#just living with not knowing what would be targeted next and whether everyone would be ok

[brenwritesss]

𝐓𝐫𝐮 𝐅𝐫𝐮 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

⋆˚࿔Paige Bueckers x reader ❀˖°

Summary: Paige invites you over to her dorm, allowing the two of you to get to know each other.

(If you want an alternate smut version, let me know! Or if you want a part 3)

(Also sorry for the real late upload, I ended up rotting in bed all day yesterday and never finished the ending to this part)

You stood in front of her door for five minutes, contemplating whether or not you should even be here right now. You had just met this girl twenty minutes ago and she didn’t even second guess having you over at her place. Should that have been a red flag? 

You don’t even know what the two of you would be doing once you were inside. What was there to talk about? Considering you didn’t even know who she was, you doubt there would be much in common. You put your keys into your pocket, allowing you to knock on her door after almost running back down the hall and back into your car. 

You heard someone stumble on the other side of the door, a few voices rising to the surface. You were unaware that she had roommates. You stood there quietly, taking in your last few seconds before the door opened. A girl who wasn’t Paige and was taller than you, looked at you confused. “Hi?”

“Hi, uh Paige invited me over. Is this the right dorm?” You looked back at your phone making sure the room number she gave you matched the room you were at right now. And there were no mistakes.

Her confusion turned into smiles when she said, “Oh, you’re the Tru Fru stealer.”

“Excuse me?”

She broke out into laughter. “Yeah, you kinda dirty for that, not gonna lie.”

You shook your head. “I didn’t steal anything, it’s her fault for not getting there sooner and taking it.”

“And you right,” she moved away from the entrance, allowing you to walk inside. “I’m KK, by the way.”

You smiled at her, turning towards her. “Y/n. I’m assuming you’re on the basketball team too?”

“And a Tru Fru lover. So I better not be seeing you in any Target taking the last bag,” she said in a tone that let you know she was joking.

“So who’s better? You or Paige?”

“Girl, me for real. Trust.” There was something about KK that instantly brightened your mood. You didn’t know how to explain it. 

“Yo KK, down to join me in a new round?” Another girl walked out of a room towards your left. She was wearing a hoodie just like KK, her braids coming down to cover the top of the letters. She held a video game controller as she stopped when she saw you in the middle of their living room.

You gave her a small wave, smiling shyly. “I’m Y/n.”

“You’re Y/n? I’m Ice. Girl you are gorgeous,” she said, complimenting you.

A blush tinted your cheeks and you let out a small laugh, “thank you, that’s so nice. You are so pretty.”

She flipped her hair back with her hand. “Thanks girl.”

“Ay, what y’all doin out here,” Paige’s voice echoed through a small hallway, stopping short when she sees you standing next to KK. Her arms going behind her back, she smiled at you, “I didn’t know if you would actually stop by.”

You shrugged. “It’s not like I had anything better to do,” you joked. “And this bag is too big to keep to myself.” You held up the Tru Fru bag that you two fought over.

Both KK and Ice snickered, obviously knowing what had happened at Target. “You still want to pay up?” You threw her the bag, Paige catching it with ease.

She looked you up and down and that familiar feeling you had felt back in Target resurfaced. Paige was still in that Tru Fru sweatshirt and UConn sweatpants that you had met her in. That hoodie is about to be mine, you thought to yourself.

“Nah, I like having your number more,” she said, making the butterflies in your stomach multiply. 

Ice made a sound, making everyone turn towards her. “Okay Paige coming in with the rizz.”

“Shut the hell up,” Paige scolded, lightly smacking her arm with her free hand.

KK pulled out her phone, “Yo, we finna call Nika and Azzi and show them your mad flirting skills.”

Paige rolled her eyes while you laughed, having no clue who Azzi and Nika were but you assumed they were more of Paige’s teammates. Paige walks towards you, eyes on KK. “You’re not gonna call them and we are gonna go chill in my room.”

Paige grabbed your hand and the action surprised you. Ice gave you and Paige a look that screamed ‘what the fuck’ while KK just continued laughing, typing in her phone.

Paige led you into her room, which was bare compared to yours. Her bed was fit into the corner, a bright purple comforter atop that you just wanted to snuggle into. Her dresser was directly across, a TV and a playstation decorating the top of the dresser. Next to her bed was a nightstand holding a pile of books.

You stood in the middle of the room, not really knowing what to do. “Nice room.”

“Thanks,” she said, more of a whisper. After closing the door behind her, she leaned against it. “Sorry about my teammates, they’re joking.”

“Oh I don’t mind,” you assured her, “my roommate is the same way, so I get it.”

She smiled at you and pointed toward her bed. “You’re chill to sit down.”

“Thanks,” you smiled back and took a seat on her bed. You couldn’t lie, this was incredibly awkward as you both didn’t know what to say. 

Paige sat down next to you, looking at you while opening the Tru Fru bag. “So, what’s your major?”

“Biology. What about you?”

“Oh shit,” she said. “Biology’s cool. I’m majoring in human development, family studies. But I plan to go pro in the league after I graduate.” 

You admired her determination in her answer. Even after only knowing her for an extremely short amount of time, you could tell she was very passionate about basketball. Just like how you were with biology. How you both were willing to do anything to achieve your goals in your careers.

“How long have you been playing?”

Paige adjusted her seating, turning more towards you. And closer to you. “Since I was a kid. You have no idea how many photos my mom has of me in basketball jerseys when I was like seven years old.”

“I don’t think I could ever play a sport like basketball. But hockey,” you continued, “that’s where it’s at.”

Paige raised her eyebrows, your comment earning a chuckle from her. “Really? Hockey?”

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s a hot sport to play.”

“So is basketball not hot?” she asked, popping a piece of Tru Fru into her mouth.

You reached into the bag, grabbing a handful and moving your legs up onto her bed so that your whole body was now on her bed. “It’s hit or miss.”

“Watch me play then that’ll change your mind,” she winked, earning a laugh from you.

“You inviting me to your game?”

“Obviously.”

You both stayed there for a while, eating the fruit. You could feel the tension between you two so you took to looking around her room while you could feel her eyes on you, examining every part of you. “So do you play hockey?” Paige asked you.

You shook your head. “I wish.”

“You should,” she said as she leaned towards you. Only a few centimeters toward your ear she whispered, “since it’s a hot sport, you’ll fit right in.”

“Well now I have to play,” you whispered back.

Still close to your face, her eyes lingered on your lips then back up to your eyes. “So what do you think?”

“Of?”

“Tru Fru.” She holds the bag in between your faces. You grab it from her, eating some. “It’s actually better than I thought it would be. I can see why you’re so obsessed with it.”

“I’m not obsessed.”

“Explain the merch then,” you said, pointing to her sweatshirt.

“Playing college basketball has its perks,” she whispered once more and gently grabbed your hand. You had a Tru Fru piece in between your fingers that you were about to eat. Paige guided your hand toward her mouth, her lips tickling your fingers as she took the piece from your hand. “Like getting a pretty girl’s number.”

Every part of you melted when she did that with your hand. “You’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that to make me fold.” That was a lie, you were folding right about now.

“Deal.”

There were a few voices outside Paige’s door but the two of you drowned out the sound with the growing tension between the two of you. You smiled at her, biting your lip in the process. Paige’s hand was still wrapped around yours when KK barged into the room.

“Hey Paige, the live wants to say-oh shit,” KK yelled, turning the phone away.

“KK, what the fuck,” Paige shouts, moving away from you in an instant. Ice came in, taking the phone from KK and going into another room.

KK ran up to the two of you. “Y’all I’m so sorry, I thought y’all were chillin’ playing video games or something, not making out.”

You set down the Tru Fru bag. “We weren’t making out. We were talking about hockey.”

Paige looked at you then back at KK. “Why would you go live right now? You do realize they just got a full view of her right?”

“What?” you asked, confused as to what they were talking about.

“Bro, I’m sorry. You know I wouldn’t do it on purpose.” KK looked scared almost. Not at Paige, but of what happened. Or what was going to happen.

You stood up, backing away from Paige and KK. “Can you guys tell me what’s going on?”

Paige itched the back of her neck, scrunching up her nose. “KK was live on instagram and she walked in with the camera pointed at us.”

You shrugged. “That’s not bad. Only a few people were on the live right?”

KK gave you an anxious look. “No yeah, it was only a few,” she trailed off, “thousand.”

You swear your eyes could have popped out from your skull with how wide they grew. “I’m sorry, what?”

KK continued apologizing, “I’m so sorry Y/n, but a few thousand people just saw what looked like you and Paige kissing on live.”

"I'm assuming that's really bad then?" you asked.

Paige walked over to you, looking you in the eyes when she says, "I'll make this up to you with all the Tru Fru you want because this is about to be trending on social media for a bit."

[logansdoll]

chimichangas

part two of "jim beam"

CW: suggestive, profanity, Blind Al, takes place after the events of Deadpool 3, reader is going through some stuff, Logan is an animal, Wade is Wade, etc.

"I see you found my stash," Althea smirked, poorly pouring you another glass of whiskey as you sat down at the table.

"Sorry," you sighed, taking a swig. "If I'd known you could tell, I would've asked."

She cocked a brow with a smirk, and you let out a half-hearted chuckle.

She could read you surprisingly well for a blind woman.

"Yeah, no, I wouldn't."

She smiled as she poured herself her own drink, but when the silence settled, she could tll your expression had fell.

"All right, what's on your mind?" she sighed, almost like an order as she pulled up a chair.

You scoffed.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"It may have been a while since I've actually talked woman to woman, but I can still tell when something's up," she nodded, taking a sip from her glass. "And judgin' by the way you're downin' that drink, I'd say it's man troubles."

You nearly choked on your liquor, and she let out a quiet chuckle.

"Of course not. It's not him at all," you quickly assured, not wanting the woman to get the wrong idea. "Logan has been amazing. And if anything... it's me troubles."

She smiled, attempting to reach out and touch your hand, but missed.

By a whole lot.

"I'm all ears."

You didn't know what it was, be it her elderly charm or her comforting presence, but something about her just made you feel like spilling your guts.

You sighed, taking a deep breath before deciding to start from the beginning.

"My power allows me to see the future," you looked down at your drink, solemnly. "Be it seconds or minutes or days, you name it, I can see it... so long as my power is activated."

"Okay..." Althea nodded in understandig.

"But that night... the night everything went to shit... I was asleep... I couldn't see the Sentinels coming."

You squeezed your glass, the self-loathing clawing at your throat like an angry tomcat.

"I tried to save the kids... but it wasn't long before everyone was gone... and I was taken captive."

Your voice quaked, hands trembling as fragmented memories of the bloodshed flashed in your mind.

"I can't remember much after that... and Wade won't tell me the details of what happened to me in that laboratory. But after who knows how long in that chamber I'm stuck in this new world with no way to get back to mine and I just can't help but wonder if I'd just been awake that night then maybe... my family would still be alive... my home wouldn't be destroyed..."

You turned to her, eyes glassy as you sniffled.

"My Logan... not so guilty about what happened..."

Althea sighed, her hand finally finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Honey..." she started, her tone warm and forgiving. "Guilt is one of those feelings that feeds on the pain you give it."

Her thumb smoothed over the back of your hand, bringing a sort of grandmotherly comfort to your heart.

"You can't turn back the clock... but you can decide whether you're gonna let this feeling hold you back, or show you the strength you need to keep on living."

You sighed, knowing her words were true, yet still hearing that nagging voice in the back of your mind.

Maybe it's time to leave the past in the past...

"It's Chimichanga Time, bitches!" Wade suddenly exclaimed, bursting through Al's apartment door and striking a pose, waving the take-out bags around theatrically.

"Motherfucker!" Althea jolted, snatching a gun from under the table and taking aim...

Directly at the wall.

Muffling your snickers, you carefully pushed her hand the right way, changing her target to Wade's chest rather than the door frame.

"Jazz hands?" you raised a brow, turning to the man.

"I believe the politically correct term is spirit fingers," he corrected, mater-of-factly. "Times have changed, my dear (y/n). Next thing you know you'll be old Al here a colored."

"The fuck did you just say to me?" Althea exclaimed.

"(n/n)'s words, not mine!"

"Will you shut the fuck up?" Logan groaned, snatching the bags from him and plopping them down on the table. "Eat your damn food and keep fuckin' quiet."

You stood from your chair, walking up to your man and pulling him into a hug.

"Hey, baby," you greeted, resting your head on his chest. "How was your day?"

His shoulders sank under your touch, all the anger melting away as he wrapped his arms around you, placing a tender kiss on your hairline.

"I'm just glad it's over," he sighed, resting his tired head against yours.

It was no secret to anyone that Logan had some serious anxiety when it came to leaving you places by yourself.

And it wasn't that he didn't trust in your ability to handle yourself, but rather he didn't trust the powers that be not to try and fuck his life over for the hundredth time.

Granted, he couldn't really help it when he had to go to work, or assist Wade with his post-breakup, mercenary bullshit...

But that didn't mean he had to like it.

"M'sorry," you cooed, cupping his cheek in your hand. "If you want we can—"

Suddenly, it felt like all the air was snatched out of your lungs, the image of a bunch of thugs flashing in your mind, along with the door being broken down.

It was your first vision since being in the chamber.

"(n/n)?" Logan asked, worry spiking up his chest as he lifted your chin. "You alright?"

'Althea!'

Five seconds...

"GET DOWN!" you shouted, quickly kicking over the table and shoving Al behind it just as the men kicked open the door.

Quickly, Wade grabbed a cast-iron skillet off the stove, slamming it over the head of the first grunt to rush in before using it to deflect a shotgun.

"Behind the couch! Now!" Logan barked, shoving himself in front of you and unsheathing his claws as bullets began ricocheting around the room

You dropped to the ground without argument, army crawling away to safety.

And once you were secure, Logan went off, letting out a roar of anger as he charged into the fight.

They come into his home... in his safe haven... and try and take his reason for living?

Heads. Were. Going. To. Roll.

Wade slid across the kitchen counter under the heavy gunfire, grabbing the knife block before flipping over the edge, tossing a steak knife into a man's neck before finishing him off with a bread knife to the dick.

Logan launched himself at the one with the shotgun, not even flinching as a chunk of his shoulder was blown off, still plunging his claws into the man's chest.

Clocking the grunt coming up behind him, he quickly whipped around, sending an uppercut straight through his head.

Out of nowhere, one of the thugs popped up with an AK-47, completely spraying the couch while Wade handled the dumbass with the baseball bat.

'(Y/N)!'

"RAAAAAAH!" Logan bellowed, furious, as he sprinted toward the one responsible, tanking countless bullets before slicing the gun to pieces and proceeding to absolutely maul the poor bastard.

Wade hit Baseball Douche in the face with the knife block before dodging a swing, stabbing him in the chest with a butcher's knife before turning around and throwing it at the head of a man going for Althea.

But when he whipped around to finish off Baseball Douche, Logan was already there, stabbing him right through the head and spraying blood all over Wade's face.

"Oh, God! Oh, God, time out!" he whined, dropping to his knees as he covered his face. "Got bad guy blood right in my open eye. Oh, that is gross..."

As the dust began to settle, it became eerily quiet, all the enemies seemingly dead.

"(n/n)?" Logan panted, chest heaving and heart panicked as he glanced around. "(y/n)?"

Slowly, you rose from behind the couch, unharmed.

"I'm okay," you assured, a little shaken up, but otherwise alright.

"Althea," Wade sang, wiping his eye with his shirt. "Are you dead?"

"I wish," she groaned, hoisting herself up from behind the table.

Without another word, Logan sped toward you, retracting his claws before pulling you into a bone crushing embrace—one you reciprocated with just as, if not more, relief.

"I thought I lost you again," he exhaled, relishing the way you felt in his arms, hands sliding all over you to squeeze what could've been taken away from him.

"I'm right here, Logan," you cooed, carding your hand through his scruffy hair as he nuzzled his face into your neck, breathing in your scent. "I'm right here..."

Though, unknowingly to the other, you both were going through your own forms of consolation.

You had protected your family from a tragedy you couldn't before.

He had saved you from the fate that befell countless others from his past.

Both were beginning to realize that maybe this new life really could be different.

Working together to protect and save one another...

Learning to love without fear of separation...

Forgiving the past mistakes that made you who you are today...

Growth that could only be attributed to absolute trust in each other.

"Heyo!" Wade gasped, a smile stretching on his face as he stared at the ground. "The Chimichanga Gods have spoken."

The rest of you turned to face him, watching as he fished a bloody take-out bag out from under the body of a dead man—who looked like he had mush for a face.

"Tonight... we feast."

"You are fucking disgusting."

[igotanidea]

I am Robin : Damian Wayne x reader (pt 1)

Summary: Damian x fem!s/o, who has no idea he's Robin. And who is scared of Robin. And who one day happens to meet Robin...

***

They weren’t living together, and definitely not in a leaving toothbrushes at each other’s place way. But their relationship wasn't casual either. After almost a year together, given Damian’s character traits, it could never be casual.

But Y/N wasn’t the type to rush him into anything and definitely not nagging to start sharing space. It was all right if he didn’t want to stay the night too. He was committed to his family and that was okay. Considering the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne himself, the Gotham’s persona, who tended to act a little eccentric, it was completely understandable that Damian wanted to check on him more often than not.

Who knew what kind of crazy idea could possibly enter the bored mind of a rich man.

It truly was no one’s wish to find some scandalous news from the first pages of the magazines.

So yes, she was full aboard on the idea of Damian’s checking on his father and his family.

Who seemed a little weird from the very beginning either way. The first time she met them all his siblings were nice, even awfully so, but she had this crazy feeling of being watched like a prey.

If only she knew why.

But yes, it was okay, because at least she wasn’t in a relationship with Mollycoddle, who demanded care and wanted to be treated with kids’ gloves.

But sometimes, only sometimes, she was wondering if it would be like that forever.

That she would have to sleep in the bed alone, wishing for him next to her.

That she would be forced to deal with her nightmares and loneliness and after work tiredness alone.

That almost every time she asked him to stay over he would prevaricate, giving more or less vague answers.

If only she knew why.

***

He was in the middle of patrolling with Batman and the rest of the family when Barbara’s voice came through the comms.

“Robin.”

“Yes? What is it, Oracle?”

“Y/N keeps blowing off your phone.”

Oh.

Obviously Damian did not take his device with him and definitely could not check whether his girlfriend was trying to contact him.

Barbara, on the other hand, was in charge of everyone’s notifications while they were busy during night hours, just to keep up the pretences of the batfam being completely normal citizens.

“Shall I respond?” Babs muttered to the comm, mentally rolling her eyes at the fact Damian was still keeping Y/N in the dark about his other identity. He was treating this girl seriously, it was obvious and even Batman would see reason in ensuring his blood son didn’t blow up a chance at happiness. Even with a civilian. And if not, Barbara would be more than happy to throw Bruce’s own mistakes in the area right at his face. And most likely the other batkids would gladly join her in this quest. Just for funsies. And for Damian obviously.

“Don’t you dare touching my phone, Oracle!” The last thing he needed was his more or less romantic and more or less spicy conversations with Y/N to come into the light!

“Do you want me to read the text to you?”

“Don’t you dare touching-“

“Robin, why can’t you just come forward and tell her?”

“Cause that would be putting a target on her back!”

“You are putting a target on her back by keeping her in the dark!”

“This is not—” Damian tried to argue, but never finished the sentence, realising, somewhere in the half of it, that Babs was actually true. “I don’t know what to do.” He finally settled on a deep sigh.

However, before Oracle could give him any relationship advice, Batman’s voice echoed from another line, calling his accomplices to order and stopping any personal discussions.

***

Meanwhile, Y/N was standing in front of the club, unsuccessfully attempting to reach Damian.

The party she was dragged to was a surprise to one of her work friends, who broke the news about getting married. Some of the girls decided it was a perfect opportunity for unofficial celebration and the party moved from club to club in the entire Gotham district.

It was impossible to not go. Y/N would be called antisocial, unfriendly and stiff the very same night.

But then it was late and cold and dark and she found herself far from her apartment, not sure how to proceed. Obviously, walking alone was a huge mistake, considering the location, but standing like a salt pillar was starting to turn even more stupid, as the lonely and bewildered woman unmoving on an empty street was the easy target for any thug.  

And Damian was not picking up his phone or responding to texts, that started to become more and more desperate as Y/n lowered herself to almost begging for help.

When nothing came in return, with a heavy and a little broken heart she decided to try and get home by herself.

It was better than being a sitting duck and freezing to death.

***

“Robin.” The voice came through the comms again

“What do you want, Nightwing?”

“I got eyes on Y/N.”

“And why do you bore me with such unimportant details?” Damian muttered, not really paying attention to what his brother was saying. The youngest Wayne was simply too focused on his target for the night.

“Um… Robin?”

“I am busy, Nightwing.”

“Damian-“ Dick dared to say Robin’s real name, getting  a bit desperate to get his attention.

“What now?!”

“I got eyes on Y/N!”

“Wh-what? What do you mean you got eyes on Y/N? She’s supposed to be home, safe and tucked under the cover, turning over on the other side while sleeping!”

“Well, she is not. She’s walking the street with someone on her tail, clearly chasing her.”

“What street?!”

“I’m going to take action now-“

“Don’t you dare, Nightwing.” Damian’s cold voice almost bore a hole in Dick’s head through the comms. “Oracle, give me Y/N location. I’ll be the only one taking the action when it comes to her.”

***

She knew she was being followed.

The man wasn’t exactly subtle when it came to it after all.

The heavy clatter of his boots echoed through the entire empty street, in perfect sync with the accelerated beat of her heart.

Headlines from the newspapers from the entire previous year flashed through her mind.

Rape.

Murder.

Assault.

Unexplained disappearance.

Y/n started to curse herself, instinctively reaching for the pepper spray, greedily clutching her fingers on the tiny, yet effective, bottle.

Though before she could actually use it, there was a loud thump behind her and she stopped with shaking hands and eyes closing, already saying goodbye to her life.

The man sure had a gun and that was the sound she heard. She was already dead. And no one will even know. She will bleed on the street, dying alone and in pain in the dark Gotham street, no news about her till the early morning and-

“Y/N.”

She spun around immediately. Whoever was talking, be it the man who was chasing her or someone else, he knew her name.

Robin. Batman’s sidekick.

The street light colours palette Robin.

Robin, the Gotham’s vigilante.

And one of her worst fears.

***

The thug was lying on the ground, blood was everywhere, including Robin’s uniform and she couldn’t make a single movement.

The most natural thing would be to thank him for the rescue and run away before he got too focused on her, reading right through her, seeing everything she did wrong in her entire life and bringing her to justice.

But she could hardly breathe let alone form one coherent sentence.

When he took a step towards her, she took a step back, almost tripping over her own feet, but miraculously finding balance.

He stopped, looking at her with a predatory smile, tilting head, waiting for a moment to strike.

His teeth shone in the dim light of a street lamp, growing, becoming sharper and she could almost imagine them tearing at her throat like a werewolf or some other supernatural creature, causing her pain for all the bad things she did and—

“You’re safe now.”

She blinked a few times, brought back to reality by his voice that was surprisingly soft. Calm, a little cold perhaps, but gentle regardless.

There was no blood, he was not a werewolf, and she was not in danger of being torn to pieces and having her insides dragged through the entire street.

But she was still scared, and not because of the thug, but because of the vigilante himself.

***

“You’re safe now.” Robin said calmly, keeping his distance. From Damian’s perspective under the mask, it was the worst thing he ever had to do in his life. Instead of rushing to her side, taking her in his arms, and giving her comfort and reassurance he had to keep hiding his face in the shadows. Unbeknown to him, Y/N was more than grateful about this fact.

“Uh-huh…” she stuttered, making Damian want to hug her even more. She was so shaken after being chased like this. After being put in danger.

It didn’t cross his mind, that she could be scared of him.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” This was not really a question in his head, but it was important to slowly assure her she was now protected.

“Uh-huh…” she stuttered again, with wide eyes and pale face, that Damian blamed on the aftermath of terrifying events.

“Okay.”

It was hard to not reach for her hand, envelop her in warmth and walk with her to her apartment. Making her her favourite tea and cuddling on the couch (a weakness he would never admit to his family). But he had to keep his mask, literally and figuratively. Therefore, having escorted her to her building and spinning on his heel, he left her alone.

Not for long though.

***

It took him fifteen minutes to change from Robin costume into regular, civilian clothes, almost searching for a phone booth like a freaking Superman, knowing that if Jon knew it, he would never let him live through it.

Meanwhile, he finally got hold of his phone and read through the desperate messages she’s been sending him for the last hour.

“Dami, please come pick me up. I’m at the XX”

“Dami, please…”

“I don’t know why you are not responding, but if I did something to make you mad, I am sorry…”

“Dami, I need you…”

“Please, it’s cold and I’m scared…”

“Dami… 🥺”

Oh no.

As if seeing her scared after dealing with the threat was not enough, now he also got the insight of what she was feeling and thinking while walking home alone.

That he left her.

That he didn’t care.

That she was alone.

And it made him speed the pace of the changing even more.

And causing Robin to make one, teeny-tiny mistake.

***

A knock on the door made her almost jump, settling on pretending she was not at her apartment. Or that she was sleeping – whichever seemed more plausible at 3 am.

“Y/n!”

The voice seemed familiar, but it could have been just the whispers of her stressed mind, combined with a desire for the presence of that one person she so desperately needed.

“Y/N! Open up, it’s me! Damian!”

She whimpered and moved deeper into the corner of the sofa, covering her ears.

He had to change tactics.

“I know where you keep the spare key. But if you don’t open in five, I’ll kick the door without the need to get it!”

An empty threat that could have only been made by him.

Four seconds later the bolt on the door rattled and Y/N stood face to face with Damian, who had absolutely no intention to put his words into action, just getting her to open.

“Y/N.” He sent her the most comforting and reassuring smile he could muster.

“Dami…” she sobbed, diving into his arms. “why weren’t you picking up your phone? I was scared and – and this guy-”

“Hush, dear.” His hands wrapped around her, taking a few steps forward so they were now inside her apartment and not in the hallway. “You’re safe now. I’m here and no one will hurt you.”

“But why weren’t you picking up?” she repeated nuzzling into him, the mix of emotions finally finding a way out in the form of uncontrolled sobs.

“My apologies, beloved. It was never my intention to make you feel abandoned. But I’m here now.”

“Mhm…”

“You’re okay. Shall I make you your tea? It will ease your nerves after being chased on the streets like that.”

“Yes, please…” she whispered and then a thought hit her. “Dami? I- I never told you I was being chased…”

“You know, it was quite evident. It’s Gotham. It’s late and your text was pretty clear-“ His green eyes met hers in a poor attempt to cover up for the obvious fail, trying to fill in the holes in the facts and silence her questions before they even arise.

But it was too late and she was too smart for being played like that.

There was no way Damian could have simply figured out what happened solely from her messages and ragged pieces of information.

His first question, right after comforting her, should have been what happened?

And how the hell did he get into her apartment almost right after she got in?

Right after Robin escorted her here?

“Dami--?” she stuttered with wide eyes, pulling slightly back, causing a little struggle when he tried to keep her in his arms.

Causing a little too much movement.

“Y/N, listen to me, I can—hey, are you all right?”

She was not.

She was not okay, seeing the familiar and well-known domino mask that fell from Damian’s pocket onto the floor in her apartment.

“You- you are—” her stuttering mixed with paleness and terror reflected in her eyes made him travel back to the conversation they had a few months earlier. 

Oh, no…

How could he forget…?

to be continued...

Part 2

[pandoraroid]

(nearly) live reacting to Pack Smash Tournament II: The Remix

i dont get shit about smash so a lot of shit probably went above my head 😃

Warning Spoilers Ahead!!!!

milo is appalled?? shocked?? that asher has a spreadsheet for the whole thing

david shares in his astonishment. bro (asher) is locked in he does not play about the tournament !! (haha get it... doesnt play about the tournament.... i'll see myself out)

david: "that's my laptop"

milo: "and that's my hat from two solstices ago!"

THEYRE SO SIBLINGS LMAAAOO

asher: "uh milo, sam says he's hungry byeeee"

bro pinned it on the vampire. the one of two (well three) guys who dont need to eat. genius.

BABE AND SWEETHEART LAUGHING THEIR ASSES OFF. MORE MATES BONDING SJDGJDVD

milo: "what are you eating sam? (proceeds to list off all the foods)"

sam: "milo im a vampire"

the fact that asher got milo to shift his attention to sam, whether or not he forgot he was a vampire, and milo also probably forgetting that is HAHEFSBDFV

milo: "nobody's going hungry on my watch" THE IMPLICATIONS!!!! somebody shoot me.

vincent: "then i hate to see what quickly going insane looks like" VINCENT BABY LOOK AT ME AND YOU'LL FUCKING KNOW

the reference to the summit 😭 im fucking deeaadddd

david: "i know i've said it before but, if there's anything we can do for the two of you you've got it" MY POOR TENDER HUMAN HEART. that wasnt meant as a jab at... yknow

NOT ANGEL AND DARLIN HOARDING THE BROWNIES (same)

NOT LOVELY JOINING THEM??? (would)

asher: "babe give me the glasses" BLIND ASS FUCKER HHAHAHAHAHHAHA same. haha ass fucker... well 😏😏

vincent: "always a great sign when you're stunned by your own success *giggles*" VINCENT UEHSIBDCV SIJFUHBD that was so cute omg

asher: "how many times are you gonna kick me in the head david?"

david: "how many times are you gonna roll onto my feet?"

milo kissing sweetheart as like a comfort thing :( the way the gun appeared into my hand IM KIDDING

milo: "not the victim blaming"

asher placing milo with the two vamps... that was a targeted attack wasnt it

milo: ur majesty? ash i dont know if he still calls himself a prince anymore!

ash: i had limited material to work with!!

vincent: it's a great name asher dont worry about it

sam: "hey milo look you're in the background" BYEEEEEEEE

the way my foot stepped off the building /POS I SWEAR

THE TRASHTALKING BETWEEN ANGEL BABE AND LOVELY. FUCK I NEED TO HEAR IT

milo: "LISTEN GRAMPIRE-" CACKLING WHAHHAHA

judging by asher's reaction im guessing babe told him to shut the fuck up THEY ARE LOCKED INNNNN BROOOO

NOT ANGEL HITTING(??) ASH WHAHAHAHAHAHA

sam: "holy shit darlin i actually won" LEMME KISS YOU MWA MWA MWA MWA YOU BEAUTIFUL MAN

asher: "ONLY SLIGHTLY FLAWED COWBOY HIMSELF - SAMUEL COLLINS!!!" SLIGHTLY?????

vincent: "i dont think he's gonna survive the night"

david: "Sam?"

everyone watching david and sam fight ARE LOCKEDD THE FUCK INN or at least i imagine angel and darlin doing the shit talk for their manz

vincent: "Asher"

SAM WINNING AGAINST DAVID HOLY FUCKK

sam: " i cant believe i just fucking did that" i can HEAR the disbelief and the smile in his voice DHEFSAVNJ

milo to vincent: "you got so much recovery and i got none"

asher: "dont get hit them you wont need it"

milo: "oh stellar advice lemme write thaat down" HAHDWEHBSCXA

milo: "next time give me one of my mains"

vincent: "who's that? pichu?"

had to look up what the fuck a pichu is but LMAAAOO

vincent: "you got this lovely *kisses* beat his ass" AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA IM IN LOVE WITH YOU

vincent: "it's the home court advantage it has to be*giggles* *kisses*" AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

sam: "i get to see it twice"

milo: "i wanna be mad but he's so earnestly happy"

oh samuel collins i love you

babe and asher facing off ToT

asher: "honestly i have no idea how im still in this"

milo: "neither do we"

babe DECIMATING asher. put the relationship on pause for sec It's On Site.

SAM WON YAYAYAYSYAYAYYAY

vincent: "am i rooting for you sam? what does the equal opportunist say?"

IMMEDIATELY GOING IN FOR THAT KISS WITH DARLIN THAT'S FUCKING GOLDDDD

that was indeed fact gold

milo: everything?

vincent: for what it's worth milo, when you all leave for the solstice, he has to hear everything.

david: everything.

vincent: everything.

HAHAHAHAHHAHA

i still dont understand a thing about smash i love to see vincent and lovely get included and sam winning. it's a good day to be a vamp lover.

[butmakeitgayblog]

Hi )

I read your takes on Clexa and I am fangirling at how accurate I think they are. So I would really like to hear your thoughts on something, if you don't mins.

Imagine if accursed 307 went a little bit different at the end and Titus' aim was a bit surer and he got his target. So Lexa heard a commotion and went to investigate, she opens doors only to see Clarke's shocked face. Followed by Clarke's limp body fall into her arms. There is a lot of blood, Clarke is unresponsive and there is Titus, 10 feet away with a smoking gun.

What would be Lexa thoughts, emotions?

What will she do next, considering current political situation?

What do you think she will be doing if the wound is fatal?

Oof

Well 1. Thank you 🥹

And 2.

I think Lexa's initial reaction would've been complete shock and terror. That's what it was when she heard the shots from her room and you know that because rather than reaching for a weapon or armor or calling for her guard, she disregarded all of her training and all of her knowledge of power, and simply had to get to Clarke as fast as possible.

Heart pounding, terror stricken, she just had to get to Clarke.

And I don't think her initial reaction would've been any different if she had stumbled upon a wounded Clarke in thah room.

But that only would've been an instantaneous response that was then shed away, because she is so used to reacting on her feet. The gunshots posed an unknown threat, so admittedly it got the best of her (actually shitty writing got the best of her because she absolutely would not have done that but hahahhaha anyway 😒). But blood? Pain? She knows those intimately. She knows what to do with that. She's been in innumerable battles and delt with injuries and gore and so on from such a young age, and everything we ever saw of her showed that even when she was startled, her brain was always going at the speed of lightning. While everyone around her is still accessing a situation, she's already taken it all in and is mentally 10 miles down the road in terms of what she's going to do.

With that in mind, I think Lexa's next reaction would be to tend to Clarke, plain and simple. It would've been the instinctual thing she did - reach for her, run to her, scoop her up and be there to comfort just as she always did whenever she felt Clarke needed her. She would've shouted not only for Titus to get a healer, but also she probably would've bellowed for anyone within earshot to find a healer while she herself administered first aid (ya know more than just pouring water on it dO YOU HEAR ME TALKING CLARKE DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME)

*deep breath*

..... Anyway....

Emotionally speaking?

I think it would've probably been the most terror stricken she's ever felt in her life.

Because she can accept her own death. In fact has accepted the reality of it since she was first called. She has overcome the loss of her people, the potential loss of her power. Lost her own innocence and her first love. Has overcome the pain of having to take the life of her most trusted ally by her own hand and pretend it didn't bother her at all.

But I think the chaos of that moment would've kind of snapped everything into focus. Because while it's one thing to accept the danger in the abstract idea of sending Clarke back to Arkadia with a sweet kiss on her lips and a prayer that she'll be ok so that one day they'll meet again, it's another horror entirely feeling the warm finality of her death seeping out of a bullet wound and onto her hands.

Losing another lover? One she loves deeper than she ever thought possible? Her equal in every regard?

I just think she would have felt the most scared she'd ever been in her life. The most desperate. The most powerless...

As for what she'd do next, I don't think whether Clarke lived or died would've changed anything in respect to Titus.

I think she would've killed him.

Whether in that room or in a public execution, either way he would've died by her hand for personal reasons and political reasons, and I think rightfully so on both accounts, because consider how it would make her look in the eyes of her people.

He not only directly disobeyed her orders and went rogue with his own plans, he made an attempt on a clan ambassador's life without order or tangible justification. Lexa had not only publicly vowed that Clarke would be under her protection while in Polis, but she gave orders that they had until sundown to be back at Arkadia.

And he just said fuck it, fuck you, Imma do what I want.

In him doing that, he would've made Lexa not only look weak, but also look as though she wasn't even in control of her own direct subordinates. If someone as heralded and protected and trusted by the throne as the Fleimkepa can get away with subverting Lexa's rule... why should anyone else bother listening to her? Why shouldn't anyone else make attempts on any life they so wish? He would have effectively undermined every single thing she and her unified rule over the coalition stood for.

And on top of everything, Clarke is not just anyone.

She is Wanheda.

If Clarke died and Lexa didn't kill Titus, then that would indicate that Titus now has power over death. That coupled with him blatantly usurping Lexa's command? Uhhhhh. No. Can't let that stand. Not for a single second.

If Clarke lived and she didn't kill Titus, then that would indicate that anything Lexa says is free for challenge because she obviously does not follow through with consequences for direct crimes. Clarke's life is now even more free for the taking to any who should be so bold. The kongeda means nothing because Lexa's power is no longer absolute. Obviously, she can't let that stand either.

So really that bald bitch signed his own death warrant the second he picked up that gun, no matter the outcome. But also, no matter the outcome, for every bit he spewed his bullshit about Clarke weakening Heda, those actions alone would've severely hurt her image on the political stage regardless of the fine details.

Because now she's open to even more murmurings of deferential treatment to Clarke, specifically, but also to the Skaikru as a whole by sheer association. Her allegiance to the coalition vs Clarke and Co. would be questioned and antagonized and tested at every turn (more than it already was.)

Inevitably it all would've been a clusterfuck, and civil war on Lexa and the coalition would've become inevitable I think.

And frankly????

That would've been A Lot more interesting to watch than the slop that they gave us 🙄

[deadhands69]

A New End: Evolution

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

Spoilers: EVERYTHING This series contains: gn/afab reader, angst, violence, mentions of blood/injuries, cussing, smut.

previous - this is part 7 - next

[series masterlist]

|\/\/\| evolution |/\/\/|

Out on the platform ahead of you, the League of Villains and Meta-Human Liberation Front merge to form the Paranormal Liberation Front. You stand in the dark, off stage.

It stings, a bit, watching everyone being publicly promoted like this while you’re stuck back here, but Tomura assured you it’s for a good reason. The moment people know how important you are in the planning process, they’ll start asking questions. If anyone finds out your quirk and its association with them, we lose the element of surprise. It’s not a stretch, especially considering that you went to UA so your quirk is already on record. Plus, on a boyfriend level, he’s not comfortable putting that massive of a target on your back for no logical reason. You’ll still be important in the decision making process, but no one needs to know about it. You understand and agree, but it’s still hard being here while they’re all there. It makes you feel left behind.

You head back to your room before the whole thing ends – you already know what’s going to happen. 

It’s been a strange week with your lives turned upside down. Not all of it is bad, like having access to better food. A lot could be better though. Nearly everyone is injured in some way, Tomura fairing the worst. Eri offered to heal his mangled hand, but she can’t control her quirk yet and he’s still worried he can’t either.�� 

Staying in a mansion has been comfortable. It’s nice to have warm showers and squishy beds, but the endless staircases are one thing that makes you miss the humble lodgings from before. Sure, you could take the elevator, but that would involve walking to the other end of the hallway then back when your room is on this side anyways. And it’s not very far. 

You’re on the third floor. Toga and Twice are one level down, last you saw they turned the hallway into a giant blanket fort – much to the dismay of the housekeeping staff who keep running out of extra blankets and pillows until Twice made more.

Dabi and Compress are one level up. You’re glad your room is under Dabi’s, who is surprisingly quiet, as opposed to Compresses, who you’ve been told practices his dance moves in the middle of the night.

Spinner is above them, down the hall from Eri. Initially you were in that room, but the two of you traded so they could play video games in the evenings. Tomura joins them sometimes, playing Stardew Valley with them until Eri's bedtime. After she’s tucked in for the night, he and Spinner switch to less kid-friendly games. Well, they try, Tomura has been struggling to use a controller after losing a few fingers, gaining a somewhat rigid prosthetic glove, and having his other hand mostly bandaged.

His room is on the next floor up.

You reach the final landing and you’re about to press through the double doors when the world starts spinning. It feels like your head is splitting open and you can barely keep yourself on your feet. Sliding down the wall behind you, you drop your forehead onto your knees. Your quirk crashes over you like a tidal wave, pulling you with it whether you like it or not. The visions. The overwhelming feelings of helplessness and grief. It's all so crushing. At this point, you just try to get through it. Your finger tips find the cold concrete ground as you try to center yourself. It comes in waves and you force yourself to memorize every detail of things you know will be too horrific to repeat later.

The episode is over as fast as it started, leaving you shaking and crying on the ground. The emotions linger, they always do. These are the worst you’ve ever experienced though.

You will yourself to move. 

Hands press into the floor. Knees shakily extend. Slowly, you stand on autopilot. It takes a moment to regain balance. Throwing one foot in front of the other, you make your way up the stairs to Tomura’s room. Afraid to stop moving, if you stop you know you won’t get up for a while again.

When you press through the final set of doors, he’s just arrived at his own door. He’s jiggling the lock to get the key to work. It looks awkward one handed on crutches.

“Tomur–” your voice fails you as you try to yell out to him.

He doesn’t see you, retreating into his room for the night. You stumble down the hallway as quickly as you can, catching the door as it’s about to click shut and shoving yourself through. 

At first he’s startled. Then, seeing the tears streaming down your face, he’s concerned.

“What’s–”

“You can’t!” you practically scream, “you can’t go! You can’t get that quirk!” It takes everything in you to hold it together enough to form legible sentences but you think you got the point across.

“Oh, that,” he speaks much quieter than you, not questioning how you already know. His voice sounds far too casual for what you know is coming. “I have to.”

“You don’t,” you cry, feeling like a broken record. “You can’t.”

“It’s all I was ever supposed to do, I have to.” His voice is firmer now, lacking the wavering he used to have with emotions. “I have to, and I’m going to. This is all that was left for me, it would be stupid not to take it.”

“Forget about that, forget about all of it. You have to listen to me!”

“I heard you, now you have to listen to me too. This is the future for us, for all of us! It’s…it’s all there is! We need it!”

“You're getting so worked up over a future you won't even be in!” you practically scream, desperate for him to believe you even if you haven't found the words to express what you saw yet. 

“What? This is so stupid. It's the only way. This is it,” a streak of sadness cracks through his voice, “this is all there ever was for me. There’s nothing else.”

“That’s not true though,” you grab his arm, pleading with him. Everything in you wants to tell him how much you love him and never let him leave. You want so badly to make him listen, see what you see, but when your fingers touch his skin something weird happens. Your fingertips buzz at the contact and everything spins. In an instant, you're both lying collapsed on the floor with your grip still around his wrist.

For a split second, this terrifies you both. You're not sure if you forced future vision on him or pulled decay onto yourself. To be honest, you aren't sure if either of those are even possible, but the answer comes quickly enough. It's etched into his face: he definitely saw your visions. He saw everything. 

Tomura saw the pain he'd endure. Countless nights screaming in agony only for his dreams to be crushed to a pulp at the end. Finding out that his sensei has only been using him. It’s now plain to see that the one person he thought cared the most about him, the only one who ever saved him, only valued him as a warm anger-filled body. He now knows the source of everything bad in that house where he grew up.

Tomura saw himself dying. Crumbling into dust. Some of the others following similar fates. Spinner alone in a jail cell for the rest of his life while he’s stuck listening to everyone talking about how much they hated him. Watching people celebrate his death day every year. The resulting circle in all of it where nothing changes in the end. All the hate and bitterness for nothing. On top of that, he knows these feelings were handed to him and that they will only keep growing for as long as he feeds them. That everything he could ever destroy in this world will never make up for what he's been through. And he feels it viscerally in every cell in his body. 

Everything floods in all at once. 

It's overwhelming. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” Tomura shoves past you, crawling through the bathroom door in a stumble. 

Half an hour later, the two of you are still sitting in silence on the floor by his bed. He’s pale, more so than usual, and shakier than you. You get him a glass of water, leaving it by his side. With a hand on his shoulder, you try to be reassuring but know nothing can make this better.

“For what it’s worth, you didn’t do anything to deserve any of this.”

He nods.

You leave him with his thoughts for now. It's a lot to process. Besides, you need to find Dabi. Bracing yourself for a rough evening, you walk two floors down. Tomura isn’t the only one who deserves to know what their future holds.

That night, you return to your plushy bed in the villa. Comfort feels wrong in a time like this.

The conversation with Dabi was much faster, he immediately accepted it and simply joked that he needs to "burn harder then." You could tell by the look in his eyes seeing his family joining around him in his last months stirred something in him, but you're not about to mention it.

As for tonight, you can't sleep.

Tomura has been up all night, mind changing every two minutes. You know because you see the future vividly flash in front of your eyes like the worst kind of fever dream. The kind where you're stuck watching him die repeatedly along with everyone else. At around four am, you consider texting him but what are you supposed to say, “stop thinking?” The next few hours pass before you eventually give up on sleep entirely and get up. Tomura texts you as you’re leaving for breakfast.

When you arrive at his room in the morning, you didn't expect to be pulled into one of your meetings. With two cups of coffee in hand, you awkwardly kick the door to knock. He opens, gesturing you in.

“Let's fix this,” he says, immediately bringing you to sit by him on the floor. For the first time, you’re seeing him in pajamas. You've always wondered what that would be like, but never thought you'd see it in this context. It’s cute, he looks cozy in a beat-up sort of way. His hair is crazy with sleep and he is too with a lack of it. Judging by the massive bags under his eyes, you could have guessed that he stayed up all night even without the full night of visions you had but he’s in much better spirits than you expected. You’re unsure how someone could process that much so quickly so you make a point not to ask too many questions yet. Fortunately, he doesn’t want to talk about it either. Instead, he thought up some plans going forward and is now choosing to make a decision based on what you can show him. 

Tomura is beginning to learn what you've known for ages: sometimes there are a lot of bad ways for things to go and very few good endings.

He’s also learning how exhausting your quirk is.

“Is this what you deal with all the time?” he asks, sitting to face you while your hand rests on his arm, just above the bandaged area. 

“Sometimes, usually people don't change their plans this quickly. Also, most of the time I can tune it out. You get used to it.”

“Oh,” he rubs his eyes, “still. It's almost nauseating.”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

The two of you sit like this on the floor for over an hour. Some endings are just cut and dry bad. Others end poorly but give you good information going forward. 

You learn that the League of Villains isn't the safest place to raise a kid, which you all probably assumed already. None of you are equipped to teach Eri quirk control which shows itself to be very important in all of your visions. Switching to plans that keep her safe becomes a priority quickly, even if it means she can't always stay with you. 

A lot comes out in your visions about UA, the hero commission, and how they might not always be the best for keeping kids safe either. You experienced this to an extent with your time in school, but these prophecies are on another level. Considering the amount of UA students you've seen die in the last hour, they could definitely do better. 

On a more interesting (but maybe less useful) note, you learn that the hero Tomura thinks is cool, Erasurehead, was the best friend of the man who raised him. It makes a lot of sense to you but he's not sure how he feels about that yet. 

“Again,” he keeps saying, before making small changes to each of the plans. 

It's even more tiring, having only just learned to use your quirk like this. Plus, having to watch everyone you care about die horrifically over and over again in different ways has a tendency to get to you. 

“I need a break,” you say, pulling your hand from his arm after a particularly bad vision of Toga sacrificing herself to a violent death in order to save Twice. 

“Soon, just a few more.”

“Fine,” you say, pressing a hand to his skin again before sliding fully on the floor to lay down and close your eyes. 

He rushes through ideas quickly, switching as soon as he sees them go awry. Just as you're about to drift off he exclaims. 

“Wait, that one!” 

“Huh?” you say groggily, half feeling like they've all been swirling into a dream. 

“There it is again,” he thinks through it, wincing slightly at some clips of future memories before getting to the part he wants. “That. That's possible?”

“I wouldn't see it if it wasn't,” you mumble half to the floor, “that's how this works.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you sit up, “of course.”

“Huh,” he pauses, looking surprised. “I didn't think it could be that good. Can you replay it?”

“No, I'm not YouTube.”

“I want to see that again. The end. I want,” he goes quiet, choosing his next words carefully. “I want to live that. That's what I want.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, “you saw what it takes from everyone to get there, right?”

“Yeah, I saw it. I don’t like some parts, but what else is there? We've been trying to come up with something for almost two hours and no one makes it out alive.” Now he’s the one who sounds desperate for you to understand, to see what he needs to happen. It’s nice not being alone in it, for once. 

“I know it’s not perfect and it won’t be good for a while, but it's better than I thought it could ever be. For everyone. And that’s worth it. That’s the world I want to create.” His deep red eyes find yours, intensely. “Besides, I can’t let anyone here die or go to prison and you don't want me killing those kids. It's the only way.”

You agree.

next part - a new end masterlist - bnha masterlist

Taglist: @tomuratoucher @aryuunachigiri @foxyboy0 @shigarakislaughter @dance-with-me-in-hell

@minniessskii @vaval3ntin @ykyouluvme @dummi666 @lotus-flower420

@nonominchan @softnfuzzy @mysticalhills @reireitaka @crwavee

@baby-pink-flowers @drlucichen @frieren-imposter @lou-the-naga-queen @multifandomidk

@love-for-yoosung-kim @kitkat13001 @kennys-partner @amira-44820 @its-evee16

[drybonesinamericantowns]

my thoughts abt planet desperation that no one asked for :33

during planet desperation, we follow hyacinth as he goes through the five stages of grief. normally, the five stages of grief are used to describe how people cope with the loss of a loved one, but in this case, hyacinth is sort of grieving himself, or grieving the life he could've had.

in the first part of the song, hyacinth is going through denial. "i once thought that time was an ocean. there'd always be a little more somehow," he is still struggling to process the fact that his time is running out so soon.

in the next part of the song, he transitions to anger. his "lizard brain" takes over, with him practically screaming. he feels that he has been wronged, or treated unfairly. "will i see you on the inside pointing at me, mouthing 'there he is, officer. there's the prick i warned you about". he believes that this person is praying on his downfall, barring him from getting to heaven. whoever he's talking to has become a target for his anger. this could stem from paranoia. the lyrics seem to show that he has secrets that he has tried to outrun, but they have caught up to him. he thinks that the whole world is against him, and that everyone wants him to suffer. "love doesn't do what i want it to. it doesn't change me and it doesn't change you," he's angry at love. he's rejecting the idea of it. he feels that it has failed him. he's frustrated because he tried to love again and it didn't work. his past always follows him. he can't change it. he believes that he can't redeem himself. he tried to build a new life for himself, just for it to be torn apart and taking away before it could become fully realized.

hyacinth's bargaining seems to take a physical form in the accuser. hyacinth is trying to escape death, but he can't. so instead, he tries to bargain his way out of hell. "writhing, twisted piece of myself" this line shows the inner turmoil that is occuring, showing that a part of the accuser is conflicted on whether to send him to hell. she states situations of uncertainty where a decision inevitably has to be made. "hesitation on a wedding night, drag you down the aisle" and "they'll shut down this carnival ride to save the child screaming inside" . this shows that no matter what, and how someone feels, a decision must be reached, and a sacrifice must be made for the greater good. she believes that hyacinth is hurting those around him, so he has to be disposed of. "in spite of a thousand white lies, his intuition would never be deceived" hyacinth tried to bargain and persuade, but the piece of the accuser that wants him sent to hell wasn't swayed. in this line, the accuser doesn't mention how she feels about it, only that that piece of her still wanted hyacinth sent to hell. idk, but i think that the "writhing twisted piece" of the accuser is supposed to be behemoth. based on the way she describes him, she doesn't seem to like him, or at least has mixed feelings. she seems to resent him, yet she respects him. she knows that he is wise, and that he is impossible to trick or mislead. so hyacinth's attempts were misguided and futile. at the end of this part, we don't know whether the accuser sends him to hell. the accuser seems to be a mediator, unbiased, only an officer enforcing the law. meanwhile, behemoth is this malevolent all-knowing, omnipresent force. and these two forces are conflicting.

when hyacinth moves on from bargaining, it turns into depression. in a brief respite from the chaos of the song, hyacinth is reflecting on his life. he acknowledges that he's done so much, yet he still feels unfulfilled, like he hasn't been living. like he hasn't been born at all. he wonders when he will be. maybe he won't until after he is dead. he is not satisfied. in the next part of the song, hyacinth seems to finally be facing his fate. "last night, i dreamed i lost all of who i was" hyacinth is feeling the loss of himself. as he walks to his death, he feels it. he mourns it. the ancient village he's walking through seems to be some kind of purgatory, a space between life and death, heaven and hell. i think that this is where he crosses paths with chanticleer who's fate was uncertain at the time. while hyacinth crosses into death, chanticleer comes back to life. i saw a theory somewhere that rosa brings chanticleer back to life, and i feel like that makes sense.

in the last part of the song, and the gethsemane callback, hyacinth finally moves on to acceptance, as his soul ascends to heaven. with the final repetitions of "you can love again if you try again" hyacinth is accepting love into his heart in his final moments.

anywayyy i just wanted to word vomit abt my current favorite song. if ur still here ur so cool frfr. rip hyacinth i love u king <33 this probably makes no sense. maybe i could post more stuff like this here. i have an essay abt twin fantasy that i did like a few months ago and i started one abt the scholars as a whole. idk. if only i put in this much effort for my schoolwork.

[rosakuma]

Possible Parallels to Ace/Nico and Arei/Eden? Spoilers for Ch. 2

Okay so with the next episode approaching us fast, I wanted to get out this post that is something that could connect to the case via the similarities between Arei and Eden with Ace and Nico. This is a mixture of character analysis and theory through the eyes of Culptrit Eden view.

Note: Just because there similarities doesn’t fully cement that Eden is the culprit + I’ll be giving an interpretation on some parts that could be a possible connection. So take this subjectively 😋

Let’s get to our big meanies! To start out, let’s compare two of the biggest jerks of DRDT’s cast, Ace and Arei.

When it comes to their role as a bully to their respective target, both are different while being similar to their approach. Ace and Arei verbally bullyies Nico and Eden with insults or assumptions on them.

When it comes to Ace, his insults and assumptions are based off his own insecurities and paranoia on how others see him. While we still don't know what causes him to feel this way, we can see how this affects others like Nico and also bites him in the back with everyone hating him because of this.

Nico being the victim of these outbursts affects them hard to take things too far due to Ace’s behavior to them reminding them of unsavory memories in their past. Nico seems to had moments similar to what Ace would do of yelling at them for saying something wrong bluntly(though to them, they don't mean it in a bad way) or getting at them for either “Wanting Pity” or “Can’t defend themselves “. Knowing how Nico’s identity of being nonbinary has cause bullies to come after them with throwing rocks/mud at them or being accused of trying to get attention in a derogatory way, this is why Ace’s accusations towards them trying to get pity got to them hard. Enough to commit murder as while I don't think Nico before the killing game tried to kill their dad or any of their peers/teachers, I do think this reflects that Nico wishes they had power over them or maybe thoughts of harming them just to get back at them. Being able to have that temporarily over Ace, it was probably the first time they were able to take action back to others who treated them awful just for who they are as a person.

Getting back to Ace. Ace is aware of this behavior being too much when it comes to his anger, but still goes ahead with it regardless. Even though deep down, he wishes he both was and wasn't the things he claims Nico is. That someone would save him from this situation of the killing game/his self sabotage behavior and care about him. But he also doesn't want to let his guard down with being in this scary situation and refuses to let anyone talk shit to him to his face. That's why it hurt so much when his projection of this person being Levi was shattered the moment Levi reveals he does not care about anyone, including Ace who could live or die for all he cares. This is just speculation, but with this chapter showcasing everyone’s flaws or hints that there’s more to them. I believe Ace in a way like Arei, probably went through something to cause his paranoia on everyone thinking that he’s hot headed idiot and the need to “fight back” to show he’s not weak either. That no one really cares about him except for one person(Taylor) who’s presumably dead now. If I had to guess, it could relate to his talent of being a jockey in perhaps the competition would get to his head and knowing he can’t fail(maybe perhaps thanks to his family whether to disappoint them or fail to support them). Resulting in the Ace we know today as the hot headed all bark, but no bite jockey who doesn't care that his body is failing him as who’s going to care? He only got himself and he can’t go out until he dies on his own terms. He truly lives up to his secret quote of “I don’t know what to do with myself anymore” as he cannot figure out if he wants to just isolate and hurt himself in the process or to let others in to help him out and change this harmful behavior of his.

Going onto Arei, her way of bullying Eden is more out of a mixture envy and concern for her. Before we knew Arei was her manipulative self who would fake being nice and cry during ch.1 before revealing herself and started insulting others. After Min’s death in ch.2 we see how her feelings about what happened cause to her act out in this chapter.

When Eden was searching for her to have her join her clock activitity with her and Teruko, Arei burst out in disgust about this invitation. Eden confused as Arei wanted to join last activity, gets hit with Arei blaming her for Min’s death. For pretending to be all sad about Min dying, before returning to her usually happy self. Telling her that acting this way and trying to do these “friendship” bonding activities is just going to cause more people to die. And it’ll will be all your fault.

This pushes Eden to tears and she runs away. To where we get in the conversation with Arei, David, and Teruko that she reveals her world view. That thanks to her sisters, her life been hell. That she used to be a nice person who tried being kind to others, but that kindness was only met by hate and manipulative jerks who take their sick kicks out on her because they had more power over her. Arei had no one who cared about her or show her kindness, only those who taught her its a dog eat dog world and you better get with it if you want to survive.

In a way, her bullying towards Eden unlike Ace’s towards Nico is because in her own way, she’s trying to help Eden. Eden probably reminds Arei of her old self that she had to disregard to survive during her childhood to adulthood. She doesn't wish any actually harm on Eden, she just wants Eden to not end up hurting like she did. But at the same time while not enjoying making Eden cry over this, she does feel something towards her. Envy

Arei feels envious towards how someone like Eden can exist. That she can be kind in this cruel world and no one takes advantage of her for it. That she can be this way and not experience any hell that Arei did despite not wanting to always be this way.

This makes me feel the connection between Ace and Arei. Both are envious towards their victims with what they have that they never gotten. Both Nico and Eden have people who cared about them and doesn't think of them being less than who they are. They can be themselves in this killing game with no one taking advantage of them(well until I guess the David reveal but nevermind that). While these two are trying to survive in a terrible situation with their own survival instincts they develop to survive in the world before this game. Although Arei before her death was trying to break out from this, to where she was given a hand from both Eden and David. Arei wanted to change even if she thought she was far too gone too. To be a good person like Eden and David. Even when getting her view of them shattered with David being a crappy person, she was glad as she’s not alone. Arei is thankful that there is no bad or good person, that she can change to be less shitty as there’s no impossible standards to live up to achieve it. Though Ace never got to get this as he had no David or Eden to reach out for him, to realize that he may be a shitty person like everyone else, but he could change his ways.

Now you’re probably wondering “Where does Eden come into all of this?” “How does this possibly connects to her being the culprit?” The thing is since both our bullies here have connections in similarities of how they treat their targets and how both murders are similar in how they’re done. What about the targets?

As we established with Nico earlier, Nico was driven to murder Ace because Ace reminded them of their past trauma right? What if Eden did the same to Arei because she reminded her of her past? Full speculation on possible Eden lore based off the little tidbits we know.

Now I don't think how Arei bullied Eden was the reason why Eden would plan to kill Arei her especially since they made up. Rather I think the reason why Eden killed her is because of when they made up. Remember, this is just speculation, so take this with a grain of salt.

I think with Eden’s secret being “Ever since you kissed her, you were afraid your sexuality would ruin your friendships” is connected to Arei’s friendship towards Eden. Whether this girl in the past was actually Arei maybe during their time at Hope’s Peak or someone else, I think when Arei promised to be Eden’s friend brought back memories to her. To someone who promised to be her friend, to protect her, to do stuff with her like baking dumb cakes, and to be someone she could rely on. We can tell with how that secret sounds, it might’ve ended badly for Eden’s crush on this girl who she felt like she ruined their friendship with.

When Arei promised to be this type of friend to Eden for now on, it caused Eden to think back to her and that Eden didn't want to be attached to someone like that again. It was already painful enough to lose that person because of who she was, she doesn't want to relive what happened to her. So she rather cut off what could’ve been a beautiful friendship that has the potential of becoming more just to prevent the hurt of losing someone like that again. With being inspired by Nico’s murder attempt, Eden was able to have the idea to have her plan in action.

Along with this, I think this could explain Eden’s behavior throughout this chapter with how strange she’s been acting about Arei’s death during the investigation to trial. She does clearly care about Arei and wanted to be her friend, but she doesn't want to be too attached to feel regret. Maybe if Arei’s words about Eden being sad about Min and then returning to her cheery self means anything, Eden is trying to do that with Arei of showing grief for a split second before trying to focus on “solving” the case to avoid feeling responsible to her death. Eden does regret doing the murder if she is the culprit as shown how she is so hurt about how she could’ve been friends with Arei, how Arei wanted to change to be a better person, and that she doesn’t want anyone to think any less of Arei that she willingly killed herself. But unlike Nico, who was able to finally speak up for themselves and admit their wrongdoings of almost committing murder, to acknowledge that they are not the victim in this situation. Eden is instead hiding and doing what she always done, rely on others to help her because she is too weak to do so. Her fatal flaw that prevents her from acknowledging that she did wrong and isn’t the ideal good person that Arei looked up to. Unbeknownst to her that Arei already knew Eden wasn’t perfect as she seemed to be.

Also it would make Charles’ conversation with Teruko in thinking that the secret he got(Eden’s) is actually important to the case as tragic but also kinda funny foreshadowing.

Essentially to boil down the connections between both parties in a nutshell:

The bullies are individuals who went through a tough life that formed their way of survival and takes it out on those who they perceived weaker than them.

The targets have to rely on others to protect them or fight their battles(Nico doesn’t do this on purpose as Hu defends them whether they want her or not, but still it happens).

The murders done to the bullies were because the targets were reminded of their past, which pushed them to commit murder.

The murder method are the same with the pulley method and making it seem like a suicide.

The target’s secrets are related to their identity(Eden being a lesbian and Nico being nonbinary) With all of this being said, I think this is the best way I can come up with how Culprit Eden could work motive wise as one of the many reasons why people believe that she couldn’t be the murder is because of no motive we can think that makes sense for her to kill her new friend. Because to be honest I do believe that Eden is the culprit based off the evidence against her with most of the things(the tape, learning the method, the note, the clothes) connecting more to her than Ace. But only reason why I’m still not 100% sure in her being the culprit is the motive. But now if this is true, then this can cement that Eden Tobisa, the ulitmate clockmaker, is the murder of Arei Nageishi!

Anyways, this case can go either way and I just know we’re all going to be destroyed this Friday when the episode airs. One of our gays is going to be buried and there’s nothing we can do about it 🥲

[thinkingthougths]

Here is my first ever story that I’ve posted here, I have no particular goal in mind as to what’s gonna happen yet so please bear that in mind.💫

-Ghost x female reader

1232 words

Warnings- i think none in this chapter.

The haunting of a Ghost

Chapter 1

Everything had become so goddamn weird. There was a strangling tension between the two of you ever since that evening in the common room celebrating the sergeant. The searing look he had given you when he was asked during truth or dare, if there was someone he fancied on the base. First you took the glowering as a way of silently saying he wasn’t comfortable telling the truth in front of you.

But now, a week later, the professional and at best comrade demeanor he had in your vicinity was gone. Changed, twisted cruelly, into an unsettling and harrowing one that gave you shudders down your spine every time his eyes scanned your body. With what emotion those brown eyes held you couldn’t figure out. They only revealed an insane amount of intensity of some kind.

Did he want to bed you or kill you, you really couldn’t tell. And it ate you up, festered in the back of your head no matter what you did. It was all you could think about.

His staring made you feel like a carcass awaiting to be feasted upon by a vulture.

And he’d always stared before, at everyone. Like a guard dog waiting to leap if you made a wrong move. Somehow that never made you uneasy nor scared. Truth be told it was comforting in a weird way.

But now. Now, you would do the most heinous thing if anyone asked you, just to have him look away from you.

Brown eyes with the depth of the mariana trench that followed your every move. Eyes that had seen the bottom of hell and come back with the scars to tell.

You lied on top of your cover, warm and sweaty with unease. He kept you up at night and he wasn’t even in the same building as you. Yet, you could feel his eyes lingering in the back of your head. Waiting to dig his teeth into your neck and viciously rip the tender skin.

And perhaps the worst thing was, that you didn’t know whether you liked his attention or feared it.

A wavering sigh left you, drops of sweat making its way down your face making iridescent lines along your round cheeks.

Harshly wiping them away with shaking hands, you sat up in your bed, carful to not make any unnecessary noise to wake the rest of the sleeping soldiers in the women’s barracks.

Losing fluid from sweating so much made you parched and desperate for a glass of soothing cold water.

Lucky for you, the bathroom in the women’s barracks had its pipes burst a few days ago, leaving the nearest working water tap in the small communal kitchen in the building next to you.

Shoulders sagged and head hanging low in defeat, you swung your bare feet down onto the linoleum floor. The material felt almost sticky when your clammy feet met it. Disgusted, you quickly put on slippers and rose from the bed.

Gentle snores filled the air, and you did your utmost to tiptoe silently as to not wake your teammates. Last thing you needed was an angry soldier cussing you out for waking them in the middle of the night.

By the door hung jackets, easily accessed in case of emergency or in your case, extreme thirst. You grabbed your baggy jacket, wanting to cover up since the pyjama shirt you wore was a bit see through. Which wasn’t a problem sleeping in, but in the unfortunate chance you might walk into say, your superiors, you’d prefer to not expose the outlines of your nipples. A tad unprofessional to do.

The phosphorescent green numbers on the wall clock told you it was past three am. Technically, no one should be awake now, at least not in these buildings that only contain the living areas such as the separate women’s and men’s barracks, bathrooms, and your current target; the kitchen. Located in the communal building, connected to the women’s barracks with an enclosed catwalk.

A swift in and out, should take you about 5 minutes to get there, fill up a glass, and get back to your sweat filled bed. A mission you’ve done countless times before, all successes.

They dim the overhead lights during the nights, giving you only enough light so see where you’re walking and what objects lay near. The shadows where the lights don’t reach, creeps you out. Not being able to tell what may hide in them accelerates your speed into a brisk march.

The open archway to the small kitchen reveals pitch black darkness. Which means no one’s in there and you’ll get the place to yourself, thankfully.

Blindly reaching for the light switch, hand wandering up and down the wall you find the switch and turn on the lights. Bright, almost blinding lights since your eyes have adapted to the darkness, flickers on and envelops the prosaic kitchen in a white light.

When the familiar static clicking of the lights turning on had ended, you shuffled over to the cupboard holding the glassware and cups. Right above the metal sink containing a poor yellow sponge that’s seen better days.

The hinges creaked as you opened the cupboard, leaning forward and grabbing a the tallest glass you could find.

The silence in the kitchen and the hallway from the open archway disappeared when you turned on the tap and a calming sound of running water took its place. Waiting the agonizingly long time it takes for the water to turn cold, you got lost in your own head. Remembering the reason for why you’re in the kitchen in the first place. To quench your thirst and, frankly, to distract yourself from the thoughts that keep you up at night.

Lieutenant Simon Riley, also known as Ghost, who’s put a evil seed in your mind, growing and taking over all your thoughts, invading your brain with musings and haunting visions of him. Deliberately or not, you really can’t tell. How do you know if someone’s fucking with you, without outright asking them. Yeah, no. Questioning him will only happen when pigs start to fly. No way you’re even willingly going to be the first to start a conversation with him.

The scarce words you and the lieutenant have passed has only ever contained serious topics related to work. There’s a possibility you might have wished him a good day or merry Christmas before and received a short nod. But that’s it. So why did he give you that damn look after that silly question last week. And why have it severely messed you up and turned you into an unstable piece of dynamite that’s about to blow from inner turmoil any second now.

Your forehead dramatically slams onto the cupboards door with a thud as you slump forward with tiresome dread. Clenching your eyes firmly shut in hopes that the lieutenant will leave your frazzled mind and that your simple life will go back to the way it was. A good soldier with steady and stable mind and no meddlesome apparitions of said lieutenant. Regularly seeing him in the corner of your eye, feeling the hair on your arms rise but turning and finding no one standing there.

You hadn’t noticed that the water had since long ago turned cold. And you definitely hadn’t noticed the person standing in the kitchens archway.

[matan4il]

What's your evidence that Joost Klein harassed Eden at ESC? I've only seen evidence of Joost being harassed by Israeli delegation. And he was an assholeish idiot at the press conference but he wasn't the worst. And can people pleaaase stop spreading the smear campaign the EBU put out about him. He made a rude gesture, that's it.

Hi,

I'm gonna admit that if you saw the Dutch performer's behavior at the press conference, IDK how that doesn't constitute harassment? I mean, the part where he didn't like that the ESC organizers made him sit next to the Israeli singer, and he didn't want to be in the same frame with her, so he covered himself with the Dutch flag wasn't just being an asshole, he was publicly humiliating her, transmitting to everyone what a pariah she is, not based on anything she's said and done, but simply based on her nationality (and this little stunt was obviously going to attract attention, meaning he minded being photographed next to her, but he didn't mind being photographed covered up with the flag like that in the same frame with her, making it clear this wasn't him wanting to avoid political stuff).

In my book, that's bad enough, but then he added insult to injury. Eden was asked a disgusting question by a Polish journalist. He wanted to know whether she considered that she would be putting everyone else at ESC at risk (victim blaming much? Eden was the target of a violent mob besieging her hotel room, and turning her participation into an event requiring security. She didn't ask them to do this, she didn't force them to, she's a 20 year old girl, who has dreamt of representing her country at ESC for years, and when she finally gets to, she's being asked to carry the blame for the violence aimed at her due to her nationality... Imagine asking Ariana Grande after her Manchester Arena performance if she took into account that she was risking the lives of all of her fans, because an Islamist decided to use her event for a terrorist bombing that killed 22 young people, and would she never perform again, now that she was aware of the risk? No, that didn't happen, because it's a disgusting, victim blaming, terrorism-rewarding question). The panel host rightfully grasped that this was a political and harassing question, and told her she didn't have to answer it. Joost Klein then shouting at that, "Why not?" was harassment. He was piling up on the victim blaming, on top of showing zero empathy for a fellow performer targeted for her nationality, in a way he never would have agreed to be himself.

(I think that's last assessment is obvious since we now know he thought, even for a split second, that it was okay to threaten with fists a female camerawoman working for ESC, doing her job, filming the performers when they got off stage after their performances. This was done to the other performers as well, IDK what made Klein think his consent was needed in that moment, since to me it seems implied by agree to represent the Netherlands at ESC, but even if he had the right to refused being filmed, I have no idea what made him believe it was okay to use violent threats against an ESC employee).

I'd like to ask you where did you see "evidence" that Klein was harassed by the Israeli delegation? As far as I'm aware, there was only one vid trying to make that claim, and what was seen in that one, was an Israeli journalist (so, not a part of the performing team), working as a European correspondent (he also covered the war in Ukraine, to give you an idea of what that job entails, so he's a "respectable" journalist, not just a guy with a mic interviewing people for his ESC blog), called Dov Gil-Har (as far as I know, he's aligned with the left politically, so not exactly someone likely to be harassing people out of nationalistic sentiments), who was trying to ask Klein questions. Which... the last time I checked is his duty as a journalist. And Klein refused to answer Gil-Har's questions, which is his prerogative (though I do think it was pretty disgusting when some performers, like the Norwegian ones, refused to give interviews to any Israeli media outlets. Since it's based on nationality, it's once again hateful IMO), but then the Dutch team's manager (or whatever he was) really got in Gil-Har's face, and more than that, because I clearly heard Dov saying, "Don't touch me." Keep in mind, this was after Klein's shameful behavior at the press conference, and also after he missed a rehearsal that day, there were rumors circling around it somehow had something to do with Israel, so it is honestly the most natural thing for Gil-Har as a journalist, that he wanted to ask the Dutch team some questions. That should not have ended with him having to say, "Don't touch me," but to further misconstrue this as him harassing the Dutch team...!? WHAT?

It feels like another instance of DARVO, where the attacker/harasser/abuser shifts the fire away by reversing who was doing the harassment and who was being harassed. Everything we saw on camera was harassment of the Israelis, including even the media, while I've not seen one documentation on film of the Israelis harassing others. Plus, I heard the claim that the Israeli team was harassing everyone, yet we know that some performers didn't feel, act or express themselves that way.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[soaps-mohawk]

heyy, i saw you responding to another ask and it briefly mentioned reader running away. that’s be lowkey highkey so funny. like it’d make my heart hurt with all the panic and distress everyone would go through with reader being gone, especially since ghost just confessed about him actually deeply afraid of losing reader. but also that little vengeful part of me wants to see ghost suffer for how he treated us, knowing he was probably the reason we left. or even if he wasn’t and it was something to do with readers lore, when (or maybe if) reader came back the protectiveness , comfort-and having to rebuild that trust with the pack. gorgeous.(know this prob wouldn’t happen and would be way too dramatic but i’m a drama queen what can i say <3)

but anyways take a good rest! and thank you for blessing us with your writing. (price is daddy and so r u)

live laugh love you💕

(yk who it is ;) )

Hello lovely live laugh love anon!!!

No, but here's the thing about this.

You would not get very far.

These men hunt people for a living. People actively trying to avoid being found. Hard to find targets? Never heard of 'em. And they have resources. You disappear? Price is on the phone with Laswell and she's got eyes on you before you even hit the next town over. They will follow you and find you, even if you don't know they're there until they're literally standing in front of you.

You would not get very far.

Of course there would be the emotions and they'd be pissed, but also upset because you just up and left, but here's the thing. Whether they bring you back or if somehow you've managed to avoid them, when you come back? You're never leaving their sight again. The door locks from the outside now. Personal space? Never heard of her. Time alone? Ha. That's cute. I wouldn't put it past Price to handcuff you to one of them at all times to make sure you don't escape again. The guards at the front gate know you and they will detain you if you even get close to them. All of the soldiers on base know if they see you alone? Detain until one of TF141 can get to you.

They would not let you out of their sight again.

Anyway, while that would be heartbreaking and add so much angst, it's just not something reader would do. Even if things got really bad, that's just not something the reader would even think of. Reader is bound by a sense of ingrained duty to their new pack and there's no getting out of that. They're stuck there and even if reader did want to leave, that's incredibly dangerous. We've seen how close others have gotten with the boys there. Imagine if reader was just out in the world alone.

You'll understand too as the fic goes on why the reader running would not work , as more and more gets revealed about things. But yeah, that's kind of the answer on that one. Reader wouldn't run, and even if they did...you're running from specially trained soldiers that hunt hard to find targets as their day job.

Live laugh love you too wonderful anon!! 💚

[mollymauk-teafleak]

I wouldn't fall for someone I thought couldn't misbehave

I actually wrote a fic, go figure! Huge thanks to @minky-for-short for getting me into Hazbin and @hangsters for the support and love! I got a lot more where this came from <3

Please reblog and comment over on Ao3!

----

They've been told to live tonight however they want. And with tomorrow's Extermination looming and the Hazbin Hotel right in the middle of the target, there's only one thing Angel Dust wants to do.

And that's the bartender.

---

You didn’t wind up in hell without knowing fear. Whether you got there by painting it on other people or seeing it in your reflection or both, it didn’t matter, to everyone down below, fear was like an old friend. 

And to Angel Dust, fear was like a toxic hook up whose calls he couldn’t make himself ignore after years of dissatisfying back alley orgasms. 

All to say, he knew the taste of it, sharp like battery acid and sour like cheap, soapy lube. He knew how it sounded, laughter stretched so thin you could see through it, the whir of a camera lens pulling close to try and see where you were breaking. He knew how it smelled, sweat and latex and dry ice. He knew how it felt, cheap faux fur and overwarm, foreign skin. 

Angel had been sucking fear’s dick for longer than he cared to remember. But what surprised him was that he didn’t see it here. 

They should be scared. They should all be pissing themselves in terror. In who knew how many hours, the worst Extermination they’d known would descend, with their home and everyone in it smack bang in the center of the target. And Heaven wasn’t in the habit of missing their shot. 

But when Angel knocked back another shot of top shelf whiskey, he didn’t taste fear in it. The laughter that surrounded him was real, all he could feel was a warmth that he wasn’t sure came from the drink. 

Maybe this was what fear felt like when you didn’t face it alone. 

“You’re staring.”

Angel didn’t have much of a defense, especially when he hadn’t even realized that Vaggie had moved onto the barstool next to him and jumped a mile when she started speaking, nearly spilling his next shot. Because he was busy staring. 

So he took evasive action instead, trying to piece his cool back together, “Ain’t you got a girlfriend waiting on you upstairs? What are you still doing down here?”

“Finishing my drink,” she gave him a cool, bemused look, proving her point by draining the rest of her glass, “I don’t think any of us are in a position to be wasting alcohol tonight. Or time.”

“Thanks for the riddle, toots,” Angel rolled his eyes, taking the shot before someone else could come along and nearly make him spill it. 

“Want me to say it plainly then?” Vaggie arched an eyebrow. 

Angel scowled but he wasn’t mad at Vaggie, not really. He was more pissed at himself for not hiding it better. The five time winner of the Golden Tongue Award (for best performance in a pornographic visual production) should probably have been able to school his face. 

He let his eyes wander across the bar, if there was no point in hiding it anymore. Husk was tossing a cocktail shaker from one hand to the other before sending it up behind his back, bouncing it between his wings, making it disappear and reappear before pouring out an electric blue liquid into Nifty’s waiting glass, to her immense delight. He bowed to the slight but enthusiastic applause, showing Angel a glimpse of the showman he’d been once upon a time. 

It wasn’t just that he was handsome. It wasn’t just that he was Angel’s exact type and then some, that gravelly voice, the snark, the emotional unavailability, the tortured past that muzzled him, his boxes were well and truly ticked. If it was just that, Angel would have torn his clothes off, rode him on that bar and moved on with his afterlife. 

But Husk had pushed back. He’d growled and snapped and thrown up more walls until Angel started to see getting the cat’s trousers off as a professional challenge. Robbed of his only way to safely interact with people, to feel like he was in control, Angel had fallen apart in front of him on one of the worst days he’d had in a while.

And all Husk had done was put him back together again. 

So it wasn’t just that he was hot, there was a hell of a lot more to it than that. And there was the fear again, souring the booze on his tongue. 

“I ain’t a fan of straight talking,” Angel grunted, hunching his shoulders and spinning the now empty glass on the edge of his finger. 

“Figured,” Vaggie sighed in a way that might almost suggest she actually cared, hopping down off the barstool. 

She looked ready to disappear up the stairs but something made her pause, maybe the weight of their borrowed time, maybe something dangerously close to sentiment. But she did stop, reaching out and putting a hand on Angel’s shoulder. 

“All I’m gonna say…I’ve been told the only way to survive this is to fight for love. Find someone you can’t live without and go out there with one goal. Protecting them.” 

Like a magnet, those words drew his eyes over to Husk again. And this time, he looked back, feeling his gaze. Those narrow yellow eyes, glowing like bulbs on a marquee or LEDs tempting a sucker to a slot machine, crinkled a little at the edges, shooting the spider demon a wink. 

Angel groaned inwardly at himself. He was doomed and Heaven didn’t have anything to do with it. 

“Someone like me don’t even know what love is,” Angel murmured, more to himself than to Vaggie, “Might as well be speaking a different language, sugar.”

But he heard him anyway, those damn sharp ears of hers, “Then what better time to make a change?”

Before he could shield himself with sarcasm, she was gone, off up the stairs to someone who loved her. To another heartbeat against her own, arms around her, a silent promise that she was cared about, no matter what the nightmares said. Angel felt a pang in his chest, somehow finding the poor sense to want something he’d never had. 

“Another drink?” 

Angel dredged up a crooked grin, “Sure! Put it on my tab, I’ll come settle up with you tomorrow night.”

“Very funny,” Husk poured him a couple more shots to keep him going, though he was now without other customers. 

Charlie and Vaggie had gone upstairs, Cherri had dragged Sir Pentious over to the pool table where she’d definitely crush him, Nifty was curled up in an unnervingly cat like way, sleeping on the bar and making Angel wonder if there hadn’t been a sedative jn that drink Husk made her. Alastor was who knew where, Angel only cared that Husk relaxed a lot more when he wasn’t around. 

This was the best chance he was going to get.

Let’s get to living. His own words from earlier that night tried to move his mouth, tried to force him forward, tried to stop him being such a damned fucking coward and just say something…

“Actually…I think I’ll turn in,” he seized the rest of the shots in various hands and sank them one by one, trying to wash away the bitterness, “My aim gets real shitty if I don’t get my beauty sleep. And if I’m gonna die tomorrow, like hell am I going down with bags under my eyes. Did it once, never again.”

If he was the kind to hope, Angel Dust might have tried to convince himself he saw disappointment in those slitted eyes. 

But Husk only gave a rolling shrug, collecting up the abandoned glasses, draining them of their last clinging dregs of amber liquid, “Funny, my luck seems to get better when I’m hungover. Sweet dreams, kid.”

Angel Dust chuckled, putting a little swing in his hips, shooting a smile over his shoulder, “Ain’t no other kind with me, baby.”

One last lie for the road. 

At least he didn’t sleep at all, choosing the cloudy headed middle ground of lying back on his bed, staring at the ceiling and prodding listlessly at the ache in his chest. It was like when his tooth had been knocked out, unable to keep his tongue out of the tender, empty gap, no matter how much it made him wince. Fat Nuggets did the sleeping for both of them, snoring on Angel’s chest, every gravelly honk ruffling the feathers pink robe that always made Angel feel like he could hold it together for a few more minutes than he would without it. 

He was angry at himself but that was nothing new, only the reason was old. It had been a fucking long time since he’d promised himself he was done hiding, done paring himself down because someone else wouldn’t like the taste. Lying here, feeling sorry for himself because he was too chickenshit to ask a guy to fuck him, he may as well have been back in 1940, worrying himself sick that his dad would be able to see his secret written on his face. 

Well, Angel Dust wasn’t Anthony anymore. And Angel Dust was losing his goddamn patience. The worst had happened and then some, he’d lost his family, he’d lost his home, he’d lost his life but the one thing he didn’t have to do was hide anymore. Husk was down there, he’d say no or he’d say yes, either way was better than being too damn afraid to know. 

And if he felt more about it, well that was his problem to deal with. It wasn’t like he was going to live much longer anyway. 

Fat Nuggets squawked a little as Angel Dust sat up, displaced from his comfy position. 

“Sorry, sweetie,” Angel kissed the top of his head, trying to make up for it by tucking him nicely in his own little bed, “Daddy’s got some living to do. Last minute and all but you know me.”

A quick check of his hair in the mirror, a quick fluff of the fur on his chest, like he was going down to meet some doll by his car and get swept off the the dance hall rather than going to proposition his surly friend for a quick and dirty end-of-their-afterlife fuck. But there was no harm in looking his best while he did it. 

His reflection in this mirror looked a hell of a lot different than the one in his studio dressing room. There were half a hundred tiny little flaws that would have earned him a sharp, cutting comment from Valentino and maybe worse, depending on the moth’s mood. But Angel Dust didn’t think Husk would care, in fact, he seemed to get further with the guy when he went in the opposite direction to what work demanded of him. So he left them, as much as a disconnected, confused anxiety itched at him, one that hadn’t realized they weren’t at the studio. 

He took a deep breath, holding his own gaze tight, “You’re a pro at this, ain’t nothing you haven’t seen before. You know the steps, boyo, curtain’s up.”

Angel went to the door of his room, feeling buoyed, feeling confident. Until, of course, he ran into something he hadn’t seen before. 

At least it was soft. Though it cursed like a sailor. 

“What the fuck?” Angel yelped, feathers suddenly thumping against his face. 

“Will you keep your goddamn voice down, you’ll wake half the fucking hotel-”

“Husk?” Angel stepped back, blinking in confusion, “Were you…were you outside my door?”

The other demon’s irritation collapsed, fizzing away like an alka-seltzer to reveal the bitch of a hangover underneath. Expressions he’d never seen on that feline face tried unsuccessfully to hide, embarrassment and coyness and a blush barely visible under dark fur. 

“Look, I…can I come in? Please?” he tacked the politeness on the end like he almost forgot it while running out the door. 

“Uh…sure, hon?” Angel Dust stepped to one side, suddenly wishing he’d tidied up a little at any point since he first moved in. Or that the dildos tossed about where a more impressive size. 

Husk didn’t seem to relax a little until the door was closed, until they were definitely alone. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, an old antique in amongst a lot of plastic and rubber, while Angel leaned against the door and wondered how he’d lost control of this so fast. 

Eventually Husk sighed, tail twitching and betraying his nervousness, “Look. Feel free to tell me to take a hike here, fuck knows you’d have the right. But…I kept thinking about what Charlie said. About spending this night living how we wanted or whatever. And I…I can’t think of anything else I wanted to do but…”

Angel Dust knew he was grinning like an idiot but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t every day you got a royal flush laid out in front of you. 

“What? What is it you wanna do, Whiskers?” he tilted his head, faux innocence sparkling in his voice as he batted his eyelashes, “Anything I can help you with?”

Husk’s fur bristled and he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Fuck, I knew you’d be like this, goddamnit-”

Panic gripped him, a terrifyingly certain realization that if Husk left now, if he drove him away, he wouldn’t be able to stand it, “Wait. Sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t mean to fuck with you.”

The apology clearly caught the cat demon off guard, eyebrows rising. A small smile pulled at the edges of his mouth, “Well…guess that was the aim of my coming here…”

The grin came back, feeling more honest this time, more firmly in place. Angel stepped forward, offering one of his hands out to Husk, “Good…cos I was just on my way to ask you the same thing.”

He’d heard Husk bitch about his demon form a lot and in that moment, he could see why. Those ears and that tail were tells you could spot from a hundred miles. And right now they were telling Angel he was damn pleased. 

Husk’s fingers- claws? -were calloused, whether from cards or chips or the keys of the sax he’d apparently played once upon a time. But they held Angel’s in a grip he could be certain of, one he knew instantly wouldn’t let go. 

Angel had jumped on odds far worse than that. 

They toppled onto the bed, swallowed by fur and silk. It took some maneuvering, making their strange forms fit but once they found it, it was fucking sweet. Suddenly there was a solid heat between his legs, something to grind into, fireworks exploding behind his eyes when he did. There was a smoky growl in his ear, a heady smell of whiskey and, fuck, Angel could have gotten drunk just off that. His hands moved of their own accord, two anchoring him to the headboard, the other two taking handfuls of soft, impossibly soft fur. 

“Easy…” Husk rumbled when he pulled a little too hard. 

“Sorry,” Angel Dust purred, splaying his legs wide, rolling his hips harder against Husk’s, “Just feels so good.” 

Instead his hands wandered, finding where fur gave way to feather along that strong, broad back. The moment his fingers brushed there, that unfamiliar muscle, Husk jerked and moaned, the hardness in his trousers throbbing. 

“Oh? Kitty liked that, huh?” Angel tittered, pressing one thumb into a hollow at the base of his wing, earning another strangled yowl. 

“I swear to fuck, if you make me come in my pants like a goddamn teenager, I- fuck, baby, I’m sensitive there- ah…” 

“I’d consider it a compliment, honey, don’t you worry,” Angel cooed, shivering happily at the way Husk’s chest vibrated when he touched him, like he was an instrument he could play. 

“Call me old fashioned…”

Suddenly they were rolling, Angel Dust’s stomach dropping dizzily for a moment until he found himself straddling Husk, who was smirking up at him. 

“But when I’m from?” he finished, voice sounding like everything amber and musk and honey in the world, “If you’re taking a fine man to bed, you let him take his pleasure first. It’s good manners, see? So how about you tell me what you want, Angel?”

Angel Dust was left with the sudden anxiety of having forgotten his next line in the script. Or worse, he’d never even fucking read it in the first place. The answer, perched miserably on the tip of his tongue was that he didn’t know. 

He’d gotten too used to sex where the only thing that mattered was getting a good review, any pleasure he got was a secondary concern. He’d taught himself to like whatever his partner was willing to give, even when it called him a whore, even when it was too much, even when it hurt. The real pleasure had been the packet of powder or handful of pills that came after or before, not the sex itself. 

His confusion must have shown on his face because Husk’s voice gentled, a paw coming up to lightly cup his face, “You want my mouth or my hands, baby?”

Angel Dust pushed his instincts away, “Mouth. I want you to tell me how I taste.”

Rolling again but this time, he enjoyed the free fall. Now Husk was between his legs, drawing down the sweatpants he wore to bed, just enough that he could free Angel’s dick. Angel kicked them the rest of the way off, letting Husk see all of him, legs falling open. 

“Fuck…” his voice was melodic, hypnotic and hypnotized, “You look fucking gorgeous, baby…”

“And it’s all yours,” Angel panted raggedly, wrapping his long legs around Husk’s shoulders. For however long we’ve got left. 

Husk’s purr sounded more like a car engine on its last legs, a rough and slightly threatening sound, but as he nosed and nuzzled at the base of Angel’s cock, it ran through his body like the best warm whiskey. In the dim light of his room, Angel could swear those spots on his wings were glowing, along with his eyes, which were fixed on Angel’s face like he was getting as much pleasure from watching him as he was from licking a broad stripe across his length. 

Angel hissed, back arching up like his whole body was drawn towards that sensation, “Fuck, watch that sandpaper tongue…”

“Sorry. I’m kinda rough all over, baby,” he didn’t sound particularly sorry, flashing him a grin but he did ease up, hands taking hold of Angel’s thighs, keeping him spread wide so he could bury his face against him. 

In the studio, Angel Dust had marks to hit, lines to gasp out, a camera to play up to. With Valentino, he had to make the right noises, he needed to sound scared, he needed to beg. But here, with Husk, out of reach of a script or a contract, he let moans and gasps pour heedlessly from his lips, he moved his body however it felt good. He was loud, loud enough to blow out a mic, he cursed and babbled things that didn’t make sense, he just felt . 

Eventually the fur around Husk’s mouth was soaked, his jaw slack. He was good at this, unfairly good, lips and teeth and tongue all as skilled as you’d expect from someone who’d made a living by them. But now Angel Dust was the sole focus of their attention and he was drawn tight as a bow, ready to snap. 

“Come for me, baby,” Husk’s rasp was almost animalistic now, “Let me hear you fucking sing.”

Angel Dust was more than happy to give him exactly what he asked for, giving a broken, soaring cry as his orgasm crashed over him, sinking him down into such an overwhelming sensation that he soon lost sight of the surface. Panic threatened but then a voice echoed to him. 

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes…” his own voice didn’t feel attached to his body so it was free to answer truthfully.

It was those lips that brought him back, a mouth that tasted of salt and opened to warmth, arms coming to circle him and anchor him down. Angel moaned, not able to care that his voice cracked unflatteringly as he did. 

“Baby…”

“I got you, Angel, you did good, you tasted fucking incredible…” Husk’s wings settled over them, shielding him from the pink glow of his room. 

He didn’t know how to tell him that the praise threatened to break him all over again, so Angel took charge this time, needing all four of his limbs to press the stronger demon into the mattress. 

He licked the taste of his own come off Husk’s fangs and drew back just enough to gasp out, “You’re gonna fuck me so hard and so deep that if I go down tomorrow, I’m going down with your spunk inside me.”

“Of course that’s your fucking last wish,” Husk’s laugh was a gorgeous thing, a rough bark that made Angel think of smoky jazz lounges from another time. 

He couldn’t help but smile, even if it was mostly bemusement, he wasn’t used to laughing during sex. It did feel pretty fucking good, he had to admit, having a genuine grin on his face as he pulled open Husk’s trousers. Though it quickly fell into awe at what jumped out and damn near smacked him in the teeth.

“Holy fuck!” Angel grinned in delight, one arm having good sense and stretching out to snag the bottle of lube in his bedside table, “Is that an overlord thing? They took the power but they let you keep the massive cock?”

“Shut up,” Husk rolled his eyes, where they snagged on the two hands now soaking their fingers and reaching around to his ass, “Mm…you’re so beautiful, you know that?”

“Heard a couple of people mention it,” Angel grinned down at him, shivering pleasantly as his hands got to work. 

Husk’s eyes burned in the dim light, “Yeah. But do you know it?”

Angel Dust faltered, eyelids half closed. Another question whose answer flitted on his tongue but he didn’t want to let it go. 

And again, he didn’t have to. Husk pulled him down, bending him near in half to kiss him. Unable to wait a moment more, his slicked hands grasped at Husk’s cock, drawing a hiss out of him that he gratefully swallowed. Angel sighed through the stretch and burn, sitting back and slowly, achingly slowly, every inch of Husk disappeared into him. 

Angel was used to pleasures that dissolved quickly on his tongue and in his nose, leaving cold, bitter metal behind. This was something entirely new, something that felt like it was etching itself on every cell in his body, redefining words he thought he’d known inside and out. Pleasure. Sex. Need. 

“Husk…” his voice was a tremulous, faint thing, like he was afraid to be heard. 

“Oh, I knew you’d be like nothing else, baby…” the other demon groaned, thrusting up into him after a moment to let him settle. 

There was no awkward shuffling now, they moved like a dance, like they could hear some music that didn’t exist outside of their bloodstreams. Husk’s hips rolled, Angel arched, two arms thrown up over his head, two others raking down his lover’s chest, leaving deep grooves in his fur. Before, his mouth had been occupied but now Husk sounded like- what else? -a cat in heat, yowling and gasping.

“That’s it, baby, take it, fucking take it, you feel so fucking good, Angel,” he moaned it like a title rather than just a name, like he’d done anything to deserve it. 

“Aw fuck…” Angel Dust felt like he was going to shake apart, there wasn’t room inside him for all of this, he didn’t know where to put it all. 

But he did know that he was about to come, hard. It was unstoppable, undeniable, and if he was half the pornstar he thought he was, Husk was on his heels. It was in the way his voice had shifted up a few notes, the way his grip on Angel’s hips had grown desperate, the break in the otherwise metronome perfect rhythm of his thrusts. 

And that terrified Angel. All the fear he’d expected to find down in the bar, it thickened the air in his lungs like he’d taken an inhale from a real bad batch. Fuck, please, it can’t be over already. 

But this was a fall that had to end. Husk’s hips shifted, heating that sweet spot inside him dead on and he was lost, every muscle tensing as he surrendered to his release. It was sweet and the low roar of his own name, the heat flooding so deep inside him he could damn near taste it, that was sweeter. This time when he broke, he willed himself to stay in those depths, stay in pieces, there was nothing for him on the surface. 

But there was that voice again. 

“Angel…fuck, that was…that was amazing, I…Angel?”

His muscles must have switched off at some point but Husk had caught him, he was sprawled out across the other demon’s chest, their bodies still joined somewhere within the lovely, thrumming haze where the rest of him used to be. But his eyes prickled, heat running down his cheek, dripping onto Husk’s fur where oh fuck no, he’d felt it…

Angel flinched back from the sting of his own tears, bringing an arm up to try and hide, like there was even any point. He rolled off Husk, hunching down as small as he’d go, shoulders trembling. 

“It’s nothing, I…” What are you doing, idiot? “...don’t worry about it, it’ll stop…” Dumb fucking slut, you’re ruining it! “...just give me a second to put myself together…” Like you have any right, get a grip “I’m sorry.”

“Angel.”

He listened miserably, waiting for the creak as the bed lifted without his wait, waiting for the sound of soft paws on the floor and the click of the door closing behind him. But it never came. 

“Angel, can I touch you? That alright, baby?”

He managed to nod, surprise mostly shocking his muscles into moving. There was a shift, a whisper of silk and then soft fur as strong arms wrapped around his middle, embracing him with a deliberate light touch that would let Angel pull away at any point. Another heartbeat, slowing as the adrenaline ebbed away, drummed against his back like a knock at the door. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Husk murmured against the fur between Angel’s shoulder blades. 

“Nah,” Angel croaked, inhaling deeply, finding that warm whiskey smell again and relaxing, “We ain’t got the time.”

“Fair enough,” he accepted it easily, much to Angel’s relief, “Just get some sleep, okay? I’m gonna stay right here.” 

 He couldn’t help it, however much it made him feel like a child, “Promise?”

“Of course I promise, Angel,” there was an edge of sadness to his voice, more than the usual, not at having to say it again but at the fact that he needed to ask, “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me. However long we got left.”

Angel smiled grimly. The second wasn’t fucking long enough to allow him the first. Just his luck to find exactly what he’d been looking for in the last few hours he had to live. 

But he would take what he’d been given. Angel always had. 

He turned, burying his face in Husk’s chest, feeling his rough but pleased chuckle, “Best roll of the dice I think I ever made, coming to your door…”

Angel Dust allowed himself a moment to smile at that. To feel wanted. To feel precious. Whatever happened tomorrow, he’d remember this feeling. 

Whatever happened tomorrow, he wouldn’t face it alone. 

[scatorcciosrhee]

EPISODE 8 THOUGHTS !

To start, I am so proud of Natalie. Watching her arc this season has been so incredibly difficult, especially knowing her fate and that things truly never get better for her. For Natalie, she will do anything to protect the people she cares about. With this possible chance at getting herself and teammates home, you see this other side of her unlock. She never wanted to be a leader. Throughout the entirety of season 3 so far you can see mostly everyone doubting her, including herself. This gave Shauna that upper hand, leading to Nat's dethroning. What she didn't realize is how incredible of a leader she was. She got everyone through winter, she kept peace, she built a community, she taught Gen to hunt, she catered to everyones needs. She kept them all sane. That was until Shauna started defying her, turning mostly everyone against her, because she knew they were scared of her. With that being said, all of this anger, guilt, shame has built up inside of Nat. She doesn't let anything out. She keeps everything close to her chest. She's hurt, vulnerable, and again, so fucking angry. She's ashamed. With the arrival of Hannah and Kodiak (and very shortly lived Edwin), you see this shift in her begin to bloom. A glimmer of hope. A chance at rescue, at getting these people home. Suddenly, her protective and primal instincts lock back in, and she has that purpose again. We see it in episode 7. Though Shauna has ultimately been deemed leader, everyone is following Nat's lead. They may be scared of Shauna, but Natalie is who they will always look up to, whether they admit it to themselves or not. Now, in episode 8, we see Nat FINALLY standing her ground. This is the start of that pivotal moment Sophie keeps mentioning. She's clapping back at Shauna, she's determined to go home, she's taking control, and Shauna doesn't like this. I am so eager to see the rest of the buildup to the moment that makes Natalie snap. So fucking proud.

Next, Melissa and her corny ass hat. I'm not really feeling this reveal, as Lottie is dead and I was really hoping Mari or Akilah would be the eighth survivor, but we knew that wasn't going to be the case from episode 2 (though I still have a hunch that there is more than 8 survivors depending on if the factions theory does happen). However, I think this was a really important moment for Shauna. We know Shauna is notorious for her paranoia. She constantly jumps to conclusions, assumes everyone is targeting her, and is very, VERY impulsive. So hearing these things from Melissa, Shauna refuses to believe that she could very much just be living in this perpetual state of paranoia, and she hates this possibility. She constantly called Lottie crazy, yet really...who's to say she isn't worse. Melanie does such a wonderful job of portraying this unsettling, animalistic quality to Shauna.

Honorable mention is Jeff's crash out. Somebody get this man some rash cream and a blunt. He is going THROUGHHHH IT. Also... Callie seems a little too guilty for my liking. I don't know, just between the questions she's been asking, her reactions to things, and her conversations with Jeff (who I also feel is a little guilty, but then again I can never tell with him) something just feels fishy. I'm on the fence with believing one of them had something to do with Lottie's death. What do I know though, I'm just considering all angles. Moral of the story is, I feel as though one of them did SOMETHING, whether that has to do with Lottie or not.

I truly feel so bad for Tai. She's trapped in her own body while the love of her life is dying and she can't control anything she does. That's so miserable. I have a tiny bit of hope that Van will be okay, but in the case that she isn't, If our Tai doesn't get any time with her, or a chance to say goodbye, I am going to be DISTRAUGHT.

I just feel so sad for Lottie. Say what you will about her but she is valid for not wanting to go home. That's not home to her. She's never had control over herself or her life. Her father is a piece of shit who sends her for shock therapy as soon as she's back, not to mention Switzerland, so yeah cannot really blame her there. She's scared. She's a scared child who has been unmedicated for nearly 2 years with a group of equally scared teenagers looking up to her like a prophet. She killed Edwin because she felt he was a threat to her family, she doesn't want to leave the wilderness because this is the most control she has ever had to be herself.

The lottienat of it all. Nat desperately trying to get Lottie to come with her and then getting angry. The look on Lottie's face when Nat told her to stay. THIS FOOD IS SOOO GOOD.

If my theory is correct I think this is the start of the divide in the group/ the two factions. Shauna using her new title as leverage over the group to not go home, but some defying and following Nat. Nat's group maybe getting rescued first, sending people back for Shauna's group. This also has me going back and forth on whether or not I think pit girl scene is all of our remaining survivors, or just Shauna's group (which we know will consist of Taissa, Lottie and Misty so far). Sophie saying she wrapped earlier than some just has me thinking about it. Or, you know, Shauna kills Kodiak and keeps Hannah hostage (pit girl) taking Nat's chance of getting them home away. Nat still decides to set out with a group and eventually a team comes looking for the scientists, ultimately leading her to finding them rescue anyway. Idk, much to think about lol.

THE ENDING??? HELLO??? I always wondered if they would tie cannibalism into the adult timeline, so maybe this is it. Maybe that's the big mystery of what Shauna did when they got back. She is completely immersed in the wilderness. She loves it, She thrives off of the freedom and violence, so I wouldn't be surprised if she carried that lifestyle back with her. Melanie Lynskey the woman that you are.

okay okay yapping done, weekly screencaps will be up later as always <3

[cantwritethetword]

A Good Distraction

Fic Descript: After what felt like a particularly poor performance training with your brothers, you're feeling pretty shitty. Luckily, your brothers know how to calm you down and get you back to your usual upbeat self.

~A/N  - Sorry this took a while ^^

Got a request for a spn fic:

(also I checked with them and they're ok for a gender neutral reader)

I know feelings on 'cheer-up tickles' often vary, but I feel like I've got a pretty solid way to make them work so that everyone can enjoy it

Hope it's what you were looking for ^^

- Enoy! ~

Tag List: @fullsongphilosopher

Masterpost Link 

For the most part, you absolutely lived for hunting with your brothers. It was your world, and you loved every moment of it.

But sometimes, that little voice of doubt would creep into your head and question whether you were really good enough to stand next to them.

This was one of those moments.

You were making your way down the halls of the bunker, having just finished a training session - covering the whole range of strength, cardio, accuracy, and combat - and for some reason you felt completely off today.

You had tired earlier than usual, your sprint times were significantly slower than last time, for some reason you struggled to concentrate on the multitude of homemade targets the boys had set up in their diy firing range, and to top it all off, Dean had landed a few more hits than usual when you were sparring together. None that properly hurt your body, just your pride.

To put it bluntly, you felt like shit.

And, your brain being the lovely brain it is, was taking your thoughts and running with them.

You're kidding yourself if you think you'll ever be half as good as Sam and Dean.

They only keep you around cause they have to, if you weren't related to them they'd have dropped you at the nearest motel and high-tailed it.

They wish they could just train properly without you.

By this point, you had accepted defeat. Tonight was a hide-under-the-covers-and-cry kind of night, and you just wanted to make it to your room before your mind had any other fun ideas to make you feel even worse. Sleep seemed like your only way out of this funk.

Unfortunately, as well as having a keen sense for hunting, your brothers also had a keen sense for when something was wrong.

"You good Y/N?" Dean called from behind you, right as you went to reach for the door handle.

You nodded silently without thinking, your attention currently preoccupied by holding back the tears prickling at your eyes, and pushed the door open.

You didn't have to look back to know your response only heightened Dean's worry for you. You were never quiet after training, even if you had pushed to the brink of exhaustion.

So, of course, a few moments after you collapsed onto your bed, Dean gently knocked on the half-open door.

You gave an unintelligible mumble to allow him inside, and he slowly made his way over.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" He said with a soft half-chuckle, laying a hand on your shoulder.

That was enough to break your resolve.

You shook your head, trying to keep your breathing steady as the teardrops slid down your nose. The room slowly filled with silence, Dean clearly looking for something to say or do to help you feel better.

Just to make sure he knew you weren't upset at him, you rolled over and wrapped your arms awkwardly around his waist - tucking your head under your arm on Dean's leg. It was a little difficult, with him sitting upright and you laying down, but he got the message.

"You wanna tell me about it?" Dean ran his blunt fingernails through your hair a few times, knowing that always relaxed you. "Maybe I can help?"

You thought about it for a minute, but before you considered if you should respond or not Sam's voice came from the doorway.

"Everything ok?" He asked, and you knew the exact look of concern that would be pressing on his brow.

As the bed creaked under a third body's weight, you knew you probably weren't going to get out of this without saying something to your brothers. They would never force you to talk, of course, and if you needed some alone time they'd oblige - no questions asked - but they certainly wouldn't stop looking out for you over the next while until they knew you were ok again.

How difficult it is having a caring family.

"I just feel like I was crap today." You admitted, trying your best to keep your voice steady.

Dean sighed sympathetically, moving his fingers down to gently scratch across your back. You released the last bit of air you had been holding and relaxed into his touch, silently grateful they weren't pushing more of an explanation and were just letting you calm down.

After a few moments though, Dean's fingertips strayed a little too close to the right side of your back. You were so chilled out you didn't even realise you had let a giggle slip as you flinched under his touch.

"Shit, sorry." Dean said softly. "Wasn't trying to tickle you."

"It's nice." You once again murmured - too relaxed to properly consider how embarrassing that admission would usually be.

"Are you sure?" Dean half-laughed in surprise. "You're ridiculously ticklish, and most people hate being tickled at the best of times."

Well, in for a penny in for a pound.

You nodded, trying to suppress the flush forming on your cheeks. "It's a good distraction."

Dean gave a single, silent chuckle, before continuing to softly scratch his fingernails along your ribs. Gentle giggles flowed effortlessly out of your mouth with each touch, your torso occasionally leaning to one side if he his a particularly ticklish spot. As Sam's hands joined in rubbing your lower back, your crappy thoughts dissipated leaving you to half fall asleep.

"Are you sure it's ok?" Dean asked again, breaking the comfortable silence.

You laughed in response, "If you worry any harder you're head's gonna explode."

That earned a gasp.

"I'm helping you you little shit!" Dean grinned, poking up your sides - this time with ticklish intent.

You squealed, hands rushing into position to protect yourself (but not actively working against Dean's just yet).

"Yeah, that's no way to talk to your brother!" Sam added. "Though now I'm wondering if you were trying to get a reaction like that..."

"Nohohoho!" You shook your head, giggles spilling out of your grinning mouth. "Screhew yohou bohoth!"

"Oh you're definitely asking for it." Dean chuckled, and was about to pin your arms above your head when you suddenly twisted away from his grasp and shot your hands under his arms.

The oldest Winchester cackled, flinging himself backwards onto the bed to escape your wriggling fingertips wreaking havoc on one of his most ticklish spots. And, never one to give up the opportunity to annoy his brother, Sam joined your attack by squeezing Dean's hips.

With the three of you wrapped in a tickly tangle, your worries of today's training session faded into the past. Thankfully your brothers would always be there to cheer you up.

[scuderia-hamilton]

listen i don't like Daniel, that's a fact, but what's been happening to him during the course of this weekend has been nothing but cruel, unfair and frankly, disrespectful (even if the rumours turn out to be false). i hate nothing more in this sport than teams just dropping drivers in the middle of the season, with little to no warning whatsoever, if they didn't perform to the expectations. these people made and are still making so many sacrifices to be able to be in this sport, they work so fucking hard and i just hate seeing it go to waste like that. it's simply not fair.

you can come up with the regular excuses of it being a cutthroat sport, them being rich, white, privileged men, Daniel performing poorly, i do not care. yes, he hasn't been performing the way the team expected him to do so, but at the end of the day, he's still human and no one deserves that kind of treatment. rbr has been fucking over their drivers left and right and i absolutely despise that more teams are starting to do the same.

sending him out there to give interviews and answer questions about his own future in the sport, when he doesn't even know what it will be, is honestly the lowest of the low. they know exactly how nasty and rude f1 media is and a team putting their own driver in that position is something that should not be normalized. seeing his post race interview made my heart ache for him, he was literally a second away from crying then and there.

just as i've been upset about Nyk De Vries and Logan Sargeant being dropped in the same way, i feel the same for Daniel. it's not about whether you like a driver or not, it's about the principle. this is their dream, the thing they've been working for since they were literal toddlers and seeing it ripped away from them, without even giving them a proper shot is just inhumanely cruel.

i know that Daniel has been around for a while and he got to live his dream, but i still think it's unfair. rbr has been promising him this and that since he replaced De Vries last summer, just to (allegedly) drop him the next season with six more races left. even if they really want to replace him, then let him finish this season. he deserves that much.

i'm excited about the possibility of Liam finally getting a real shot, don't get me wrong and if he really ends up replacing Daniel, i'm happy for him, but i would like him to come into the sport under different circumstances. i also think that hating the driver who replaces another one, is pointless and frankly, stupid. this is not their decision, they obviously take the opportunity, cause getting into f1 is nearly impossible.

this is basically just to say that maybe we should remember from time to time, that they're not just athletes, but real people with feelings and we should always stay kind and compassionate. i've already seen so many hate posts about him, which shouldn't surprise me, but it did. this fandom likes to just jump on a person who's an easy target at the moment or pick and choose who they don't like at that time and all hell breaks loose.

the same thing happened when there were rumours about Daniel replacing Checo and all of a sudden, everyone had an issue with Checo's performance, him as a person, his actions and everyone thought that he deserved to be replaced. you don't have to like all of them, but at least be consistent with your opinions and know where the line is. you can't be upset about one driver being replaced mid-season, then turn around and wish that to happen to a different driver. that's hypocritical.

[lovethatmakingcoffee]

i think there are a lot of contradictions with the forever stuff going on and just frankly, a lot of questions that need to be answered if anything is to be resolved. And not just on Forever's part. I want the reason and name of the anonymous user who started this. Because u better show your face and explain why you began this, because the person on the other side is out in the open for the world to jump on. If u r accusing someone of something like this, it feels a bit cowardice to hide behind your username. These are serious accusations after all. Whether true or not.

I know people might disagree, but for too long these users have hid behind anonymity and threatened/ruined people's lives. Just thinking about swatting alone for example and how those callers are never caught and tried.

Next question, is if there is a victim, a real victim, where do they stand in this? They do not have to come forward, but why is it this random twitter user name talking and not the victim?

How did this user acquire over 900 deleted tweets? That's the number, right? Why were they searching for it? What are their intentions?

If this was resolved 8 years ago, why is it being brought up again? I assume Forever is taking some steps back in this situation in order to calm down and handle this properly, so it will be a while for us to see his proper response. I don't know if the original apology exists, of it was in video format or another one of those supposed 900 texts, but perhaps a refresher on the previous drama is required.

And lastly, I do wonder if quackity and admins knew. I would hope they would have done thorough background checks on every qsmp member and at least received explanations in case things like this came up, and this type of drama appeared on the qsmp. I wonder what their tactical response will be for this.

I do think it's unwise, to kick Forever to the curb, because no matter the legitimacy of these tweets, this type of stuff is bound to be targeted everyone else's way too. I'm sure Forever is not the only own with an alleged sketchy past. Not that I believe he really did anything physical with this continuously changing aged underage girl. She's 14 one minute (which is very convenient for this story that she just meets the age of consent in Brazil and is so young that of course it would anger all of the internet) and 16 the next. Both is bad, but the number keeps changing making me question it's accuracy at all.

I just hope people are asking questions instead of deciding right away. Especially the intentions and legitimacy of this random twitter user.

Know, I could be completely wrong in the end. But please, question this. I'm quite frankly very tired at all these artists and content creators being burned at the pyre the moment the first person yells witch. It's too mob mentality.