#ive been beating myself over the head with it but its FINE

[all-doggirls-go-to-heaven-2]

Man buying cameras is so frustrating because it really is a game of ''if you just spend a liiiiiittle bit more you can get much more bang for your buck'' until you realize the ''a little bit more'' is 3.000 reais (without lenses)

[tamagotchikgs]

my mom keeps saying she has a question for me later all serious but then not asking it and i am in such anguish... i m so Scared

[thechaoticplayer]

Luca smut omg- bratty reader and brat tamer luca 🛐 jsbsjdbjshs i can't stop thinking about it

author's note: JEJEHDIEDHEI 😩😩😩 BRAT TAMER LUCA... TY ANON BC IM A BRAT MYSELF AND OMLLLLLL YES JUST. YES. Also mad shorter than expected but what can I sayyyy

Summary: Brat Tamer Luca has to put your bratty ass into place for all the shit you've been doing to him <3

Contains: FILTHY FILTHY DIRTY SMUT. LUCA KANESHIRO X READER. eatablished relationship, degrading, Luca bullying you and being extremely rough but that's ok bc hes such a daddy, my phone being on 19% and forcing it to work like Luca is with u fr

Mdni or not idgaf

Being the mafia boss's boyfriend came with a shit ton of perks: no one could say anything to you (you can't do this or you're not allowed to do that), you could do basically whatever the hell you want without repercussions, and Luca Kaneshiro spoiled you to death. It wouldn't have come as a surprise if you turned into a brat because of it.

And here you are, whining because your boyfriend has to go meet with some guy he's working with. He's not as important as you are!

"Babe, I have to go, it's important for the mafia," Luca murmurs softly into your hair as you cling to him tightly. Your arms wrapped around his waist and face buried in his chest, you showed no signs of letting go. He sighs. "I'll try my best to make it quick, alright? Just-"

"No!" Your muffled voice replies, before glancing up at him with big eyes. "I want you. To stay."

"Babe..."

"Don't 'babe' me. I guess your mafia is more important than me." You release him and step back, abruptly turning your back towards him, crossing your arms. "Whatever. Bye."

Luca stares at your back for a second, absolutely torn for a second. "What? no, of course you're important-"

"I'm second and always be second, huh?" You saunter to the bed you two share and throw yourself onto it. You rest your hand on your forehead, closing your eyes. "It's fine. Go ahead. I'll just find someone else to play with."

He goes silent. You don't open your eyes.

A beat's worth of silence. "Got nothing to say now, huh?" You scoff, a smirk playing on your lips. "I suppose you've gotten so-"

You yelp as you feel rough hands latch themselves onto your thighs and yank you downwards, and your eyes fly open. Luca leans over you with a dark look in his eyes, brows furrowed in silent anger.

"You suppose ive gotten... what?" The plush of your ass is tightly against his crotch, his gloved hands digging into your skin.

"...soft." His eyes smolder, a fire in his gaze as he leans closer to your face.

"Soft?" He echoes, a sultry chuckle sending a shiver upon your spine. "No no no, I think you got it all wrong, sweetheart..."

The mafia boss hooks your legs over his shoulders, his bigger and wider form trapping you underneath him as he grinds against your wet panties, the skirt your wearing riding up to your hips. You stifle a moan, biting your lip hard.

"You've always liked it when I'm a bit rough with you, hmm?"

"Tch! Don't you have somewhere to be?" You reply haughtily, trying hard for a whimper to not slip past your lips as he grinds slowly.

"It can wait, no? Besides..." Luca's breath tickles your ear. "Theres a certain someone, who needs to be taken care of."

"Yeah. Your friend."

"What a fucking-" Out of nowhere, Luca flips you onto your stomach, leaving you squawking as he spread your legs open, ass in the air. "Brat."

"W-wait a minute!" You stammer as you turn your head to see him rip off his pants and unleashing his cock from its confines, big and hard. The glint in his eyes suggest you were probably not going to be able to walk for a good couple of weeks. "L-Luca, wait!"

"No," he growls, pushing your panties aside and sinking his still gloved fingers into you. A whimper tears itself from your throat as he plunges the digit in and out of your crying hole. "Brats need to be taught a fucking lesson. look at how wet you are. Filthy slut."

"I wouldn't have been- mmph! A b-brat if you didn't leave me all the- ah... t-time!" You blabber, your legs already shaking a bit from how rough and quickly he was fingering you.

"Leave you?" Luca repeats, incredulous. "God, I made you into a fucking brat! Spoiling you all the time, giving you everything you could have ever wanted..."

He slips his finger out, lining up his cock with your entrance. Your mouth almost waters at the sight and he laughs at your lustful expression. "Is this what you want? then I'll gladly give to you, and you won't even dare forget this..."

The mafia boss shoves his girth into, splitting you open. You cry out, hands gripping the sheets as Luca doesn't even allow you to adjust to his size. You were fucked by him plenty of times before, but your hole could never get quite used to his thickness. Luca drills his cock into you, the fat tip kissing your g-spot deliciously so.

The bed squeaks and groans underneath you both, loud moans spilling from your mouth. You turn your face into the pillows, only to be yanked back up. You gasp as Luca forces you to arch, the angle causing you to see stars.

"L-Luca- a-ah! Fuck fuck fuckfuck-" You moan and whimper and whine as Luca's dick pummels itself into you, your walls clenching around him.

"This is what you want, huh?" Luca breaths raggedly into your ear, one hand fondling with your tit. How sensitive you've become, moaning from pure pleasure. "Want me to fuck you dumb?"

"Y-y-you asshole-!"

A sharp snap of his hips force you to choke on another keening moan. "What was that, darling? couldn't catch that."

Only moans answer and he chortles. Luca can feel you getting close, but why stop there? Why not make you wish you never provoked him in the first place? How dare you say that you'll go find someone else to play with in his absence! He tsks as you squirm underneath him. No no, he'll make you beg for him to stop, and even after that he won't obey.

You cum hard around his cock but the mafia boss still bullies himself into you as you twitch. tears rolls down your face as you attempt to scramble away, but Luca pulls you all the way back so now you're riding his cock, back arched against him. You babble sentences don't even make sense as your brain was fucked to mush.

"What's wrong? can't speak anymore?" Luca coos, thrusting himself deeper and deeper. His voice deep and husky, your fluids staining his shirt but he could really care less. "Fucked you so good- what a cock drunk whore."

You whine, skin slapping against skin as you ride his dick, legs shaking and stickiness against your thighs. Luca bites your neck, leaving a trail of bite marks against your dainty skin. He licks from your shoulder to your neck, suckling. Luca can feel the vibrations through your throat as you make such pretty noises for him. Was it possible that he seemed to get even harder and even larger inside of you?

His hips slot up to meet yours and you cum once more, drool dripping down your lips. Luca groans as he feels your walls clench and your hot cum envelopes his dick. He fucks you through your second orgasm until he releases a guttural grunt and shoots his loads deep into your tummy.

"I'm not done," he pants, pulling out of you and throwing you back down on your back. "So far from done."

"L-Luca..." you whimper quietly, body heaving and near close to exhaustion.

He cups a hand to your cheek. "You did this to yourself, pretty girl..."

Luca's mouth hovers over your tit, blowing on it and watching the nipple grow hard. Another chuckle as he pops the tit into his mouth, sucking hard. Your hand finds itself in his blond hair, soft and airy whines in the air. He releases the tit and goes to the other, teeth grazing it.

He kisses down your tummy, opening your legs in the process. The mafia boss lowers to your aching pussy, somehow getting wet all over again. Luca licks a stripe up your abused cunt and a shaky sigh comes out your mouth.

"Horny bitch." Bringing you closer to his mouth, his tongue circles your clit as his hot breaths fan in between your thighs. "Came twice already, and it still isnt enough..."

His entire mouth is on you now, slurping and teasing and sucking. You tug his hair hard, making the mafia boss growl lowly into your pussy. The vibrations add to the upcoming orgasm, your moans filling the room and you were sure everyone within the house could hear. Neither of you gave a damn as he continued his assault on your weeping cunt.

You cum against his face and he laps up every single drop, kissing and biting your thighs while doing so. Your chest rises rapidly up and down, and Luca observes your fucked out expression. Your eyelids are heavy, and you're just about ready to pass out.

Until... "Oh no, you aren't getting any breaks." Luca yanks you back up and turns himself in one smooth motion so now you're kneeling before him, his yet again hard cock in front of your eyes. "Suck, whore."

You eagerly take the cock in your hands, the slick from both parties still covered all over it.

There is definitely more where that's coming from.

[homesickwhispers]

look at you.

(Van X Reader.)

Van helps you after you have a difficult week struggling with your body.

warning: NSFW content

TW: mentions of body dismorphia.

hi guys i dont think ill put this one on my masterlist since it kinda touches on some heavy topics but ive been feeling some stuff and just really needed to write this one down. ty for reading and love 2All xx

As we finally reached the hotel after a long day, I found myself unpacking, alone in my room.

Van had went out for drinks with the boys and I just wasn’t in the mood for anything but encouraged him to go and relax for a bit.

The night outside the hotel was quiet and the cold air from the open window, made me shiver.

I could feel my body recognizing its old weaknesses, as I pushed my hoodie sleeves down hoping for some warmth.

It had become easier to stop eating on tour. No one really cared as long as I got my job done.

I hadn’t expected those old habits to resurface, especially now when things were going so well. But here they were—my jeans getting looser, the skipped meals piling up, and my energy slipping away more each day.

The sound of the door clicking open snapped me out of my thoughts, and I felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over me. I tried to shake it off as Van entered the room.

“Hey,” he greeted, a warm smile on his face.

“Hi,” I replied, forcing a smile but staying rooted in place, unable to move.

Van walked over, wrapping his arms around me from behind, his embrace grounding me. “How’s my boss lady?” he teased, his voice soft against my ear.

“Stop calling me that,” I laughed, despite myself. Even in my worst moments, he had a way of making me laugh in the most genuine way.

“No way,” he murmured, his mouth finding the crook of my neck biting it gently. “You’re my lady and you’re my boss. So why should I stop, huh?”

He tightened his arms around me, his warmth seeping through me, but my mind was elsewhere—on the fatigue, the hunger, the weight of it all.

“Van…” I started, unsure how to put into words the heaviness I felt.

“What?��� he asked, his lips grazing my skin. His hands moved up, cupping my breasts gently under my shirt.

I took a deep breath and pulled away, turning to face him. “Seriously, Van. Not today.” My voice came out firmer than I’d intended.

He blinked, surprised, and his hands immediatly dropped to his sides. “What’s going on?” he asked, his gaze searching mine. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head, feeling the weight of everything bubbling to the surface. “I’m just… tired. Really tired.”

He frowned, stepping closer. “(Y/N)…Have you been eating? You look worn out, babe.”

I froze at the question, my heart skipping a beat. “I’m fine,” I lied, my voice quieter now, guilt creeping in.

Van studied me, his eyes softening. “Don’t do that,” he said gently. “Don’t shut me out. Did you really eat today?”

“Yes,” I answered quickly, not meeting his eyes.

“What did you eat?” Van pressed.

“We had Wendy’s, don’t you remember?”

“Yeah, the boys had it. Not you.”

“Van, please,” I sighed, feeling the pressure of the conversation closing in.

“Just talk to me. What is going on?”

I hesitated, the words heavy on my tongue. “I just… I have difficult moments, alright? With my body. It’s not easy to recover from some stuff.”

“Like what?” he asked, his voice softer now.

I swallowed hard, feeling exposed. “Like… I went through a difficult phase with food. I stopped eating. And, of course, I got skinnier. Everyone started complimenting me. The boys noticed me more, the girls wanted to be around me. And I thought I had gotten over it. But then, the tour…”

“The tour? What happened?” he asked, concern deepening in his gaze.

I looked away, feeling a knot of shame in my stomach. “Everything, Van. Especially this.” I said gesturing between us. “You have these unreal girls around you all the time. Ever since we started getting closer, I’ve been feeling less and less comfortable in my own skin. It’s hard, okay? I want you, but I feel so unworthy of all of this.”

“(Y/N), don’t.” His voice was firm yet kind.

“What?”

“Take your clothes off.”

I blinked in surprise. “No, Van—”

“Come on. Take them off.”

My hands trembled as I complied, reluctantly peeling off my clothes until I stood before him in just my underwear. The air felt heavier, the vulnerability suffocating.

Van stepped closer, his hand resting gently on my back as he guided us to the full-length mirror in the room. We stood in front of it, his eyes never leaving mine in the reflection.

“Look at you,” he said softly.

I couldn’t. I looked down instead, avoiding the mirror entirely.

“Look,” he insisted, his hands moving to my waist, pulling me closer to him. “You’re beautiful. You don’t need to be anyone else, and you’re more than enough just like this.”

His words washed over me, but the insecurities still lingered, swirling in my chest like a storm I couldn’t control. “I don’t feel it.”

“You don’t have to feel it right now,” Van whispered, his lips brushing my temple. “But I’m going to keep telling you until you believe it.”

I glanced up at him through the mirror, and for the first time, I allowed myself to see what he saw—a woman standing there, raw and real, yet held so gently by someone who saw her worth beyond her doubts

“Just look at you,” Van whispered, tilting my chin up to face the mirror. His eyes were fixed on me, intense yet tender.

“I love your eyes,” he said, his fingers gently brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I love your hair.” His hand caressed it softly, sending shivers down my spine. “I love your neck—God, how I love it,” he murmured as he leaned in to kiss it, his lips warm and lingering against my skin.

His hands slid down, cupping my breasts from behind, and his breath hitched slightly. “I love your tits,” he said, his voice lower now, filled with a quiet intensity. His touch moved with purpose, grazing over my waist, down to my hips.

“And your thighs,” he continued, his hands trailing down my sides. “Your stomach…” His fingers traced delicate lines along my body, igniting a warmth that replaced every insecurity I had felt moments before. He wasn’t just touching me—he was grounding me, showing me that every part of me was something he adored.

“And your ass.” He smiled softly as his hands reached my bottom. “This… oh, baby, this.” His palms gripped me firmly, his hips pushing against me, and I gasped at the feel of him so close.

I could feel the length of him, hard and ready against my backside, and my thighs instinctively parted at the sensation. His lips brushed against my neck, sending goosebumps down my spine.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he whispered against my skin. “Every inch of you. Every curve and every scar. Do you understand that?”

The weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice—it was enough to shatter the glass, the mirror lying at our feet.

“Do you understand?” he repeated, his tone low and commanding.

“Yes,” I breathed out. “Yes, I understand.” He held my gaze in the reflection, and with those three words, I finally saw it. I saw him. I saw his love for me in his eyes, so clear, so profound.

“Every part of you,” he repeated, his eyes holding mine in the mirror. “Even your arms,” he said as he brought one of mine up to his lips, pressing a kiss against my wrist. “Even your hands.” He guided the other one to the front of his jeans, letting me feel the hardness waiting there.

“See what you do to me?” he whispered huskily. “All of you,” he emphasized.

I felt my breathing quicken as Van’s touch returned to my thighs, his hands exploring, massaging, and worshipping every part of me.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered against my ear, his arms wrapping around me tightly. “And I’m never letting you forget that.”

Van kissed my cheek, and his hand slid down, dipping inside my underwear as he pressed me against him. The warmth of his palm sent shivers down my spine, and my breath hitched when he began to rub slow circles against my clit.

I closed my eyes, my body surrendering to his touch. His fingers moved lower, teasing at my entrance before returning to that delicious rhythm.

I turned around, my lips crashing against his, the urgency of the kiss pushing us back toward the bed. But before I could take control, Van gripped me firmly, holding me in place.

“No,” he said, his voice low and commanding. His eyes burned with intensity as he pointed to the mirror. “Whatever we do tonight, we’re doing it right here. I want you to see what I see.”

The weight of his words settled in, and I swallowed hard. He was serious, and it sent a thrill through me. He wasn’t just showing me how much he wanted me—he was making sure I saw myself the way he did.

He wanted me to know that I was beautiful, that my body was something to be worshipped, not hidden.

The thought of him making love to me with that mirror right there was too much.

I nodded, and his hand returned between my legs, his fingers stroking me more insistently. The heat of his touch, the rhythm he found, the way he held me firm—it was all too much, and I couldn’t hold back anymore. A wave of pleasure crashed over me, and I whimpered, my orgasm taking over.

Van held me through it, his hand moving in slow strokes against me as my body rode out the waves. My knees weakened, and he lowered us to the ground, holding me as I trembled against him.

I watched in the mirror as he settled between my legs, and his eyes held mine in our reflection. My body felt warm, sated, and I wondered how he had done this to me so quickly.

He dipped his head, his lips against my inner thighs as he began to taste me. I bit my lip, closing my eyes, but he was quick to remind me. “Look at you,” he commanded, his voice hoarse. “You have to look.” His words sent a surge of lust through me, and I opened my eyes again.

The sight of him was enough to set me ablaze. My fingers tangled in his hair, holding him against me. He groaned and took one of my legs over his shoulder.

My pussy felt empty, my body yearning for his cock to fill it. He continued licking, but never once did his eyes leave mine. It was like he knew that watching us make love would push me to the edge.

I was so close, I could feel it building again. “Van,” I whispered. “I need you to fuck me.” He looked up at me then, and my heart skipped a beat. The intensity of his gaze was almost too much to take.

He got up and pulled out a condom. When he came back, he undid my bra and threw it aside. He gripped my hips, pushing my back against the mirror, his eyes never once leaving mine.

And when I felt the tip of him at my entrance, I closed my eyes, my head falling back against his chest in anticipation. But his voice stopped me.

“Open your eyes.” The command was gentle but firm.

I opened them and found him looking back at me through the reflection, a tenderness in his expression. “You,” he began, his voice low and thick with emotion. “I love you.”

His words sank deeper than any touch had ever gone.

“I love you,” he repeated as he pushed into me, filling me completely. I gasped at the sudden fullness, and his hand caressed my cheek, bringing my gaze back to the mirror.

“Watch us,” he whispered, and I did, watching us move together, my body opening to him even more as he thrust in and out, my hips responding, meeting him.

The first thrust stole my breath. I moaned, and Van pressed his lips to mine, muffling the sound. “Shhh,” he whispered.

But it was no use. We couldn’t be quiet in this room, with the window open and our reflections in the mirror. Every moan, every whimper, echoed out into the world beyond. But I didn’t care—I was too lost in the moment, my mind consumed by the sight of us in the reflection.

His hips pressed against my ass, his hands cupping my tits.

He quickened his pace, and his lips brushed against my ear. “Watch yourself,” he breathed. “Just watch us, (Y/N). Watch what I do to your body.” The words sent shivers down my back, and I looked up, watching us make love in the mirror.

I’d never seen anything more erotic in my life.

I was transfixed by his cock as it slid in and out of me, stretching me with each thrust. His fingers found my clit and stroked it in time with his thrusts, and it was all too much. I closed my eyes for a second, feeling the waves wash over me.

“No,” Van breathed against my neck, his hand pressing my head back up. “Watch us.” His voice was rough now, and his thrusts became more insistent.

I opened my eyes and watched as he took me against the window, his cock filling me completely. I couldn’t help the moans that escaped, and Van swallowed them with kisses, his teeth finding my bottom lip and tugging on it gently.

I felt his body tense, and his arm tightened around me. “(Y/N),” he whispered, his voice ragged. “Come for me.”

I didn’t need more encouragement than that. I let the waves wash over me again, and Van followed me. I felt his cock pulse inside me, filling me to the brim. He thrust in once, twice, and then collapsed against my back.

His breaths came heavy and fast, and we both looked up to watch our reflections in the glass. Our bodies were entwined, our limbs trembling in the aftermath. And as we gazed at each other, we both knew that there was no turning back.

Van had seen every part of me—body, mind, and soul. And even though I was scared, I knew that I’d never be able to let go of him now. He had claimed me—every last bit of me. And it was that knowledge that sent a thrill of panic through me.

I looked down, and my gaze caught on the tattoo on my back, peeking out from the edge of Van’s arms. It was the words of the song that my father sang to me when I was a child—“you are enough, baby.”

Van followed my gaze and traced the ink with his finger. “See,” he whispered, his eyes holding mine in the mirror. “You’ve always been enough.” His hand pressed gently against my chest, and I felt the tattoo there—“not another.”

Not another what? I used to wonder when I first got it. Not another person like my father? Not another person who would love me like that?

But Van’s eyes held the answer now.

Not another who would ever compare. I was enough—exactly as I was.

The words echoed in my mind as Van gathered me up in his arms and carried me to bed. He kissed my forehead, and my heart swelled with emotion. “I love you,” I whispered, the words pouring out of me.

Van looked at me, his expression softening, and he leaned in to press his lips to mine. “I know,” he said, a quiet smile on his lips as he pulled away. “I love you too."

“Where are you going?” I said, already missing his warmth next to me.

“I’ll be right back, love, just wait a second, okay?” he replied, pulling his shirt over his head.

I groaned into the pillow, the cold air hitting me as soon as he moved away. “Do you really have to go right now?”

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss my cheek. “My grumpy girl,” he murmured, his lips soft against my skin. “Don’t worry. I ’ll be right back.”

I nodded, watching as Van left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

That was a rush of emotions—too much and too fast. I’m pretty sure he’ll never fully understand what happens inside my mind, but I’m glad he’s here to help me through it. It’s comforting in a way I’m still getting used to.

After a few minutes, Van returned, a plastic bag in his hand.

“Hey. What’s this?” I asked, sitting up.

“Just something for you. Sit down, please.”

I sat up fully, and he took off his shirt, handing it to me. “Put this on.”

Confused but curious, I slipped into his shirt, feeling the warmth and the faint scent of him still on the fabric. Van opened the bag, revealing a bowl of açai topped with nuts.

“Your favorite, right?”

“Van…”

“Please,” he said softly, kneeling down in front of me, his eyes gentle. “Just eat it, baby. Please.”

I pulled the bowl away as I felt my body tingle with love. "I appreciate it, Van. But I need you to do something else for me now."

"What?" He said, his expression confused.

“Make me come again,” I whispered, my voice hoarse, barely more than a breath.

Van froze, his eyes searching mine as if he wasn’t sure he heard me right. “What?”

“Please,” I said, my voice trembling as I looked at him, my body still sensitive from everything that had just happened. The exhaustion was there, but so was the need—strong and undeniable. “Please, Van just once more.”

For a moment, he just stared at me, as if weighing my request. Then his gaze softened, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “Are you sure, (Y/N)?”

I nodded, the ache between my legs already starting to build again. “I need you.”

Van’s eyes darkened with something I recognized—desire, but also restraint. He leaned in, his lips barely grazing my ear as he whispered, “Okay. But slow this time. I want you to feel every second of it.”

He gently pushed me back against the pillows, his hands warm and steady on my skin. Every touch felt magnified, like my body was hypersensitive from before. He moved with a calm control, his fingers tracing down my stomach, his breath hot against my neck as he kissed me softly.

My body responded to him instantly, a moan escaping my lips as his fingers slid lower, teasing, taking his time. He wasn’t in a rush, and it made everything sharper, more intense.

I gasped as his fingers danced lower, exploring with a tenderness that sent shivers through my body. He took his time, moving with the rhythm of my breaths, gauging my responses as he found the sensitive spots that made me squirm.

“Just relax,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I’ve got you.”

I nodded, trying to focus on the pleasure building inside me, the way his touch felt electric against my skin. The world outside faded, leaving just us in this bubble of intimacy.

Van’s fingers circled my clit again and I bit my lip, both anticipation and nervousness coursing through me. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, glancing up at me, his eyes dark with desire. “I love watching you.”

With a gentle pressure, he began to work his magic, his fingers moving in a way that made my body arch and respond eagerly. My breath quickened, the familiar tension coiling tightly within me. I was teetering on the edge, lost in the sensation.

“Van,” I gasped, my fingers curling into the sheets as I surrendered to the pleasure he was giving me. I couldn’t think of anything else—just the way he knew me, the way he was making me feel.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear, whispering sweet nothings that only fueled the fire inside me. “That’s it. Just let go.”

I felt the pressure build, each thrust of his fingers drawing me closer to the brink. I was so close, and I could feel every nerve ending tingling, every sensation heightened as he coaxed me closer and closer.

“Just a little more,” he urged, his fingers expertly finding that sweet spot that made me cry out. “You can do it.”

With a final thrust, the tension shattered, waves of pleasure crashing over me as I fell apart beneath him. I gasped, lost in the moment, every part of me alive with sensation.

“(Y/N),” he breathed, his voice filled with awe as I rode the waves of ecstasy. He didn’t stop, guiding me through it, ensuring I felt every bit of pleasure as it washed over me.

I clung to him, my body trembling as I slowly came down from the high.It felt so good, but it was too much.

My chest heaved as the rush of the orgasm mixed with the gnawing hunger in my stomach, making my vision blur. My body weakened beside Van’s, my muscles going slack.

“(Y/N)?” His voice broke through the haze, laced with concern.

I wanted to answer, to tell him I was okay, but the words wouldn’t come. My head was spinning, and everything felt distant, like I was underwater.

His hand touched my cheek gently, trying to get my attention. “Hey, talk to me,” he said, his voice softer now, but the edge of worry was still there. “(Y/N), are you alright?”

I blinked, trying to focus, but everything felt too heavy. I managed a small nod, though it felt weak even to me.

Van shifted closer, his arm wrapping around me, holding me up as he scanned my face. “You’re exhausted,” he murmured, his tone calm but firm. “You need to eat something.”

I nodded again, my throat tight. I hadn’t realized just how drained I was until now. The adrenaline, the emotions, the intensity of it all—it had taken everything out of me.

Van reached for the bowl he had brought earlier and held it in front of me. “Here, just a few bites, okay? You don’t have to finish it all.”

I leaned into him, trying to gather the strength to sit up properly. My hands felt shaky as I reached for the spoon, but Van was patient, guiding me gently without rushing. I took a small bite, the cold sweetness of the açai bringing me back just a little, grounding me.

“Good,” he murmured, brushing my hair back. “Just take your time.”

The weight of everything slowly lifted as I took a few more bites. I wasn’t sure if it was the food or just having him there beside me, but it helped.

“I’m sorry…” I whispered after a moment, my voice barely audible.

“For what?” he asked, his hand still resting on my back, steady and reassuring.

“For being like this.”

He shook his head, his brow furrowing. “(Y/N), don’t. You don’t have to apologize for anything.”

I let out a shaky breath, leaning into him more. “It’s just… hard sometimes.”

“I know,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. “And I’m here. We’ll get through it together.”

I pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. “Why are you so good to me?”

Van smiled, brushing a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “Because you deserve it. You always do."

As I sat there in Van’s shirt, his hand resting gently on my thigh, I couldn’t help but smile at the way he watched me. It was as if I were the most precious thing in the world, and the warmth of his gaze wrapped around me like a comforting blanket. Each bite of the açai bowl felt less like food and more like a ritual of care, a reminder that I was deserving of this moment.

The air was thick with unspoken words, but the silence felt safe. I could hear the soft sounds of the world outside, but inside this little bubble with him, everything felt possible. The shadows of my past seemed to fade, replaced by the glow of hope that flickered within me.

“Are you enjoying it?” he asked, breaking the quiet, a playful grin spreading across his face.

I nodded, taking another bite and savoring the flavors. “It’s perfect. Thank you for bringing it to me.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers squeezing my thigh reassuringly. “You’re worth it. You deserve to be spoiled.”

His words settled in my chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I believed them. The idea of recovery and getting better no longer felt like a distant dream; it felt tangible, within reach. I could see a future where I didn’t have to carry the weight of my past alone.

“I’ve been thinking,” I began, my voice steady despite the vulnerability I felt. “About everything. About how hard it’s been, but also about how far I’ve come.”

Van nodded, his expression serious now as he leaned closer. “And?”

“And I want to keep moving forward,” I confessed, my heart racing. “With you. I don’t want to hide anymore or be afraid of what comes next.”

A smile broke across his face, lighting up his features. “I’m so proud of you (Y/N). You’re stronger than you realize.”

His words ignited a spark within me, and I felt the corners of my mouth turn up in a grin. “With you here, I feel like I can be stronger. Like I can face anything.”

“Good,” he said, his thumb brushing over my thigh soothingly. “Because I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this together.”

His promise echoed in my heart, and I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. In that moment, I knew I was ready to embrace the journey ahead. I wasn’t just healing; I was starting to thrive.

As I finished the last of my bowl, I met his gaze, my heart full of determination.

I playfully pushed him aside, holding the bowl up like a trophy. “Proud?”

“Very proud,” he replied, his hands finding my waist and effortlessly pulling my body back on top of his. The familiar warmth of him enveloped me, grounding me in this moment.

I held his gaze as his hands tightened on my waist, pulling me back on top of him like he couldn’t bear to be apart. The weight of his confession hung in the air between us, both comforting and overwhelming all at once.

“I love you so much,” he repeated, softer this time, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t ever want to see you struggle like that.”

His words felt like a promise, and my heart ached at how much I wanted to believe them. How much I wanted to trust that someone could actually be there for me—unconditionally.

“I’m not used to this,” I admitted, my hands resting lightly on his chest as I looked down at him. “To having someone who cares enough to notice when I’m struggling, let alone help.”

He brushed a thumb over my cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. “You don’t have to get used to it overnight, but I’ll be here every step of the way.”

I pulled away from his lap, sitting next to him on the bed, my fingers instinctively reaching for his hand. I traced the lines of his palm as I spoke, trying to find the right words.

“These things I go through, Van… they’re not pretty,” I said softly, my voice tinged with vulnerability. “And you’re not responsible for helping me, you know that, right?”

Van turned to face me, his grip on my hand tightening gently. His eyes searched mine, a softness there that made my heart clench. “I know,” he replied, his voice steady. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to just stand by and watch you go through it alone.”

I shook my head, glancing down at our intertwined hands. “It’s not fair to you. You didn’t sign up for all of this… for me, with all my baggage.”

He lifted my chin gently, forcing me to meet his gaze. “I don’t care about that,” he said, his voice firm but filled with warmth. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time for me. I’m here because I want to be, not because I have to be.”

My chest tightened, a mix of relief and fear swirling inside me. “But what if it’s too much? What if I break down again, or—”

“Then I’ll be here to pick up the pieces,” Van interrupted, his thumb brushing against the back of my hand. “You’re not a burden. You never have been, and you never will be.”

I blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, my mind racing with all the doubts and insecurities that had always held me back. But here he was, unwavering, refusing to let me push him away.

“You deserve someone whole, Van,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine. “You already are whole. You’re full of love, talent, intelligence, patience…You’re more than enough, exactly as you are. And I’ll remind you of that every day if I have to.”

For the first time in a long while, I felt like I could breathe, like maybe I didn’t have to face everything alone.

“Okay,” I whispered, squeezing his hand. “I’ll try. I’ll try to let you be there for me.”

“That’s all I ask,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple. “We’ll figure it out together, one step at a time.”

And in that quiet moment, with his hand in mine and his presence grounding me, I believed we could.

“Do you want sleep here? I’m exhausted,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course, my love,” Van replied, getting up to close the window. He gently pulled the covers up for me, tucking me in with such care it made my chest ache in the best way.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his hand brushing softly against my arm.

“Much better. Thanks to you,” I murmured, feeling the warmth of his presence.

He smiled, that gentle, reassuring smile. “I’m glad to hear that.”

With my heart full of love and appreciation, I decided to let myself go fully. I slipped off his shirt and settled back next to him, feeling the comforting press of his bare chest against my skin. The intimacy of it made everything feel more real, more safe.

He wrapped his arms around me, his touch soothing. “You’re my favorite person, you know?” he whispered into my hair, his voice full of warmth and sincerity.

I smiled, feeling a quiet happiness wash over me. “You’re mine too,” I whispered back, sinking into his embrace, letting the weight of the day finally melt away.

As I lay there, his breath steady and calming behind me, I felt like, for the first time in a long while, I could let myself rest. Truly rest, knowing he was there, holding me, loving me.

“I will never get tired of looking at you, touching you,” Van whispered, his voice low and full of reverence. His hands slid down my body, slow and deliberate, tracing every curve with a tenderness that sent shivers through me.

I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the sensation of his touch, his warmth grounding me in the moment. It felt like every caress carried more than just desire—it was love, care, and something deeper, something I wasn’t sure I could put into words.

His lips brushed against my shoulder as his hands continued their gentle exploration. “You feel so perfect to me,” he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. “I could stay like this forever.”

I couldn’t help but smile, the intimacy of the moment filling me with a warmth that spread through my entire body. “You make me feel safe,” I whispered, barely able to voice it, but knowing he needed to hear it.

“You are safe with me,” he replied softly, his hand resting on my waist, pulling me even closer. “Always.”

And in that moment, with his body pressed against mine and his love enveloping me, I believed him.

[plasticfreckles]

how aforementioned fictional men from this post would react to the fact that my prof failed my paper WITHOUT EVEN READING IT

(we're still in love obvs bc ive had so many breakdowns about this over the weekend that theyve kinda fused into one long-winded breakdown just lemme have this my sanity is holding on by a thread and its getting thinner by the second)

jaal ama darav: would still not have this problem, but would let me cry into his chest tentacles and go to my university and cause a scene my guy

liam kosta: well guess what bitch we're having takeout and boba and comfort movies and SO MANY BLANKETS AND STRING LIGHTS

saren arterius: would have either bribed prof and/or uni so this would not happen, but if it DID happen theyve got another thing coming honey

thane krios: ok now he'll help. help me write long sentences and also intimidate the prof bc wow are you a dishonorable shitbag sweet chalupa jesus

zevran arainai: murder now? too late already did it you're welcome oh they already marked it failed in the system? no problem let me just [daggers the servers] now lemme smash

banck trevelyan: we are now having a mental breakdown together we're writing a new paper and it only says [prof is a whorechild] its very cathartic

dorian pavus: the audacity on this professor. runs them out of their job faster than they can say "failed"

jackie welles: ok now they're getting beat up within an inch of their life he said he'd catch a case if the prof didn't let me pass and they didn't so now he's gotta back his words up with action its really on the prof your honor

johnny silverhand: assuming the place had not been nuked prior to this event would do it then even if he told me to shut up, stop crying and cowgirl up earlier. (could also just mean you're too dumb for this degree shit. - well YEAH but they could've figured it out BEFORE im about to start my thesis paper thankyouverymuch)

goro takemura: that would mean that really, the arasaka goon he got to write my paper for me failed, so they're getting run out of their job so far they may as well just live in a cardboard box. also blackmail the prof

river ward: damn girl that sucks. need a hug? want me to run for another pizza? drive you to a different library? like tell me what you need and youll have but you'll need to tell me (river i dont KNOW what i need) damn girl that sucks. need another hug?

dorn il-khan: the sucker is so dead he'll find a way to get into lunia and kill them again bc obviously dying once wasn't enough for them to get their shit together

rasaad yn bashir: would go to the prof and just talk at them until they read the fucking paper

data: honestly would just download the grading guide and do it himself also add the fact i was failed without having been assessed into the profs file dont worry about it its fine

thranduil oropherion: bitch NOT ONLY did they assign THE QUEEN a paper they FAILED her?! lemme drag their ass to mordor ill drop their disgusting head into the firepits myself and it will not be attached to their body anymore

kim nam joon: damn girl that sucks. want me to check if there's a place you can report it to? because that doesn't sound normal. are we sure they're not on a power trip and you just got to deal with it? anyway we'll fix this together and you'll pass don't you worry about a thing

dustin bates: wow they FAILED you without doing their fucking WORK? [drops track about aint-shit opportunist bastards and capitalism commercializing education like bitch i paid 160€ in this assumed free education country for a degree the least you could do is do your fucking job]

the apocalypse dj: ["accidentally" backflips into the prof so they drop their notebook and it breaks wow looks like karma's a bitch huh]

[bi-ftm-on-main]

anxiety disorder? i hardly know her

Ok so I had bought this suction dildo ages ago but never really used it stuck to a surface, just for handheld stuff, cos theres not a lot of suctionable surfaces in my house and i have to wait for everyone to leave and its a whole thing. anyway.

I tried it out the other day in the shower at like hip height and just like folded over and leaned into it which worked better than any other position I've tried, effort and logistics wise, and was vibing like that for a while. my initial thoughts are as follows:

i had to use so much more lube than expected. like i knew dryness was a thing that happens when on T but i was quite surprised, i was adding (a tiny bit) more every couple of minutes id say

i really couldve gotten a bigger toy actually. its 7 inches atm but with my fat ass it kept falling out and it was kinda annoying

it was fine, pleasure wise. like not particularly mind blowing but still alright. like 7/10. definitely scratched an itch tho ya know

i really gotta be trimming my pubes more cos that shits not helping anyone

my boobs were in my face and i didnt appreciate it

and yeah i kept at it for a while just to see if i could cum from it alone, which i havent been able to do yet even when using it handheld. but like isn't that a thing, that most people cant cum from penetration alone? im fairly sure.

i have been trying to use the toy more tho cos one thing that im worried about for when i do eventually have sex is squirting.

on rare occasions i will squirt when i use showerhead to -- oh yeah thats another thing. i unironically refer to masturbating as 'beating my meat'. it started in high school and im sorry but it kinda seems like its here to stay. well up until the day i have to say it in conversation then ill dissolve and escape down a storm drain --

anyway, i was going at it and it was building but not really enough so i just was like ugh fine whatever and unstick it off the wall and started using it handheld + clit stuff -- t dick stuff? I personally dont have heaps of bottom dysphoria but i havent decided -- just so i could cum. it had been a while and my sex playlist was running out of hozier songs. yes im putting that information on the internet, sue me.

but like i was going at it two handed and it was working a treat and even after i came i kept going -- i was pushing myself because i wanted to see if i would squirt because i want to be prepared for this stuff -- and omg. bro omggggg.

measuring the time by songs id say that i came for, at minimum, three whole minutes.

like cos i was pushing myself so i just kept going with the two hand method and it just kept going and i kept going and it kept going and i had to change to one hand cos my fingers were tingling and it kept going. man.

i only stopped cos de selby part 2 was starting to wrap up -- no one look at me -- and i just layed there for a while longer just with my hands tingling and feeling light as air.

it made me think of that one twitter thread i think of that straight girl who got fucked by a lesbian and was all happy to go to work the next day even though she fucking hates her job. that was me bro.

i put my clothes back on and headed right back to the computer ive been sitting at for two days straight finishing assignments with a new lease on life. i was giddy mate. giddy. ugh

um yeah. moral of the story, i didnt squirt even after having my guts be pounded for like half an hour. thank you for cumming to my ted talk.

[burntb4bydoll]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could do a Steve x Henderson! Fem! Reader. Maybe after the whole events of season 2, they’re just hanging out at her house, watching Star Wars with Dustin and Dustin falls asleep. She admits to him that she was so scared when she saw him get beat up by billy, and says the first “I love you”?

I need fluff after what happened in vol. 2 LMAO

Thank you!

Rose :)

AHHH IVE NEVER GOT A REQUEST BEFORE THIS IS SO FUNN!! This is also my first time writing for a while so bare with me if its shit😭

I sat on my basement floor while Dustin and Steve were laying on the torn up couch. Im not sure if It was because I had seen Star Wars a million times, or if it was the fear that was still clouding my mind from the events that took place that day but I couldn’t seem to focus on the screen. I look over my shoulder to see how the boys were doing. Steves eyes were glued to the tv screen so he didn’t seem to notice me. When my eyes fall on Dustin I cant help but smile and let out a soft laugh. He had fallen asleep with his legs thrown over the arm of the couch, with popcorn stuck in his hair.

“Whats so funn-” Steve stops mid sentence when he sees Dustins position. We look at each other and can’t help but giggle at the younger boy. “Man I don’t understand how that kid can fall asleep in a position like that,” I say through a smile. “he never fails to surprise me” Steve lets out an amused hum at my statement. I look up towards him only to find myself frowning at the sight of him. His usually soft looking lips had been busted open and his pretty eyes were covered by bruises.

“You know..” I turned back towards the tv as I spoke, “I was really worried about you.” My voice was cracked as I replayed the scene of the fight in my head. “Why were you worried about me?” God he can be so clueless sometimes. “What do you mean Steve? You got into a fight with the biggest asshole in town! Billys always scary but when he’s angry is a whole new level of terrifying..” I felt Steve slide off the couch and down onto the floor next to me. He reaches over and grabs my chin to make me look at him. “Want me to be honest with you?” I nodded at his question, “I was scared shitless during that fight.” He confesses as he lets out a nervous laugh. “But Im fine, see?” He smiles as he gestures up and down his body. I can help but match his smile as I roll my eyes at him. “But look at what he did to your pretty face..” I teased, a fake pout flashed across my face. He lightly slapped my knee and pull his face away from my hands. There was a moment of silence before he spoke

“Im sorry I made you worry, but I gotta admit having a pretty girl worry and care about me is very flattering.” He pulls me into him and I can feel my heart race faster. “Steve?” he shifts so that his head that was resting on mine was facing me “..I love you” The three words came out in a whisper due to the anxiety that was eating me up inside. His body perks up and his eyes practically glow, “do you really mean that..?” He sounds surprised which makes me laugh. “Steve I wouldn’t have said it if I didnt mean it, of course I love you.” A huge smile grew on his face and suddenly I was pulled into a soft kiss. “I love you too. I knew I loved you since the first time I saw you.”

[wolferine]

Heart Skips a Beat - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha faces her worst nightmare when a rescue mission goes wrong…

Warnings: Violence, blood

Word Count: 1837

Part 1

Tags: @blkmxrvel @blackxwidowsxwife @marvelwomen-simp

When Natasha sees your eyes close, she finally comes back to her senses. She squirms away from Steve, crawling under an ambulance and making her way towards you. She ignores Steve telling her to stay put and doesn’t hear Clint telling police officers the direction the bullets came from. All she can think about is bringing you to safety.

The ambulance engine is still running, causing its underside to reach temperatures that make Natasha feel like she is hiding in a furnace. She holds her breath from the fumes as she crawls to the front of the vehicle, throwing her arm out and reaching for your hand.

“Y/N!” she screams. “I’m right here! Hold on!” Her fingertips brush yours and she grabs onto your wrist tightly. You’re bigger and heavier than her, but the adrenaline gives her strength. With a massive heave, she drags you under the ambulance. You smear through the puddle of your own blood and it soaks through the back of your shirt. 

There isn’t even enough room for her to lift her head, but she grabs onto both your arms, digging her elbows into the ground and crawling backwards. “I got you, Y/N. I got you,” she pants. But the lack of space and your deadweight make it impossible for her to pull you all the way through, so she backs out from under the ambulance. “Steve, help me!” she shouts.

“Move!” Steve says to her, although his shoulders are too broad to fit in the narrow gap. However, his arms are long enough to reach both of your hands, and all it takes is one big tug for you to come sliding out from the ambulance. 

Your eyes fly open suddenly, awakened by the agonizing pain coursing through your shoulder like a lightning bolt. You scream, and as much as it makes Natasha’s heart hurt, she’s glad to see that you’re still alive. 

“You guys need to get out of here right now!” Clint yells. “Take the ambulance!”

Steve pulls you into a standing position and wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you onto his shoulders effortlessly. You flop over him like a ragdoll, pain pulsing in your stomach when you bump against his chest.

BOOM.

A bullet shatters the sideview mirror of the ambulance.

“Go, go!” Natasha urges, putting herself between the danger and you and Steve. Steve runs with you to the back of the ambulance and flings the door open. There is no gurney, so Natasha helps him lay you on the floor and climbs in after you.

“Stay with Y/N. I’ll drive,” Steve offers, going around to the front. “Clint, we’re taking Y/N to the Quinjet! Hold the scene down!”

“Copy that!” Clint is just as concerned for your safety, but he knows you’re in good hands. Steve jumps into the driver’s seat and throws the ambulance in reverse.

BOOM.

The windshield explodes.

“Let’s go!” Natasha screams, ducking her head.

“Hold on!” Steve backs into a sharp U-turn. The tires screech as they find traction on the road to accelerate forward.

Natasha practically lays on top of you to prevent you from rolling around. From a shelf, she grabs a handful of gauze packets, tearing them open with her teeth. She rips your shirt open and presses the gauze first to your shoulder, then another to the side of your stomach. You’re completely soaked in blood and it continues to pump out of you with each heartbeat. Your face has faded to a sickly pale. 

“N-Nat,” you whisper, trying to move but pinned down by the pain. “N-Nat—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” she comforts. “Just keep your eyes open for me, okay?”

You see the blood smeared on her face, her neck, and her hands, too delirious to remember that it’s yours. “A-Are you h-hurt?” you stammer.

Natasha wants to laugh and cry at the same time. You’re so in love with her that even in the face of death you don’t even think about yourself. “No, I’m fine,” she says, grabbing onto your hand and interlocking your fingers. She looks over at Steve, veering through parked cars and roadblocks. “Can we hurry it up a little?” she asks in panic, even though she knows he’s driving as fast as he can.

“I’m trying!” Steve swerves around a fire hydrant and the sudden movement jolts everyone in the ambulance. Natasha presses down on you too hard and you grunt in pain.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “We’re almost there. We’re almost there.”

Your vision fades into fuzzy shapes and blurred colors. Even breathing seems to be too much of a task for you. Steve parks behind the Quinjet and comes around to help carry you in.

“Do you need me to go with you?” Steve asks as he lays you across the back seats of the Quinjet.

“No.” Natasha shakes her head. “Stay and help Barton.”

Steve doesn’t even try to argue. “We’ll find who did this, Nat. I promise.” He goes to the controls at the front and presses a few buttons. “The coordinates for the Tower are set. You’ll autopilot all the way there. Just make sure to update the medical team on Y/N’s condition.”

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Everything will be okay.” He places his hand on Natasha’s shoulder for a moment before jogging back to the ambulance. As soon as he’s off the Quinjet, the door raises shut and the engines blast on. You’re several states away from New York, but at the speeds the plane can travel, you should be there in minutes. You just have to hang on until then.

Natasha leaves your side only to grab more gauze, pressing it against your bullet wounds to slow the bleeding. She rolls you to your side so there’s no pressure on your front or back, but grimaces when she sees that your back looks as bad as your front.

“N-Nat,” you try whispering again, but she is quick to shush you.

“Not now, okay? Just stay awake for me, Y/N.”

You’ve never felt so weak before. It feels like you were hit by a bus and ground up by its tires. Your mind processes in slow-motion—probably a side effect of the blood loss—and you already forgot how you got into the Quinjet. But the physical pain isn’t your greatest concern anymore. You just don’t want to lose your fight and leave her.

Natasha fits an oxygen mask around your face and the cool air is comforting, but you know your time is ticking away. You don’t notice the Quinjet hiss to a landing or acknowledge the team of doctors suddenly hovering over you.

“We’ll do the surgery in room six!”

“Prep a blood transfusion!”

“Two gunshot wounds from a large-caliber gun!”

The doctors move you to a gurney and wheel you off the Quinjet. Natasha holds onto your hand as they take you to the surgery room, but a doctor stops her from entering with you.

“No, Romanoff. You gotta stay out here. We’ll take it from here.”

Natasha doesn’t fight back, letting your fingers slip through hers as you disappear behind the doors.

***********************************************************************

“Any updates?” Clint and Steve finally arrive a few hours later, but you’re still in surgery.

“Not yet.” Natasha paces the kitchen anxiously. Although she found the time to wash your blood off her hands and face, she hasn’t changed out of her uniform yet.

“Nat, you should get cleaned up. Y/N isn’t going anywhere,” Clint says.

“I know, I just…I want to be there when—” She can’t finish her sentence, falling into Clint’s arms and crying into his shoulder.

“Y/N is a fighter, remember?” Clint says, rubbing her back.

“But the amount of blood—”

“Super soldiers don’t go down easy,” Steve reminds her. “Y/N will pull through. And besides, you’ll be there to help with the recovery.”

Natasha nods, pulling away from Clint and wiping her face. “I’m sorry I froze when I saw Y/N get shot—”

“What are you apologizing for?” Clint asks.

“I don’t know—I put you all in danger because I couldn’t get myself out of the way—” she hiccups. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Steve assures. “In fact, you were the one who dragged Y/N to safety, remember? I couldn’t fit under the ambulance and Clint was just sitting around like a duck—”

“Excuse you,” Clint interrupts, and Natasha smiles thinly.  

“So, did you find who did this?” she asks.

“Uh—” Clint and Steve look at each other awkwardly. “Natasha, we��”

“Did you find them?” Natasha repeats with more force. Clint motions for Steve to explain.

“That’s the thing,” Steve says. “We don’t know who did this. We scoped out the whole area with the police. We went out more than a mile, but we couldn’t find anything. No shell casings, nothing.”

“Oh, so you’re telling me a ghost shot and tried to kill Y/N?” Natasha scoffs.

“No, we…” Steve tries to find the right words. “We think it was a setup, maybe like a hired assassin or something.”

“Who would want to kill Y/N?” Natasha asks.

“That’s what we need to figure out.”

Natasha knows you have a lot of baggage from your past, particularly when you were forced into illegal covert operations by the government. But it’s been a long time since then. You became your own person and changed your life for the better. Unfortunately, not everyone sees the side of you that Natasha and the Avengers do.

When Clint and Steve leave to shower and change, Natasha finally does the same. She dresses in clean clothes and curls up on your shared bed, inhaling your scent through the pillow and blankets.

Sometime later, Clint visits and knocks on the door. “Hey, Nat? Y/N just got out of surgery—” He doesn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence and is almost run over by Natasha as she hurries over to the medical bay. She doesn’t know which specific room they’re keeping you in, but it’s like she’s drawn to your very presence and finds the correct one instantly.

You lie upright in the bed, propped forward with pillows so there’s less pressure on your back. Your right arm is in a sling and your entire torso is wrapped in bandages. An IV drip leads into the veins on your hand, while a blood pouch sends blood into the vein inside of your elbow. You have an oxygen tube up your nose and looped around your ears.

“I heard the doctor went a little overboard on the anesthesia,” Clint says from behind Natasha, startling her. “You know, with the super soldier serum and everything. Y/N will probably be out of it for a while.” Natasha walks to your side and kneels, gently taking your hand. Your skin is clammy and colder than normal, but your pulse beats strongly.

“I’ll be here as long as it takes.” Natasha raises your hand, mindful of the wires around your wrist, and kisses your fingers.

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

Click here for Part 3!

AN: Thanks for the amazing support from everyone! Definitely didn’t think I’d get that kind of response, but I’m extremely grateful for you all. The next part will reveal the identity of the shooter, so I hope you’ll stick around for that. :) Peace out!

[lordpopuko]

i keep trying to convince myself that its okay im down for the time being - that i cant force myself out of this and that i just have to get through it alive. and it is okay. forced happiness is worse than letting you feel what you need to. as long as i dont give up and know this is a temporary rest, ill be fine.

i dont wanna beat myself up over this and sometimes being awake and simply getting out of my bed once, is enough. its not gonna stay this way forever, i cant force it to go away and i cant be strong every second of my life. theres nothing wrong with giving up/taking a break, as long as you acknowledge that you have to get up again when youve rested. im not trying to romanticize the situation. i dont think its alright to actively let it ruin you and decide not to do anything, but sometimes its out of your hands and you have to let the feelings through - just because i cant do all of my recovery and self-care steps these days, does not mean i cant ever do it again.

recovery is a fight. a goddamn tough fight that keeps exhausting me and its not just flowers and sun - sometimes its letting myself feel what i feel, sometimes its biting a sour apple and sometimes its letting myself rest. i cant fight everyday if i dont have energy - as long as i believe i can stand again, ill get through this. i know a lot of people think ive given up or dont want to fight my mental illness but i havent. ill come back from this with scars, probably but also stronger and better. letting myself feel my emotions - as depressive or negative as they may be - is better than forcing them away or running away from them.

[dilly-oh]

Trashy Romance Novel

    “Naruto, you frigging idiot,” Iruka began hotly, barging into the hospital room, “of all the stupid, brainless things you could have done, this is by far the-”

    He stopped. 

    The person lying in the small bed was definitely not Naruto. It was a grown-ass man with messy gray hair and a faded scar over one eye, the sterile white sheets pulled up over his nose, apparently sound asleep. Iruka stared at him for a long moment, dumbfounded, before it clicked. 

    Oh shit, he thought. This is the wrong room. I'm in the wrong room. I need to hurry up and leave before- 

    The stranger's eyes cracked open and he squinted up at Iruka in confusion.

    “...Who're you?” he croaked out. Iruka managed a rather articulate gurgle of dismay, frozen in sheer mortification. He considered the distance between him and the IV drip, wondering if he could dose the man back to unconsciousness before he could scream or buzz for a nurse. “Are those for me?” the man asked, sitting up in bed to regard the bouquet of flowers in Iruka's arms. He opened his mouth to disagree, but then the sheet slipped off the man's face, and Iruka suddenly thought giving him the flowers might not be such a bad idea. He definitely deserved a thank you after gifting him with...that. He didn't even protest as the alarmingly handsome stranger reached out and took the bundle of flowers, opening the card on top. 

    “You're a dumbass. Love, Iruka.” he read aloud, then looked up at Iruka, batting his eyes. “Aww, babe, you shouldn't have.”

    “Whoa whoa WHOA!” Iruka finally blurted out, his face burning half from embarrassment at the situation, half from the thinly-veiled flirting. “I'm sorry, sir, there's been a mistake. I'm in the wrong room and-”

    “You mean you aren't my doting husband I tragically forgot about due to amnesia and now you have to win back my love by passionately recreating the story of our romantic union?”

    “Excuse me, WHAT-”

    “Sorry, I've been reading trashy romance novels. They're the only books this hospital has. Can't blame me for trying.” The man shrugged, then reluctantly handed back the bouquet. “Who's the lucky person they're actually for? Must be someone real special if you're calling them a dumbass to their face.”

    “My kid brother,” Iruka explained with a sigh. “He's here with a head injury.”

    “Ouch.” The man winced in sympathy. “Poor kid.”

    “Not really. He head-butted a brick wall.” 

    “...May I ask why?”

    “Because his stupid boyfriend walked into it and he had to, and I quote, 'defend his honor'.” Iruka paused, looking the man up and down. Despite being a bit on the pale side, he looked perfectly fine, pun very much intended. It was almost unfair how well he pulled off the hospital gown (although Iruka would much rather be the one pulling it off, wink wink, nudge nudge). “So...what're you in for?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Was...was it the crappy romance novels? Did they rot your brain?”

    “I have an extremely rare, aggressive form of cancer with only two weeks left to live and the only cure is a kiss from my one true love...” The man swooned back onto the pillow and looked expectantly up at Iruka, who rolled his eyes. 

    “Yeah they definitely did-”

    “Alright you got me. Broke my leg.” He pulled the sheet off his lower half, revealing his legs, one of which was wrapped in a cast, propped up on some pillows. Several encouraging words from friends were scrawled on the white surface in marker, one of them a jarring green highlighter. It almost hurt Iruka's eyes to look at it. 

    “...How did you break it?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity. 

    “I heroically threw myself in front of a speeding car in order to save the life of my beloved-” 

    “Okay how did you really break it?”

    “Tripped chasing after my pug at the park,” the man admitted with a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat. 

    “...Is the dog okay?” Iruka asked after a long pause.

    The stranger burst out laughing. It was a nice laugh, warm and contagious enough to elicit a chuckle out of Iruka, who was growing more and more intrigued. He couldn't deny the spark of attraction he felt for the other man, spontaneous as it was, and it seemed to be reciprocated. He didn't even know his name, but something about the man made Iruka want to know more about him. Maybe this was like some trashy romance novel, where the two would-be lovers met under unusual circumstances and fell instantly in-

    “Hey, Kakashi,” a man with short brown hair said, suddenly walking into the room, “I brought the next three volumes of your shitty porn series from the hospital library and a couple pairs of clean underwear, so you can stop fucking texting me the specific style and brand you want from home, you're so damn picky-” He stopped dead as he caught sight of Iruka, pausing for a beat, then glanced at the man in the bed, his eyes darting nervously between the two. “Umm...am I...interrupting something?”

    A cold pit of ice yawned open in Iruka's stomach. 

    Oh my GOD. Here he was, borderline flirting with some stranger in a random hospital room, when obviously the man already had a boyfriend and Iruka was just making a complete ass of himself. The flirting had probably been misinterpretation on his part anyway, and if not, the guy was a total dick. Either way, enough was enough. His face aflame with rage and shame, Iruka spun towards the door. 

    “I need to go.”

    “Hey, wait!” Kakashi or whatever his name was called after him. 

    Iruka was already out the door, ignoring the man's cries. Screw him, and screw Naruto, too. He was the cause of this whole mess. Iruka would just text him later. He was probably making out with Sasuke anyway and wouldn't even notice his brother hadn't popped in to visit. Iruka needed out of this hospital NOW. He turned towards the stairs, immediately got lost, and spent the next five minutes growing increasingly flustered as he stormed through the winding hallways, desperately searching for the exit. Why the fuck was the hospital so damn BIG-

    “Hey! Iruka! Hold up!”

    Iruka spun around to see Kakashi speeding towards him in a wheelchair, his boyfriend dutifully pushing him down the hallway at a dead run, IV dangling after him on its cord like a faithful dog. The wheelchair stopped with an audible squeal in front of him.

    “What- where did- did you steal that?!” Iruka hissed in outrage. 

    “Of course not, don't be silly,” Kakashi protested, sounding offended. “The guy it belongs to was asleep in his bed. I'm just borrowing it. I'll return it later. Anyway, Iruka-”

    “Were you flirting with me in there?” Iruka demanded, cutting him off. “Be honest.”

    “Abso-fucking-lutely,” Kakashi said without an ounce of remorse. “So can I have your number or what?” Iruka bristled. 

    “You're a piece of shit! I can't believe you, hitting on me like this right in front of your boyfriend! You have some nerve-”

    “Wait...boyfriend?” Kakashi cocked his head in confusion. “You mean Yams?”

    “The fuck do YAMS have to do with anything-”

    “Hi, that's me,” the short-haired man said, raising a hand. “Yamato, actually. 'Yams' to my friends. Which is what we are. Just...friends.” Iruka scowled at him suspiciously. 

    “Friends? Don't fuck with me. You brought him underwear-”

    “Really close friends,” Yamato reiterated. “Also, roommates. It's awful. I can't get away from him.” Iruka studied him for a moment, but couldn't spot any hint of deception. The man's almond-shaped eyes were surprisingly honest.

    “So you two...aren't dating?” he asked hesitantly. Yamato gave him a horrified look.

    “Dear God, NO. Kakashi is the WORST. He's lazy as hell, procrastinates til the last minute, is perpetually late to everything-”

    “You are a shit wingman-” Kakashi began. 

    “He needs to know what he's getting into,” Yamato snapped at him, then turned back to Iruka. “Seriously, though. You should run while you still can. There's hope for you.”

    “Don't listen to him,” Kakashi cut in. “I'm a fucking catch. Which is exactly why you should let your flaxen hair down, rip your shirt open to reveal your heaving bosom, and throw yourself into my arms-”

    “Will you cut that out?!” Iruka burst out impatiently. “Life is not a trashy romance novel.”

    “You sure about that?” Kakashi said, quirking an eyebrow. “Because I met you in a hospital through total coincidence. After really hitting it off, we had a misunderstanding brought on by miscommunication. Then I chased after you in a fucking wheelchair to declare my undying attraction to you. If that isn't a plot to a trashy romance novel, I don't know what the fuck is. At least it's not raining right now.”

    “I dunno, it might be drizzling,” Yamato said, glancing at a window.

    Iruka paused, considering.

    “I guess it...would make a pretty good book,” he admitted quietly. “The only thing is...I'm not sure what happens next.”

    “That part's for us to write,” Kakashi said, his tone eager. “Only we can complete the story.”

    “Aaaaand I'm going to puke,” Yamato stated. 

    “Sorry, we crossed the line from 'trashy' into 'sappy'.” Kakashi shook his head. “Anyway. Iruka. Please, I'm begging you. Let me sweep you off your feet. Just...give me a chance.”

    “I'll do you one better,” Iruka said after a pause. “I'll give you my number.” Stealing a marker from the nearby nurse's station, he bent and wrote his cell number on Kakashi's cast, then straightened and held out the bouquet. “Here, you can have these. The message works for you too, I guess.”

    Kakashi accepted the flowers with a laugh, taking an appreciative sniff. 

    “And now, I shall ride dramatically off into the sunset,” he said with complete seriousness. “Come, my valiant steed. Awaaaay!”

    “I will push you down the stairs,” Yamato grumbled as he spun the wheelchair around and started back down the hallway. Iruka watched them go with a fond smile on his face, giddy with anticipation. 

    He was eager to read the next few chapters in his life.

    Including the steamy bits. 

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Month 2021, Day Twelve Prompt: Hospitals)

[lumosinlove]

Relic Keel

(warnings in tags)

PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL

Marlene got into college and hasn’t told Dorcas because she’s scared of how she will react.

Lily and James had sex and obviously like each other, but Lily is scared to have attachments on Hogwarts when they’re going to college soon.

Leo and Logan question each other about their pasts without much progress. Logan finds out that Leo hopes to own The Lion restaurant one day, and that his father’s death has something to do with “The Voldemort.”

Saint and Sirius talk about leaving the island and how they met when they were eleven years old. They have sex and avoid more difficult topics.

James and Lily meet at the Gryffindor Club as promised. Lily tells James that she doesn’t want anything tying her to the island, that she hates the fake boundaries that Hogwarts has and that James isn’t crossing them as much as he thinks he is. James understands, even though it hurts.

Saint and Sirius are cleaning the Potter’s pool when James arrives with Remus and Luke. Remus and Sirius have a tense moment in the kitchen, Luke and Saint argue, and Sirius finds out that it’s Remus who sails the Wolfsbane every morning—Remus thus finding out that Sirius notices.

Logan returns to the Carrows to hand over his money and stock up on Crucio. We find out that he works for them in the hopes that they will help him get Finn out of Saint Clair, only the Carrows are angry with him for using their Crucio—they say that Logan owes them now.

Logan heads over to Saint Clair to watch Finn from afar, and swears again that he will rescue him.

part iv

Remus closed his eyes, soaking in the morning sun and the salty air. The wind pushed his hair back as he tightened the rigging, catching the wind. Sometimes his sails felt like his bare hands. Like he finally had something to hold onto, even if it blistered his palms. The sea made him feel alone, in the best way. Usually, it felt like people were always around. He couldn’t go anywhere without running into at least two people from school, or his parents’ friends. Yes, he’s excited for college, no, he’s not sure exactly yet, yes, he’s still sailing, yes, he’s still obsessed, yes, he remembers learning at Gryffindor Club, sure, I’ll tell my mom you say hi.

Solidarity was less exhausting.

The wind buffered and he sighed as he slowed down. he looked back towards Shack Beach. Saint had said they saw him every morning—that Sirius saw him every morning. He wondered if Sirius was watching now.

He couldn’t see anything from this far away. Part of him wondered if he could make this island disappear completely, just for a moment. But it was dangerous to stray that far. Even The Cradle, the small U of islands just off of Hogwarts’ southern coast, was pushing it. Remus huffed out a laugh as he managed the ropes to come about, back towards shore. If that wasn’t a metaphor, he didn’t know what was.

Things on Hogwarts had become complicated in what felt like overnight, even though Remus knew that wasn’t true. They were older now. They didn’t just care about summer vacation. There was college to think about, and then jobs. Hogwarts wasn’t the dream it once was. Remus wanted to see mountains, and huge cities, or snow—and not just for a week on vacation. He wanted to belong somewhere because he wanted to be there, and not just because he had grown up there. He was tired of knowing everything there was to know.

He tied up his Wolfsbane on autopilot, stroking his hand over the side before tugging his shirt over his head and jumping straight into the water. It was cooler from the night, but it was what Remus needed. He held his breath as he found the sandy bottom, his eyes closed. For a moment, he didn’t have to be anywhere. He got to enjoy the ocean and its predictable changes.

When he came up for air, he remembered why he loved this island. That still didn’t mean he didn’t want to leave.

“Are you headed to the museum, sweetheart?” his mother said when Remus came down to the kitchen, freshly showered. He preferred to let the salt linger all day, but he figured he should be fresh for his first day of work.

“Yeah,” Remus held up his keys. “Just looking for some coffee first.”

His mom held up a mug for him, laughing. “Ask and you shall receive.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks, mom.”

“How was it this morning?”

Remus poured some milk into his cup. “It was good. Sun’s going to be strong today. Went near The Cradle—not too far, don’t worry.”

“You know me too well,” Hope laughed, whisking some eggs into a lather. “Well, it’s pizza night. We’re ordering in so, if you want to have some friends over and take it to the den, that’s fine with me. But don’t complain if Jules crashes the party.”

Remus nodded. “Actually, I think we’re going out. If that’s all right?”

Hope nodded. “All right, sure. Be safe, though. Who, uh…”

“James and Luke,” Remus sighed. “Mom—”

“I wasn’t going to say anything—”

“It’s not Luke’s fault,” Remus continued anyway. “His dad, I mean. He didn’t know.”

“I know that,” Hope sighed. “But…Even I can see that boy’s hurting and I barely see him at all.”

“Then shouldn’t he be with his friends?” Remus said.

Hope raised her eyebrows at him, and Remus raised his own right back.

“All right, all right,” Hope said. “You’re gonna be late, I’ll see you later, baby.”

Remus knew he should take the car his parents had given him. He knew he should get used to driving, knew his dad wondered why it just sat in the garage. But here, on the island, Remus liked his bicycle. He liked the warm breeze. It reminded him of being out on the water.

Which, in turn, now reminded him of Sirius Black.

When Remus remembered Sirius, he mostly remembered bruised cheeks and nasty looking cuts. He remembered the hushed way people used to whisper about him, and how, even when he was loud, grinning and well-liked, he was still from Salazar. Sometimes he had eaten lunch surrounded by people, and sometimes he had eaten it alone with his brother.

Remus didn’t understand this island. Was Sirius really so different because he was born a few miles South rather than North? It made no sense—only it did, but only because it was all Remus had ever known.

The Hogwarts History Museum was a pride of the island. Remus knew it well from school trips, and from his own interest. He’d spent many Saturdays there as a kid, gazing at all of the small models of ships and dreaming about what it would be like to sail them, wishing they weren’t trapped behind glass—feeling a little like he was trapped behind glass. A ship in a bottle.

“Hi there, Remus,” Layla smiled at him, green eyes kind and skin a rich, dark brown against the pale pink scarf in her hair.

“Hi, Layla,” Remus smiled. “Having a good summer so far?”

“Sure,” Layla shrugged. “Lots of time here. I saw you win the sailing race last Sunday, congrats.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks. It was real fun. Sorry I beat your brother, though.”

“Oh, Lyle doesn’t mind,” Layla waved a hand. Her nails were painted pink, too. “Don’t worry about it.”

Remus had been friends with Layla since they were little, competing for best in class usually. She was wicked smart and mellow. Remus could always use some mellow, good conversation—especially with James being James and Luke being…well, whatever Luke was now. Layla liked history, and her family owned the museum, which meant Layla told tales that were, albeit tall, fun to listen to.

Remus leaned against the desk, looking around. “This place never changes, huh?”

Layla laughed, clicking a pen. “History doesn’t tend to change that much, R, and so neither do we. Unlike the world out there.”

“I don’t know about that. Nothing ever feels too different out there,” Remus laughed, too. “But I guess you’re right. I’m glad you’re here, though. Or else I’d be sitting behind this desk by myself.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” Layla nodded. “What made you take the job?”

Remus snorted as he rounded the corner, picking up his name badge where Beatrice, Layla’s mother and the museum curator, said it would be. “Don’t pretend we didn’t see each other here when we were little all the time. Not to mention at Gryffindor Club. You, obviously.”

Layla raised an eyebrow. “Me and your mom.”

Remus winced and Layla laughed.

“C’mon, we both know you’d be out on your boat all day if it was up to you.”

Remus laughed. “Fine. But seriously. You’re a perk.”

Layla nodded, rolling her eyes with a smile. “Just a couple of history buffs, I guess.”

Remus shrugged. “There are worse things to be.”

The day was pretty slow. A few tourists here and there, taking photo behind the cardboard cutouts that made you look like you were dressed as a sailor, or a pirate.

“Are there really pirates here?” one little girl had asked Layla.

Remus had smiled when Layla crouched down and whispered to her, “careful, there’s one there,” and pointed at Remus.

When lunch rolled around, Remus expected Layla to pull out a bagged sandwich like him, but instead she scoffed and picked up her bag.

“Come on. We have to get out for a bit.”

Remus shrugged. “All right, where to?”

“The Lion, of course,” Layla replied. “It’s the best food on the island.”

“The Lion,” Remus repeated slowly. “You mean—in The Hollow?”

Layla gave him a look. “Oh, you’re not one of those are you?”

“One of what?” Remus said. “No. I’m not, I just… c’mon, you hear things.”

“Hear things? You’ve never been?”

“Once,” Remus swallowed, thinking of the fight. “It didn’t really go well.”

Layla just shook her head.

“History is just one great field of stories, Remus. You’ll never get to the truth unless you listen to them all.”

And so Remus found himself riding alongside Layla on their bikes and right through Gryffindor. The Hollow didn’t have a sign or anything, but you knew when you were in it. Remus almost wished he had been able to see some sort of line to cross, but everything was just suddenly different. Low houses with open doors, people gathered together and laughing. Kids running with surfboards over their heads, towards Shack Beach. It had seemed even more vibrant in the dark the night of the party, even through the tinted windows of Luke’s car. String lights hung over cookouts, and music blasting from speakers. It had smelled amazing, and Remus would have to say Layla was probably right about the food. 

The Lion was just as bright as everything else. It was bustling with lunch-goers, and the doors were flung wide, letting the heat right in. Remus looked around at the people. Some tourists, obviously. Some not. Hollows. Some of them smiled when they caught Remus’ eye, and some narrowed their eyes.

“Hi, Leo, babe,” Layla said as she slid onto a stool at the counter.

There was a blond boy behind it wearing a tank top and a snapback. He smiled as he set some shrimp down in a frier. “Hey, Layla, babe, ça va?”

“Just working. At least I’ve got Remus for company now.”

Remus smiled awkwardly when Leo fixed his blue eyes on him. He really didn’t know what he was waiting for. Something terrible to happen?

Leo only held out a hand. “Leo, nice to meet you.”

“Remus,” Remus said, and took it. He tried not to look at the rainbow bracelet on Leo’s wrist for too long, but he could tell Leo had felt the way his hand tightened. “Yeah—you, too.”

Leo touched it briefly, like an old habit, as he pulled away, giving another smile to Remus.

It didn’t necessarily mean Leo wasn’t straight, but on such a small island, Remus tended to notice these things. He and Luke had figured each other out pretty fast around sixteen. They’d kissed. Once. And then winced, laughed, and shoved each other in the pool. Sometimes Remus wished he and Luke had worked. He didn’t see any other boys coming his way. Leo was smiling at him like he knew what Remus was thinking.

“What can I get you two?” Leo asked.

A boyfriend? Remus thought wistfully.

“Two of your specials, please,” Layla said. “Re, you’re going to lose your mind it’s so good.”

“What’s your special?” Remus asked.

Leo shrugged, but he was grinning. “Like a chef ever gives up his secrets—”

Leo had stopped mid-sentence, eyes going over their shoulders towards the door. Remus turned to look, and a moment later, a brown haired boy was slinging a backpack down carefully between his feet and taking the seat beside Remus.

“Well, look who’s back,” Leo said to him.

The boy glanced at Remus and Layla, then gave a small shrug. “Yeah.”

Leo snorted. “Yeah,” he parroted. “You’re just hungry.”

The boy shrugged again.

Leo sighed, and gave Remus a look that said, can you believe this? before turning back to the stove. “This is Logan guys. Apparently he doesn’t talk today. Three specials. Coming up.”

~

Logan didn’t recognize the boy sitting at the counter. He didn’t recognize the girl either. Then again, he didn’t recognize many people. He didn’t know anyone. Except Dorcas—if that even counted. And Leo. If that counted, either.

The Felix was heavy in his pack, wedged protectively between his feet, and he wished the strangers would leave so that Leo would talk to him. He hadn’t said two words that weren’t him making sure that Logan liked his food, and asking him where he’d been.

Logan was a little annoyed with him for asking that question. It wasn’t like Leo didn’t know what Logan did. Then again, Leo didn’t know why Logan did what he did.

“You guys get the new madness exhibit up yet, Layla?” Leo was asking the girl with the scarf in her hair. “The one you were telling me about.”

The sandy-haired boy looked up from his food. “The madness exhibit?”

The girl—Layla—cocked her head. “Remus, you…you don’t know?”

“Know what?” the boy—Remus—replied.

Layla sat up a little, looking suddenly awkward. “Your mom donated almost everything we have. I mean…it is your family that’s famous for…”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Losing their fucking minds?”

Layla winced. “Well, yeah, okay, poor choice of words on my part. But madness isn’t always a bad thing, you know. People say people are crazy all the time. Sometimes they’re just extraordinary.”

Remus looked back down at his food. “My family’s not extraordinary, believe me.”

“Usually extraordinary-ness belongs to one person, I’d say,” Leo said. “My mom’s pretty extraordinary. Doesn’t mean I am.”

“You want to stay on this island, don’t you?” Logan found himself saying. Then, he felt his neck heat and he turned down to his food.

“What’s so extraordinary about that?” Layla replied at the same time as Remus said, “You do?”

Leo just laughed, rolling his eyes at Logan. “I’m with Layla on this one, guys, sorry.”

“What about you, Logan?” Layla asked. “I want the museum after I go to college. At least I think I do. Leo wants The Lion, Remus wants to sail the world…” Remus blushed at that, and Layla’s eyes were very green. “What do you want to do?”

Logan found it strange that they were treating him like that. So normally. Logan knew his necklace was on display. It was easier than explaining why people hadn’t seen him around and pretending to be a tourist. That lead to questions. Being abandoned didn’t. And he was. He was abandoned. People didn’t ask. Most probably thought he had just aged out. People didn’t ask. It was better that way. Logan didn’t have any answers. All he had was the memory of that last night with Finn. Finn had returned to their room, eyes wild and voice urgent.

Come on, Lo, wake up. Wake up, Logan, we have to go. Now.

Logan had felt helplessly awake in the first weeks of being out. He was still sorting through what that meant.

Logan swallowed. “I don’t know. I’m—looking for someone first.”

Remus sighed and mumbled. “Aren’t we all.”

“You are?” Leo asked softly.

Logan nodded. “Or, not looking. I’m just…I’m waiting for someone.”

He knew where Finn was, but Logan knew that he could wait forever and he wouldn’t come. Logan had to take what he wanted. It was a lesson he was learning fast.

“Oh,” Remus replied. “Um…cool. I hope you find them.”

Logan just nodded.

“Well, we should head out,” Layla said, rising. “Gotta get back to work.”

“Sure thing, just pay up front,” Leo smiled. “See you later, Layla.” He nodded at Remus. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Remus smiled back. “The food was great.”

Logan watched Leo watch them leave, then snort. “That guy looked more spooked than a horse with a snake.”

“Isn’t that what Gods are supposed to look like?” Logan replied.

Leo shrugged. “Usually you can’t see their eyes behind their aviators.”

Logan laughed a little. “Right.” he looked back down at his food, realizing he had begun picking his fries apart, rather than eating them.

“I’m looking for someone too, you know,” Leo broke the silence.

Logan did. Only, he hadn’t thought about it like that. Leo’s dad and Finn. Leo’s dad was probably dead. Finn wasn’t.

“I hope you find him,” Logan replied. “Your dad.”

The Lion was in full swing now, the lunchtime rush loud and boisterous. Leo had a tank top on, and Logan thought he looked a little tired. Sleeplessness showed easily on his skin.

“Do you have to run?” Leo asked instead of responding. “And hide? Like, from the police?”

Logan sat up, instinctively looking behind him. “I assumed I would have to. But…it hasn’t been that difficult.” He laughed a humorless laugh. “I guess I keep overestimating how much people actually care about me. Maybe I should have learned something by now.”

“Maybe you’re just looking at the wrong people,” Leo said quickly, and looked up with a smile, a small one, then down again. “I know a few others who got out. They don’t seem to have trouble, so, you know, if you needed a job or something, you could work in my mom’s workshop. With me. Or here. I’m sure Celeste and Pascal would be all right with it.”

Logan felt taken off guard. “Oh. I…” he thought of the powder packets in his bag. Of the Carrows. How much do you think you owe us by now?

Others? he wanted to ask. What others? 

“Just think about it,” Leo said, and turned towards one of the stove tops to check on some boiling water.

“Yeah. Okay.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“It’s a boat,” Leo began suddenly, answering Logan’s yet unasked question. The Voldemort. What his father had been looking for. It was almost like Leo was thanking him for telling the truth about his situation. An eye for an eye. A truth for a truth. Logan sort of liked that consistency. “Was a boat. In the eighteenth century.”

“Oh,” Logan said.

“Biggest story on Hogwarts,” Leo said. “Ten thousand pieces of gold, all fallen to the depths of the ocean just off of Hogwarts’ shores…and never seen again.”

“But if it’s just off the shore…”

Leo smiled a little, shaking his head. “But you have to know where off the shore. Otherwise, you have a whole circumference of miles and miles of open water to work with.”

“And your dad figured it out?”

Leo shrugged, expression closing off a little. “He thought he did.” He cleared his throat as he put an order on the counter for a waiter to take away, and ripped another piece of paper down from the line up to look at. “The Cradle. You know it?”

Logan shook his head.

“It’s a sort of…horse shoe shaped cluster of islands, just off of our southern tip.”

“Salazar,” Logan said quietly.

Leo nodded. “Salazar.”

“Your dad was a treasure hunter,” Logan said slowly. “He was looking for a treasure.”

“Yeah,” Leo said, flipping a crab cake in sizzling oil. “He was.”

“And did he find it? Do you want to find it?”

“I don’t know,” Leo whispered, busy hands stilling. “He never came home.”

Logan nodded.

“He wanted to find it,” Leo said softly. “Really badly. And I… I feel like I should.”

“And was he close?”

Leo glanced up from his knife. “Yes.”

“Leonardo,” a voice came suddenly, entering the restaurant. “What does your mother feed you, you gorgeous specimen?”

Logan froze. He knew that voice.

Leo rolled his eyes, and looked at the newcomers. “Fuck off, Saint. Hey, Sirius.”

“Hi,” a second voice came, and it was closer, almost beside Logan at the bar.

Leo’s eyes caught on Logan’s again, probably meaning to introduce him, but he stopped instead.

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked.

But Logan just shook his head, and then the newcomers—Saint and Sirius—were leaning against the bar. Logan felt the breath beside him catch just as his own had, and he turned to look.

Logan thought the boy standing beside him looked different. Older. More muscular. Squarer jaw. But the same. Same eyes. Same shock of blond hair. Same warm, brown skin.

“Logan?” Saint breathed, his eyes disbelieving.

Logan went to open his mouth, when Saint’s arms were around him suddenly.

“It’s Saint,” he said softly, just for Logan’s ears. He squeezed him tighter. “God, you’re here.”

“Saint?” Logan whispered into his shoulder. No one had touched him like this in what felt like forever.

“Yeah,” Saint said. He pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Logan shrugged. “I…yeah, okay.”

“Knutty,” Saint’s serious expression morphed into a grin. He leaned against the counter, keeping his palm on Logan. “Handsome as ever.”

Logan blinked at Saint, then at Leo. “Knutty?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to a word he says.”

“Oh, Logan already knows not to do that,” Saint laughed. He tapped his cross necklace. “We’re practically brothers.”

“Oh,” Leo blinked. “Right.”

The other boy—Sirius—looked just as taken aback.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Saint called in a sing-song voice, looking at Sirius. “Order for us, won’t you? And get us a table? Logan,” Saint nodded towards the door. “Come hither.”

Logan was so thankful to see Saint, he nearly tripped while getting up. A familiar face. A familiar anything. Saint had gotten out almost seven years ago. He’d been there one day, in his bed, in classes, in the courtyard, and gone the next.

“Sweetheart?” Logan asked, glancing back inside at the dark-haired boy, Sirius.

Saint just put his hands on Logan’s arms, eyes more intent than Logan had ever seen them, then on Logan’s cheeks. “Holy shit, how did you get out?”

Logan felt his heart slow, then speed up. He swallowed dryly. “Finn. How did you?”

Saint ignored the question.

“Finn,” Saint repeated, nodding. “Of course. When?”

“About a month ago. And he—he’s still in there,” Logan said. “He’s…And I’m—”

“I hear you,” Saint said. He jerked his head over to the table. “Not now. Let’s get back.”

“Saint?” Logan asked again.

Saint rolled his eyes. “Leave it alone. For now.”

~

Saint hadn’t been ready. He hadn’t seen Logan in nine years, but he’d know his face anywhere. All eyelashes and sad, green eyes. A smile he wore with Finn only. He looked spooked now, and tired. They’d sat at the bar, watching one of Leo’s shifts go and another one come, then moved to a table. Watching it get dark outside now, Saint wondered where Logan had been living for a month.

He eyed the backpack that Logan held so protectively close, and thought of the way Dorcas did the same thing.

Saint had a bad feeling.

“So, how’d you two meet?” Sirius said, gesturing between Logan and Leo with a fry when Leo brought over more water.

“Party,” Leo shrugged after a moment of hesitation. “Shack Beach.” He jerked his head at Saint. “You two were there, judging by Sirius’ shiner. Could hear that fight at my house, probably.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I didn’t start it.”

“True,” Saint said, wondering how he had missed Logan that night. “Some God—albeit a beautiful one—thought we were selling Crucio.”

Saint flicked his eyes over to Logan. Sure enough, he blushed.

Saint cocked his head. “The horror. Dangerous stuff.”

Leo looked at Saint quietly, and glanced at Logan, then back to him. Saint nodded. Got it, it said.

“Well, would you look who it is,” said a deep voice from behind them, and then there were two strong arms around Saint and Sirius. Pascal placed a loud kiss on each of their heads.

“Eck,” Sirius laughed. “You smell like grease, old man.”

Pascal Dumais laughed. “Grease that feeds you, maybe. And who’s this?”

“Dumo, meet Logan,” Saint said. “Logan, meet Pascal. He owns the Lion with his wife, Celeste.”

“The most beautiful woman in the world,” Pascal said, accent heavy. “Logan, it’s nice to meet you.”

Saint watched Pascal eye Logan’s necklace.

“We were together at Saint Clair,” he supplied.

“Maybe not so loud,” Logan said harshly. “Saint.”

“Oh?” Pascal said, and squinted at Logan. “Who are you with now, mon cher?”

Saint watched Logan open his mouth, frozen, and was about to speak up when—

“Me,” Leo cut in. He looked down at the carrots he was chopping as he said it. “Me and my mom.”

Oh, Saint thought.

“Oh, Leonardo,” Saint sighed. “Un ange.”

“Not my name,” Leo said.

“I know.”

“Yeah,” Logan replied to Pascal’s still questioning gaze. “Yeah.”

“I see,” Pascal nodded. “Well, I’m happy you and your mother will have a helping hand now. I miss your father dearly, mon fils.” He smiled sadly at Leo.

Leo just nodded. “Yeah.”

“Him and his treasure, eh?” Pascal said. “A wonderful man. I miss going out on that boat of his.”

Leo’s smile was small, but fond. “Those were some of his favorite mornings.”

“Treasure?” Sirius asked.

“Black!” a new voice shouted. “Thank fuck.”

Saint looked up when Sirius did. James and Remus were barreling towards them from the dark outside.

“Good lord,” Saint said. “Rain, from Olympus. Water my crops, why don’t you.”

“James?” Sirius said. “What are you—”

James and Remus walked right up to their table—Remus looking slightly more reluctant. “We have a question.”

“How did you know we were here?” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “I mean, just…it’s a little out of your way, non?”

“Remus came here earlier, and when I told him—well, you’ll see—he said maybe you’d be here.”

Saint watched Sirius’ eyes narrow at Remus, confused. “Okay…”

“Well, it’s good to see you again, tweedle-hot,” Saint said to Remus. “Up close this time. We actually though you were going to sail right out of sight this morning.”

Sirius stepped on his toe beneath the table.

“Excuse me?” Remus choked out. “What the fuck did you—”

James blinked at Saint, then shook his head, as if to right his thoughts. “All right, setting every strange thing that comes out of your mouth aside for a moment —where is Dorcas?”

“Meadowes?” Logan chimed in.

James’ eyes turned on him. “You know her?”

Saint raised his hand. “I have the same question.”

“Well,” Logan hesitated. “Sure.”

“And she sells Felix,” James said, as if trying to confirm the information.

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Says you.”

James sighed. “I’m not here to turn her in, Jesus, I just have a question.”

“Do…” Sirius was looking at Logan. “Do you sell…”

“What kind of question?” Saint cut in.

Remus spoke up. “A does-she-deal-to-Luke type of question.”

Saint laughed. “Deveaux?”

“You know who Luke is, Saint,” Remus sighed.

“Well, yeah I do, Lupin, he tried to buy off me,” Saint shook his head with a tisking sound. “Turns out he’s a prejudice piece of eye candy. Who knew.”

“Come on,” James sighed, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. “Please, Sirius, come on.”

Sirius shrugged. “We don’t know who Dorcas deals to. We’re not involved.”

“If you did would you tell us?”

Sirius smiled, just a little. “Probably not. But I really don’t know.”

James sighed, sagging away from the table. He looked at Remus. “Fuck.”

“What were you hoping to accomplish here?” Sirius asked slowly.

“We—” Remus said, then sighed, too. “We were going to see if she would agree to stop. If it was her, if she would stop giving it to him.”

“We’d pay her,” James added. “Obviously.”

Saint scoffed, and Logan laughed a little, too, from beside him.

“Obviously,” Saint mimicked.

“We just meant—” Remus began.

“We know what you meant,” Sirius said.

Saint popped a fry into his mouth. “If we’ll clean your pools for a few bucks, we’ll grant you three wishes, too.”

“Jesus, Saint,” James groaned.

“Mary. Joseph—”

James ran his hands through his hair. “We’re sorry, we misspoke. We’re just trying to help our friend. His dad got taken to jail, his mom pops pills all day and night.  That’s already draining what little money the bank didn’t seize and if he wants to do anything with his life he needs a straight head. Just—fuck, we’re just asking.”

Saint prided himself on gathering information, but most of that were things he didn’t know. Luke’s dad had got taken away. But the pills? The financial distress? All of that paired with that guarded snarl the boy always seemed to wear…it almost made Saint feel sorry for Luke Deveaux. He almost said so.

Instead, he said, while twirling the cross around his neck. “Wow, he must feel like an orphan or something.”

“All right,” Remus sighed. “James, let’s just go.”

“What does he look like?” Logan said suddenly before they could turn to leave.

James looked a him warily. “Um. Sort of blond-ish. More brown-haired, I guess. Big guy, built and tall and all that. Oh, he’s got this green spot in one eye.”

Logan nodded. James raised an eyebrow. Saint waited.

“How much will you pay me to stop selling to him?” Logan finally said. He rose as he did, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “That’s a lot out of my pocket.”

“Logan,” Saint said, but Logan didn’t look at him.

James blinked. “I—oh. Oh, uh—God, what do you want? Two hundred?”

"One grand,” Logan said.

James laughed. “Dude. Who the fuck are you? No, I don’t have that much just—on me.”

“Logan,” Saint warned again, and this time Logan did look at him. Saint shook his head softly.

“Fine,” Logan said through his teeth, and held out his hand. “Two.”

James took his wallet out and handed over the cash.

“Thanks,” Remus said from a little behind James’ shoulder. “Really.”

Logan just nodded, shoved the bills into his pocket, and headed for the door.

“Pardon,” Saint sent a grin to them all, and followed him.

Once they were outside, Saint gave him a wack on the back of the head.

“Fuck,” Logan swore. “S—”

“You get out of that shit-hole and you go around selling Crucio? To Gods?”

“I—”

“I mean, seriously, what the fuck was that? Do you know how not careful that was?”

“I don’t even know who that boy is,” Logan bit back.

Saint blinked. “What?”

Logan looked out towards the ocean where they could hear the waves crashing against the shore. “He offered to pay, and so I told him what he wanted to hear. When his friend shows up hallucinating next, that’s their problem.”

Saint scoffed. “Fine, okay, clever boy. But you do sell Crucio.”

“Felix,” Logan countered. “And yes.”

“Crucio. And no.”

Logan shrugged. “I need the money.”

“For what?”

Logan looked at him and, this time, his eyes were hard. Desperate. “For Finn.”

Saint froze. He opened his mouth, and then closed it. “Excuse me?”

“If I can get enough cash, I can get Finn,” Logan said.

Saint stared at him, and then Saint laughed. Then, he laughed louder.

“You’re shitting me,” Saint said. “You think that?”

“What do you…”

“You think you can buy Finn out?” Saint repeated incredulously. “You think you can walk back in there and buy Finn out.”

Logan took a breath. “He—”

“Logan, Jesus Christ,” Saint snapped. “You walk anywhere near that place and you are never getting back out.” Saint pressed a hand to Logan’s shoulder and shook him. “Do you hear me?”

“I need to do something,” Logan shouted back. “I need to do something, I can’t just leave him in there, he’s everything to me.”

Saint shook his head. “He got you out. Don’t waste that.”

Logan nodded, eyes bright with tears now. “And you know he got punished for it. You know he did—”

“Stop,” Saint spat, glancing around, as if anyone could hear. “Don’t.”

“You could help me,” Logan said, wiping his nose. “Bash, you got out once—”

“No,” Saint said, and turned away. “No. And don’t call me that. Don’t you ever call me that.”

“Please,” Logan begged. “Please—Saint.”

Saint whirled on him again. “I am never going near there, and neither are you. Finn’s still in there, fine. But he’ll need to get himself free like us if he wants it bad enough.”

“I owe money,” Logan began, then his breathing hitched. “I owe them, I took some of it to see—to see Finn and…Bash—Saint—”

“Them?” Saint took a step forward. “Them?”

Logan pressed a hand over his eyes, but Saint walked forward and pulled it away.

“Logan,” he said lowly. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Logan closed his eyes, mouth twisting against his tears.

“Tell me, right now, that you didn’t let the Carrows tell you they’d help you. And that you didn’t believe them.”

Logan shook his head, not in negation, but in defeat. “I need him. I need him, I’m so…I’m alone.”

Saint pulled Logan against his chest and let him cry. The sobs heaved out of him for a long while, until the collar of Saint’s shirt was wet. Until Logan was breathing softly again, exhausted, and until his voice sounded shot when he spoke.

“You’re really staying with Leo?” Saint asked, more gently this time.

Logan nodded.

“I have a place, too. Here, in The Hollow. If you want.”

“With the others?” Logan rasped.

“What others?”

“How many others are out?” Logan said softly.

Saint shook his head, fingers in Logan’s hair. “Just me, that I know of.”

“You still wear it,” Logan said, pulling back to look at him. “The cross.”

Saint let his hands drop with a last touch to Logan’s hot cheek. “So do you.”

They were both silent.

“I’m sorry about Finn,” Saint said rigidly. “I know how much he meant to you.”

Logan’s brows pulled together. “He’s not dead.”

Saint nodded. “Right.”

“Saint…” Logan began, and Saint heard the almost B instead. “Would you—just thinking about it—“

“No,” Saint said, and then turned and went back inside.

Sirius, back at the table, looked at his face, and then at his wet shirt.

“Okay?” he asked softly when Saint sat down.

“Just dandy,” Saint replied, and looked towards the door. Logan was gone.

[shhh-no-ones-home]

death march matt Murdock x reader

+++++++++

this one has been in the drafts for a bit and i finally finished it so i hope you guys enjoy. writing has been slow recently as i havent had much free time and am still trying to rewatch all the netflix marvel series. but i am still working on requests and stories that ive had started for about a month so hopefully the rest will be out soon, along with some frank castle stories now that ive reached the first season of the punisher

prompts: "You need sleep." "I get sleep" "getting knocked unconscious does not count as sleep"

song: saints of the blood by black veil brides

tag list: @cynic-spirit @juniebugg

+++++++++

i sat back on my knees and groaned. matt and i were both covered in blood and he was still writhing around on the ground. but the men around us that were out made me a little proud of all that we'd done. it had been weeks of tracking them down, taking out one ninja at a time until we found were they were all hiding.

"i need a vacation."

he noted as he got to his knees and i laughed.

"you and me both D."

he laughed back as he stood, almost doubling over as he clutched his side. i was quick to stand then, helping him, steadying him.

"whoa, hold up there daredevil, i saw that last punch. broken ribs isn't gonna get you anywhere."

he inhaled sharply.

"and what do you suggest i do?"

i snorted.

"you know the answer to that already."

he shook his head as we limped towards the door together.

"yeah, i shouldn't have asked."

°°°°°°°°°

when we got back to the apartment i was quick to get him to the couch. every move earned a hiss from deep in his chest as i tried to get his jacket off. i figured his ribs were broke but i was more worried about the cuts and stab wounds.

"alright human x-ray, what's the damage?"

he sat quietly for a moment and listened. then he closed his eyes and sighed.

"what do you think?"

i touched his side lightly.

"oh yeah, they're definitely broken. but there's something else. what is it?"

he blinked slowly before wincing as he tried to resituate himself on the couch.

"the cut below my rib is almost deep enough for it to come out."

i made a gross face.

"so maybe this time we really should get you to a hospital."

"no."

he said quickly and i sent him a look.

"matt, if i don't there's a good chance you'll die."

"no hospital."

i bit my tongue as he laid back.

"fine, ill do the best i can but if you if you start fading on me im doing it. this job is bigger than me, and Claire for that matter."

his jaw tightened.

"what would we even tell them? you're not in any better shape."

his breathing was shaky and staggered. i looked to my knuckles on my right hand as i held the cloth to his open wound. at this point i couldn't tell what was my blood, what was his blood, or what was the blood from the men we'd fought in the back of that abandoned warehouse. and then i looked to my left hand, god it was so much worse. my first two fingers were for sure broken, my wrist not in any better shape, and i had a gash almost the length of the back my arm.

"ill think of something, but right now we need to focus on getting you out of this outfit and keeping you from bleeding out. i don't need the paramedics figuring out what we both do in our free time."

°°°°°°°°°

as i sat in the chair beside matt i tried my hardest not to fall asleep. the beep of his heart monitor was very lulling and the morphine  they had given me didn't help. it was a little amusing though to look at the two of us; we practically looked like mummies with how wrapped we were. my left hand was broken in eight places, my wrist in two. the cut on my arm was deep enough to need stitches near my elbow but nowhere else, thank god.

"y/n."

i heard him say quietly and i sat up abruptly, no longer tired.

"im here matt, its okay."

i said softly, taking his hand in mine.

"where are we?"

he asked and i let out a laugh.

"metro general."

he deadpanned.

"i thought i told you-"

"i know i know, but i was losing you. i kept checking your heartbeat but you were losing too much blood. and i couldn't live with myself if id let you die. not after all that hard work."

i said the last bit with a hint of amusement and luckily he smiled back.

"what did you tell them?"

i let out a nervous laugh.

"i told them we were walking home through a bad part of town and got jumped, pushed into a back alley by a couple guys, large and in masks. i told them that they all looked the same, same height, same clothes, and only one of them spoke; that he demanded we give him all that we had on us. i told them that you tried to be brave and push me out of the way and that they didn't like that; that they beat you up, attacked you, then attacked me and once they got me on the ground stomped on my hand and ran."

he nodded solemnly; rubbing his thumb over the back of my right hand. the bruises were prominent still, cuts deep to the bone that i hadn't let anyone see since we'd been here the last ten hours.

"that's one hell of a story."

"as far as they know it was one hell of a fight. but you're still my hero; stupid and stubborn, but still a hero."

he smiled, almost laughing but groaning in pain and rolling his head back against the pillows.

"hey, take it easy, you need to heal, You need sleep."

"I get sleep."

he said matter-of-factly and i sent him a look.

"matt, getting knocked unconscious does not count as sleep."

he looked to the ceiling and swallowed hard.

"look, ill call foggy and Karen and tell them you were awake and they can visit later but for now you need all the rest you can get. you lost a lot of blood, and i know you, you'll want to get back out there as soon as possible. but for right now i think its okay to let the others handle the city for a bit. ill talk to Trish, see what she can do with Jessica's help. you know Danny would be willing to do something."

he shook his head.

"no, don't, its fine, I'm fine."

"Matthew, you have three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and you almost got sliced all the way through. I'm calling at least one of your super friends to take the mantle for a couple weeks. hells kitchen survived over a year without the mask, I'm sure it can survive a little longer. just until you're healed."

he sighed, closing his eyes again.

"i hate when you're right."

i smiled, squeezing his hand lightly.

"if that were true, you wouldn't have married me."

i stood up and kissed his forehead.

"Mrs. Murdock, the voice of reason."

he said softly and i leaned down and kissed him properly.

"keeping the love of my life alive one day at a time."

"thank you."

i studied him for a moment as i stood back up.

"get some sleep, ill be right here when you wake up."

[whump-a-la-mode]

Nemesis - Part 5

I wasn’t going to write this the same day as Villainsicle, but I just got so excited with the cliffhanger from last time!

At long last, it’s time for Hero to make their move.

In accordance with the votes from last time, Hero is going to keep up the ruse, and keep pretending to be Director.

CW//Mentions of recreational drugs/marijuana, forced sedation, medical setting, stretchers, IVs, talk of death/execution

When Hero met the team they had been newly assigned to, it had only been Teammate who had smiled.

It had been a few days, now, since that somewhat awkward meeting. The same sentiment had continued, however. While the rest of the team seemed merely to tolerate their new member, Teammate had been warm, welcoming.

So, it only seemed to reason that when Hero finally moved into their new dorm, it was Teammate who was giving them the mini tour.

“It’s not much.” The door creaked as it swung open on its hinges. Hero struggled to see the room within, peering their head over the precarious stack of boxes held in their hands. “But, it’s yours. Um, feel free to put your stuff down.”

Hero nodded gratefully, placing their luggage on the bed as Teammate began to gesture about.

“That’s, uh, well that’s obviously the bed. You sleep on a bed, right? Or do you use some kind of like, dog bed? Sorry, that was stupid.”

Hero snickered.

“No, no, you’re fine. I do sleep on a human bed.”

“That’s good, cause it’s the only kind we’ve got. So, yeah. That’s the bed. That’s the bathroom, through the door. That’s the dresser, feel free to use that for, clothes and stuff.”

“What about that door?”

“Oh.”

Teammate moved over to said door, sliding it open, revealing an empty closet that stood several feet deep.

“We’ve all got these. It’s just a closet.” They smiled. “I don’t know why they’re so big like that, but, hell, you could have someone live in there, I bet. It’s big enough, no one would ever notice.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“Friend. I’m so glad you could come visit. I missed seeing you, last week, but I understand how busy you are this time of year. How are you finding everything?”

Hero gritted their teeth, gaze meeting that of Head Doctor. A warm smile replied to with a tense, nerve-wracked countenance.

For the briefest moment, Hero stood in a university building, hostages behind them, and a faceless nemesis before them.

Their tongue flitted over their teeth. They didn’t bother with an accent, there was no way they would have been able to keep it up. Their normal, stupid voice would have to do.

“I missed you, too. I apologize for dropping by so suddenly. Everything is just great, thank you.”

Head Doctor’s brow furrowed, their jaw twisting a moment as they gnawed on the inside of their cheek.

“Friend, your voice sounds different. Are you alright?”

“Yes, do not worry yourself. My allergies are acting up terribly today.”

“Are you certain that it is only allergies? You sound like a kid, again. Here, if you have a moment, perhaps we can go to my office. I’m not too busy, right now.”

“No, no, that won’t be needed.”

“I insist.”

Hero gulped, hoping only that it was not visible. In their ear, a nerve-wracked Hacker’s voice chirped:

“Y- you’re, uh, you’re the director, right? Just, like, order him to shut up!”

Opening their mouth, Hero sputtered, but managed to make out the words:

“If I was worried about my voice, I would tell you.” Their nerves turned rapidly to fury. “I didn’t come here to be berated. I have a- a meeting in an hour. I came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to chat.”

Hacker’s snickering only made Hero’s stomach twist into a tighter knot.

“O-Oh. I apologize, Director. We will just have to be friends off the clock, then.”

“Certainly.”

“What is it that I can help you with, then?”

Every piece of Hero’s body insisted for them to flee, to quickly make their excuses, duck out the door, and get out of this stupid suit. They could go home, go to their dorm, go smoke pot with Teammate. Everything would be okay, and they would never have to think about this place, or Villain, or Hacker, or any of it, ever again!

It would be so easy. They were risking everything, throwing it all away, and for no reason.

Leaving would be so simple, and yet...

If they left Villain here, they knew they would never sleep again. For the briefest moment, they were glad that they had never had much in the way of impulse control.

“My charge.” Hero turned, gesturing to where a twitching Villain sat, prostrate upon their hospital bed. “This is them, yes?”

“Villain? Yes.”

“Good. I will be taking them with me, then.”

Head Doctor’s expression of uncertainty turned to one of an agape jaw.

“I don’t- If you would like them to be moved to another facility, we can certainly arrange that, but-”

“That’s not what I said, is it? I have a car, here. I will be taking them with me.”

“Sir, are you absolutely certain? By your own order, they are on a very strict regime of medications. Removing them from the IV- It could be disastrous.”

Hero felt their stomach drop to their feet. Stupid! They hadn’t even thought about that, oh god, oh god. This stupid plan, it was going to kill Villain, wasn’t it? Maybe? Hell, they weren’t a doctor.

Even if it did kill them, though...

Did it really matter? As if they were really alive, right now.

“I am well aware of that!” The tone of their own voice nearly made Hero jump. “I have another facility set up, again, on my orders. They will be taking over care, from now on.”

“We have a transport vehicle for this very situation, Sir.”

“Not for this very situation, no. This is not a normal transfer.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t tell you that. It’s a highly classified matter. There is no driver in our employ that I can trust to manage this transfer, and thus I will handle it myself.”

“Oh.” Head Doctor frowned, as though a black-hued light bulb had turned on above their crown. “Sir if... If you want them disposed of, I agree that this may not be the best facility to arrange that, but we do have facilities that can perform that procedure.”

Hero bit their tongue with enough force to draw blood.

“I will arrange it myself, Head Doctor. I assure you, everything has already been worked out. Are you going to keep standing in my way, or do I need to bring in security?”

Head Doctor shook their head quickly.

“That won’t be necessary. What do you need?”

“Their IVs removed.” Even before Hero finished their phrase, the doctor was already at their patient’s bedside, withdrawing tubes from veins. Villain took in a sharp, shuddering breath. “And a transport stretcher prepared.”

“I assume you would like them to be restrained, too?”

“How long should the medications keep them down for?”

“Another twelve hours, maybe.”

“That will be more than enough. Don’t hassle yourself.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Hero’s legs moved like those of a newborn deer as they backed away towards a wall, leaving room for the orderlies and nurses to scurry about like an ant colony.

Some part of their mind, twisted by adrenaline and anxiety, could not help but remind them of the moment in their childhood when they had adopted a dog. The hurried, overworked vets, scurrying about the animal, checking vitals and microchips.

The dog had had no say in the matter. And, in this matter, Villain had no say, either.

The medical staff seemed not to feel any such sympathy, hands moving swiftly to shift about their paralyzed charge. Cursory checks were made of blood pressure and breathing and the like, though far more attention seemed to be directed upon the removal of various tubes and monitors. Following their detachment from the hospital bed, Villain was shifted by a dozen hands onto a thin blue cushion, laid atop a rolling contraption of wheels.

Hero hoped that the straps that tightened the unconscious person down were only strictly necessary.

Despite their anxiety telling them otherwise, the whole process only lasted a minute two, after which the remaining medical staff filed from the chamber, leaving only Head Doctor in their cyan scrubs.

“Thank you, friend.” Hero ducked their head, moving away from their place in the corner. “They are ready, then?”

“Yes, Sir. Do you need help getting them to your vehicle?”

“That would be great, yes.”

The two positioned themselves on either side of the rolling contraption, with Hero doing their very best to keep their eyes forward rather than down as they began to direct the stretcher through narrow hallways.

It was too light. It should have been heavier, they were certain.

The facility was terribly small, and it was only a minute later that the imitator and the medic stood, alone, in the parking lot, white picket fence far behind them.

Head Doctor glanced a moment at Hero’s beat up SUV, but their nerves kept them from commenting on the matter. Leaving the stretcher a moment, Hero moved to the back of the vehicle, prying open its rear hatch and flattening the seats.

“I assume this is an undercover operation, then?” The way Head Doctor said it implied the statement to be a joke.

“Something like that. How do we, um... I haven’t done this before.”

“It’s not that hard. Especially not when your patient may as well be a feather-- keep that in mind for your dosages, too. They’ve lost weight. Anyways, um, just fold the stretcher like so, and... Can you help lift?”

Hero nodded, doing their best to keep the stretcher flat as they raised it. The contraption hardly fit in the back of their vehicle, but it did fit, even as it was practically wedged between the walls. What was most important was that it sat low enough that the unconscious patient could not be seen through the windows-- at least not from a distance.

There was a sense of terrifying finality as they closed the vehicle’s rear hatch.

They were doing this.

Oh, they were going to get so caught.

What then? This had to be just about the worst offense a hero could commit. Using their powers and their position and the aid of a career criminal to break a villain out of prison. It seemed like a child’s hyperbole-- ‘What should we do if there’s a tornado and a fire and an earthquake? What then?’

Except, this time, there was no ‘what if’ to it.

It was these spiraling thoughts that distracted them just enough that they forget, momentarily, where their feet were landing. A split second of distraction, and they found themself on their back, head spinning from the fall.

Stupid.

They didn’t realize until they were back to their feet that their earpiece had fallen onto the pavement.

“Director? Are you alright?” Head Doctor raised a brow. “Oh, you dropped this.”

They knelt down, plucking the earbud off the ground, lifting it to their face to investigate.

And, in accordance with Hero’s fantastic luck, it was that exact moment in which Hacker decided to speak:

“Hero? Hero? Are you there? You cut out there for a moment. Head Doctor didn’t get you, did they?”

The doctor’s icy gaze lifted to meet that of the copycat.

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It was hard, to get out of the city.

The tendrils of concrete and glass reached out in a looping spiderweb of interstates and one way roads. Moving in a straight line was not an option, for every attempt made to do so would lead to the city herding you back in.

In the end, it must have taken Hero an hour and a half to reach what could be vaguely described as a ‘rural area.’ At the very least, it was outside of the inner city, which was what mattered surtout.

At the very least, the long drive had allowed them a moment to catch their breath.

Unlike some other buildings controlled by Organization, the rehab facility did not have much in the way of a security force-- unless you counted Head Doctor, which Hero did not. Unfortunately, the same thought had not seemed to have the doctor’s train of thought.

It was amazing just how little attention Hero had attracted, screeching out of a rehab facility’s parking lot with a screaming doctor chasing after them up to the property line. They could only assume that no one wanted to get involved in hero business.

Organization, however, would certainly be interested, once they heard about the incident.

Thus, Hero had spent the past hour and a half white-knuckling the steering wheel, steering around endless intersections, until they had found the smallest piece of rural land. A gravel parking lot, from which a flock of starlings had fled at the approach of Hero’s car.

Beneath the vehicle’s suspension, tires settled on broken up rocks.

Hero glanced in the rear view mirror for the thousandth time, but saw only the same thing as always-- endless, empty road.

For the first time in an hour and a half, they let themself breathe. Their car’s engine exhaled as they turned it off and twisted around in their seat.

Villain had not moved.

The few straps on the stretcher did little more than keep them from falling off the cushion. If they had any desire, any ability, to move, they would have had no trouble.

But they were still. Alive, eyelids twitching and chest moving, but still.

Taking care to avoid jostling the stretcher, Hero climbed from the driver’s seat to the back of the vehicle, crouching down at Villain’s side.

As gently as they could manage, Hero held their nemesis’ hand.

“Can you hear me?”

It was a stupid question. Of course Villain couldn’t hear them. Yet, as soon as Hero’s mouth opened, they found themself unable to close it. Unable to still their tongue.

“I don’t... I know it’s been a long time.”

A wave of orange light washed over the two as the sun drifted below the window.

“I know it’s been a long time. And maybe this is stupid. Maybe you hate me. Maybe you want to go back there. Go back to sleep. Maybe that’s all you want. But... I want to help you.

I don’t know anything else. I just know I want to help you.

We weren’t friends, before. I know that. We both know that. And, if I’m being completely honest, I don’t know why I’m doing this. We hated each other. Maybe I still hate you, but...

We can figure that all out later, okay? Right now, I just want to help.”

It was in that position that the nemeses sat, breathing in their first tastes of non-city air in so many years. Outside of the vehicle’s walls, the sun drifted below the horizon, replaced by its lunar sister.

When the last shreds of twilight were at last dead, Hero felt at long last safe to return home. One last time, they squeezed Villain’s hand.

Villain squeezed back. The slightest movement-- perhaps a simple involuntary reaction. Perhaps it didn’t mean anything.

But, to Hero, it meant everything.

On the return trip to the city, the streets were far quieter, and thankfully devoid of any sort of Organization search patrols. In fact, their arrival at the HQ was almost too uneventful. But, they weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Had they not been so stupid, so reckless, they would still have help. They would still have Hacker. Their friend could have guided them through the HQ, guided them on how to avoid the security cameras.

But Hero had been stupid. They had been reckless. Now, they were alone.

At the very least, the parking lot was deserted, and they met no resistance as they unstrapped Villain from their transport. They haphazardly covered the device with a tarp, all the while struggling to keep their limp friend from falling over.

Any strength that Villain had once held in their legs had long since been stolen away from them. After a few clumsy attempts to get them to their feet, Hero resolved to a simple bridal carry.

They could only hope that Villain would not remember this. They would never hear the end of it.

Without the benefit of an eye in the sky, all Hero could do against the possibility of cameras was to lean over the load they carried, hoping it at least obscured Villain’s face.

The HQ was deserted.

At this hour, it was never deserted.

The very thought made their blood turn to frozen slush, but they had no choice but to keep moving. Keep moving to the elevator, then out of it. Keep moving to their floor, then their quarters.

At the very least, Teammate’s snoring still echoed. Not everything was out of place.

Well-placed steps led Hero to their dorm, locking the door behind themself.

They looked down.

Villain was in their room. Their dorm. They were really never going to hear the end of this, were they?

Unfortunately, hours spent panicking over their nemesis’ condition had not spontaneously made Hero a doctor. Whatever they were going through right now, helping them through it was beyond them.

They had no medicines. No treatments. But, they had a closet, and a pile of blankets within. When Villain was finally tucked into the makeshift bed, they were almost invisible beneath the layers of fabric.

Though they were not quite sure why, Hero smiled.

That odd expression remained on their face as they got to their knees, staring upon their work.

For once, they had done something right. They had succeeded at something. Take that, Leader!

Villain twitched.

For a moment, Hero thought that their nerves had simply made them hallucinate the movement. But, no, they certainly had not dreamed it, as a moment later, the small movement repeated itself.

Villain opened their eyes. They spoke as though their tongue was made of ice, but that did not make their voice any quieter.

“Please, no! Please! Please, don’t do this! Help me help me help me someone help me. Please! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it!”

The sobbing grew to such a point that it shook Hero’s chest, like the thrum of a bass, echoing through the floor.

“Please!”

Through all the chaos, Hero was surprised that they even heard the knock at the door, and the quiet voice that came with it:

“Hero? Hero, it’s Teammate. Is everything okay in there?”

“I didn’t mean to see it! I won’t tell Hero, I promise! I promise!”

All at once, Hero understood the saying of being caught between a rock and a hard place.

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Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Hero has gone this alone for too long, and Teammate is their friend. Let Teammate in. - How should Hero quiet Villain?

B.) Teammate is a risk, and Hero has already taken enough of those. Don’t let them in - How should Hero explain this?

[chokemeanakin]

Give Me Love

Chapter Four

Wc: 2.3k

MASTERLIST

You had a lot to lose. A lot. Everything, really.

The issue with the fact that he already supposedly liked you, is that now you had the potential to screw it all up. To make him not like you anymore. One wrong move, one wrong word, and you could lose it all.

The thought had you sweating as you sent your last patient off, tying off his gauze wrapping and slipping a bottle of painkillers into his hand. He thanked you and left, and you blinked back tears, almost wishing he’d stay.

I can’t take this stress.

All day, you’d thrust yourself into your work. The clock ticked over your head, counting down the seconds until Anakin would meet you in this room, and then you’d sneak off to go to dinner. Together. Just you and him. Alone.

Completely at his mercy.

Wrapping sprained ankles and giving IV’s took your mind off of it for the majority of the day, but now it was 7:59, and Anakin had promised he’d be here right on time. Your stomach tossed and turned, hands shaking, impromptu jitters wracking your body. The nausea was slowly creeping its way back up as you put away your materials, washing your hands, winding them in your grasp as you paced the floor.

Knock knock

A stream of silent curses flew through your head. You startled at the noise, heart pounding wildly, but your legs forced you to the door anyway. It looked like someone else’s hand that turned the knob, opening it to reveal the long-awaited Jedi.

He was breath-taking, as usual. Even more so now that you knew what his true thoughts on you were. He held a special fondness for you, the same you held for him, and it was too good to be true. How could this absolute beauty even think to spare a second glance in your direction?

“You’re amazing for doing this,” Anakin grinned, slipping past you into the room. “Seriously, I don’t know what I’d do if I had to sit through that Opera show right now. Dex’s is on me, if I didn’t make that clear yesterday.”

He was already heading toward the back door, not nervous at all. What must that be like? You wondered, To be able to function so smooth and confident, unbothered in the same room as the person you so desperately adore?

To your surprise, a speeder was waiting outside the Jedi temple. A quite expensive one, at that. Your eyes widened as he held the door to the passenger’s seat open, sweeping with his other arm in a gesture to get in.

“Where’d you get this?” you asked, glad you now had a conversation starter. Anakin closed the door for you, a mischievous smirk curling onto his lips as he got into the driver’s side.

“I’m borrowing it from a friend.”

You had a sneaking suspicion that was a lie.

The banter came easily after that, surprisingly so on your part. Each time he made you laugh, your nerves dissipated a little bit more. The cool air whipping past your skin and tangling into your hair was like a balm for your nerves, soothing your feverish temperature and calming your mind for just a few minutes. When you arrived at Dex’s, you almost felt… normal.

Anakin cut the engine as you unbuckled, the neon lights bathing him in red and purple. His eyes sparkled like stars, taking in the lively night streets of Coruscant before him. Everything he did, everywhere he went-- you were beginning to think he was just permanently gorgeous.

You managed to sit on your nerves the whole night. They bit at you from the back of your mind, but you shoved them away, swallowed them down, beat them back with a stick. If things went bad, you bartered with yourself, you could just avoid Anakin for the rest of your life. You didn’t have to see him ever again if you didn’t want to. But… that’s not the way things were going. Things were going well. Better than well.

It surprised you just how much of a gentleman Anakin was. He was certainly good at wooing-- he held the door open for you into the restaurant, and then pulled the chair out for you. Apparently he knew Dex on a friendly-basis, so when the owner of the restaurant came over to greet him personally, Anakin introduced you as his friend.

The words had you soaring.

Admittedly, you were still having trouble looking him in the face. The hour was late and Dex had dimmed the lights. Even so, he was enchantingly beautiful, sitting across from you, tracing his thumb along the lip of a mug. His eyes had a habit of bearing into you, and you wondered if he knew how intense he could be sometimes.

You focused on the way his thumb found the rim of his glass, stroking it ever so slowly, back and forth, back and forth. It hypnotized you into a state of serenity as you tried to ignore the burn of his eyes on your face.

“I make you nervous.”

As if to prove him wrong, you lifted your gaze to meet his. Bad idea. His beauty never failed to land a blow to your chest, robbing you of air and the ability to formulate competent sentences.

“Not… in a bad way.” There was no use lying.

“In what way, then?”

This was not good. His voice was lowering, that seductive purr coming out even though you were sure he didn’t even realize. He was genuinely curious, but the deep rumble of his voice was yanking the nerves back up one by one, forcing you to feel the full brunt of their anger.

“You’re just… you’re intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” he looked like he might laugh, and you tried not to focus on how the arch of his eyebrow made you tingle.

“Very.”

“How so?”

He was back to quizzical, and you were back to feeling like you were going to vomit. Your vision went white, head dunked underwater, when something touched your hand. You realized it was his own. The thumb that you had been watching was now across your knuckles, stroking them gently like it had done to the lip of his mug. You inhaled a trembling breath, distracted by the burning path it seared into your live-wire skin.

Was that supposed to be soothing? Because it had the exact opposite effect.

“I’m sure you know the answer to that,” you turned the question back on him. Really, you had no idea how to answer without admitting the depth of your feelings for him. Or without going into extensive detail on just how ravishing you found him.

The tender caress of his thumb on your skin was flooding your body with pleasurable feelings. You never wanted him to stop. This moment, as he was touching you willingly for the first time, you truly felt on top of the world. Your whole being flooded with warm molasses, cheeks flushed as you drowned in the feeling. Later, you would worry about how dangerous it was that he had such a strong effect on you. For now, you were going to milk every last second that his skin was on yours.

“I’m not sure I do,” his smooth voice brought you back to reality. Suddenly, his thumb stopped and you internally panicked. When he didn’t pull away, you breathed out a sigh of relief. “Y/n, I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” the words felt phony leaving your lips. “Not-- not in a bad way…”

“What does that mean?”

Did you really have to spell it out for him? Was he really going to make you say it?

His words were serious now though, hard. You wanted that twinkle in his eye back, the playful smile. Even more so-- the stroke of his thumb.

“It means,” you shifted your eyes wildly, desperately clinging to any semblance of thought that you could piece together into an explanation, “that I think you’re really… cool. And I don’t want to make a fool of myself around you.”

Ironic, that sentence was. You hoped he couldn’t see your flaming cheeks in the low light of the restaurant.

“You think I’m cool?” At least he was smiling now. It was gentle, teasing, and the sight of it sent sparks of adoration up your spine. Maker, you wanted him…

“Yes,” you bowed your head, overcome with emotion. You couldn’t let him see how soft your eyes had gotten. “I think you’re amazing.”

His heart liquified at your hushed confession. It was like pulling a tooth, getting you to open up to him like this-- but now that he had you where he wanted, he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

“If I’m so amazing, how come you always avoid me?”

“I don’t avoid you.”

He cocked his head, testing.

“Okay. Fine. Whenever I see you… my heart beats all funny. I can’t think straight. And I get hot.”

He’s laughing now, but inside his heart is doing the same as yours. It thuds with hope, fear, and a suffocating reverence for the person across from it. Your eyes narrow at him, annoyed at how easily you let him get the upper hand.

“I don’t like it.”

His laughing stopped, but the smile stayed plastered on his face. Even the thumb on your knuckles resumed, quelling that swirling tempest in your gut.

“No?”

“No. It makes me feel weak. Disoriented. I feel like I have no control over myself when I’m around you.”

Which is exactly the reason you’re spewing these words out now. Was this some kind of Jedi Mind trick? How could you be telling this to him?

“You like me.”

Your eyes snapped up to his face at the same time you pulled your hand back. Your world began to crash down around you-- he knew. Of course he could tell that you had a stupid little crush. You basically just layed it all out on the table for him. All he had to do was piece it together.

You braced yourself for the inevitable worst. This was the part where he was going to tell you how wrong it was, how you had to forget your feelings for him, how you could never see each other again. If this was the last time you would be able to be with Anakin, you wanted to savor every moment. You allowed yourself to look at him-- really look at him.

It was shameless, the way your eyes lingered over his face. For once, you didn’t care how he watched you drink in every detail, the rings of your eyes flickering over every feature-- the delicate curl of his bangs over his forehead, the arch of his dark, shapely brows, the curl of his full, blushing lips, the enchanting peak of his chiselled cheekbones. He was stunning, and as always, it was like looking directly into the sun. Except this time, you let yourself burn.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he played off of your earlier words. Those devilish lips pulled up teasingly, voice low and purring. “I think you’ll be happy to know, I’m quite fond of you myself.”

Blood rushed through your ears, your heart stuttering in your chest. Was he--? Was he serious? Were you hearing his words correctly? Could he actually--?

He was waiting for you to say something. You swallowed thickly, your saliva feeling like a cotton ball in your throat, face and limbs numb with disbelief.

“Oh.”

Is that really all you could manage? You were beating yourself up inside, butterflies waging full-scale armageddon in your tummy. What were you supposed to say? Great, now let’s fuck?

Oh, Maker. That thought was not good for your nerves.

“Relax,” Anakin’s brows furrowed, sensing how anxious you’d suddenly become. You were vibrating slightly in your seat, sweat beginning to form on your skin. “You don’t have to be so nervous around me.”

You thought those words might have helped if you didn’t suddenly have thoughts of you and him… being intimate… barraging your mind. That was a whole other shelf of issues that you didn’t even want to breach tonight.

Internalizing his words, you forced yourself to suck in a burning breath of air. It whistled slightly as it went down, head pulsing at the lack of airflow. You managed to clear the hazey panic from your mind, but your heart still beat as if you were being chased. You really were hopeless.

“Okay,” you managed to breath. Your hands fisted the material of the scrubs on your thighs as you voice your next thoughts. “So… what now?”

“Now…” his eyes flicked away from your face for a moment, finally allowing you to breathe. His throat bobbed slightly as he thought, as if he was nervous too. “Now we do whatever you want.”

“Me?”

“Y/n,” warmth trickled down your spine at the way he whispered your name, leaning in closer to you so no one else could hear. When before you struggled to look at him, now you couldn’t look away. “I’m a Jedi. It’s against the code for me to have these attachments. But… I trust you. And I’d like to… be with you. In whatever way that might please you.”

“But why are you letting me choose?”

“Because if I had to, we’d be all in. I haven’t felt this way about anyone since… since…” his eyes clouded over, and he shook his head. “Nevermind that. I just… I know we barely know each other. But I feel… pulled to you. Just like you said, it makes me feel warm. And good. And I want more of it, all of it…”

His hand lifted off the table as if he meant to touch your cheek, but he caught himself halfway. Eyes darted around the restaurant, realizing where he was again as he lowered his hand.

“I want you. Completely.”

You were definitely sweating now.

The words didn’t even go through that familiar circuit of debate in your mind. They seemed to think themselves into fruition, then speak themselves into the air.

“Then…” your head swam. Stomach quivered. Heart pulsed. “You can have me.”

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[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Dark”

Welcome back, everyone! Can you believe it's been six weeks already? I can't. Something something the uncomfortable passage of time during a pandemic as emphasized by a web-series.

But we're here to talk about RWBY the fictional story, not RWBY the cultural icon. At least, we will in a moment. First, I'd like to acknowledge that shaky line between the two, growing blurrier with every volume. A sort of good news, bad news situation.

The bad news — to get that out of the way — is that we cannot easily separate RWBY from its authors and those authors have, sadly, been drawing a lot of negative attention as of late. This isn't anything new, not at all, but I think the unexpectedly long hiatus gave a lot of fans (myself included) the chance to think about Rooster Teeth's failings without getting distracted by their biggest and brightest production. There's a laundry list of problems here — everything from the behavior of voice actors to the quality of their merch — but as a sort of summary issue, I'd like to highlight the reviews that continue to pop up on websites like Glassdoor, detailing the toxic, sexist, crunch-obsessed environment that RT employees are forced to work in. A lot of these websites requires a login to read more than a page of reviews, but you can check out a Twitter thread about it here. 

Now, I want to be clear: I'm not bringing this up as a way to shame anyone enjoying RWBY. This isn't a simplistic claim of, "The authors are Problematic™ and therefore you can't like the stuff they produce." Nor is this meant to be a catch-all excuse for RWBY's problems. If it were, I'd have dropped these recaps years ago. I'm of the belief that audiences maintain the right to both praise and criticize the work they're given, regardless of the context in which that work was produced. At the end of the day, RT has presented RWBY as a finished product and, more than that, presents it as an excellent product, one worth both our emotional investment and our money (whether in the form of paying for a First account, or encouraging us to buy merch, attend cons, etc.) I'll continue to critique RWBY as needed, but I a) wanted fans to be at least peripherally aware of these issues and b) clarify that my use of "RT" in statements like, "I can't believe RT is screwing up this badly" is meant to be a broad, nebulas acknowledgement that someone in the company is screwing up, either creatively (doesn't have the skill to write a good scene) or morally (hasn't created an environment in which other creators are capable of crafting a good scene). The real, inner workings of such companies are mostly a secret to their audiences and thus it's near impossible for someone like me — random fan writing these for fun as a casual side hobby — to accurately point fingers. Hence, broad "RT." I just wanted to clarify that when I use this it's as a necessary placeholder for whoever is actually responsible, not a damnation of the overworked animator breaking down in a bathroom. Heavy stuff, but I thought it was necessary (or at least worthwhile) to acknowledge this issue as we head into the second half of the volume.

Now for the good news: RWBY has reached 100 episodes! For any who may not know, 100 is a pretty significant number in the TV world because, when talking about prime time programming, it guarantees syndicated reruns. Basically, networks don't want audiences to get burned out with a show — changing the channel when it comes on because ugh, I've seen this already, recently too — and 100 episodes allows for a roughly five month run without any repeats, making it very profitable. RWBY is obviously not a television show and doesn't benefit from any of this (hell, modern television doesn't benefit from this as much as it used to, not in the age of streaming), but the 100 episode threshold is still ingrained in American culture. Beyond just being a nice, rounded number, it is historically a measure of huge success and I can't imagine that RT isn't aware of that. Regardless of what we think of RWBY's current quality, this is one hell of a milestone and should be applauded.

All that being said... RWBY's quality is definitely still lacking lol.

Our 100th episode is titled "Dark" — keeping with the one word titles, then — and I'd like to emphasize that, as a 100th episode, it definitely delivers in terms of plot. There's plenty of action, important character beats, and at least one major reveal, everything we'd expect from a milestone and a Part II premiere. The animation also continues to be noteworthy for its beauty, as I found myself admiring many of the screenshots I took for this recap. There are certainly things to praise. The only problem (one we're all familiar with by now) is that these small successes are situated within a narrative that's otherwise falling apart. It's all good stuff... provided you ignore literally everything else surrounding it.

But let's dive into some examples. We open on Qrow starting, awoken by the thunder outside. Robyn has been watching him and makes a peppy comment about how none of them will be sleeping tonight, followed by a more serious, "Sounds bad out there." Yeah, it does sound bad, especially when they all know — thanks to Ruby's message back in Volume 7 — that this is due to Salem's arrival. I think a lot of the fandom has forgotten that little detail because people often discuss Qrow as if he is entirely ignorant of what is going on outside his cell. Even if we were to assume that he's forgotten all about the pesky Salem issue (the horror of Clover's death overriding everything else, perhaps) he still knows that Tyrian is running loose in a heat-less city with a creepy storm going on and, from his perspective, the Very Evil Ironwood is still running the show. So it's bad, which begs the question of why Qrow (and Robyn, for that matter) hasn't displayed an ounce of legitimate worry for everyone he knows out there. Thus far, their interactions have centered entirely around Qrow's misplaced blame and Robyn's terrible attempts to lighten the mood, despite the fact that a war is raging right beyond that wall. It's another example of RWBY's inability to manage tone properly, to say nothing of balancing the multiple concerns any one character should be trying to juggle. Just as it rankles that Ruby and Yang don't seem to care about what has happened to their uncle, Qrow likewise doesn't seem to care about what might be happening to his nieces. When did we reach a point where these relationships are so broken that someone can be arrested/chucked into a deadly battle and the others just... ignore that?

So Robyn's otherwise innocuous comment immediately reminds me of how badly the narrative has treated these conflicts and, sadly, things don't improve much from here. We are thankfully spared more of Robyn's jokes when Qrow realizes that what he's hearing can't be thunder. A second later, Cinder blasts through the wall — called it! — and Qrow instinctively transforms. 

The only downside to this moment is that the whole ceiling falls down on Qrow and the others because APPARENTLY these cells don't have tops on them. Seriously. As far as I can recall we don't see the stone breaking through the forcefield somehow and this looks pretty open to me.

If it is... you're telling me these crazy powerful fighters who practice landing strategies and leap tall buildings in a single bound —

— can't just hop over this mildly high electric fence to get out? Qrow can't just fly away?

We're, like, two minutes in, folks.

We transfer to Nora's perspective as she wakes up, seeing Klein giving her the IV. He tells her not to worry, that "you and your friend are going to be just fine." What friend? Penny? Klein went upstairs prior to Weiss hugging Whitley or Penny crash landing outside. I had thought them bursting through the door with another unconscious friend was the first time he learned what the big bang outside was, but apparently not.

Penny is, obviously, a mess. While I now understand the choice to make her blood such an eye-catching color when that's crucial to the Hound's hunt, I still think it looks strange visually. Like someone has taken a copy of RWBY and painted over it. It doesn't look like it fits the art style. More than that, it implies some rather complicated things about Penny's humanity, especially in a volume focused around her being a "real girl." Real enough for Maiden powers, but with obviously inhuman blood that isn't even referred to as "bleeding." Penny "leaks" instead.

Toss in the fact that she's literally an android who is made up of tech — recall the running gags about her being heavy, or it hurts to fist-bump her, to say nothing of keeping things like multiple blades inside her body — yet Klein says that her "basic anatomy" is the same and he can "stitch up that wound."

I'm sorry, what? Whatever Penny looks like on the inside, it's not going to resemble a human woman's anatomy, and Klein might be able to stitch the outer layer of skin she's got, but that won't do anything to fix whatever metal bits have been broken underneath. Penny isn't a human-robot hybrid, she's a robot with an aura. Penny has knives in her back, rockets in her feet, and a super computer behind her eyes. When our clip introduced that Klein would be the one to help Penny, my initial reaction was, "Seriously? He's a butler and a doctor and an engineer?" But RWBY didn't even try to get away with a Super Klein explanation, they just waved away Penny's very obvious, inhuman anatomy. Yeah, I'm sure "stitching up" an android wound is just like giving Nora her IV. I hope the surgical sutures he used are extra strong!

In an effort to not entirely drag this episode, I do appreciate that Whitley is allowed an "ugh" moment about the non-blood covering his shirt without anyone calling him out on it. That felt like the sort of thing the show would usually try to make a character feel guilty about and I'm glad that, for once, he was just allowed to be frustrated without comment.

Then the power goes out and May calls, which raises questions about what state the CCTS is in and when scrolls are available to our protagonists vs. when they're not. But whatever. She's checking in because she just "saw another bombing run light up the Kingdom" and —

Wait. Bombing? Salem is bombing the city? I know we've seen explosions in the sky, but I'd always just attributed that to evil aesthetic. Why does this dialogue sound like it's from a World War II film and not a fantasy sci-fi show about literal monsters launching a ground attack?

May looks pretty against the sky though. I like her hair color against that purple.

I'm admittedly grasping at positives here because we finally return to her "You have to choose" ultimatum and — surprise! — May has pulled back completely. Ruby says that once they've helped Penny, "We'll...we'll do something!" which is once again her avoiding making a decision. Ruby still refuses to choose, instead falling back on generic, optimistic pep talks. They'll figure out how to stop Salem later. They'll think about the impact of telling the world later. They'll choose who to help later. Ruby keeps pushing these problems into the future where, she hopes, a perfect, magical solution will have appeared for her to latch onto. When that continues to not happen, others pressuring her to actually do something and stop waiting for perfection — Ironwood, Yang, May — she panics and continues stalling for time. Wait an episode and the narrative supports her in this.

Because initially May was forcing Ruby to decide. Now, May enables her desire to keep putting things off. "Don't beat yourself up, kid. At this point, I don't know how much is left to be done." That's the exact opposite of what May believed last episode, that there was still so much work and good to do for the people of Mantle. This is precisely what the show did with Yang and Ren's scenes too, having people call Ruby out... but then return to a message of, 'Don't worry, you're actually doing just fine' before Ruby is forced to actually change.

None of which even touches on May calling her "kid" in this moment. That continues to be a convenient way of absolving Ruby of any responsibility. When she wants to steal airships or Amity Tower, she's an adult everyone should listen to, the leader of this war. When the story wants to absolve her of previously mentioned flaws, she becomes a kid who shouldn't "beat herself up." I said years ago that RWBY couldn't continue to let the group be both children and adults simultaneously, yet here we are.

So that was a thoroughly disappointing scene. Ruby gets her moment to look sad and defeated, listing "the grimm, the crater, Nora, Penny" as problems she doesn't know how to solve. Note that 'Immortal witch attacking the city I've helped trap here' isn't included in that list. Ruby is still ignoring Salem herself and no one in the group is picking up where May left off, challenging her to do more than wring her hands over things others are already trying to take care of: Ironwood is fighting the grimm, May has gone off to help the crater, Klein is patching up Nora and Penny. Ruby, as one flawed individual, should not be expected to come up with a solution to everything, but she does need to stop acting like she can come up with a solution to everything when it matters most (office scene) and rejecting others' solutions when they ask for her help (Ironwood, May).

If it feels like I'm dragging the flawed, traumatized teenager too much, it's not in an effort to ignore those aspects of her identity. Rather, it's because she's also the licensed huntress who wrested control from a world leader and violently demanded she be put in charge of this battle. Ruby, by her own actions, is now responsible for dealing with these problems, or admitting she was wrong and letting others take the lead, without purposefully derailing their plans. She doesn't get to suddenly go, "I don't know," cry a little, and get sympathetic pats.

But of course that's precisely what happens, courtesy of Weiss.

During this whole scene I kept wondering why no one was celebrating Nora waking up, especially when Ruby outright mentions her. Have they just not noticed given all the Penny drama? Because Nora absolutely woke up.

Aaaand went back to sleep, I guess. What was the point of that POV shot? No worries though, she'll wake up again in a minute.

Willow arrives and announces that they can fix the power (and Penny) using the generator at the edge of the property. I'm convinced RT doesn't actually know what a generator is because the characters are acting like it's some super special device that only richy-rich could possibly have. Whitley says that it's the SDC executives who have their "own power supply" and that it's "extremely unfair." Now, don't get me wrong, a good generator powering large portions of your house can run you 30k+, but you can also get one that plugs into your extension cord and powers your fridge for a couple hundred. There's absolutely a class issue here, just not the one Whitley and Weiss seem to be commenting on. They make a generator sound like the sort of device that only a politician-CEO could possible have and it's weird.

Likely, it sounds weird because it's a choppy way of getting Whitley to bring up the wealth disparity so he can then go, 'That's right! We're crazy rich with a company housing tons of ships! We can use those to evacuate Mantle.' Awkwardness aside, I do like that the Schnee wealth is being used for good purposes, but... evacuate where? To the city currently under attack by a giant whale? In a RWBY that wasn't determined to demonize Ironwood, this would have been a great plot point during the office scene instead, with Weiss offering her services to Ironwood, even if the group decides that a continued evacuation still isn't possible.

Instead, we get it here from Whitley. Do I need to point out the obvious? That Whitley is the MVP of this episode? He's done more good in an HOUR than the group has managed in a year. Give this kid some training and make him a huntsmen instead.

We're given a (very pretty!) shot of the shattered moon because it wouldn't be RWBY if we weren't continually reminded that gods once wiped out humanity before destroying part of a celestial body... and absolutely no one talks about that lol.

Blake's coat might not make any sense for her color scheme, but it does make her easy to spot as she and Ruby run across the grounds. Oh my god, they're actually doing something together! It only took eight years. They even get a lovely talk where Blake admits how much she looks up to Ruby, despite her being younger, and once again I'm struck at how much more I would have loved this scene if it had appeared elsewhere in the series. It is, indeed, as sweet and emotional as all the RWBY GIF-ers are claiming... provided you overlook that this is the exact opposite of what Ruby needs to hear right now. She doesn't need to hear that she's more mature and reliable than her elders when she's functioning under a "We don't need adults" mentality. She doesn't need to hear that not knowing what to do is totally fine, not when that led to her turning on Ironwood, despite not knowing how to stop Salem. She doesn't need to hear that "doing something" — doing anything — is a strength, because Ruby keeps avoiding the big problems for smaller ones she's comfortable with, like standing by Penny's bedside instead of deciding between Mantle and Atlas. Blake's speech is heartfelt, but it's a speech that suits a Beacon days Ruby who is having some doubts about her leadership skills, not the girl whose impulsive — and now lack of — actions is having world-wide repercussions. Everyone is babying Ruby to a staggering degree. It's like if we had a med show where the doctor is standing by the bedside of a coding patient, fretting between two treatments. 'Don't worry,' their colleague says, patting their shoulder. 'I've always looked up to you. You'll do something when you're ready' and then they continue to watch the patient, you know, die.

Also: who does Ruby look up to? Everyone talks about how much they depend on and trust Ruby, but who does Ruby look to for guidance? A number of her problems stem from the fact that she has rejected the advice of everyone who has tried to help her improve: Qrow, Ozpin, Ironwood, even Yang. Ruby is presented as the pinnacle of what to strive for in a leader, rather than a leader who has only been doing this for two years and still has a great deal to learn.

Anyway, they get the generator on and the Hound shows up.

I am begging RT to just make RWBY a horror story. All their best scenes the last three years have been horror I am bEGGING —

Anyway, while Ruby waits to be eaten we cut to Willow and Klein, the former of which is reaching for her bottle, pulling back, reaching again, all while her hand shakes. This is good. This is what we should have gotten with Qrow. Which isn't to say that their (or anyone's) addiction should be identical, but rather that this is a far more engaging and complex look at addiction than what our birb got. Willow tells us that she doesn't drink in the dark despite bringing the bottle with her; tries to resist drinking when she's scared and ultimately fails. Qrow just decided to stop drinking after decades of addiction, seemingly for no reason, and that was that. Why is a side character we only met this volume written better than one of the main cast?

Blake manages to call Weiss about the Hound and she asks if Whitley can handle the airships without her. I mean, I assume so given that Weiss is looking at the bookshelves while Whitley does all the work lol. He makes a teasing comment about how he can if she can handle that grimm and she comments that they still need to work on his "attitude."

No they don't. Weiss stuck a weapon in her kid brother's face. Whitley made a joke. Even if Weiss' comment is likewise meant to be read as teasing, it's clear that we've bypassed any meaningful conversation between them. That hug was supposed to be a Fix Everything moment even though, as I've laid out elsewhere, it didn't even come close.

We cut back to Ruby getting thrown through a wall into the backyard and the Hound creepily coming after her. She's freaked out by this clearly abnormal grimm and Blake is weirdly... not? "It's just a grimm. Just focus!" Uh, it's obviously not. Have we reached the traumatized, sleep-deprived point where the group is sinking into full-blown denial? I wouldn't be surprised. They've been awake for like... 40+ hours.

Because the Hound knocks Ruby out with a single hit. Just, bam, she's down. "Focusing" is not the solution here.

Weiss calls to warn the others about the grimm, telling them to stick together. Willow (understandably) starts freaking out and flees the room (classic horror trope!). Klein is left alone when Penny wakes up with red eyes. Oh no!

Don't worry. You know nothing meaningful happens.

She shoves Klein before (somehow?) resisting the hack, her Maiden powers going wild in the process. Just when it looks as if Penny might cause some serious damage, Nora wakes up, takes her hand, and says, I kid you not:

"Hey... no one is going to make you do anything you don't want to do... It's just a part of you. Don't forget about the rest."

Okay. I want to re-emphasize that I love hopeful, uplifting, victory-won-through-the-power-of-love stories. Istg I'm not dead inside, it's just that RWBY does this so badly. I mean, what is this? It has similarities to the character shouting, 'No! Resist!' to their mind-controlled ally, but this is not presented as a desperate, last-ditch effort by Nora. She just speaks like this is the most obvious truth in the world. If you don't want to have your mind taken over... just don't! It's that simple. The problem definitely isn't that Watts has changed her coding and has implemented a command she can't override, it's that Penny has forgotten about the "rest" of her personhood.

And this works. Granted, not for long, but we leave Nora having successfully calmed Penny down and until her eyes unexpectedly go red again scenes later, we're left assuming that this is a permanent solution. That, imo anyway, is taking the Power of Love too far, overriding the basic reality of Penny being hacked. It’s not a personal failing she must overcome, it’s an external attack. I would have rather had Nora react to the scars she saw on her arm, or have a moment with Klein, or get some love from the group. Not a wakes up, falls asleep, wakes up again to save Penny with a Ruby level 'Just ignore reality' pep-talk, then back to sleep again.

So Penny isn't attacking her allies, or mistakenly hurting her allies with wild Maiden powers. Not that the group doesn't have enough to deal with, but still. Weiss arrives to help with the Hound and attempts a new summon, only to fail when two minor grimm burrow up into her glyphs. I really enjoyed that moment, both for the wing visual and the knowledge that Weiss' glyphs can fail if you break them somehow (which makes sense). Also, I just like that she failed in general? Weiss is, as per usual now, about to demonstrate just how OP she is compared to the rest of the team, so it was nice to see her faltering here.

The Hound tries to make off with Ruby and Blake does an excellent job of keeping it tethered. Ruby finally wakes, only to realize that the grimm is actually after Penny since it's staring at her power up through the window, no longer trying to escape. Moments like this remind me that there's someone on RT's writing team that knows what they're doing, at least some of the time. The assumption that the Hound is after Ruby as a SEW, the surprise that it's actually Penny, realizing it holds up because Ruby is covered in Penny's blood and Blake is not... that's all nice, tight plotting. More of that please!

The Hound drops her and Ruby's aura shatters when she hits the ground. I want everyone to remember this moment as an example of how strong the Hound is. The group may be tired, but unlike YJR they've been sitting around in the Schnee manor for a number of hours, regaining strength. We saw the Hound hit Ruby twice — once through the wall and once to knock her out — and then she falls from a not very high distance for a huntress, yet her aura is toast. That's the level of power and skill the Hound possesses. Decimating YJR, knocking Oscar out, same for Ruby, avoiding Blake and Weiss' hits, soon to treat Penny like a ragdoll. Just remember all this for the episode's end.

Blake tells Weiss she'll take care of Ruby, you go help the others. Yay breaking up the duos more! Bad timing though as the new acid-spitting grimm pops out of the ground and Blake is now left alone to face it.

Weiss re-enters the mansion, knowing the Hound is somewhere nearby, but not where. Suddenly, Willow's voice sounds through her scroll with an, "Above you!" which... doesn't keep Weiss from getting hit lol. But it's the thought that counts! Willow has accessed the cameras she's set up throughout the manor, watching the Hound's movements, and I have to say, that is a WAY better use of her separation from Klein than I thought we were getting. I legit thought they'd have Willow run away in a panic, meet the Hound, die, and then Weiss could be sad about losing her mom.

It does say something about RWBY's writing that this was my knee-jerk theory, as well as my surprise when we got something way better.

The Hound runs off, uninterested in Weiss, and she asks Willow to keep tabs on it. It heads for Whitley next (also covered in Penny's blood) and very creepily stalks him in the office with a, "I know you're here." Whitley is seconds away from being Hound chow before one of Weiss' boars pin it against the wall. He runs, then runs BACK to finish deploying the airships, before finally escaping assumed death. Goddamn this boy is pulling his weight.

I assume all these ships are automated then? I hope someone takes a moment to call May. Otherwise it's going to be super weird for the Mantle citizens if a fleet of SDC ships just show up and hover there...

I don't entirely understand how Weiss saved him though. She's nowhere to be seen when Whitley leaves and he runs a fair distance before he and Willow encounter Weiss again. We know her summons don't have to keep right next to her, but are they capable of rudimentary thought, attacking an enemy — and an enemy only — despite Weiss being a couple corridors down and unable to see the current battlefield? I don't know. In another series I'd theorize that this was a deliberate hint, a way to clue us into the fact that Willow, someone who we currently know almost nothing about, had training in the past and summoned the boar herself. Weiss and Winter certainly didn't get that hereditary skill from Jacques. Hell, we might still get that, Weiss reacting with confusion next episode when Whitley thanks her for the boar, but I doubt it. That scene with Ruby and the Hound aside, the show isn't this good at laying groundwork and then following up on it.

Case in point: Weiss says, "I didn't forget you" to Whitley after he gets away from the Hound, the moment trying to harken back to her promise to Willow. Key word is "trying." Because she absolutely forgot him! Weiss threatened and ignored Whitley until he proved his usefulness. I also shouldn't need to point out that, "Don't forget your brother" does not mean, "Don't let your brother die a horrible death by abnormal grimm." Weiss acts like her saving him is a fulfillment of her promise, rather than just the most basic of human decency. And also, you know, her job.

So that part is frustrating. The entire Schnee dynamic is a mess, from Weiss making a joke of her father's arrest, to Willow (presumably) fixing their relationship by putting a hand on her daughter's shoulder. Okay.

Then Weiss cuts off the Hound by summoning a giant wall of ice. My brain, every time this happens:

YOU COULD HAVE FIXED THE HOLE IN MANTLE'S WALL.

Moving on, Blake's fight against the acid... thing has some great choreography, including Blake using her semblance which we haven't seen in AGES. 

I really like the fight itself, just not what Blake is shouting the whole time. "I need you, Ruby! We all need you!" This has really gotten ridiculous. Ruby is presented as everyone's sole savior despite failing time and time again. It's not that I don't think Blake as a character should have faith in her leader, it's that I don't think the writers should be crafting a story where everyone puts their unshakable hopes in an untrained, disloyal, impulsive 17 year old. I mean, Ruby is currently unconscious, yet Blake is acting like if she doesn't wake up — she, as an individual, if Ruby Rose does not re-join this fight — then all is lost. If Ruby doesn't save them, no one can. Which is, of course, absurd on numerous levels. Blake doesn't need the passed out, aura-less Ruby right now, she needs the still very healthy Weiss pulling out multiple summons and an ice wall! Use your scroll and call for backup again.

But of course, Ruby wakes up and kills the new, terrifying grimm with a single hit. It's a preview of what's to come with the Hound and it's just as ridiculous here as it will be there.

Speaking of the Hound, am I the only one who thought this was... cute?

I can't possibly be the only one. That head-tilt is exactly what my dogs do and my brain instinctively went, "Aww, puppy!"

Murderous puppy.

The Hound realizes none of the Schnees are who it's looking for and runs off. Penny, meanwhile, has been fully taken over because, well, that's just what's convenient now. She resists long enough keep Amity up, then succumbs, then resists to apologize to Ruby, then succumbs, then resists because Nora asked her to, then succumbs once it's time to knock her out. If RWBY was willing to commit to consequences, Penny would have been taken over and that was that. The characters would need to deal with whatever outcome happens as a result. Instead, the show very carefully avoids any of those pesky consequences by having Penny successfully resisting at key moments, despite no explanation of how she's managing that.

She shoves Klein again (Klein is having a Bad Time) and starts walking down the main steps. When Whitley wants to know where the hell she's going, Penny mechanically responds that she must "Open the vault, then self-destruct." I suppose the change Watts made was the self-destruct order? Ironwood obviously wants the vault open, though not necessarily Penny's death. Think what you will of his moral compass, she's a damn powerful ally — a research project, perhaps — and a Maiden to boot. At the very least, her death may give the powers to someone even worse.

God, please don't let them have brought Penny back and made her a Maiden just to kill her again.

The Hound arrives though and, as said, knocks Penny out. We're back to square one with her, then. Note though that this attack is near instantaneous. She grabs its hands one second, is hanging limply the next. Wow, the Hound sure is a terrifying antagonist!

Not for long.

"That's enough," Ruby says and one-shots it with her eyes.

Now, I want to talk for a moment about the implications of that line. "That's enough." Obviously Ruby is #done with this situation and emotionally unwilling to let the Hound kidnap Penny (congratulations, Nuts and Dolts shippers), but there's a meta reading here as well. Not intentional, but glaring to me nonetheless. Basically, the idea that the Hound has, from a plot perspective, done enough. It has served its singular purpose. It kidnapped Oscar and now it dies. Never-mind how insanely powerful we've established the Hound to be, never-mind how Ruby's eyes also work or don't work according to whether anything of actual import is on the line. From a plot perspective "that's enough" and the Hound can be disposed of instantly. It got Oscar and gave us an episode of filler creepiness. Move along now.

The idea behind Ruby's eyes isn't bad, but the execution absolutely is. RT has undermined a huge portion of the stakes by giving their protagonist an instant kill-shot that always works precisely when she needs it to. Starting with the Apathy, we have yet to get a moment where Ruby's eyes fail to save the day when she really needs them to, no matter how incredible the challenge. The Hound was very intentionally written to be a grimm outside of the group's current power level. It thinks, it talks, they literally can't touch it. This creates the expectation that the group will need to grow stronger — or at least become smarter — in order to surmount this new obstacle, yet Ruby's eyes undermine all of that. The group hasn't grown in years, the show just makes enemies weaker as needed (Ace Ops), or has Ruby pull out her eyes as a trump card. It wouldn't be that bad if we'd at least gotten a good battle out of it, one where the group gets close to defeating the Hound on their own, but needs Ruby's eyes to finish it off. Instead, she literally walks up without any aura, announces to the audience that this antagonist's time is up, and blasts it out a window.

Granted, Ruby's eyes don't completely finish it. The Hound pulls itself to its feet and we see this.

Yup, that's a guy and yup, those are silver eyes.

I would like to issue a formal apology to the "It's secretly Summer!" theorists in the fandom. I mean, I still think it would be ridiculous (and at this point highly improbable) that Ruby's dead mother has actually been a grimm mutant this whole time, just hanging out in Salem's realm while she waits for the plot to start before attacking the world, and then sends some no-name faunus dude after the group instead of their leader's mother for extra, emotional torture... but you all were definitely right about the “It's a person” part! I... don't know how I feel about this. Admittedly, it seems to be a logical continuation of the other grimm-human hybrids we've seen — namely Cinder and Salem herself — and it finally explains why Salem wants Ruby alive (even though it actually doesn't because WHY did she want more SEWs for Hound grimm when she wasn't even attacking back then? And already has all these other insanely powerful tools??), but at the same time, it feels like it's complicating a story that doesn't need further complications. The group fights monsters and has an immortal enemy. You don't need to add 'Some of those monsters are secretly human' to the mix.

It doesn't hurt that this twist is giving me Attack on Titan vibes, which, ew. A dark time in my fandom life, folks.

The Hound staggers a few steps before Whitley and Willow dump a suit of armor on it. That's all it takes to kill the most dangerous grimm we've ever seen: a single flash of silver eyes and some heavy metal. This also wreaks havoc with the implication that Salem wants SEWs alive because they create such powerful grimm. Obviously not. I mean yeah, normal huntsmen are going to have serious  problems, we’ve seen that this volume, but any other SEWs nearby will take a Hound out instantaneously. For a villain with so many other powerful abilities — immortality, magic, endless normal grimm, her nifty soup — Salem would be much better served just killing SEWs straight out. Clearly, creating Hounds isn't worth the effort.

The Hound leaves some bones behind and Ruby collapses to her knees, overcome with the knowledge that this was once a person. Again, uncomfortable Attack on Titan parallels.

We finish our premiere with Cinder clearing away rubble to reveal Watts. Honestly, I like that we ended on this because her rescue is hilarious. She just slings him over her shoulders like a sack of potatoes and blasts off with her magic fire feet. Fantastic.

Note though that with this scene we've seen almost everything from the clip and the trailer. What's to come in the rest of Volume 8? No idea. Outside of Winter leading the charge with the bomb, we got it all here.

Time to update the bingo board!

I'm crossing off "Introducing new grimm that are quickly abandoned." Between the Hound and acid-dude both falling to a single blast/cut from Ruby, we've more than earned this square.

It doesn't look as if we'll get another Watts-Jacques team-up now that he's left, but you never know.

Maria's got me worried. I feel like her Yoda fight against Neo is the one thing she'll be allowed to do this volume, but given that we didn't see anyone except Ruby's group this episode, we don't yet know whether the story is now ignoring her and Pietro, or if they'll re-appear in another episode like YJR.  

Qrow is free. Will he get a drink before trying to murder Ironwood? Perhaps.

Still no bingo :(

All in all, the episode was by no means horrible. I think there were lots of horrible parts, but also some legitimately well executed moments, fun action, and scenes that I can easily imagine as squee worthy if you lean back and squint. Everything is comparative and in the growing collection of bad RWBY episodes, this one isn't securing a top slot. Which doesn't mean I think it's good, just... not as bad as it could have been and primarily only bad due to long-running problems, not things this specific episode has done. That's my bar then, so low it has officially entered the underworld.

Still, RWBY is back and a part of me is eager to see where this volume takes us, for better or for worse.

Until next week! 💜

[Ko-Fi]

[parismemes]

THINGS I’VE SAID ON DISCORD (OCTOBER EDITION) AS SENTENCE STARTERS.

“tell me everythng.” “HEHEHEHEHEHEHE” “i have read every single one of them and do not intend to stop” “i on principle only like songs that go hard” “I DIDNT THINK IT WAS GOING TO BE THAT SAD WHAT THE FUCK” “heehoo. water boy.” “why i always sleep through this shit i hate it here” “gacha games count as gambling” “im also there. im laughing” “u r doing so much math and im just like hehe money” “what the fuck what the fuck NOOO what the fuck im dfgjhhfjgdhjfgkjdkghjd” “what a traumatic backstory” “I CAN SEE YOU READING MY MESSAGES IM GONAN GET FINESSED OUT THE FUCKIN WINDOW“ “THAT’S not good!” “if hes a fraid of dogs that sounds like a him problem” “i honestly deserve recognition for the absolute shit i just pulled off” “YES FUCK YEAH YEAH YEAH HELL YEAH FUCK YEAH HELL FUCKIN YEAH WOOOOOOOOO YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!” “why the fuck would you want that” “yeah hes my only one true love” “by a few i of course mean like 600″ “no one fucking appreciate me” “thank you ___ for being the only person who appreciate me” “i reveal it in pieces and make you put it together like a puzzle” “im smart and never regret it“ “see, i just dont think thats right” “i will continue dangling it in front of your face like a scientist dangling bait in front of a fish (who is also in a maze)” “hes actually like an absolute fucking nerd a complete fool a fucking dumbass” “sorry your message glitched and i cannot read. anyway back to my leverage over you which is forcing you into a corner,” “it's not extortion because i don't know what extortion means” “why do they talk like exes. its because they are exes” “TIME SENSITIVE QUESTION PLEASE RESPOND” “he's a content creator he'll be fine” “what does this mean? but yes” “NICE NICE NNICE NICE NICE NICE NICE NICE NICE NICE NICE” “for future record ___ just used the word poggers” “look at all these fuckin blondes” “its only been like a week and a half at most” “hes doing it out of affection” “ISNT THIS THE FUNNIEST SHIT YOUVE EVER SEEN” “you are terrible and also the worst” “i was going to send it at midnight but i got distracted trying to figure out the most barebones way to say happy birthday without sounding weird” “do you think i get punished more or less if i do sins” “i dont think the sins count as extra points if you commit them on the way to hell” “run over pedestrians” “i am slowly descending into insanity today, as a hobby” “you are a shit boy. a little shit boy go eat boxes“ “it's ok. we can figure it out later” “i didnt notice at first but it is in fact All The Fuck Over” “ITS BEEN OVER 12 HOURS” “hey guys just turns out we might have a ✨ gas leak ✨” “im sure if we put our braincells together we can figure SOMETHING out” “curious georg” “thank god. i could and would have argued this for several hours” “i think the worst thing ive heard today is someone calling the movie enchanted a reverse isekai” “i should not and will not stop” “i was RIGHT AHHAHAHAHAHAGAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA” “that wasnt a question you read it wrong” “i have no idea who this is but that wont stop me” “THIS MAN REALLY SAID HEAD EMPTY WHAT IS MONEY” “sometimes i say things and its best to just pretend you know what i mean” “WOT THIS” “I DONT WANT PEE ON MY BED“ “tired of all these stupid fuckin plants” “could you even really consider jelly filled donuts donuts?” “actually everything is real” “if you eat cereal for dinner, you're not having fucking breakfast” “i think my in real life superpower is that i have freakishly fast metabolism” “i dont care if you are evil you are MY TYPE” “you dirty criminal” “is a dessert item a dessert if it isn't eaten after dinner? discuss” “ok im done for the Right Now” “found a concerning orb. in the sky.” “HOW DID YOU KILL THEM” “why do i do this to myself why do i keep doing this” “the only simp here is me” “I No Longer Wish To Know!“ “DID THEY JUST END AN ENTIRE SPECIES” “WE ARE DETERMINED” “this is also really funny by virtue of the fact that these people are all fucking british” “they throw rocks at me and say we want the himbo” “THE CONTEXT IS IMPORTANT HERE” “its something that i SPECIFICALLY am passionate about” “hanburnger?” “thats just what living with siblings is like” “howd she get there? fuckin beats me dude idk” “i remember everything i am like a shark with an abnormally good memory” “i am sorry that you are predictable” “Hey Guys, Just Checkiing In To Make Sure You Got My Joke, Just Making Sure, I Just Wanted To Check In And See If You Got The Joke, Because I Was Afraid You Wouldnt Get It, So Im Just Checking In,” “i marked your worm” “what are you gonna do. unsend whatever you send me? i am Shaking in my fuzzy socks rn” “you Know i hate the idea of being wrong” “You Did Not Need To Stroke His Ego” “i am too stupid to live and if i was not vaccinated my genes would have no chance of being passed on because i would be dead” “~the oldest anarchy server in minecraft history~” “am i shaking because of adrenaline or rage.... who can tell” “I HAVE SO MUCH ADRENALINE IN ME BUT ITS 1 AM IN THE MORNING” “jokes on u i fucking HATE ___ i think hes the worst” “JUST IMPULSE MADE BROWNIES AT 9 PM HEYOOOO” “cry about it more bitch boy maybe piss your pants while ur at it” “im getting so casually toxic back to toxic gamer boys” “itll be fiiiiiine” “we are all stupid mice who take turns being the piper” “queen of bargains is me i am the queen of bargaining and scoring deals” “its not TECHNICALLY a direct threat but also yes it is” “i see a demon i go possess me then bitch boy u wont” “AAAA THE FUCKIN VIIIIBES” “IM NOT GOING TO STOP BEING MAD ABOUT IT”