered, "it means you're not fighting all the time. It means you're safe and comfortable. That's what you deserve. If the worst fear you have is getting a broken arm, and that means what we're doing is right, it means we're okay. I want you to be able to be soft all the time."

"Oh," yeah. His words felt like a gut punch in all the best ways, "oh."

"Oh," he repeated with a soft smile. He brushed his knuckles over your cheek, "you know I love you right."

"Yeah," you nodded, "I know. I love you, Joel."

He made a soft noise before moving to the cabinet and easily grabbing the powder you'd been reaching. He set it down on the counter before turning back to you. 

"Better?" You looked between him and can before nodding.

"Much," you promised, "so much better."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel was out on patrol and you were lying in bed, unable to sleep. A million thoughts were swirling through your mind as usual and all you could do was stare up at the ceiling. 

But then, as if he could somehow read your mind, Joel walked into the bedroom, slowly closing the door behind him. You sat up, unable to keep yourself from beaming at him. Before he could say or do anything, you jumped off the bed and ran over to him, throwing yourself into his arms. 

As soon as he wrapped his arms around you, he felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. You pulled back and leaned up to press a kiss to his lips, "hi." 

"Hi," he kissed you back, "everything alright, baby?"

"Yes," you promised, reaching for his hand and pulling him to the bed, "everything's fine, love. I just missed you 's all."

"I do believe that," he hummed in content as he watched you lie down, "but I also know there's something else on your mind. You're easy to read."

"I am not!" An indignant huff escaped your lips, "'m not easy."

"First of all, I said easy to read, not easy," he put a finger under your chin and turned your face up to his, "and secondly - you are easy to read to me."

"Fine," a small smile tugged up the corners of your mouth, "do you always have to be right."

"Only when it's necessary," he leaned in and kissed you softly, "now come on, tell me what's wrong."

You paused for a moment before sighing lightly and waving your hand around, "its just that…I've been thinking."

"Uh oh," he teased, you dramatically rolled your eyes, "come on honey girl, tell me what's on your mind."

"The other day you mentioned I'd gotten soft," you took his hand and started tracing the tip of your finger along the lines of his palm, "and it had me thinking about that."

"Oh?"

"At first I was annoyed and mad," you marveled at how much larger his hand was than yours, "not at you, more myself. It made me feel like I failed myself somehow. Like I'd forgotten everything and how to handle myself. Like if we went back out there I wouldn't be able to fend for myself."

"You know that's not true," he flipped your hand over and repeated the gesture on you, "you'll be able to handle anything that's thrown at you. Except a horse apparently-"

"Joel!"

"Sorry - anything," he grinned; you hated how easily he managed to charm you sometimes, "you're not suddenly goin' to forget how to take care of yourself. I promise."

"I hope not," you sighed heavily, "but the thing is…I don't hate it."

"Being soft?"

"Mhmm," You stole a quick peek at him and saw that his face was pointedly neutral, "I like being here. I like our lives here. Like how normal it feels, almost feels like nothing is wrong out in the world. We can be a normal family here…and I don't really want to lose that."

"Okay," it was infuriating how hard he could be to read. Unlike you apparently, "you want to stay?"

"Umm…yeah," you confessed quietly, face warming up, "I want to stay here with you and our daughter and whatever other family we might have in the future. I like it here and it feels like home and I never thought I'd say that again."

"It does," he settled against the headboard and put his warm hands on your hips as he pulled you on top of him. His lap was one of your favorite places to be, "it does feel like home."

"And what are your thoughts, love?" You grew nervous as you put your hand on his chest, right above his heart where you could feel it beating steadily. 

"I agree."

"With?" You groaned softly, "you're killing me here!"

"I like being at home with you every night," his voice was wistful, soft, "I like knowing you're safe, that Ellie is safe…"

"Why do I feel like there's a but coming?" Tears were welling up at the back of your eyes as you looked away. He was silent for a moment too long, "Joel?"

"But I don't know if I can stay here," and there it was. The big blow you had an inkling was coming but still managed to feel like a punch to the face.

"Well then I-I can't stay here either," you pouted at him and the man exhaled slowly, "wherever you go, I go. That's the deal. I'm not….you're not leaving me behind. No one gets left behind. You promised me."

"Baby…" he scrubbed his hand over his tired face. He squeezed your hip gently, "I always said I was going to keep you safe. Keeping you here will keep you safe. So."

"That's such bullshit," if he was even going to think about leaving you behind you were going to give him a hard time, "I'm safe with you. And so is Ellie - our kid. I'm not letting you leave me and I'm not leaving you."

"I don't…it's not that I don't want to stay," he tapped his fingers gently along your jaw, "I…I don't know if I deserve to stay."

"W-what do you mean?" Your entire heart dropped into your stomach as you watched his face grow hard, “Joel?”

He remained silent for a few moments, the quiet between the two of you hard and disconcerting, “Joel.”

“You deserve to be safe and happy,” he put his hand on your face before brushing your hair out of your face, “you deserve to be here.”

“And don’t you deserve the same?” judging by the look on his face, he did not think that’s what he deserved at all. He offered you the slightest shake of his head, “why? Tell me why.”

“I am not a good man,” was all he said. You scoffed in response, “the shit I’ve done and I’ve caused to happen is exactly my definition of good. Someone like you….you are good.”

“What about all the good things you’ve done?” you gestured to your arm in the cast, “and all the bad things I’ve done? The things we’ve done are things we needed to do in order to survive. There’s no way around that. All these other people - they’ve all done things and none of them deserve anything else. Your heart is good.”

He looked like a puppy as his soft brown eyes met yours. You could tell that this was hard for him to hear; that this was something he needed to hear, “how do you know that?”

“Because I know you, Joel Miller,” you gave him the sweetest of smiles as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, lost for words, “and I know that you are a good man. The things that you did that you think make you so bad? You’d never have done those things now. Circumstances happen and things change. But underneath it all, you have a big heart and give a lot of love to everyone else.”

“I-”

“And you should let us return that love,” and oh. Your words hit him like a freight and his eyes grew wet with tears, “it’s okay to be loved and to let people in. Especially now. If you think Ellie and I deserve to be here, so do you.”

“Okay,” you brushed away the tears that had rolled down his cheek with your good hand before blessing his skin with the touch of your lips.

“And if you want to leave or even think about leaving or trying to sneak off - I’m coming with you. I, Joel Miller, am with you till the end of the line,” he wrapped his arms around you in a warm hug before you even realized what was happening. But you wasted no time in melting into his touch, “I love you.”

“I know,” he whispered in your ear, “I feel the same. Terribly.”

And you did; you knew it was hard for him to say the words and never expected him to. Everything would come in due time. You pressed your forehead against his, “will you at least think about it? Staying here?”

“I already know what I want,” he insisted, “you. Ellie. Here - a stable home with my family.”

“Me too,” you beamed back at him, “you and Ellie and our home.”

“Home.”

[inkmonster21]

Hearts Across the Divide

16.) Trapped

Noa x Fem!Human!Reader

Series Masterlist

~oOo~

Noa pulls and prying at the metal bars. His hand is blistering, and his arms are weak, but he doesn’t stop. His groans of exhaustion and desperation ring through the camp.

Loui speaks up, his voice filled with a despairing tone. "We're not getting out of here," he declares, the reality of their predicament settling in. The finality of his words hangs heavily in the air, casting a shadow over the small group. The realization that they're trapped – no hope, no escape – hits hard, a sense of helplessness washing over everyone in the cage.

Noa's voice cuts through the despair, a spark of determination flaring within him. "Yes, we are," he counters firmly. There's an ironclad resolve in his tone, a refusal to accept defeat. Despite the dire circumstances, Noa clings to an unwavering belief that they will find a way out.

Loui responds with a cynical chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. "No wonder she gave everything away for you," he remarks sarcastically. There's a hint of bitterness in his voice, a thinly veiled jab at Noa's devotion. The implication hangs heavy in the air, stirring up tensions within the group.

Noa turns towards Loui, his expression hardening into a scowl. The sarcasm does not escape him, and it only serves to stoke the flame of his anger. Noa's eyes narrow, the tension between the two chimps growing more pronounced with each passing moment.

Loui's voice fills with sarcastic bitterness as he continues to taunt. "Always dreaming… always with her nose in a book… here you are… playing the hero… trying to save her. A perfect match… aren’t you?" Loui's words are laced with resentment, the barb cutting deep into Noa's heart. The group is on edge, the tension palpable.

Noa's face contorts with anger, the hurt from Loui's words stinging deep. He struggles to keep his voice steady as he responds, "You don't know… what you are talking about!"

Loui shoots back, his voice laced with anger and blame. "This is all her fault! Both of you... should have known better!" The accusation in his tone is clear, his frustration overflowing.

Noa's anger flares, his patience reaching its limit. "Don't DARE blame her!" he snaps, his voice rising in volume.

Noa's eyes flare, his temper flaring further as Loui challenges him. "Or what, Noa?" The words hang heavy in the air, a gauntlet thrown down. Noa's muscles tense, his fists clenching as he glares back at Loui. The silence in the cage is thick with anticipation, as the two simians stand off, their conflict reaching a breaking point.

Noa can no longer contain his anger and lunges towards Loui. With a powerful charge, he rams into Loui, knocking him off balance and sending both crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs. The other chimps in the cage watching in shocked silence, the brawl happening so suddenly.

The two chimpanzees struggle on the ground, their bodies writhing as they try to gain the upper hand in their heated fight. Noa's anger has boiled over, fueling his struggle against Loui.

A sudden shock of cold water hits Noa and Loui, drenching them and breaking up their struggle. Noa gasps as the cold water washes over him, the fight between him and Loui suddenly coming to a halt. Both chimps splutter, taken off guard by the unexpected and sudden shower.

A human stands outside the cage, holding an empty bucket. His tone is firm and authoritative as he barks out, "Quit the damn fighting." The unexpected intervention and cold water seem to have quelled the tension, at least for the moment.

Sunrise breaks in the camp, its warm rays illuminating the area with a soft, golden light. You exit your tent, your fatigue is evident in your movements, but a sense of curiosity gnawing at you.

Your mind is troubled, still reeling from the events of the night before. The memory of the kiss from the ape lingers in your thoughts. You can't shake the feeling of its unexpected intensity, leaving you conflicted and dazed.

As you move through the camp, going through your usual tasks, your eyes fall upon the six apes in the cage. A pang of sympathy and concern washes over you as you observe the captured chimpanzees. The sight of their confinement is a stark reminder of the situation you find yourself in.

You meet the gaze of the ape, his eyes holding yours. A jolt of recognition and realization floods through you, the memory of his unexpected kiss still fresh in your mind. His eyes hold a warm intensity, sending a shiver down your spine. The tingle of excitement mixes with the lingering doubt within you.

The ape's gaze locks with yours, the connection between you undeniable. The memory of the kiss resurfaces, sending a shiver down your spine. Yet doubt lingers, adding a sense of unease to your swirling emotions. You try to shake it off, resuming your tasks in the camp, but the chimp's intense look follows you, leaving you increasingly conflicted.

Jack approaches you, drawing your attention away from the chimp in the cage. His presence momentarily distracts you from the ape's intense gaze.

Jack addresses you, his voice cutting through your thoughts. "Hey, you want to head out soon?" His question snaps you out of your current stupor. You gather your thoughts and answer, “Yeah, sure.”

You remember your previous agreement to patrol the camp with Jack today. Proximus suggested that exploring familiar places might help jog your memory and possibly cure your amnesia. This seems logical given that places can hold strong connections to specific memories.

You stay behind Jack as you walk beside him, your footsteps crunching on the ground below. Your mind drifts to the chimp in the cage, the feeling of his gaze on you intense and impossible to shake. Despite your efforts to focus on the task at hand, something about the chimp's unwavering stare keeps drawing your attention.

Noa watches silently as you follow Jack, a mix of emotions within him. His gaze follows your every step, his eyes locked on you until you disappear from view. The sight of you leaving with Jack, the human male, fills him with a conflicted mixture of worry and regret.

Noa experiences a tangle of emotions as he watches you walk away with Jack. Frustration, insecurity, and regret intermingle within him. He is unable to shake the feeling of powerlessness and a deep ache of longing. Noa wishes he could join you, protect you, and be by your side. But instead, he remains trapped, his gaze filled with a mixture of anger, helplessness, and heartache.

Proximus approaches the cage where the six apes are held captive. His presence casts a shadow over the group, their eyes following his movements with a mix of hostility and resignation.

Soona and Keli remain under Anaya's protective embrace, while Teko and Loui stand in front of the group with defiance. Noa, a fierce determination in his gaze, steps closer to the bars, his intense eyes fixed on Proximus.

Proximus motions to a male, the same one who had drenched them in water before, indicating to the seed-filled bucket. Rudy opens the cage gate just long enough to spill the seeds inside. Proximus smirks, his voice mocking as he addresses Noa, "I am... a generous king." The mocking tone grates on Noa's nerves, his eyes flash at the insult.

Noa meets Proximus's gaze with a steely glare, his voice filled with a dangerous edge. "You will be... a dead king." The words hang in the air, a promise and a warning, as Noa's eyes burn with determination and defiance.

Proximus responds to Noa's threat with a booming laugh, the sound echoing through the camp. The laughter only seems to stoke Noa's anger further, his rage and frustration feeding off the mocking response.

Noa's reaction is swift and impulsive, seizing Proximus by the head and forcefully ramming him into the bars of the cage. The impact is forceful and loud, eliciting a gasp from some nearby humans and apes alike. Noa's adrenaline and fury drive his actions, his emotions getting the best of him in this heated moment.

The unexpected attack leaves Proximus reeling, blood trickling from a cut above his brow. He staggers back, taken off guard by Noa's sudden display of violence. The humans nearby scramble, their shock giving way to a mixture of disbelief and alarm.

Despite the pain and surprise from Noa's attack, Proximus musters a menacing chuckle. His voice holds a chilling certainty as he asserts, "You... will learn, Noa." The threat behind his words is ominous, a promise of further consequences for Noa's defiance.

Proximus gives a cold order, his voice low and dangerous. "Trank him." The command hangs in the air, leaving no room for doubt or disobedience.

Rudy lifts his tranquilizer gun, his aim steady as he fires the dart straight through the bars of the cage. The tranquilizer dart pierces Noa's arm, delivering the sedative into his system in an instant.

The effects of the tranquilizer dart take immediate hold, causing Noa to sway on his feet. He stumbles backward, his body growing heavy and sluggish as the tranquilizer begins to take effect. He attempts to stay upright, but the drug is too powerful, and he succumbs to the sedative.

Proximus turns his gaze on the other apes in the cage, his smirk widening as he addresses them. "See what happens?" The message is clear: disobedience and rebellion will not be tolerated. The tone is both a warning and a show of dominance, as Proximus revels in the moment of triumph over Noa's defiance.

The other apes remain silent, their eyes fixed on Proximus with a mix of fear and resentment. They are too intimidated to challenge him, well aware of the consequences that would likely follow.

Proximus turns to his left, motioning for two apes from his loyal following to step forward. His voice is commanding as he issues the order. "Take this one... lock him up alone." The apes obey without question, moving swiftly to Noa's fallen form and lifting him off the ground.

You continue your patrol through the woods alongside Jack, your footsteps crunching on the forest floor. The surroundings feel foreign and unfamiliar, the woods failing to spark any sense of recognition for you. You navigate the dense foliage in silence, the quiet broken only by the occasional tweet of a nearby bird or the rustle of leaves underfoot.

Your mind drifts to the moment of the unexpected kiss, the memory replaying in your mind. It is the only thing that seems familiar, a fleeting yet powerful sensation that beckons to the locked recesses of your memory. You struggle to make sense of this strange feeling, wondering why this one encounter feels so significant when everything else seems like a blurry haze.

Jack breaks the silence, his voice cutting through your thoughts. "Are you feeling better today?" His question catches you off guard, causing you to snap back to reality. You ponder his question for a moment, considering how to respond.

Your response is honest. "I..." you begin, but the words trail off as you consider your situation. "Not really," you finally admit, your tone reflecting the truth of your circumstance. Nothing had improved, and if anything, things seemed to have grown more complicated and distressing.

Jack nods understandingly, his expression sympathetic. He knows your memory loss is a difficult obstacle to contend with. "I’m sorry to hear that," he replies, his voice gentle yet filled with concern.

Jack tenderly picks a flower from the ground, the petals soft and delicate. He hands it to you with a gentle smile, the gesture small yet significant. "Here," he says, his voice softer than usual. You accept the flower, your fingers gently wrapping around the stem. The touch of the petals is light and delicate, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of the world around you. "Thank you," you say quietly, touched by the simple yet thoughtful gesture.

The next stop on your patrol route leads you to a beautiful lake. The water is still, the surface reflecting the surrounding trees like a mirror. The sight is serene, a small oasis of tranquility in the otherwise chaotic world.

You gaze at the water of the lake, a pang of desire within you. It has been a long since you had a proper bath, and the idea of washing away the accumulated dirt and sweat is quite appealing.

Jack's voice interrupts your thoughts, a small smile on his face. "You want to go in?" He gestures towards the lake as if reading your mind. The suggestion is tempting, a chance to cool off and freshen up. You respond with a nod and a smile. The idea of bathing in the cool waters of the lake is too enticing to resist. Jack notices your eagerness and chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction.

Jack swiftly peels off his shirt, followed by his pants, revealing his bare upper torso. Your eyes widen in surprise at the unexpected sight, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Quickly, you turn away, your heart beating faster in your chest. It takes a moment for you to regain your composure.

Jack's chuckle breaks the tense moment, his voice light and playful. "Come on, now. It's nothing you haven't seen before," he teases, a sly grin on his face. Your cheeks feel hot with embarrassment, but his carefree attitude helps dispel some of the awkwardness.

Your mind ponders his statement, trying to discern the truth in his words. Have you seen a man bare-chested before? The memory dances just out of reach, a frustratingly elusive fragment of your past. The image is distasteful.

You tentatively dip your toes into the water of the lake, the warmth enveloping your skin. The sensation is soothing, a welcome contrast to the hot and humid days of late summer. The sun is still bright in the sky, but the end of the season is evident, a subtle coolness in the air signaling the approach of autumn.

You take a step further into the water, the cool liquid licking at your ankles and then your legs. The sensation is refreshing, a small sigh escaping your lips as the water soaks into your dress, causing the fabric to cling to your body.

You fully submerge your upper body in the water, letting the liquid envelop you. You take this opportunity to wash your hair and scrub your skin, relishing the chance to feel clean once again. The water gently laps at your skin, cleaning away the dirt and grime of the past several days.

Jack stands nearby, a small smile playing on his lips as he watches you bathe in the lake. His gaze is warm and amused, his eyes drinking in the sight of you in the water. The situation feels oddly intimate, the proximity of his gaze sending a flutter of emotions through you.

Jack moves through the water, approaching you with leisurely strokes. His body cuts through the water with ease, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing with each movement. As he nears you, the water laps at your sides, the movement causing small ripples to spread out in all directions.

Jack stops a few feet away from you, his smile widening as he takes in the sight of you in the water. The distance between you feels charged with a sense of intimacy and vulnerability. His eyes roam over your water-soaked dress, the fabric clinging to your frame, emphasizing your curves.

“You look…” Jack trails off, his voice low and rough. His eyes continue to roam over you, taking in the sight of your wet hair and clinging dress. The expression on his face is a mix of admiration and desire, his usual casual demeanor replaced by something more intense. “Beautiful,” he finally finishes, his voice barely above a whisper. The word hangs in the air, a simple yet powerful declaration. The way he looks at you, the longing in his eyes, betrays his true feelings.

You feel a mix of emotions stir within you at his words. A flutter of pleasure at the compliment tinged with a hint of embarrassment and uncertainty. The situation seems to have shifted from a moment of playful banter to something more serious, more real. The weight of Jack's gaze and the vulnerability of your situation in the water create a strange and intoxicating mix.

A sense of wrongness settles over you as you grapple with the emotions swirling within. The pleasure at Jack's compliment is tainted by a sense of guilt and discomfort. Your heart burns with uncertainty and something else, a feeling that this moment, as intimate and charged as it is, doesn't feel entirely right. Your head shakes involuntarily as if trying to deny or reject the conflicting feelings inside.

Jack reaches out, his hand moving through the water to gently take hold of yours. The touch is gentle yet firm, a silent plea for connection. His fingers wrap around yours, his palm feeling warm and rough against your skin. Jack's grip tightens slightly as he pulls you closer, closing the distance between your bodies. The water laps around you both, the ripples created by your combined movement a subtle reminder of the situation you find yourselves in. His gaze remains fixed on you, searching for any sign of reciprocation or rejection.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and your hand moves down instinctively, tracing a path along the smooth expanse of Jack's bare chest. The sensation of his warm, wet skin under your fingertips sends a jolt through you, mixing with the strange mixture of emotions already coursing through your mind. You can feel the hard plane of his muscles, the strength, and power just beneath the surface.

Jack's skin responds to your touch, his body tensing slightly in response. His breath hitches, the sound barely perceptible above the gentle lapping of the water around you. He remains still, allowing you to explore the planes and contours of his chest, almost as if he's holding his breath.

Jack leans down, closing the distance between you, his head moving towards yours with deliberate slowness. The anticipation hangs in the air, suspended like the ripples on the water's surface. His eyes hold yours for a moment longer, a mixture of hesitation and longing, before he finally cups your chin and captures your lips in a tender, tentative kiss.

The kiss is soft and gentle, a cautious exploration of the connection between you. Jack's lips move against yours carefully, his fingers caressing your skin as if you were a precious and fragile thing. The sensation is both familiar and unfamiliar, stirring feelings and memories that are just beyond your reach.

You grapple with the unfamiliar feeling and fragments of memories that float just out of reach. The touch of Jack's lips, the gentle caress of his fingers, trigger something within you, a sense of familiarity and a hint of familiarity. But as hard as you search your mind, the source of these feelings remains elusive, just beyond the grasp of your conscious thought.

You slowly pull away from the kiss, your words breaking the moment of intimacy and connection. "We should get back soon," you say quietly, a note of finality in your voice. Jack's expression falters for a moment at your words, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before he turns his face into a neutral mask.

Jack nods in agreement, silently acknowledging your suggestion to return. You wring out the water from your soaked dress, the fabric clinging even more tightly to your body as a result. Jack quickly dresses himself, his movements swift and efficient, covering up the expanse of his bare torso once more.

You and Jack continue the rest of the patrol in a heavy silence. The once-comfortable atmosphere is now tainted by an awkward tension that hangs in the air like a thick fog. The distance between you feels both immense and stifling at the same time, the unspoken words and emotions weighing heavily on both of your minds.

The cold air seems to cut through the fabric of your damp dress, and you let out a small shiver, your body reacting to the temperature change. Jack notices the motion, his gaze flickering over your shivering frame with a frown.

Jack notices your shiver and immediately wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him in a gesture of warmth and comfort. "We've got some extra pants and shirts from a whole bag of women's clothes," he says, referring to the cache of clothes his camp had found. The thought of a change of dry clothes is comforting, especially as you feel the chill seep into your bones.

You respond with a grateful nod, expressing your agreement. The thought of changing into dry, warm clothes is appealing, a welcome relief from the damp and cold of your current attire.

Jack guides you towards the camp, his arm still around your shoulders in a protective manner, shielding you from the worst of the chill.

As you pass through the camp, your attention is caught by a small cage tucked away in the corner. Within, you see an ape, his face contorted in a scowl, staring fixedly at the ground. The sight is disconcerting and pitiful, the animal's discontentment evident in his demeanor.

As you follow Jack into a nearby tent, you are unaware of the intense emotions that the caged ape is experiencing. Noa looks up as you pass by, his eyes tracking your every movement. The anger and jealousy that churn within his chest are palpable, a stark contrast to the calm and collected demeanor he typically strives to maintain.

As you exit the tent, fresh and clean in your new clothes, Noa's eyes remain fixated on you. His body tenses as he takes in the sight of you, clothed in new human garments. The thought of another male witnessing your unclothed form fuels the anger and jealousy that already burn within him. Noa's mind begins to race with thoughts of violence and retribution, his primal instincts taking over.

You smile warmly at Jack, gratitude clear in your expression. "I'll see you at dinner,” you say, bidding him farewell for the moment. Jack returns your smile, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary before he nods and turns away, heading back toward his tent.

As Jack moves to enter his tent, he is stopped by Noa's voice from the nearby cage. Noa's guttural voice cuts through the air, a possessive and primal claim. "She is... mine," he growls, the words spoken with a mixture of anger and certainty.

Jack pauses, turning to face the ape. His expression remains neutral, betraying no hint of surprise or intimidation. "That so?" he replies coolly, his calm facade belied by the slight tensing of his muscles.

Noa's voice drops to a dangerous growl, his eyes narrowing in a fierce glare. "Yes... and if you take what is mine... I will rip your throat out," he threatens, the warning clear in his tone. Jack holds his ground, refusing to show any fear or weakness in the face of Noa's aggression.

Jack remains undeterred, his expression cool and composed. His response is almost casually mocking. "Pretty big threat for some monkey who's in a cage," he retorts, raising an eyebrow at the caged ape.

Noa’s furious roar fills the air, the sound a guttural, primal display of anger and frustration. He pounds against the sides of the cage, the metal bars creaking under the force of his blows. Jack watches Noa's display with a mix of fascination and caution. He remains standing just a few feet away from the cage, his neutral expression giving no hint of his thoughts. Noa's rage and ferocity are almost palpable, the raw power and emotion almost feral in nature.

Despite the intimidating and potentially dangerous situation, Jack remains unflinching, standing his ground with a cool demeanor. "Quite the temper you've got there," he remarks dryly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. As Jack starts to walk away, his words hang in the air, a taunting taunt. "Might send Rudy over here with another bucket," he says with a smirk. Jack's laughter only seems to enrage Noa further, the ape thrashing against the bars of the cage with renewed ferocity.

Noa’s roar echoes loudly through the camp, the fierce cry of a territorial ape who feels his claim challenged. "MINE!" he growls, the words a primal declaration of ownership and possession.

Jack remains unruffled, continuing to calmly walk away from the cage. The ape's possessive claims and threats have little effect on him, his cool demeanor a stark contrast to Noa's feral rage.

Loui, Teko, Anaya, Soona, and Keli sit quietly in their respective cage, their attention focused on Noa's furious display. They watch the ape with a mixture of fascination, concern, and perhaps a hint of sympathy.

The apes in the cage are disheartened and desperate, their spirits broken by their powerlessness. They sit quietly, contemplating their predicament. Without weapons or any means to fight back, they feel utterly defenseless against their human captors.

As the ape carrying the food enters the cage, the animals within look up eagerly. However, their hope is quickly dashed as the ape quickly sets the food down and hastily moves to leave. The other apes in the camp offer no assistance or sympathy, their fear and helplessness keeping them from interfering.

You approach the large bonfire crackling in the center of the camp, the flames casting a warm glow over the area. You see a group of ape women preparing the evening meal, their hands moving skillfully over the food as they chop and season. They greet you with smiles and nods, happy to have the extra help.

As you work beside the ape women, preparing the meal, your thoughts keep returning to the lone ape in the cage. The image of him, so isolated and desperate, resonates with you on some level, stirring feelings of sympathy and guilt. Despite the camaraderie of the apes around you, you can’t help but feel a twinge of longing and curiosity about the solitary ape.

You share a meal with the humans and apes in the camp, and the atmosphere comfortable and friendly. Despite the kindness and inclusiveness of the community, you can't shake the feeling that something is amiss. Something or someone is missing, a vital piece to the puzzle that leaves you with an odd sense of emptiness.

A woman in the camp suddenly interrupts the conversation, excitedly announcing that she found something. “Look what I found!” She produces an old, dusty record, placing it on the player as it begins to spin. The soft scratch of the needle against the vinyl is followed by music beginning to fill the air, old, forgotten melodies coming back to life.

The music, though old and slightly worn by time, brings a feeling of nostalgia to the camp. Some of the apes sit quietly, their eyes closed as they listen, while others begin to sway or move to the rhythm. It is a moment of shared joy and reminiscing, a brief respite from the darker realities of the camp.

A large hand of Proximus appears in your line of sight, extended toward you in invitation. His eyes, dark and intense, are fixed on you, a glimmer of mischief in their depths. His voice, deep and commanding, utters a simple request. "Dance... with me."

The sudden request surprises you, the command-like quality of his voice causing your heart to flutter in your chest. You glance around, noticing the curious gazes of the others before your eyes settle back on Proximus. The combination of his imposing presence and the silent challenge in his gaze makes it difficult to decline.

Your hand meets his, the feeling of his large, rough palm against your own. Proximus smirks, his gaze darting towards the darkened corner of the camp, where the cage housing the solitary ape is located. The motion is subtle, a sly glance meant only for his prisoner.

Proximus pulls you through various moves and spins, his strong arms guiding you expertly as you both move to the beat of the music. As you dance, a feeling of familiarity washes over you. The song, while old and dusty, triggers something within you, a sense of recognition that you can't quite place.

As the song comes to an end, you find yourself panting and slightly breathless, still caught up in the dance and the wave of emotions and memories that it stirred within you. You stand, momentarily disoriented, the echoes of the music still ringing in your ears while your mind tries to make sense of the conflicting and confusing images racing through your head.

Your eyes drift towards the large cage, your heart heavy with a sense of guilt and responsibility. You wonder if the apes imprisoned there have been fed, if they are well and safe. The thought of them, cramped and helpless, weighs on your consciousness, a nagging reminder of the harsh realities of the situation.

You gather up some berries, nuts, and scraps of meat from the supper leftovers, carefully wrapping them up and stuffing them in the pocket of your pants. You're determined to do what you can to make sure the apes in the cage are fed and cared for, even in this small way.

With the camp settling down for the night, you quietly slip out of your tent and head towards the large cage where the apes are being held. As you approach, Keli is the first to notice your presence, her dark eyes peering out at you through the bars.

"Hi," you reply, your voice soft and tinged with sadness. You approach the bars of the cage, your eyes meeting Keli's gaze with a mixture of pity and concern. "Have they fed you?" you repeat, unable to bear the thought of them going hungry and cold.

Keli nods in response to your question, her eyes reflecting a hint of resignation. "We were given a small offering of seeds," she tells you, her voice quiet but clear. "We are fine," she adds, though the words seem more like a dutiful response than a genuine assurance.

Keli turns to glance behind her, her eyes falling on the other apes inside the cage. Her expression softens slightly as she looks at them, a mixture of protectiveness and worry on her face.

Keli turns back to you, her dark eyes searching your face. Your question hangs in the air, the weight of it heavy. She seems to contemplate her answer for a moment, her gaze lowering as she focuses on the floor of the cage. Finally, she looks up, her expression serious.

"Do you remember any of us?" she repeats your question, her words a mix of vulnerability and curiosity.

Your furrowed brow betrays your confusion and frustration. Keli's question has brought back the now-familiar sense of amnesia. Shaking your head, you express your inability to recall anything, the frustration and helplessness evident in your expression.

Keli sighs as she looks at you, her eyes now distant with memory. Her voice is soft as she tells you, "We grew up together, far from here." The words carry a weight of nostalgia and longing, a hint of the bond that had previously tied you together.

Your words trail off as a wave of confusion washes over you. The contradiction between what Keli is saying and your reality feels overwhelming. "I live here… At least I thought I did..." you murmur, the uncertainty clear in your voice as you grapple with the conflicting pieces of information.

Loui lets out an exasperated sigh from the back of the cage. "It's no use, Keli," he says, his words tinged with resignation. There is a hint of irritation in his tone as if he's had this conversation before and knows the futile nature of it. The words hit you like a dagger, the bitter truth of them seeping into your chest. You feel a pang of hurt and humiliation, the directness of Loui's glare only emphasizing the message he's trying to deliver. "She's gone," Loui repeats, the finality of his statement hanging in the air.

The bluntness of Loui's statement hits you hard, stirring up a mix of emotions within you. You huff in frustration, your irritation at the situation becoming more evident. Without another word, you turn on your heel and start to walk away, leaving the cage and its inhabitants behind.

As you approach your tent, the tears begin to fall, the emotions you've been holding in finally breaking through. The weight of your confusion and frustration is like a physical force upon you, causing the tears to roll down your cheeks in a silent, steady stream.

Noa, trapped in his cage, watches you as you walk back to your tent, his keen eyes picking up the sight of the tears on your cheeks. He feels a pang of sympathy in his chest, his heart clenching at the sight of your distress. He wants to call out to you, to comfort you, but the bars of his cage keep him from doing so.

Noa's voice breaks the silence, his question soft and quiet but still reaching your ears. "Are you hurt?" he asks, a hint of concern in his deep rumble of a voice. You are surprised that you heard him, so you turn in his direction, your tear-streaked face catching his gaze.

As you face Noa's cage, you take in the sight of him, his large frame constricted within the small space. The sight of his cramped surroundings only adds to your sense of sorrow, the unfairness of his predicament is clear to see.

You approach the large cage, the sight of Noa captured within it causing a pang of sadness to rise in your chest. You kneel, bringing yourself closer to him, your eyes meeting his through the bars.

You study Noa intently, taking in every detail of his appearance. His powerful frame is contrasted by a certain gentleness in his dark eyes. As you study him, you realize that looking at him and listening to his voice, brings a strange sort of comfort to your mind, a brief respite from the whirlwind of confusion that usually clouds your thoughts.

“You… you’re the one that… kissed me,” you state to Noa. Noa's eyes widen slightly at your words, the memory of the kiss coming back to him instantly. He looks at you, the surprise mixing with a hint of guilt.

"Yes...." He replies, his voice quiet but honest. “Why?”

Noa looks back at you, catching the edge of your gaze. He understands the question behind your simple "why," and the demand for an explanation. "Why did I kiss you?" He finally questions, his eyes never leaving yours.

Noa takes a moment to collect himself, his eyes dropping to the floor of the cage before they rise to meet yours once more.

"I kissed you... because I could not help myself." He admits, his voice low and sincere, the honesty in his words clear and unguarded.

Noa's admission hangs in the air between you for a moment, the raw honesty of it causing a small shiver to run through you. He holds your gaze, his dark eyes locking with yours as he continues, his words soft but direct.

"I kissed you... because I wanted to. Because I couldn't deny the... pull I felt towards you."

Noa begs you silently.

Remember me. Remember me. Remember me, please.

As you look into Noa's eyes, you feel it. A strange, magnetic pull that seems to draw you closer to him, a deep, primal desire to reach out and touch his skin, to feel the heat of his body under your fingertips. Your breath hitches in your chest, the feeling powerful and overwhelming.

You reach into your pocket, pulling out the small bundle of food you had set aside for them, the offering of scraps and berries that the others had neglected. You hold it up to show Noa, the realization that they had not fed them filling you with a pang of anger and sympathy.

"They didn't feed you," you say, the words more of a statement than a question as you hold out the food.

Noa's eyes widen at the sight of the food you hold in your hands, a mixture of surprise and relief on his face as he realizes what you've brought. He moves closer to the bars of the cage, his large hand reaching out through one of the gaps to take the offering from you. His fingers brush against yours, the brief contact sending a jolt of electricity through your skin.

As Noa's hand touches yours, a shiver runs down your spine. The feel of his skin, his warmth, is intoxicating, awakening something within you that you can't quite identify. You watch as he takes the food, his grip gentle yet firm. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice gruff but filled with sincere gratitude.

Noa looks down at the food in his hand for a moment, a small sense of relief washing over him. He then raises his gaze to meet yours again, a hint of a smile on his lips. He looks at you for a moment, the connection between you feeling both intense and tender.

You are jolted out of the moment as a shuffling sound comes from nearby, causing you to straighten up abruptly and scan the darkness warily. You are reminded of the dangers that lurk all around, the constant threat of being discovered looming over you both.

You reluctantly tear yourself away from Noa, the connection between you feeling strangely unfinished yet tinged with danger. You step back, putting some distance between the two of you, and head towards your tent. You slip into the canvas walls, the shelter offering some relief as you settle down, your mind still filled with thoughts of him and the strange feelings he stirs within you.

You sink onto your cot, a dazed grin spreading across your face as you remember the feeling of Noa's touch on your hand. The brief contact has left a lingering heat in your palm, a strange and foreign sensation that you can't seem to shake. You continue to sit there, reliving the moment in your mind, your thoughts consumed by him.

The memories of his eyes, his face, and his touch, replay in your mind as you drift into sleep. His green gaze is the last thing that flickers through your thoughts before you finally surrender to your dreams, your subconscious mind dancing with the image of the ape and the strange pull you feel towards him.

In your dreams, the melody of the song from earlier floats through the air, the sweet and soothing notes taking on a dreamlike quality. You find yourself in a blurry and shifting landscape, the memories and emotions of the day playing out like fragments blending.

In the dreamlike state, the sound of rushing water fills your hearing, the sound both soothing and familiar. The noise seems to echo around you, the gentle sound of the river blending with the melody of the song that still plays in the background of your mind.

You feel a warm, rough hand cup your cheek, the touch shockingly gentle. It contrasts with the hardened feel of the skin, the callouses on the fingers adding a layer of texture to your delicate skin. The touch is familiar and yet slightly foreign, the sensation both soothing and exciting.

As the fingers of the hand caress your cheek, you feel the light, ghost-like touch of lips moving over your own. It is a whisper of a kiss, a soft brush of skin against skin that sends an instant spark of sensation through your body. The touch, while subtle, is electrifying, leaving you feeling strangely vulnerable yet yearning for more at the same time.

In the dream, you find yourself reaching out towards the source of the touch, the primal desire to bridge the gap between you and the one caressing your cheek too strong to resist. Your hand moves without conscious thought, as if by instinct, as you reach towards the presence that kisses you.

Your hands brush against the course fur, your fingers tracing up the broad shoulders to the wide back, your mind begins to clear and the image comes into focus. "Noa." You murmur, the name slipping from your lips in a whisper. His face comes into view, the familiar features of his face making your heart flutter in your chest.

You bolt upright in your cot, your mind racing with questions. How did you know his name? Was it just a strange coincidence that it had come to you in your dream? Or was there something deeper at play, something that you couldn't quite understand? Your heart beats wildly in your chest, you try to make sense of the dream and the feelings it has stirred within you.

[mpregtales]

Aaron & Lucas Part 4

[Part 1]   [Part 2]   [Part 3]   ⬤   [Part 5]

As the seventh month approached, Aaron’s body continued to undergo significant changes. His belly had become a prominent, heavy presence, stretching far in front of him and pulling him slightly forward with every step. The weight of the life growing within him was palpable, a constant reminder of the incredible journey he was on. Meanwhile, the fullness in his glutes had become even more pronounced, the muscles rounding out and his cheeks stretching further, creating a soft, voluptuous curve that balanced the expanding weight of his belly.

Lactation had also become more active, with his pecs swelling further, the sensation of fullness a steady reminder of the nurturing role his body was preparing for. The weight in his chest added to the physical demands, but Aaron faced these challenges with grace, knowing they were part of the miraculous process unfolding within him.

Managing the increasing demands of his body wasn’t without its challenges, but with Lucas and Michael by his side, Aaron found a deep sense of peace. Their unwavering love and support were a constant source of strength, bolstering him as he navigated the physical and emotional changes. In their presence, Aaron felt fortified, their bond deepening with each passing day as they prepared for the arrival of their growing family.

And as Aaron looked in the mirror, seeing the changes in his body, he couldn’t help but smile. The journey was difficult, yes, but it was also beautiful, a testament to the love and life that surrounded him. He was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that he was not alone.

As Aaron entered the eighth month of his pregnancy, the house began to fill with a warmth and energy that only the return of the triplets could bring. Ethan, Gabriel, and Isabella, now in their early twenties, had come home from college to be with their father during these final weeks. The house, once quiet, was now alive with laughter, conversations, and the sound of footsteps as the children filled each room with their presence.

Aaron was overjoyed to have his children home. He had missed them deeply, and their return brought a renewed sense of purpose and joy. Ethan, always the protector, was the first to check in on his father, ensuring Aaron was comfortable and that everything he needed was within reach. Gabriel, with his infectious smile, made it his mission to keep the mood light, joking and teasing in a way that only he could. Isabella, the nurturing one, was always by Aaron’s side, offering a gentle hand or a reassuring word whenever she sensed her father needed it.

Aaron’s body had continued to develop over the past few weeks, his belly now a large, rounded bump that dominated his figure. His buttocks had grown rounder and thicker. Each movement was deliberate, his body adjusting to the weight and pressure of carrying twins at his age. The strain on his back was more evident, but the love and support of his family helped ease the physical discomfort.

The triplets were attentive to Aaron’s needs, always nearby to help with anything he required. They took turns rubbing his back, fetching him water, and ensuring he had a comfortable place to rest. The house was abuzz with preparations for the twins' arrival. Together, they set up the nursery, painted the walls, and arranged the tiny clothes in neat piles. It was a family effort, each member contributing in their own way, and the bond between them grew stronger with every task they completed.

One afternoon, as the family gathered in the living room, Aaron sat back in his chair, his hands resting on his belly. The babies inside him were particularly active, their movements strong and frequent. He couldn’t help but smile as he felt their kicks, a constant reminder of the life growing within him.

“Dad, are they kicking?” Isabella asked, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

Aaron nodded, his smile widening. “They are. Come feel.”

Isabella, followed by Ethan and Gabriel, placed their hands on Aaron’s belly, their faces filled with awe as they felt the movements beneath their fingers.

“They’re really going at it,” Ethan remarked, a chuckle in his voice.

Gabriel grinned, his hand still on Aaron’s belly. “They’re probably excited to meet us.”

Aaron laughed softly, the sound filled with love. “I’m sure they are. And they’re going to love having you all as siblings.”

The triplets spent the rest of the afternoon doting on their father, their presence a constant source of comfort and joy. Aaron marveled at how much they had grown, how responsible and caring they had become. It filled him with a deep sense of pride and gratitude, knowing that the love he had poured into raising them was now being reflected back to him.

As the baby shower approached, the house became even more lively. Family members from near and far arrived, filling the home with laughter and conversation. Aaron’s parents, now in their seventies, were among the first to arrive. His mother, Sarah, still as vibrant as ever, immediately embraced her son, her eyes filled with pride and love.

“Oh, Aaron, look at you,” she exclaimed, her hands resting on his belly. “You’re as beautiful as ever.”

Aaron smiled, his heart swelling with emotion. “Thank you, Mom. It’s so good to have you here.”

His father, Thomas, gave him a firm handshake, his eyes soft with affection. “You’re doing well, son. I’m proud of you.”

Aaron’s younger brother, Jake, followed, his youthful energy filling the room as he greeted his brother with a playful hug. “You’ve got quite the belly there, Aaron. How are you feeling?”

Aaron laughed, his hand instinctively rubbing his stomach. “Huge, but good. I’m glad you’re here.”

The baby shower was a beautiful celebration of family and love. The house was decorated with soft colors and delicate flowers, the scent of fresh blooms mingling with the sounds of laughter and conversation. The triplets had done an excellent job organizing the event, and it was clear that everyone was overjoyed to be there.

Aaron found himself surrounded by loved ones, each taking a moment to feel his belly, to marvel at the life growing within him. There was a moment when he found himself alone in a quiet corner of the house, away from the bustle of the party. He placed both hands on his belly, feeling the strong movements of the twins. His thoughts drifted to David, the man who had made all of this possible.

“Thank you, David,” Aaron whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”

Lucas found him and leaned down, pressing a deep kiss to his belly, a gesture of love and gratitude for the life within him. As he straightened up, he couldn’t resist giving Aaron’s big butt a small pat, the movement ricocheting slightly as Lucas made a suggestive wink. Aaron smiled, soaking in this quiet moment of joy in the midst of all the celebration.

One afternoon, Aaron found himself alone in the house, the quietness surrounding him as he gently cradled his heavily pregnant belly. The twins were active, their movements a comforting reminder of the life growing within him. As he absentmindedly stroked his rounded abdomen, his thoughts began to drift, carried back to memories of David.

He felt a deep contentment in his life with Lucas—a love that had brought him peace and joy. Yet, even in the midst of this happiness, his love for David lingered, forever etched into his heart. David had been his first love, the man who had made him a father for the first time, the one who had welcomed him into a family when he felt lost and alone. David had given him a sense of belonging, a place where he had finally felt at home. Now, in a way, Aaron realized he had taken on the role David once held—the head of a growing family, bringing everyone together. The thought made him smile.

But as his hands cupped the weight of his belly, the memories of when it was David’s babies growing inside him came rushing back. Those were the happiest moments of his life, a time when their love had been new and their family just beginning. The joy of carrying David’s children had been profound, a bond that connected them in a way that was unbreakable, even after David’s passing.

Now, as he built a new life with Lucas, growing another family, Aaron couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. He didn’t want to betray David’s memory or the love they had shared. The thought weighed heavily on his heart, despite the beauty and rightness of what he had found with Lucas.

It was Michael, David’s son, who provided the reassurance Aaron desperately needed. Michael, who had once been skeptical and even resentful when David first brought Aaron home to meet the family, had grown to care deeply for him. Initially wary of a man his age marrying and having children with his father, Michael had come to understand the depth of their love.

One evening, sensing Aaron’s unease, Michael sat down with him, speaking from the heart. “Aaron, my dad loved you more than anything. You made him happier than I ever saw him. He would want nothing more than for you to be happy, too. And as for this pregnancy,” Michael said, placing a hand gently on Aaron’s belly, “he would be overjoyed that you’ve found someone who can share this with you, who loves you as much as he did.”

Michael’s words were like a balm to Aaron’s troubled heart, soothing the guilt that had been gnawing at him. The approval and reassurance from Michael meant the world to him—it was exactly what he needed to hear.

Aaron smiled, feeling a deep sense of peace wash over him. The love he had found with Lucas and the family they were building together was beautiful and right. And while David’s memory would always be cherished, Aaron knew that moving forward didn’t mean leaving the past behind—it meant carrying it with him, in a way that honored the love they had shared. In that moment, Aaron felt whole, his heart at ease as he looked forward to the future with Lucas, knowing that David’s blessing was with him, now and always.

Part 5

The Aaron Trilogy: Aaron & David I ; Aaron & David II ; Aaron & Lucas

[tobiasdrake]

Digimon Adventure 01x40 - The Four Heavenly Kings of the Mountain of Evil! Dark Masters / Enter the Dark Masters

Previously on Digimon Adventure: The Chosen Children discovered Vamdemon's ultimate weakness: Forceful, repeated nut shots. After wailing on his vulnerable point until he fell over and died, they bid farewell to their loved ones and fucked off via rainbow magic without explaining anything to most of their confused, scared parents.

It's cool, they'll be back in like a minute. Thanks, time dilation!

The Four Heavenly Kings are a quartet of Buddhist devas who preside over the cardinal directions. They're kind of a big deal in Buddhist mythology and they come up a lot in Japanese pop culture. Anime and video games love the Four Heavenly Kings.

They're the Kais and the Supreme Kais in Dragon Ball. They're the Saint Beasts in Yu Yu Hakusho. The Elite Four in Pokemon. The Four Giants that must be rescued in Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask. They're all over the place.

Notably, despite being called "kings", they are rarely the top of the hierarchy and typically serve a single master who stands above them all. The Heavenly Kings bend their knees to Taishakuten, supreme ruler over all devas. He governs from the peak of a great mountain at the center of all directions.

So where you find Four Heavenly Kings in media, you will often find a supreme lord of the center who sits above them. (Though not necessarily always; Yu Yu Hakusho, for instance, omitted that part.)

Digimon, too, has its Four Heavenly Kings. In fact, like Dragon Ball, it has multiple sets - with the penultimate villains of Adventure 01 being a corrupt and evil version of the concept, which is also not uncommon with Heavenly King portrayals.

They were not the first to come up with "Four Heavenly Kings BUT EVIL" and they will not be the last. Heavenly King references are a fun and easy way to fill in the top-dog super-elite enforcers for your primary bad guy.

So, without further adieu, we open this episode on the introduction of the titular Dark Masters, who govern four of the five traditional elements: Water, wood, metal, and slapstick comedy.

Spoiling their names a bit but I'm not gonna spend this whole scene calling them Clown Bro and Gatling Puppet. Piemon, pronounced "Pee-eh-mon" and not "Pie-mon", kicks us off. He's secretly monitoring the humans back in Japan, observing the Chosen Children preparing to return.

He's doing this through the truly ingenious method of pointing a giant-ass telescope at the reality tear in the sky and looking at Japan with his eyes.

Piemon: Those fools wear masks of fear, waiting in futility for peace to return. Such a wonderful sight to behold! MetalSeadramon: (bursts from the water) This is stupid! We should attack! Pinochimon: Their flow of time moves differently from ours. We should take our time and pick them off one by one. Like him! Mugendramon: (silent, but for heavy breathing)

The camera slowly pans up Mugendramon's metal body. I'm not 100% certain on what Pinochimon is suggesting here, but I think he wants to use Mugendramon's cannons to, like, shoot up into the sky rifts and snipe humans while they're frozen in the glacially-moving time of the other world.

A horrifying thought. We should probably close those rifts.

The dub understood the assignment with Piedmon.

Piedmon: Hahaha! Those bit players are frozen with stage fright! Hopelessly waiting for the moment they'll be saved! And yet, there's an unseen twist to the plot! MetalSeadramon: I say we cut to the punchline and go straight for the action! Puppetmon: Oh please, that would be boring! I want to play this drama to the hilt! Let's pull out all the stops and give 'em what they paid for.

Piedmon's voice is basically perfect. He's being performed as an overenthusiastic virtuoso. For Puppetmon, they go a different direction; Pinocchimon is voiced like a young boy, while Puppetmon has this scratchy sneering voice like a little weasel man.

Far from the bestial roar of the original, the dub's MetalSeadramon sounds like a twenty-something young man with a southern twang in his voice. Interesting choice. That could get annoying or be hilarious. We'll see where that goes.

Machinedramon does not get to breathe heavily into the mic because they cut the part of Pinocchimon's line that calls him out and puts attention on him. So now the camera pans over him for no apparent reason while Puppetmon is talking.

Depending on whether my understanding is right, I could see them changing his line because holy shit that's violent and dark or because they, like me, weren't exactly sure what he was saying. Might be censorship, might be "Huh?"

Piemon: The Chosen Children will return soon. Our boredom is at its end. Now! Let us leave the dressing room! The stage curtains are rising!

Spotlights shine on each of the Dark Masters to punctuate his words.

Piemon: The title is: The End of the Chosen Children!

In the dub, Piedmon continues off of Puppetmon's changed line.

Piedmon: I'm in complete agreement! A quick victory would be a letdown. The DigiDestined will be on Spiral Mountain soon; We must rehearse before they get here. It will be their FINAL PERFORMANCE!!!

As a silence-breaker, he introduces them each individually to the audience when the spotlights come in.

Piedmon: MetalSeadramon! Puppetmon! And Machinedramon! I present to you the downfall of the DigiDestined!

The dub's front-loading a lot of proper nouns, though they never have a chance to name Piedmon. They even name-drop Spiral Mountain early.

While the Dark Masters make their plans, the children arrive in the Digital World and take stock of their surroundings.

Taichi: Are we back? Mimi: I think so.... Koushiro: We should be. Takeru: Is it night-time? Yamato: Looks like.

Sora looks up and suddenly lets out a shriek.

Sora: EHHHHH!?!? EVERYONE, LOOK!!!

Looking up into the sky above, they can see the island of Hokkaido floating in the sky above, as if the blue sky were the ocean. Hokkaido is one of the biggest parts of Japan, so this is very much like looking up and seeing Texas distantly floating upside-down in the air.

Group: WHUUUUUUH!?!? Taichi: H-HOKKAIDO!?!? Yamato: IS THAT EARTH!?!? Koushiro: We're able to see Earth from here, the same way we could see the DIgimon World from Earth earlier.

Poor Koushiro having to explain the obvious to his shocked colleagues. Sitting there like, "Come on, guys. We already know this is happening."

As a small microaggression towards my kid, Taichi's uncertainty and Mimi's confirmation is flip-flopped in the dub so that Tai's certain and Mimi's confused.

Tai: Well, it looks like we're back. Mimi: Back where? in the Digital World? Izzy: That's affirmative. T.K.: It's dark. Matt: Yeah! It's kind of weird!

The resulting line doesn't make a lot of sense. Where do you think we went back to, Mimi? The McDonalds we bullied Joe at? Not to be outdone, however, Matt promptly forgets how night works to take the pressure off of Mimi's dumb question. XD

I think they all have cosmic jet-lag.

Sora does not shriek when she notices the sky.

Sora: HEY!!! LOOK UP THERE!!! Group: WHUUUUUUH!?!? Tai: Talk about weird! Matt: Could that be Earth!? Izzy: It's merely speculation but it seems to be a reasonable facsimile. We see Earth from here like we saw the Digital World from Earth.

They cut the regional reference to Hokkaido which I actually think was a bad call. Japanese kids could reasonably recognize that island in the sky but Americans have no idea what they're looking at. It just looks like an ink blot.

So when the kids are like, "IS THAT EARTH!?!?"

Like.

Is it? Doesn't look like Earth to me. That is a weird dark shape in the clouds, not a planet. This is a confusing moment in the dub.

This might have been a good time to have, say, Joe chime in with a line like "I recognize that island; It's one of the biggest islands in Japan!" That way, the kids watching would understand what they're supposed to be seeing, because it is not clear at a glance with zero comprehension of Japanese geography.

Suddenly, Jou hears something rustling around in the brush.

Jou: Hm? Gomamon? What are you doing down there, Gomamon?

He walks over to where the sound's coming from, sifting through the grass. Gomamon pops out of Jou's duffel bag nearby.

Gomamon: Jou! I'm over here! Jou: Eh? Then who's this--GYAAAAAGH!!!

Chuumon erupts from the grass, attacking Jou and clawing at his face while screaming in a panic. The ground shifts, opening up a chasm beneath Jou, and Chuumon leaps away to safety.

Gomamon: JOU!!!

Jou grabs onto the newly created cliffside for dear life.

In the dub:

Joe: Hm? Gomamon? Hey, where are you? (Joe follows the sound, but Gomamon pops out of Joe's duffel) Gomamon: Joe, I've been snoozing over here! Joe: Huh? Oh, well we'll just save the world without you then-- (Joe gets attacked, then falls off a cliff) Gomamon: JOE!!! Joe: Wh-whoa! ...I didn't need this.

Again, weird scripting choice here. They replace his last line with a snarky gag, but visually Joe returns his attention to the spot he was investigating (and gets attacked for it) without indicating why he's still poking around that patch of grass.

Joe's understated whine of a silence-breaker is fantastic, though. He's so used to peril at this point that his reaction to falling off a cliff is basically a stone-faced, "Really. Okay." XD

Koromon, Tsunomon, Mochimon, Tokomon, and Pyocomon all take Jou getting attacked as encouragement to evolve into their Child-stages, ending their recovery periods. Plotmon remains Plotmon and Palmon trips, falling on her face in a funny moment in the middle of the dramatic charge.

Agumon, Gabumon, Patamon, and Palmon all move in on the attacker in the grass, but Hikari calls out.

Hikari: STOP!!!

Approaching the grass, Hikari crouches down and gently, softly addresses the terrified Digimon hiding in it.

Hikari: Don't be scared. You don't have to be scared. I'm not going to hurt you. You can come out.

Trembling in fear, Chuumon slowly emerges from the grass, then collapses in front of the kids.

Palmon: It's Chuumon! Mimi: You're right! That's Chuumon from File Island! (Chuumon opens his eyes at the sound of their voices.) Chuumon: Mimi-chan? Palmon?

We briefly flash back on better, or at least less despondent days, when Scumon and Chuumon met Mimi way back when.

Chuumon: I'm glad... you came back....

That's all Chuumon manages to get out before passing out.

In the dub:

Kari: HOLD ON!!! (Kari approaches the grass and crouches down) Kari: Come out! You're among friends. We won't hurt you. Don't be afraid. (Chuumon emerges) Palmon: Oh my goodness! It's Chuumon! Mimi: He looks terrible; What he needs is a complete makeover. (Chuumon opens his eyes at the sound of their voices.) Chuumon: Mimi? Palmon? (Brief flashback of meeting Mimi) Mimi (V.O.): Something bad happened. Sukamon and Chuumon used to be inseparable! (Flashback ends) Chuumon: I'm so glad you came back to save us....

They remove the part where Mimi ID's Chuumon as specifically the one from File Island, which is kind of important because there was a separate Scumon and Chuumon among PicoDevimon's shitty recruits earlier. Then again, the dub might not know those are different Digimon, given the confusion they had about Kuwagamon "following us from File Island" during the Etemon arc.

It's fine, though, because the flashback that follows does the job anyway. Plus she still calls them out in her silence-breaking flashback narration, so nothing is lost by the replacement of this line with a signature Mimi Quip.

It's actually Kari's dialogue that I take issue with. Not for the lines she says but the tone of voice. Rather than the soft, gentle tones that the original uses, she talks to Chuumon in her normal speaking voice. It's a small thing but it dampens the emotional impact of the moment and its demonstration of Hikari's sensitive empathy.

It doesn't ruin the scene, though; It just means the tone of the moment isn't as strong as it would otherwise be.

Suddenly Jou calls out, reminding everyone that he's still dangling off a cliff.

Jou: HEEEEEY SOMEONE HELP!!! Gomamon: Oops, I forgot!

Gomamon bounds over to the edge of the cliff to help Jou, only to be stymied by his biological limitations.

Gomamon: Waugh!? Jou: Gomamon, give me your hand! I can't climb back up on my own! Gomamon: (looks down at his flipper) Now, when you say to give you my 'hand'....

This is a callback to the Unimon episode way back on File Island; Jou's first spotlight episode. There, he'd ribbed Gomamon for offering to lend a "hand".

Taichi and Yamato arrive, looking at the ravine beyond Jou.

Taichi: This is...! Yamato: AH! Taichi: Jou, climb back up!

Jou briefly looks down, seeing that the ravine is deep beneath him, and shrieks. He scrambles to pull himself up, while Taichi and Yamato grab him and help pull him back onto the grass.

Jou: Help me! Yamato: Come on, hurry! Taichi: Grab on!

Once Jou's safely back on the ground, the three boys look into the deepening ravine, watching chunks of the landscape crumble and fall into it.

Yamato: What is happening here...?

In the dub:

Joe: Would somebody mind helping me!? Gomamon: Whoops, I forgot all about ya! (Gomamon runs over to Joe) Joe: You forgot. I'm hanging here by my elbows and you're off in la-la land! Gomamon: (looks down at his flipper) Gee, I wonder what it's like to have elbows? (Tai and Matt arrive) Tai: Joe!? Figures. Matt: Huh!? Tai: Hey, quit fooling around! (Joe looks down and shrieks; The boys pull him up.) Joe: Just help me, will ya!? Matt: Work with us! (Matt looks at the collapsing landscape) Matt: What's happening!? Everything's gone wacko!

The "hand" bit is replaced with Gomamon getting distracted by a non sequitur. Tai's dialogue is rewritten to be mean to Joe.

While everyone's dealing with Jou and Chuumon, Koushiro tries to contact Gennai.

Tentomon: Have you found Gennai-han? Koushiro: No, I haven't been able to get through.

Meanwhile, Mimi cradles Chuumon in her lap while the group gathers around him.

Palmon: He looks a lot less scared after seeing your face, Mimi. Piyomon: He must have been running on pure adrenaline. Sora: The poor thing.

Chuumon wakes up in Mimi's lap.

Mimi: Chuumon? Chuumon: Mimi-chan? You're really Mimi-chan! Mimi: That's right. What happened to you? Chuumon: (silently flinches away from the question) Palmon: Where's your pal Scumon? Chuumon: He's... He's dead!

Making that admission, Chuumon starts bawling. We cut to a flashback of Scumon and Chuumon living carefree lives on File Island.

Chuumon (V.O.): After Mimi-chan and the others left File Island, we spent our days peacefully like usual. Then, one day out of nowhere....

A huge earthquake rips through the island. Scumon and Chuumon run for their lives, but Scumon falls into a massive chasm that opens up. Chuumon calls after him, but a wave of darkness ushers up from the chasm, blowing him away.

Chuumon (V.O.): The powers of darkness enveloped the world. Then, to make it easier for darkness to rule, they reshaped the entire world....

In media, it's generally agreed that if you don't see a body, the character's going to come back. Digimon don't leave bodies behind, however, so just take my assurance that there's no trick here.

Scumon is actually dead. We will not see him again until 02, after he's had a chance to reincarnate at Primary Village. He was one of probably many casualties unluckily caught up in the Dark Masters' upheaval of the landscape.

In the dub:

Tentomon: Are you trying to get a hold of Gennai? Izzy: Well, I'm not playing Solitaire! (Cut to the kids gathered around Chuumon in Mimi's lap) Palmon: Chuumon's a mess! I wonder what happened to him. Biyomon: Well, whatever it was, it wasn't very pretty! Sora: Poor thing! (Chuumon wakes up) Mimi: Ah! Chuumon! Chuumon: Mimi.... I wasn't dreaming; It's really you after all! Mimi: Poor thing. Why don't you tell Mimi all about it?

I had issues earlier with Kari's voice but Mimi's tone here is perfect. I love the way she uses her own name as an emotional prybar to get Chuumon to open up, having recognized the unique influence she has in this moment.

Palmon: What happened to your friend Sukamon? Chuumon: I-I... I'm afraid I lost him.... (Chuumon starts bawling and goes into flashback) Chuumon (V.O.): After you guys left File Island, Sukamon and I went on with life as usual. You know, eating, eating, and more eating! When suddenly.... (The chasm rips apart File Island and Sukamon falls into the darkness below) Chuumon: I never saw him again! A powerful evil force took over the land, causing all kinds of bad things to happen! Then it rebuilt the Digital World so it would be easier to conquer! I've been hiding ever since.

The dub doesn't directly state that Sukamon's dead, but they don't unwrite his death either. They leave Sukamon's fate up in the air.

The kids have some questions about that last thing Chuumon mentioned.

Taichi: They reshaped the world? Koushiro: Into what?

Cut to an ambiguous length of time later; The sun's risen, so they must have been traveling a while to get here. Still carried in Mimi's arms, Chuumon shows the kids to the base of a colossal, twisting landmass composed of various biomes streaked up from the earth below.

Chuumon: Some places here or there are ruins of what they used to be, but most of it has been twisted up into that mountain. It's called Spiral Mountain.

Like many proper nouns in the Digital World, the name "Spiral Mountain" is in English.

Yamato: Spiral Mountain? Joe: I can't believe the Digimon World has changed so much....

Yeah, the Dark Masters reshaped the world into their own literally twisted version of the compass center Shumisen; The great mountain at the center of the universe upon which sits the heaven of the devas.

In the dub:

Tai: You mean the Digital World is completely changed from what it was? Izzy: How is it different? (Chuumon shows them to Spiral Mountain) Chuumon: Everything's been discombobulated and taken apart! The Digital World has been relocated way up there! It's called Spiral Mountain! There's nothing left here of the old world except some ruins! Matt: So you're saying it's all up there. Huh. Joe: Color me cynical but nothing surprises me about this place.

"The Digital World has been relocated way up there" is an awkward way to explain this. The Digital World hasn't been relocated; It's been reshaped, with most of its geographic mass twisted up into Spiral Mountain.

We are, right now, standing in the Digital World. We're just in the scant non-mountain bits that were left over.

As an aside, I like Joe's parting quip at the end of this exchange. XD

Taichi has more questions for the traumatized Chuumon.

Taichi: What happened to the other Digimon? Like Leomon? Chuumon: I don't know. But I've heard that everyone who's gone against them has been destroyed.... Sora: Against who? Chuumon: (hushed whisper) ...the Dark Masters....

The phrase "Dark Masters" is also in English.

Taichi: So then we have to fight these Dark Masters. Chuumon: FIGHT!?!? YOU'LL NEVER WIN!!! NEVER EVER!!! Taichi: Hey, we brought down Vamdemon! Mimi: It will be okay! As long as all eight of the Chosen Children are together, we can save the world!

Mimi's trying so hard to reassure Chuumon, but the very thought of these kids trying to resist the Dark Masters chills him to his bones.

In the dub:

Tai: Where did all the other Digimon go? Are they up there too? Where's Leomon? Chuumon: I don't know. But from what I've been told, they'll destroy anything that tries to get in their way! Sora: Who will? Chuumon: Who? The Dark Masters! Tai: Well, they couldn't be too much tougher than anybody else we've wrestled with before. Chuumon: No way! They'll beat the pants right off of you! Tai: We got rid of Myotismon, so we can get rid of them too! Mimi: Don't worry about it. As long as the eight of us are together, we'll keep those big bullies away from you!

This whole exchange is semantically very different, particularly when Chuumon gets in a pissing contest with Tai about how tough the Dark Masters are rather than panicking and screaming. But it's all lateral changes, I think. Same ideas expressed differently, nothing objectionable or especially noteworthy.

Suddenly, a deep, bestial laugh fills the air around the kids.

MetalSeadramon: HUHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! CHOSEN CHILDREN!!! I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU!!!

The ground in front of them explodes into smoke and debris, then MetalSeadramon's titanic body erupts upwards from the smoke.

Chuumon: IT'S METALSEADRAMON!!!

Alright! Go ahead, Taichi. Go fight him. We'll wait here. :P

(In seriousness, Taichi's assessment was fair. The Dark Masters are each on the same level as VenomVamdemon. Chuumon has a different frame of reference because Ultimate-stage Digimon are so rare and mythical as to basically be unheard of.)

In any case, it's time for MetalSeadramon's rundown. He's an Ultimate-stage Data-type Cyborg Digimon; The Data Ultimate for the Deep Savers evolution tree, evolved from MegaSeadramon.

Narrator: MetalSeadramon. An Ultimate-stage Digimon whose entire body is covered in Chrome Digizoid, the strongest metal. He boasts colossal power and tremendous speed.

"Chrome Digizoid" is English. Well, Digizoid is a made-up word, but "Chrome" is English and Digizoid is English-like.

The kids run for it. MetalSeadramon moves quickly, swooping through the woods and smashing through the group. Though he fails to get a solid hit on anyone, he sends the kids tumbling to the ground in his wake.

Yamato: (trying to get up; pained) How can he move so fast with a body that huge!?

Over in the dub:

MetalSeadramon: HEEEHEHEHAHAHA!!! I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU, DIGIDESTINED!!! (MetalSeadramon erupts from the ground) Chuumon: OH NO, IT'S METALSEADRAMON!!! Chuumon: (rundown) This guy is one real hard nose! And I mean hard nose! Take my advice: This is one train that you would rather miss. (MetalSeadramon attacks, knocking the kids down) Matt: (trying to get up; pained) Okay, if that's the way you want it, we can play rough too!

Another instance of the dub swapping out dialogue to make the kids look stronger and more battle-hungry.

Chuumon's diegetic rundown sucks. The original rundown gives salient explanations for why MetalSeadramon is a force to be reckoned with. Dub Chuumon just says "He's really tough, trust me."

Getting up, the kids and their Partner Digimon prepare to fight back.

Taichi: Let's go, Agumon! Agumon: Got it! Yamato: Gabumon! Sora: I'm counting on you, Piyomon!

All eight Partner Digimon evolve to their Adult forms to throw down with MetalSeadramon.

It does not go well.

In fact, it goes tremendously unwell. Fighting him at -2 stages was a terrible idea.

Tailmon does manage to jerk aside before he can fucking eat her but they're still losing this fight badly. And embarrassing themselves in front of Chuumon who was already convinced the kids were screwed.

In the dub:

Tai: Let's go, Agumon! Agumon: Gotcha! Matt: Now it's our turn!

Sora's line gets snubbed. Rude.

Love the confidence on Matt, though. "Now it's OUR turn!" exclaimed while basically whipping out a switchblade to face down a gatling gun.

The dub makes minor edits to MetalSeadramon's brutal beatdown. The shot where his tail slams into Togemon is cut down; We see her go flying but we don't see the hit that threw her.

Dub Angemon inexplicably calls his Hand of Fate attack while getting bodied like the rest. They got to do their stock animation attacks and then get bodied, but he didn't get to do a stock animation attack first so I guess he got jealous.

Similarly, when Gatomon lunges at MetalSeadramon's face and immediately has regrets, she calls Lightning Paw in the dub. The original Tailmon was just... trying to tackle him in the face. Which is a terrible idea, so having her at least call an attack there makes sense.

Flying overhead, MegaSeadramon makes victory loopies in the sky.

Takeru: ANGEMON!!! Hikari: Tailmon.... MetalSeadramon: HUHAHAHAHA!!! As if you could win against me! Mimi: Why is this happening!? It's eight against one! (Koushiro suddenly looks up from his laptop with alarm) Koushiro: MetalSeadramon is an Ultimate-stage Digimon! Adult-stages can't win against him no matter how many there are! Taichi: He's Ultimate-stage!? Jou: Why does our first opponent have to be such a powerful one!? MetalSeadramon: You're finished. ULTIMATE STREAM!!!

MetalSeadramon's Ultimate Stream fires from the cannon on his nose, annihilating the landscape around the Chosen Children in a massive energy explosion. The eight Partner Digimon all wrap themselves around their partnered children to shield them from the blast.

Seriously, though, I said it for dub Matt earlier but I'll say it again here. You gotta love the sheer cockiness. Riding high on their victory against Vamdemon, they thought they could stroll in here, throw a few Meteor Wings and Mega Flames around, and the Dark Masters would roll over and die for them.

They thought VenomVamdemon was as bad as it gets. They were not prepared for more Ultimate Digimon.

In the dub:

T.K.: Angemon! Kari: Oh no! MetalSeadramon: (loopies) YOU SHOULD KNOW YOUR POWERS AREN'T STRONG ENOUGH!!! Mimi: How come he's beating us so badly!? (Izzy suddenly looks up from his laptop with alarm) Izzy: Ah! It's because he's a Mega Digimon, and even eight Champions can't overtake one Mega! He's stronger than all of us combined! Tai: Then we're lost without more power! Joe: Ever notice we're always in the wrong place at just the wrong time? MetalSeadramon: Now it's time to take one nasty ride!

Dub MetalSeadramon does not call his attack.

We go to commercial following MetalSeadramon's attack and come back to the kids recovering in a dark place.

Angemon: (cradling Takeru) Takeru, are you hurt? Takeru: I'm okay. Thank you, Angemon.

Angemon nods, but then they hear a low, bestial growling. Angemon whips his head around. There's something out there in the mists that he can't make out. He sets down Takeru and picks up his Holy Rod.

Takeru: What is it? Angemon: There's something here. I'll go take a look.

In the dub:

Angemon: (cradling T.K.) T.K., are you alright? T.K.: I thought I was broken, but I guess I must be okay!

The dub frequently misses sound cues for plot points that are strictly auditory, but they do capture the bestial growling that sets off Angemon here. Points for that.

T.K.: What's the matter? Angemon: Wait. I'll be back.

Angemon takes to the air, trying to scout ahead. In the distance, a metallic whirring sound revs up, and two bolts of light begin to glow in the mist.

Then they fire.

Before he knows what hit him, Angemon's pummeled by twin cannon shots.

Takeru: ANGEMON!!!

Regressing into Patamon, he flops helplessly across the grass, landing in front of Takeru.

Takeru: Patamon! Patamon, hang in there!

Mugendramon wheels forward out of the mist. And I do mean wheels; He doesn't actually walk, but rolls forward motionlessly like his feet have roller skates under them or something.

He roars aggressively, saying nothing. Koushiro checks his laptop, bringing us into our second Dark Master rundown.

Mugendramon is an Ultimate-stage Virus-type Machine Digimon. The Virus Ultimate from Metal Empire, completing the set with WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon. His name is derived from the Japanese word mugen, meaning infinite, and of course dramon/dragon. Mugendramon is the Infinite Dragon.

Koushiro: (laptop) Ah! That's another Ultimate-stage Digimon! Narrator: Mugendramon. An Ultimate-stage Digimon who wields unbelievable power. His special attack is Mugen Cannon.

Angemon took two shots from the Infinite Dragon's Infinite Cannon. It's a wonder he's even alive.

Over in the dub:

T.K.: ANGEMON!!! (Angemon reverts to Patamon and flops on the ground) T.K.: Oh no! Poor Patamon! (Machinedramon emerges) Izzy: (laptop) Ah! Be prepared for another Mega Digimon! Izzy: (rundown) He's called Machinedramon. This metallic mutant can blow out a Digimon just like a birthday candle!

The original rundown for this wasn't exactly super explanatory. It just said "Fucker strong." Izzy says the same but in the weirdest way possible. He's trying to make a quip out of it but, sorry Izzy, they can't all be winners.

Everybody Super-Evolves to face Mugendramon, except Angemon who is still slacking. Once in their Perfect stages, they have a plan. The plan is "Get him".

Not a great plan. Taichi endorses it because of course he does.

Taichi: Get him! Beat him up! Hikari: But we can't win.... Taichi: Eh?

Rushing Mugendramon in a mob, the Digimon try in vain to close distance. Mugendramon kicks back, enjoys his firing position, and mows them all down in a barrage of Mugen Cannon fire. This was a terrible plan of attack.

In the dub:

Tai: Come on, guys! Show him what you're made of! Kari: Hope they're made of something strong enough! Tai: Huh!?

Kari seems more onboard with this plan than Hikari was, though still more realistic than Tai about their chances.

Mugendramon keeps up the assault. One of his shots hits Angewomon, knocking her out of the sky. Hikari tries to catch her but her tiny child body gets crushed under Angewomon's larger bulk.

Good effort, Hikari. Eyes were a little bigger than your arms, though.

Mugendramon's assault destroys the landscape beneath the kids, and they fall deeper into the dark place. Then they gradually drift to a stop, still floating in the air.

Koushiro: We stopped. Mimi: Where are we? What's going on?

Mimi's question goes unanswered as more pressing priorities emerge. WereGarurumon suddenly, out of nowhere, throws a punch at Garudamon and clocks her across the face. Garudamon recovers and comes back with a right hook.

Yamato: What are you doing, WereGarurumon!? Sora: Stop it, Garudamon! You're on the same side!

Garudamon and WereGarurumon continue fistfighting.

Garudamon: I'm not doing it on purpose! WereGarurumon: My body... It's moving by itself! Sora: (confused) Your body's moving by itself?

An unseen force suddenly jerks Sora's arms up into an odd pose. Cut to Jou, hanging from Zudomon's horn, who's jogging in place.

Jou: W-What's going on!?

In the dub, Mimi makes a salient point about their odd predicament.

Izzy: We stopped! Mimi: I can't complain. It's sure a lot better than falling on our heads. (Digimon start fighting) Matt: Hey, can't you two take a break for one minute!? Sora: Yeah, come on! We're all supposed to be on the same side! Garudamon: I can't control it! WereGarurumon: That's right! Our bodies are doing this all by themselves! Sora: (skeptically) All by themselves, huh? OH! (arm pose) Joe: (forced to jog in place) I've always hated any form of exercise; What's happening to me!?

Dub Sora straight-up doesn't believe them when they explain they're being controlled. XD

It's Koushiro who finally notices the thin strings connected to each of them.

Koushiro: Ah! There are strings attached to us! We're being controlled! Pinochimon: Hehehehe... You finally figured it out. Koushiro: Who are you!? Pinochimon: Why don't you use your special little computer to find out? Here.

Using Koushiro's strings, Pinochimon manipulates him into typing at his computer to pull up Pinochimon's profile. Pinochimon is an Ultimate-stage Virus-type Puppet Digimon. He's the Virus Ultimate from the Wind Guardians line, sharing space with Piyomon and Palmon's evolutionary paths. His name and design are obviously based on Pinocchio.

Koushiro: Ah! He's Ultimate-stage! Narrator: Pinochimon. An Ultimate Digimon who places Number One in awful personalities! His special attack is Bullet Hammer.

Number One with a bullet, you say? A loaded god complex, cock it and pull it?

Gotta love the gradual decline in the these rundowns.

MetalSeadramon - He's ultra fast and powerful not to mention gigantic! Plus his armor is made from the strongest metal in the Digital World! Mugendramon - He's unbelievably powerful. So powerful, you guys. Pinochimon - ...he's very mean.

At this point, Piemon's rundown will just be "Piemon. (long silence) What a dick!"

The dub changes Pinochimon's name to Puppetmon.

Izzy: We've become string puppets! And someone's operating us! Puppetmon: (mocking) Hah hahaha hah! Well, aren't we a little smarty pants!? Izzy: Who are you!? Puppetmon: Wanna know? How about if I help you look up my profile on your special computer? Watch! (Puppetmon manipulates Izzy into typing) Izzy: (gasp) He's also a Mega Digimon! Izzy: (rundown) Puppetmon has a controlling personality and a rotten temper! Get him mad and he'll bop you with his hammer!

He'll probably shoot you with his hammer, actually, but the dub may be trying to avoid saying "Bullet Hammer". Though you can still clearly see that the head of his hammer is the cylinder of a revolver.

Snerk. Good, uh... good luck with that, dub team. I cannot wait 'til we get to his episode.

Upon meeting Pinochimon, Mimi wants to file a complaint.

Mimi: (furious) Again!? Why do these Ultimate-stage Digimon keep appearing one after another!? Lilimon: Mimi.... Pinochimon: Now, fly to the Last Stage!

Pinochimon yanks the kids' strings, sending them flying through the void. Then he addresses the Digimon left behind.

Pinochimon: You guys should hurry after them. BULLET HAMMER!!!

The revolver cylinder on his hammer fires off like a minigun, spraying the Partner Digimon and knocking them all out of their Perfect forms. Most regress to their baby forms, save for Agumon, Gabumon, and Tailmon as usual.

In the dub, Mimi's complaint to the management turns into her firing off a fantastic Mimi Quip.

Mimi: If you have to hit something, you should bop yourself for how you look in that stupid helmet! Lillymon: MIMI!?!?

Savage. Even Lillymon's shocked by Mimi's ferocity.

Puppetmon: I'm gonna have to let you go for now! (Puppetmon sends the kids away) Puppetmon: But I promise to destroy you! PUPPET PUMMEL!!!

Though they censor out the name of Pinochimon's Bullet Hammer, the footage of it firing remains unedited.

The children wake up at a Greco-Roman coliseum, groaning in pain. Based on the surrounding area, we seem to be in the desert from the Etemon arc, or what it's become in the reconfigured world.

A jovial clown balancing on a ball rolls out onto the stage.

Clown: Hello, good children! I'm here today to tell you all a funny story!

The clown holds up crudely-drawn crayon pictures to illustrate his story.

Clown: A long, long time ago, there were eight Chosen Children and their Digimon. The Eight Children and their Digimon were foolish enough to climb Spiral Mountain, where they all met a tragic fate at the hands of the Dark Masters. The end. Takeru: (angry) What was that!? That wasn't funny at all! Clown: I just told you what sort of destiny awaits you. You should be grateful. ^_^

Poor Takeru totally fumbled his Sense Motive check when the random clown arrived. XD He was actually expecting to be entertained. Did not catch the vibe of this conversation at all.

In the dub:

Clown: Well, hello there, boys and girls! And welcome! Today, I'm going to tell you an amazing story! (The clown holds out his crayon sketches) Clown: Once upon a time, there was eight DigiDestined. They went with their Digimon companions to try to save the world. The children and their Digimon discovered that in order for them to do it, they had to climb up to the top of Spiral Mountain. But to their dismay, the Dark Masters defeated them. So sad! T.K.: Hey, Clowny! Nobody's laughing at your story! Clown: Oh dear, I'm so sorry. Did I happen to mention the story is true? I wanted to give you a preview of the plot!

Pretty faithful, I'd say.

Suddenly, the clown's guise fades away and reveals him to be Piemon.

Piemon leaps to the top of a nearby column, laughing as he goes. From here, we go into our final rundown for the Dark Masters.

Piemon is an Ultimate-stage Virus-type Demon Person Digimon. Fittingly, he's the Virus Ultimate of the Nightmare Soldiers and the original Ultimate evolution for Vamdemon, as well as Phantomon.

Yes, over the course of this show the kids have had to fight their way through the entire Nightmare Soldiers evolution branch of Devimon -> Vamdemon -> Piemon while also taking a break to punch it out with Monkey Elvis.

As I mentioned before, Piemon's name is not "Pie-mon". It's pronounced Pee-eh-mon, because it's a reference to the comedic character Pierrot from traditional European pantomime performances.

His dub name Piedmon, however, is "Pied-mon", a reference to clowns being hit with pies. This is because the dub didn't trust American nine-year-olds to be familiar with Victorian-Era European Mime Lore. XD

Mimi: Wha--!? Chuumon: WAAAAAUGH!!! IT'S PIEMON!!! Narrator: Piemon. A phantasmal Ultimate-stage Digimon who comes and goes unexpectedly. His true nature is shrouded in mystery.

What a dick!

No, like MetalSeadramon, that is a pretty solid infodump. It tells us to expect Piemon to be a walking WTF.

To summarize what we've learned here: MetalSeadramon is huge, fast, and invulnerable. Mugendramon is unbelievably powerful. Pinochimon is unpleasant at parties. And Piemon has bizarre and esoteric abilities.

This all serves to set up the conflicts to come. Yes, even Pinochimon.

Over in the dub:

Piedmon: Hahahahahaha! Fools! Mimi: (gasp) Chuumon: AHHHHHHHHHH!!! IT'S PIEDMON!!! Chuumon: (rundown) He's a Mega Phantom Digimon of the worst kind! You never know what he's going to look like next!

This is the closest a Dark Master rundown gets to relaying the original information. Good job, Chuumon.

Just once, can we run into a Phantom Digimon of the best kind? Where's Ghost of Christmas Presentmon? That guy seems like he'd be fun to hang out with.

Finally, Taichi and Yamato are at their wit's end with all these Ultimate Digimon and decide to match power with power.

Taichi: We won't lose to you guys! Agumon! Yamato: Gabumon, I'm counting on you!

Agumon and Gabumon Warp-Evolve to face Piemon Ultimate to Ultimate.

Taichi: Go, WarGreymon! Show him what we're made of! Yamato: MetalGarurumon! Take him down and save the world!

WarGreymon leads with Gaia Force. Piemon sidesteps the attack. MetalGarurumon follows up with Cocytus Breath, but Piemon breaks out one of his swords and slices through the slushie onslaught.

In the dub, Tai kicks us off with a retort to Piedmon's story earlier.

Tai: Well, I think your plot needs a few rewrites! Agumon! Matt: Gabumon, you can do it! (Warp evolutions) Tai: Yeah! Let him know we mean business, WarGreymon! Matt: MetalGarurumon! Teach that joker a lesson he'll never forget!

Pretty snappy comeback for Tai there, especially to a thespian like Pie(d)mon. It's one thing to call him a dick but shit-talking his craft is really throwing down the gauntlet.

Too bad about those whiffed attacks, though.

After maneuvering through the pair's offense, Piemon comes back with his own signature move: Trump Sword.

It's sword-throwing. He throws swords.

Direct hits on WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon score instant KOs, reverting them back to Agumon and Gabumon.

Jou: I-It can't be! Sora: We can't win even with two Ultimates on our side? Mimi: He's just an Ultimate too, right? Piemon: Even though we are on the same level, you have only recently acquired your new power. You're mistaken if you think that is all it takes to win. Agumon: (pained) I'm sorry, Taichi....

Piemon was able to outfight WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon simultaneously, not because he's stronger than them but because he has much more experience in the Ultimate state. As a natural Ultimate who achieved this level the hard way, by rising through the ranks of Perfect and Ultimate evolution, he simply has them outmatched in skill and experience.

From there, Piemon goes on to give his team their formal introductions, despite Koushiro having already identified each of them. He's a showman; Let him have this moment.

Piemon: Permit me now to introduce the members that make up the Dark Masters. MetalSeadramon! (MetalSeadramon explodes from the ground, roaring) Piemon: Mugendramon! (Mugendramon smashes through columns to enter the coliseum, also roaring) Piemon: Pinochimon! (Pinochimon just sort of appears) Pinochimon: Personally, I wish I could have had some more fun with you. Piemon: And myself, Piemon. (Piemon remains a dick.) Piemon: Time flies in the blink of an eye when you're having fun. Now then. Who should die first?

In the dub:

Joe: This is bad news. Sora: Even two Mega Digimon couldn't put him down! That's really bad news! Mimi: Not to mention he's a fashion disaster! Piedmon: Your two Megas are newly Digivolved. How can you expect them to compete against an experienced and, might I boast, superior Digimon? Agumon: (pained) Tai... Sorry....

Mimi's question is replaced with a Mimi Quip. Fortunately, Piedmon still delivers the important information anyway and we get a Mimi Quip out of it so it's cool.

Piedmon: Please permit me to present my fellow actors in this captivating and charming comedy of errors! MetalSeadramon! (MetalSeadramon explodes from the ground, roaring) Piedmon: Machinedramon! (Machinedramon smashes through columns to enter the coliseum, also roaring) Piedmon: Puppetmon! (Puppetmon just sort of appears) Puppetmon: You thought you were through with me, but I wanted to have some more fun! Piedmon: And myself, Piedmon. (Such a dick.) Piedmon: We'd like to begin by asking for audience volunteers. Who would like to be the first to be destroyed? Oh come now, don't tell me you have stage fright!

No lie, I am loving the dub performance for Piedmon. They understood the assignment.

Piemon's eyes scan the group before falling on Mimi.

The moment she realizes he's looking at her, Mimi bursts out into tears, screaming and crying at the top of her lungs.

Mimi: No... NO!!! I'M JUST AN ORDINARY GRADE SCHOOL STUDENT!!! WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO DIE HERE!?!? Sora: (gently) Mimi-chan.... Mimi: I WANTED TO DRESS UP IN FASHIONABLE CLOTHES AND EAT MORE YUMMY THINGS AND GO ON A TRIP ABROAD AND-- Piedmon: Your whining is starting to hurt my ears! I'm going to start with you.

Just like that, Piemon gets target lock.

Mimi melts down in both versions, but the dub's meltdown is a bit different.

Mimi: I didn't even want to go to camp in the first place! I just wanted to go to the mall! Can't somebody else save this silly world besides me!? Sora: (surprised) Mimi!? Mimi: I want to be a normal kid and not have any big responsibilities! I mean, come on, is that too much to ask!? It's not fair! Piedmon: Ack! Your incessant whining is getting on my nerves! You will be the first one to go!

Original Mimi's meltdown is about the unfairness of having to die at such a young age with so much of her life still ahead of her. Dub Mimi's meltdown is about how much she doesn't want to be a child soldier which is valid but contextually off.

It feels like the dub team is trying to fill in a Mimi meltdown from scratch to avoid going as dark as the original subject matter. They do a fair job; It doesn't feel like it came out of nowhere. But lines like "Can't someone else save the world?" and "I don't want responsibilities!" still seem divorced from the specific grim predicament she's actually in right now.

Having made up his mind Piemon swiftly draws a hidden dagger from his sleeve and tosses it at Mimi.

Without hesitation, Chuumon leaps out of Mimi's arms, taking Piemon's knife to his chest. Chuumon falls prone on the ground, the knife disintegrating as quickly as it appeared. Weeping, Mimi scoops him back up in her arms.

Mimi: Chuumon! You have to hold on! Chuumon: Mimi-chan... When I reincarnate... Go on a date with me.... Mimi: CHUUMON!!!

With that utterly inappropriate yet entirely in-character bit of emotional blackmail, Chuumon disintegrates into pixels and joins his friend Scumon in death.

(So far as we know, she does not honor his last request, nor should she.)

The dub cuts the shot where the knife plunges into Chuumon, but keeps the shot of Chuumon falling to the ground with the knife stabbed into him.

Mimi: Chuumon! Speak to me, you poor thing! Chuumon: Mimi... It's time for me... to be deleted.... Mimi: CHUUMON!!!

His last request doesn't make it in; No surprise there. But they pull no punches about the fact that Chuumon definitely and without question died violently.

Someone, however, is not impressed by Chuumon's sacrifice.

Piemon: What a stupid Digimon. There's no reason to protect each other when you're all going to die here anyway. Taichi: We won't let you get away with this! Dark Masters: (all laugh together) Piemon: So, who's next?

Before he can pick his next target, another old friend suddenly cuts in.

Piccolomon's Pit Bomb does no damage whatsoever but flashbangs the Dark Masters, allowing him to make off with the Chosen Children. He carries them to safety within a cloaked invisibility sphere.

Takeru: Piccolomon! We were hoping to see you again! Piccolomon: So was I pi! Koushiro: You were able to reach us by creating a barrier that the enemy couldn't see? Piccolomon: That's right pi! Taichi: Piccolomon, we made it this way believing that as long as the eight of us were together, we could save both worlds. But-- Piccolomon: It's true that the eight of you are together pi but that alone isn't enough to win pi. Sora: What are we missing? Jou: Tell us! Piccolomon: (somberly) Unfortunately, we don't have time for that pi.

A wave of energy suddenly hits the barrier. What little time Piccolomon's trick bought them has run its course.

In the dub:

Piedmon: Chuumon was a fool!

The dub inserts a commercial break after Chuumon's death, then we return and watch him die again.

Mimi: T_T Oh, Chuumon! Piedmon: So, now that he's out of the way, who would like to be the next one to make their grand exit? Tai: Piedmon, you're gonna be washed up when we're through with you! Dark Masters: (all laugh together) Piedmon: Be my guest. Piximon: PIT BOMB!!! (Piximon takes the kids and bails) T.K.: Hey, Piximon! Perfect timing! Piximon: I missed ya! Izzy: Prodigious! You cleverly used a barrier to avoid detection. Piximon: I sure did! Tai: But you said it was possible to save the planet if the eight of us were all together! How come it's not happening, huh? What's up, Piximon!? Piximon: The truth is, being together is not enough. There's something else that you need to do to beat 'em. Sora: How are we going to find out if you won't help? Joe: Yeah, enough riddles! Piximon: This is something you will discover on your own.

The dub's gotten its wires crossed about the plot again. Piximon never said anything about the eight of them; His episode was well behind us when the Eighth Child plot point was introduced. Tai's beef should, as always, be with Gennai.

In the original, Piccolomon's like "Look you need more than just being physically present but I don't have time to explain because we are seconds away from getting murdered."

Piximon, on the other hand, is being cryptic for funsies.

Pursuing Piccolomon's invisibility shimmer, the Dark Masters gain ground. There is no escape.

MetalSeadramon: Found you. Piccolomon: I'm going to stop them pi! Make your way to Spiral Mountain while I hold them off pi! Yamato: You're going to stop them!? They're all Ultimate-stage! Piccolomon: I know that pi! Even if I can't win, I can still put up a fight pi! Taichi: I'll fight with you! Piccolomon: ARE YOU STUPID!? You're the last hope for the world pi!

MetalSeadramon hits Piccolomon's barrier with a direct shot from his Ultimate Stream. Piccolomon waits and lets the barrier absorb MetalSeadramon's shot, then emerges to fight the Dark Masters.

Piccolomon: I'm sure you can find pi what you're missing! When you do, you'll be unstoppable pi! Now go, Chosen Children!

Piccolomon smacks the barrier with his spear, sending it flying off much faster than before.

In the dub:

MetalSeadramon: Aha! Here you are! Eheheheheheha! Piximon: I'll try to stop them. Meanwhile, make a run for it and climb to the top of Spiral Mountain. But you better move it! Matt: You can't stop them! They're all Mega Digimon! Piximon: I know I can't win, but I should be able to distract them long enough for you to get away! Tai: I'll stay with you! Piximon: No way! Besides, we need you on Spiral Mountain; We're counting on you to beat 'em!

Though MetalSeadramon's nose beam went unnamed last time he used it, this time he calls the attack.

MetalSeadramon: RIVER OF POWER!!! (MetalSeadramon blasts the barrier bubble) Piximon: (emerges) Please go now. You have a very important task ahead of you. Once you succeed, no one will ever be able to stop you again. I know you will make me proud of you!

Strong parting words for what will be their final meeting.

As an aside, I love the name "River of Power". That is a fantastic "not-touching-you" name-like to Ultimate Stream. Well punned.

Sad that we lose Piccolomon calling Taichi a moron to his face. "I'm gonna sacrifice myself for you." "And I'll help you do--" "NO."

No sooner has Piccolomon sent the Children away than he hears Piemon call out to him.

Piemon: Piccolomon, is it? Do you honestly believe that you, a Perfect-stage, could win against us? Piccolomon: Say whatever you want pi!

From the barrier bubble, the children see a bright flash of light illuminate the coliseum once more.

Hikari: Piccolomon is dead. Narrator: After paying a heavy sacrifice, the children finally arrive at Spiral Mountain. But their fight with the Dark Masters has only just begun.

Boy, what a fun and joyous final adventure we've embarked on!

The dub changes things up here. They add some silence breakers as the bubble flies away.

Matt: He's stronger than he looks! Gabumon: He'll have to be!

Then they cut straight to the final shot of everyone watching from the barrier.

Kari: Do you think it's possible he can do it? Gabumon: I don't know, Kari! I hope so!

From there, we cut back to Piximon confronting the Dark Masters.

Piximon: Rrrgh! Piedmon: How can such a powerless Digimon even think about defeating us, hmm!? Piximon: Just call me a crazy little Digimon! Narrator: Will Piximon hold off the Dark Masters long enough for the DigiDestined to reach Spiral Mountain? Watch the next Digimon: Digital Monsters.

The explosion that indicated Piximon's death has been cut, as has the shot of the kids' bubble arriving at Spiral Mountain. But don't worry, they're planning to remix the shit out of this last scene at the start of the next episode. We'll see what became of Piximon; You just got to wait a week with hope and anticipation in your heart before coming back to watch him brutally die.

Weird choice but okay.

Assessment: I remembered this arc being dark but I forgot how quickly it gets dark. Remember the "goofy" harassers from File Island THEY FUCKING DIED. But don't worry, the virtuous trainer who helped Taichi figure his shit out is here and he ALSO FUCKING DIED.

To set the tone, this episode is a bloodbath right out of the starting gate. They want you to know that nobody outside our core eight is safe anymore. This is war and people are going to die.

The dub keeps up and handles itself pretty well. It even manages to keep up with the darkening tone using euphemistic language but refraining from talking around the deaths happening onscreen. Yes, that includes Piximon's, even if they did kick it out to next episode.

Even down to the execution scene, there's none of that "Capture them, put them in a cage!" stuff that previous arcs would have employed. "Who would like to make their grand exit?" is flowery but unambiguous in its meaning, especially after explicitly killing someone onscreen.

We're in for a fucking ride.

[ruhorih4ra]

Hello everyone! It's been a long, loooong time! But now I'm back with the comfort I promised (AND the angst you didn't ask for!)! (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

I'm sorry for the cliffhanger, It really wasn't my intention to completely lose my ability to think 👎🏻

Sorry for the grammatical errors (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

Get out of my way 🌈

“No! Let me go!” You said, but you were too tired to pronounce the words correctly. You felt drained and on edge.

You lost consciousness for a couple of minutes and then heat ran through your entire body. You felt something insight your bones, surround your core, a smooth voice calling your name. “Shh! Don't worry, MC, everything's fine. I'm here.” Simeon was holding you with a firm grip, his wings covering you from the cold air, the light emanating from his halo was both bright and warm.

You opened your eyes to see a truly angelic sight, the glimmering blue eyes of Simeon. Blue like a clear sky, blue like water after an endless sea of sand. “Simeon.” You cried, hugging him. Clinging to his arms. “Please, help me!” And even if you heard a tiny voice in your head berating you and calling you a pathetic coward, you couldn’t feel anything but relief in the angel’s arms.

Simeon's eyes were beautiful but the shadow of fear clouded his gaze, he could see your desperation, he could feel your panic. As he looked through the darkness of the Devildom, he prepared to combat any demon who even dared to get close to you. He would protect you with his life but, he couldn't feel anything. There weren’t demons around or at least perceptible ones.

“Simeon.” You murmured, “I'm tired.” Your eyelids felt heavy, giving you the appearance of a small child fighting his sleep. He knew it was the adrenaline that was running out, soon the pain from your injuries would take over you too. “It’s okay, take a little nap, you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

Simeon watched how his magic healed your arms, deep scratches turning into little ones. However, he didn’t know how to proceed, but one thing was certain, Lucifer and the prince must be aware of your absence and worried sick too.

“I’ll take you to the house of lamentation, Mc.” As soon as you processed those words, sleep left your body and was replaced with panic. “NO!” Your eyes widened and your grip on Simeon's arms tightened. “No! Don't let me get close to them!!” You cried, ignorant of Simeon’s growing anger. The wrath of an angel, always so cold and dangerous.

Maybe if you weren't so tired you would have noticed how Simeon's muscles tensed. How his eyes lost their warmth and his voice came out bitterly cold. “Did they hurt you?” “No!” You said, shaking your head. “No! They didn't!”

“I did!” You thought and it sank deep into your heart. “I hurt them.” But you couldn't voice that to Simeon, not yet. What would the angel say? What would he do? Leaving you too, that's for sure. Simeon’s anger was exchanged with worry and confusion, but you knew he wouldn't push for answers. “How do you feel now, Mc? Does it still hurts?” He asked, his fingers gently wiping away the tears you hadn’t noticed.

You scanned your body, but unlike a few minutes ago, there wasn't much to see, just light bruises and little scratches. The angel's curative magic had done its job almost immediately and you could only stare in awe. Simeon looked at you but you were absent, if only he could know what had brought you to this state.

“Do you want to go to the castle, Mc?.” You shook your head, this time you didn't panic, instead you seemed sad. “No, please. Take me to Purgatory Hall and let me stay there until I can return home.” You knew Simeon wouldn't deny you that, he was too good for his own good. “Is something happening in the house of lamentation? Why do you need to wait?”

The angel looked at you, identifying what he thought was confusion and surprise, but after a fraction of a second, sadness quickly took over your face. “I mean, when I can go back to the human world.” you murmured, and that's the saddest voice he have ever heard from you.

He knew something was utterly wrong, you had told him that the brothers hadn't hurt you, but your body and soul said the opposite. Why don't you want to see them? Simeon knows how forgiving you are, maybe they did hurt you and you don't want him to get angry.

Why do you want to go back to the human world even if months ago you were reluctant to go. What changed? Even if he wanted to know the truth, he knew what the priority was.

“Let's go then, Mc. You need a warm bath and something nice to eat.” He saw your wary eyes and let escape a small laugh of relief. “Don't worry, Solomon is on a trip.” For the first time in a while, you laughed too.

***

“Let me see them, Simeon.” The angel hadn't seen Mammon wearing an expression so serious and deadly since the war. “No.” He replied, his face kind and composed as it tended to be. Mammon had arrived at the exact moment Simeon had decided to leave.

“Move.” Mammon's voice was devoid of any warmth or consideration, he was giving an order whether Simeon was willing to indulge or not, he couldn’t care less. “Mammon, calm down.” Lucifer arrived, followed by the Prince and Barbatos. Simeon tried not to show his surprise at Lucifer’s poor state, he looked pale, his hair was messy, and his posture was far from ramrod straight.

“You're both hurt. Mammon, Lucifer, what happened?” Simeon had barely asked when Mammon tried to grab him by the neck. He easily eluded the movement and pushed Mammon away with a hand, a swift motion, elegant but firm. “Don't.” Simeon warned.

“Mammon, Mc wouldn't be pleased with this behavior.” Barbatos said as Diavolo firmly squeezed the demon’s shoulder. “Barbatos is right, please calm down.” Mammon brush off Diavolo's hand with little to no manners, something that would have angered Lucifer if the demon of pride wasn’t so desperate too. “Simeon.” Lucifer murmured. “Is Mc safe?”

Simeon held Mammon's gaze, none of them were willing to give in. “They’re safe.” He managed to say and Mammon’s fury decreased a little but not enough to give up. “They are resting in Solomon's room. They don't want to see any of you.” Simeon's eyes found Diavolo's. “Any of you.” He repeated.

“Mc doesn't want to see us?” A hoarse voice asked. Everyone turned to look at the disheveled demon, Satan. The Avatar of Wrath was leaning on Asmodeus’ shoulder, an odd sight given that Asmo wasn't on better condition than the blonde.

“That's not true! They called us through the pact!!” Asmo said, if the desperation in his voice wasn't enough to convey urgency, then his appearance could do the job. His eyes were red and swollen, his clothes were wrinkled and stained and Simeon was sure he could smell blood on them.

“If they called, why didn’t you respond?” The angel asked, his confusion grew with every passing second. Before Asmodeus could respond, the voice of the younger twin did. “They didn’t want us to.” Belphie and Beelzebub arrived together along with Leviathan, the latter was hanging like a sack of potatoes from Beel’s back.

“Lucifer, Levi doesn’t stop shaking. He’s cold.” Lucifer hurried to his brother’s side and took Levi from Beelzebub’s back with a gentleness only he could manage in his exhausted state. “He’s cold-blooded, he’ll be fine.” He said, trying to reassure everybody, although his eyes betrayed him.

Levi was cold, colder than usual. It was true that his brother’s body temperature was low on a daily basis, but this wasn’t the case, his brother was dying. He realized it when he saw the purple fingers of Leviathan, his pale skin and his almost imperceptible breath.

“Leviathan!” He said as he sat down on the floor of Purgatory hall entrance, embracing him as he had once done with his little sister. “Simeon.” Lucifer didn’t have to ask twice, the angel was already at Levi’s side. Both Lucifer and Simeon could see that his lips tried to pronounce your name. “They’re safe, Levi. I’m going to help you now, okay? Don’t worry.” Simeon said, his voice steady but Lucifer didn’t miss the slight tremor in his little finger.

The nerves of everyone were on edge, the prince of the Devildom would panic too if he hadn’t noticed the calm in Barbatos demeanor. The butler was looking attentively at Leviathan’s form but in Diavolo’s eyes it was as if his focus were on Simeon.

“Where is Mammon?” Beelzebub suddenly asked when he noticed the absence of one of his brothers. Everyone scanned the room but the white haired demon wasn’t there. Simeon mentally apologized to you, but continued healing Levi, deciding that you certainly wouldn’t want him to let him die.

***

Simeon had treated you so kindly that you were sure heaven couldn’t be better. The angel was right, a warm bath and a delicious dinner had done the trick, lulling you into a much needed sleep. You woke up alone in Simeon’s bed, vaguely remembering how he had told you that Luke was in the celestial realm for a short period of time before coming back. “I wonder why.” You murmured.

Soon, your thoughts flew to the previous events. The Little D.’s sudden change, Lilith recounting every hurtful thing you did… Lilith. You looked at every corner of the room, expecting to see her at any moment. “Lilith?” You called her in a whisper. Nothing happened, the room was as quiet as before. “Lilith!” You bit your lips. The last thing you had seen of her was a fearful expression while trying to reach your hand. A brief, intrusive thought crossed your mind: perhaps that was the last Beelzebub saw of her too.

You bit on your lip harder. “I’m sorry, Lilith.” You heard a commotion outside the room and found yourself hoping, quickly leaving the bed and reaching for the door. Your hand was on the knob when he spoke. “Mc.” He pleaded. “Are you in there?” He whispered. Although a door was in between, you could hear him as clearly as ever and also feel how he leaned his forehead against it. “Are you okay?” Mammon asked.

“I’m afraid.” He wanted to say. He was so used to being honest around you that it had cost him an actual effort to hold back those words.

“I am.” You murmured, your hand still on the knob, your knuckles stood up due to the force you were applying while gripping the door handle. “I’m okay.” You sobbed. “You don’t sound okay, Mc. Please, let me in.” It was clear that he was trying very hard to speak without falling apart.

“Please, treasure. I’ll do everything you asked me. Okay? I’ll sleep on the streets and I promise you I’ll never seek shelter from the rain.” He said, and now you were sure he was crying, although he half laughed at that last part. “I think my brothers agree that I’m already the lowliest fucker in the Devildom.” He waited for a few moments before continuing. “I sure feel that way when you’re not around.” You let go of the handle and took a few steps back, unsure of what to do. “I’ll go bankrupt too if that’s what you want, I’ll beg. I’m begging you, please Mc.” His voice cracked and he slid to the floor.

For every minute that passed you felt sinking further into misery as you heard Mammon’s muffled sobs. You cried too, reaching for the knob again, and again he interrupted you. “Is it true? Is it true that you don’t want to see us?” He asked. “Yeah, I guess that’s what we deserve.” You heard him move. “I don’t want to, but if this is what ya need.” Mammon said, trying to sound convinced and he was glad that you couldn’t see his face because it would completely ruin his facade.

“I love you, Mc. I know you asked me this before and all I said was-” He remembered his previous attempt, he had felt like a fool ever since then. “Sc told me that you’d prefer honesty and-” He was never that good when it comes to admitting his feelings, even worse when he tries to express them. “Agh!! Fuck, it doesn’t matter what that witch told me now.” He said, your eyebrows furrowed. Had he called her a witch? Did you hear right? “She’s not a bad person, I think you’d like her.”

Mammon laughed softly. “She even helped me practice a couple of times but,” You waited for the demon to continue speaking, to clear up all the confusion that he had created with his awful ability to tangle everything. “I couldn’t do it. I mean, I know it was supposed to be practice, but like, ya know?”

You hit your forehead on the door, it wasn’t on purpose but Mammon was making things more difficult than you could handle at the moment. On the other side of the door, the demon gave a little jump out of surprise. He couldn’t figure out if you were mad or just wanted him to go away.

“I was supposed to practice how to-” He looked at the floor. “How to confess. But I couldn’t do it, she wasn’t you.” He simply said, of course he omitted some things, for example, how Sc lost her patience and started rambling about how ridiculous it was that an immortal being had romantic problems and how stupid he looked and how they don’t pay her enough.

“I love you, Mc.” He said it again as a final goodbye and you waited, an unspoken response dancing on your lips. You wanted to reciprocate, a hug from the real avatar of greed and not from his impostor, his perverse and dangerous impostor. This was your battle, that much you knew but, if you could just hug him one more time, then maybe all the pain you had been through would be worth it.

“Mammon!” You opened the door and quickly ran out of the room. However, given that the poor demon had barely moved, you ended up crashing. Even so, he wasted no time wrapping you in his arms, feeling as if only then he could breath again. He cupped your face before checking your head, your arms, your legs.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t leave but I tried! Did it hurt? Are ya okay?” You nodded but the tears that threatened with spilling out were hard to contain, your whole face turned to one of grieve. “I don’t want you to- I don’t…” You took his shirt with both hands. “I don’t want you to be poor!” You managed to say.

Mammon let out the most relieved laugh you’d heard from him in a long time, and the smile that adorned his face could have convinced Raphael to open the gates of the celestial realm (you definitely would). “Jeez, Mc. I know you wouldn’t want the Great Mammon to be poor. Would ya?” He laughed again, but after a minute, his face turned wary as a light blush appeared.

He was not the avatar of pride, he did not care about losing his dignity, he would gladly surrender to you. He would give you everything he is and will be. He’s not the avatar of wrath or envy. “I’m Mammon, the avatar of greed. All I ever do is wanting, and all I ever want is you. If I can see you smile, even for a fraction of time, I would be the richest demon of all.”

He gave you a sweet, soft kiss, something that felt like a caress, like the touch of sunlight on a cold day. Mammon rested his forehead on yours and closed his eyes. “I love you, Mc!” He said, it surprised him how easily the words escaped him, how right it felt to have you in his arms again, to breath in the smell of your hair and bathe in the warmth of your body.

You couldn’t stop looking at Mammon’s face, how peaceful he seemed, wet face and runny nose, but beautiful nonetheless. You took his cheek on your hand and kissed him again. “I love you too, Mammon.” He didn’t utter a word but you still haven’t said all you wanted. “I love you and I’m sorry for all the things I asked you to do. Please, don’t ever go to that extent for me or anyone.” You searched his eyes only to discover a pair of big, dreamy blue eyes looking at you. “You love me?” His face changed again as another dashing smile appeared. “Yes! Of course you love me!” He hugged you again, excitedly moving you from one place to another. “Hey! Listen to me!”

“I would do all that for you, I don’t care! I’m sorry, I’m a demon after all!” he didn’t stop smiling. “I’m your first! I have to follow your every wish!” You grabbed his hand and forced him to stop. “Would you do something for me, then?” He laughed knowingly and this time his eyes reflected something you had seen before, on rare occasions, but you had seen it. “Yes treasure, I would do anything for you and that includes not going to that extent. Stop worrying, silly human. Don’t you know that you would never let us get to that point?”

“I’m not sure of that.” You tried to move away but Mammon closed the distance again. “I don’t know many things, but I’m sure of this one.” He tilted his head to the side and his eyes searched yours, asking for permission. You closed the distance and kissed him on the lips, your hands reaching for his hair while Mammon’s arms pulled you closer.

You knew you had lots of things to discuss, apologies to give and some others to accept, but right there, in Mammon’s arms, you felt safe and complete. Surely, the uncomfortable conversation could wait.

But happiness is short-lived. Isn’t it?

Part 15? ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Taglist: @yuumaofc @kodasstar @sadlily1 @asmolover1234 @gallantys @prefesro @urminebutidontwantyou @fiveofspades @owl778 @unkownbish101 @pinkvelvetcake1 @bontensbabygirl @exrellian @kaiserkisser

Thank you for reading (and waiting! Heheh) (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

[beefrobeefcal]

I have a Thot to contribute for the Beefro Repentance Tiddie Fic, in case it is helpful or shall I say... titillating? 😂 (I'm sorry)

Since it didn't specify who gets milked, maybe we go back to late-stage pregnant Mouse? A little lactation play where Frankie drinks from her after dinner until he tops off his big full belly? (Big enough to rival her bump 🥵)

Or since it sounds like nonnie wants some male breast play too...add Frankie and Mouse playing with each other's delectable chests first?

Anyway just some ideas! I wasn't expecting your poll to turn out how it did, not gonna lie 😄 But hey, I'll enjoy wherever you take us with this!

You're a lifesaver, Reby!

fucking RIGHTS we need to expose Frankie's Breeding, Pregnancy & Lactation Kinks!

Smuttiest regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

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Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Frankie one shot

The Catfish & The Mouse: Mouse's Relief

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pregnant Fem!Reader

Summary: Frankie helps Mouse find relief.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 2,382

Content Warning: pregnancy talk, main character pregnant, lactation kink, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, 5-knuckle shuffle (male), lactation, breast feeding, breast milk, cumming in pants, weight talk, eating, sore breasts

Author's Notes: Thank you @rebel-held for the assistance you provided in your THOT. Thank you to @thehalflifeofloveisforever, @theywhowriteandknowthings & @neverwheremoonchild for their input, eyes and THOTs.

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It had been a day. You were now on maternity leave, supposedly to be giving yourself some down time before your baby arrived, but you’d been anything but relaxed today.  

Your baby had been kicking the same rib over and over for the last three days, not allowing you to have any restful sleep; your big belly weighed heavily on you, making movements hard; and to top it all off, your milk had come in, making your breasts extremely sore and heavy.  

Pregnancy was so uncomfortable.  

Thankfully, it was a Friday and that meant you had Frankie all to yourself from the moment he got home to Monday morning at 6:00 am. He’s been so patient and caring with you, rubbing your feet and back, switching sides of the bed with you so you could be closer to the bathroom, and giving you your space when you needed to just be left alone because of the raging hormones in your body, then running back the moment you needed to be held.  

Despite being so uncomfortable, you decided to do something special for him to dinner and make his favourite – lasagna.  

**** 

Frankie arrived home, opening up the back door to the smell of his absolute favourite. He smiled and walked into the kitchen, seeing you leaning against the counter, your hands holding your phone and resting on your big belly, while you scrolled through whatever app you were hooked on today. He couldn’t help but notice how much more pronounced your chest was, and his cock twitched in his jeans. But before he could do anything, he knew he needed to test the waters first.  

“Hey mama…”, he said softly with a smile, coming up beside you and splaying his hand over your middle. He pressed a kiss on your temple and moved his hand over your sore side. “How’s the rib?” 

You sighed with a tired smile. “Sore… but okay. How was work?” 

He didn’t want to talk about work. Not when that sigh heaved your swollen tits, making his cock twitch harder.  

“Baby…”, he cooed as he kissed your neck, continuing to test whether you’d let him go further, and he reached up and gently palmed your tit.  

You hissed in pain, and he jumped back. “What? What happened?” 

“They hurt… so much… I’m sorry, Frankie. Please don’t touch my boobs.” 

“What- why are they so sore, Mouse?”, he asked, sounding concerned with a slight hint of annoyance.  

“Milk’s coming in, and they’re swollen and-“ 

“I can see that.”, he stated, his eyes glued to your ample cleavage.  

“Frankie.” Your tone was indicative of your own irritation and a warning that your hormonal temper was rearing its head.  

He looked up to your face and offered a sheepish grin.  

“Okay… no touching the tiddies.” 

You sighed again, not wanting your weekend to start with your mood. “It’s okay, baby. Dinner will be ready soon so you should have your shower. “ 

He nodded with a smile and kissed you quickly before heading to the bedroom.  

As Frankie stood in the shower, he tried to ignore his semi hard-on but his mind kept slipping back to the sight of you, round and heavy, tits swollen and all because of him. He gripped his now fully hard cock and pumped himself, thinking about how good you feel and smell and look, and…  

He came fast, his come hitting the shower wall then washing away under the spray of the shower. As he calmed down, he thought about how quickly he hit his release by his own hand when his mind was filled with you being pregnant. He grinned to himself as he finished his shower, making a mental note to take some more pictures of you like this for his personal spank bank, especially if you decided one kid was enough. He dried off and got dressed, heading back out into the kitchen with you.  

***** 

The lasagna was gone, and Frankie’s belly was the only evidence that it had ever existed. You couldn’t stomach it, so he had eaten your portion as well, so you had some fruit and soup instead.  

“Fuck me, Mouse… we both look like we’re about to pop.”, he chuckled, trying to pull down his T-shirt, the same one that fit just fine a few weeks ago.  

“Head to the couch, I’ll clean up.”, you said, standing up and wincing.  

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely not, mama.”, he grunted as he stood up. “I’ll clean up later. You need to relax.” 

After some coaxing, Frankie had convinced you to have a bath and he would be ready for you when you were done.  

As you soaked, Frankie sat on the couch, full belly sitting heavily on his lap, and he searched online for how to help you with your sore breasts. He read about warm compresses and massaging, then his heart almost jumped into his throat and his cock came to standing attention at once when he read that he could express the milk by sucking it out. He groaned and palmed at his hard on through his sweatpants. Yup. He was going to be so helpful.  

You got out of the bath, feeling more relaxed, minus your breasts, and got into your lounge clothes, then made your way out to the living room. You stopped in the doorway and watched as Frankie grunted looking at his phone with a feral intensity and his hand palming his crotch.  

“Am I interrupting anything?” Your tone was teasing and the grin on your face told him to not stop on your account.  

“I think I can help you… with your tiddy problem.”, he grunted, tossing his phone to the couch and standing up. He walked towards you, his eyes fixed on your chest, and he licked his lips.  

“Frankie! I said they’re sore!” 

“I know… and I wanna help.”, he groaned as he pulled you into his arms and kissed your neck. If it wasn’t for the fact you both had pronounced bellies, you know you’d feel his cock pressing into you.  

His hand came up and slipped under your shirt and he gently caressed your breast through your flimsy bralette. Your breath hitches and he hushed you and kissed your neck again.  

“Don’t think you understand what you do to me, looking like this, mama… your fucking body is just…”  

He grunted as his cock tried to find friction when he bucked his hips, and he softly twisted your nipple. You gasped and let out a pained whine, but he held you firmly where you were.  

“Lemma help, mama… please.”, he pleaded against your neck, breathing heavily. “Lemme make it better.” 

You winced again at his hands, as gentle and wonderful as they felt, and seriously considered telling him off. But the desperation in his voice plus the warmth of his hand on your swollen breast gave you pause.  

He stood up, nudging his nose against yours, his eyelids heavy and he whispered please again. You nodded and he led you to the couch.  

Once you were seated, he went to the bathroom and grabbed a few towels, and put them beside you. He leaned down, holding himself above you with his hand on the back of the couch. He kissed you, and you could tell he was holding himself back as he did. He released your lips and pressed his forehead against yours.  

“Fuck, Mouse, you look so good like this…”, he panted as he stood up. “I’m gonna help…” 

He dropped to his knees between yours and pushed your shirt up over tour belly, kissing and mouthing his way up. You watched him with wide eyes, and it dawned on you what he was planning.   

“Frankie? What are you gonna-“ 

“Gonna make it better, mama… gonna help you.”, he grunted again, pushing your shirt your breasts and pulling it over your head.  

He sat back on his heels and looked you over with a ravenous ferocity in his eyes.  

“Fuck... yes, mama... look so good...”, he groaned, his hands going to your swollen middle. “No idea what it does to me to see you stretching out your shirts because you're so full of my baby... tits looking amazing....” 

He dove his face forward, kissing your belly again, moving up to mouth your nipple through the jersey knit fabric of your bralette. It felt amazing, but also completely confusing and overwhelming. The only time Frankie had expressed this much admiration for your swollen body was when he was drunk; he would get handsy and needy and would whine and beg you to ride him or let him fuck you in front of a mirror so he could see you. He was never this demanding and gropey and domineering. This was new and you were not mad at it. 

“Frankie...”, you whined as you panted when he nipped just a bit too hard at your breast. “Please! They’re so sore... please be gentle!” 

“I know... I know, mama... I’m gonna help.”, he cooed, sucking your nipple lightly through your bralette. 

You sucked in your breath and your hand went to his head, gripping his hair, and you winced as he added pressure with his hand to your other breast, causing it to leak a bit. When he felt the warmth of your milk saturate your bralette, he sat back and stared. His pupils were so blown out, you could no longer differentiate where his irises were, and his eyes were fixed on your clothed, leaking breast. 

“Frankie... are you gonna...?”, you asked quietly through heavy breathing. 

His eyes didn’t move as he nodded slowly and licked his lips. His hands came up and pulled your bralette off, releasing your heavy breasts, and his mouth immediately grasped one of your nipples and sucked. You let out a breathy whine and once again gripped his hair, this time with both hands. The pinch and pull of him sucking to get your milk moving was almost too much until you felt a release.  You sighed at the relief that washed over you and Frankie groaned as milk spurted into his mouth.  

He swallowed mouthful after mouthful of milk, grunting as he suckled, despite his belly already being full from his big dinner. He didn’t care about the ever-tightening feeling in his middle; his mind had a singular focus and that was what he had in his mouth.  

When he felt like he couldn’t get more from that breast, he released your nipple and licked it, looking up at you with dark eyes and panting. He moved over to your other breast, now leaking even more, and nudged it with his nose and his tongue darted out, licking up the escaped milk.  

“Jesus... Mouse... you taste so fucking good...”, he grunted as he lapped up the warm liquid. His voice sounded deep and primal, like your weeping tits had unlocked some deep seeded need Frankie hadn’t tapped into yet. 

You locked eyes with him again and he made a low growl as he pulled your nipple into his mouth and began sucking on it greedily.  

You leaned forward a bit and one of your hands slid down, looking for his hard cock, but his belly was in the way. You knew he was full before, but now his belly would rival yours. It felt tight and as your fingers rubbed and prodded him, and you felt his body move as he rutted his hips.  

“Poor baby... bet your dick is just aching... but you’re too big for me to get it... I can feel how full you are, Frankie baby... belly’s getting big... but you like this, don’t you... getting fat because you put a baby in me... that’s it... good boy...”, you cooed, stroking his hair. 

A low moan emanated from Frankie and his grip on your thighs tightened and he panted through gulps. When he finally drained the second breast, he sat back, and you released his hair. He looked like he was in another realm of existence, with milk dripping down his chin and his eyes blown out. He was panting and fell back and laid on the floor, his extremely full belly prominently jutting out above him and groaned. 

It took some work, but you got up off the couch, pulled on your sweater, and stood above Frankie, gently rocking back and forth, rubbing your belly. 

“Baby... your belly’s bigger than mine right now.”, you smiled, nudging his lovehandle gently with your foot and noted the wet patch on the crotch of his sweatpants. You grinned, knowing exactly what that was. 

He lifted his head and looked at his swollen middle and dropped it back down again.  “Fuck, I’m full.”, he groaned and closed his eyes. 

“I’d get on the floor and give you a belly rub, but...”, you grinned, motioning to your baby bump. “We both don’t need to be stuck on the down there.” 

Frankie huffed a laugh, his eyes opening as he looked up at you. “How are your boobs?” 

“Much better, thank you.”, you chuckle, as he struggles to lug himself upright. 

Once he stands up, you can see his back arching to accommodate the weight in his belly. You reach forward and rub his tummy and smile.  

“Kinda over did it, huh?”, you asked, giving him a pat and leaning towards him to press a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.”, he murmured as smiled and splayed his hand on your belly, feeling your little one moving around.  

“So, you came in your pants, huh?”, you said pointedly with an eyebrow raised. 

He huffed a laugh, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and pulled you to his side. “Yeah... I came in my fucking pants.” 

“Sucking on my tits was so good that you came in your pants? You kinky bastard...” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah... ”, he grinned, nudging you towards the bedroom and swatting at your backside.  

You stopped and grinned, biting your lower lip, as you felt his belly press into your back, and he wrapped his arms around your middle.  

“Watch your mouth... carrying my baby can only save you from so much, Mama.”, he growled into your ear as he guided you down the hallway and int your bedroom. 

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