#life after death / main verse

[incendiorum]

the whole seeking peace after trauma aspect to io has become such a big facet of them over recent years. it's the end goal for them, to finally and completely take their life out of the hands of the people who have puppeted it both from the start (venadeus) and for centuries (col, the hounds). io is, as it stands, in a permanent state of 'can't grieve yet' and the closure to finally start grieving and live their own life completely and wholly comes in a cascade after they finally admit to themself that there is no redeeming col and that something must be done for good. col still living is why io is in their permanent grief limbo. and of course there is the problem that venadeus has considered io nothing but a tool for himself since the moment they were conceived, but io ends the venadeus line with themself, once and for all. they hate that they were always meant to be a sacrificial lamb, but becoming the next and final venadeus gives them the things they've desired and a means to fully become themself. they get power - they get so much power as to practically be untouchable, and with it they simply seek the peace that had been taken from them centuries ago. it's hard getting there, admittedly, resurrecting as a god is something they have to claw through tooth and nail, but the end makes it worth it.

[prickly-paprikash]

Pushing aside the fact that I am, quite possibly, a Kendrick fan—disregarding my biases, I think Drake needs to stop. Push Ups was a good diss. Surface level, vapid, but it possessed that mean, petty spirit that carries a diss track all the way. Even bringing up accusations that are, realistically speaking, unlikely still works because a diss is supposed to show just how much you hate a person and how cleverly you can bring it.

Taylor Made was weird. I get that it was a strategy. Drop the main diss first and then drop this one to really prod at Kendrick. Using Pac and Snoop AI voices sucks though. Distilling Kendrick as Taylor's underling also doesn't work because Kendrick only collaborated with her once (twice when they remade Bad Blood) and that's it. Meanwhile Drake is out here always looking for new, up and coming artists to pounce on their trends or cling to established artists. Then it got taken down, because of course it would have been. You used 2Pac's voice. Did you really think his estate, his family, wouldn't do anything?

So he bought Pac's ring and used his voice without permission. More and more we see just how much of a vulture Drake is.

And then Euphoria drops.

Your first diss was met with solid reactions. Your second got taken down. Kendrick drops on a random hot Tuesday, and in a matter of hours surpasses your numbers that took weeks to accumulate. Kendrick did that. Euphoria was also harsh, clever, and sounded so good that people kept replaying it over and over again. Once more, Kendrick schools you.

A few insiders then say that Drake will drop that night. Right after. But he then allegedly gets cold feet. A few hours later from when Drake was supposedly ready to drop but backs out, Kendrick drops 6:16 in LA.

In your previous disses, you begged Kendrick to drop something with quintuple entendres. Euphoria did that. But he took it a step further by naming his second diss 6:16 in LA.

June 16: Father's day. Referencing the fact that Drake has been proven to be a deadbeat father.

June 16, 1971: Tupac's Birthday. Kendrick idolizes him. Drake steals from him.

June 16, 2019: First episode of Euphoria drops. A show Drake is listed as a producer on. A show about underage girls entering a life of sex, substance abuse, and more. Things that Drake has been accused of repeatedly in the past.

June 16, 2011: in June 2, 2011, Kendrick posted on his twitter that there will be a concert at Toronto on 6/16. Allegedly this is where Drake and Kendrick first met.

6:16 AM: The time of release for this track.

6:16: Multiple possible Bible verses, given Kendrick's Christian background.

Other claims felt like reaches though, so I'll stick to that.

The final two lines of 6:16 also reference the Michael Jackson, R. Kelly, and their song "You Are Not Alone". Drake, who has always claimed he is Michael Jackson or at the very least his equal/successor, is now tied to him in a way he does not want. Because we know all of the dirt that came out after MJ's death. We all know what R. Kelly was sent to prison for. And we all know what Drake has been accused of multiple times.

Kendrick also alludes to the fact that you have a leak in your circle, Drake.

So Drake drops Family Matters. A scathing 7 minute song that makes fun of the GKMC van. Saying that Kendrick's daughter isn't his. Saying that his wife cheats on him with security. Saying that he beats his wife.

Now, these are enormous accusations levied. But Kendrick has responded before, years ago, that the DV accusations were false. He has also always been open about his faults. Adultery. Sex addiction. Insecurity. God complex. Kendrick, for better or worse, has always laid out nearly every aspect of his younger life on his songs. This also helped by the fact that in both Euphoria and 6:16, Kendrick says that Drake has spent millions on finding dirt on him but came up with nothing. Again, these accusations can still be proven true and if so, Kendrick needs to be held accountable for them.

But if not? Then Drake just adds another to the pile of "He's a liar and a master manipulator."

Drake also posts a Parody on his Insta that gains little to no attention because 30 minutes after dropping Family Matters and supposedly going on his victory lap, Kendrick drops meet the grahams.

Another thing. 6:16's cover was a glove. That meant nothing to us, the audience. meet the grahams makes it make sense by zooming out of the glove and showing off a shirt and drugs that Drake supposedly uses. Drake has not had any receipts with his accusations against Kendrick. Kendrick puts Drake's supposed prescription, his full name, on a bottle of Ozempic. Kendrick, for now, seems to make good on his threat. OvO, Drake's company, is full of leaks. And they're leaking it straight to Kendrick Lamar.

Nearly 24 hours later, Kendrick drops Not Like Us.

Euphoria was a general character dissection and assassination of Drake: Insecure about his identity as a biracial man. Culture Vulture. Blaccent user. Code switcher. Fake abs. Womanizer. Misogynist. Using black features just to feel black enough. A deadbeat dad that knows nothing of raising a child. And even revokes Drake's ability to use the N-Word (I have no stake in that I am Asian so I will keep my brown mouth shut for that).

6:16 in LA was an ominous threat that slowly reveals that Kendrick has insider information on Drake. That he is ready to leak so much more should Drake continue.

meet the grahams is a brutal open letter to Drake, his parents, and even to Adonis, Drake's son. Saying that Kendrick could be a better mentor to Adonis. Saying that Drake abandoned you and that's not your fault. Don't be like your father—whatever anyone says, for better or worse, you are a black man and don't code switch just to make yourself feel better. He says that Drake failed his mother for what he did to women. Saying that Drake's father is the cause of his gambling issues. Drake is a body shamer. Leaving the mother of his children to rot. And of course, the reveal that Drake has a secret daughter, the same way Pusha T revealed Drake has a son. Adonis.

And of course, now. Not Like Us. Where Kendrick goes all in on one topic that he has alluded to in every diss track before. Drake is a groomer. A pedophile.

I am sick. I should not be tuning into this beef. But my fever can go ahead and end me, I need to know how this ends.

[yuebinnie]

Proverbs 5:19

☾ Pairing : Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader

☆ Warnings : mdni. Priest!Alastor, implied chubby!reader, noncanon Alastor, dubcon, coercion, blasphemy, abuse of authority, blood kink, blood drinking, squirting, multiple orgasms, fingering (f receiving), cunnulingus, catholic prayers used in a sexual context, scriptures used to coerce, cum eating, size kink, loss of virginity (implied, not talked about), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, literally just smut

☾ WC : 9.8k

☆ A/N : Taking a break from Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea to write Alastor smut ^^ This contains heavy Christian imagery, so if it's something you are uncomfortable with, this fic might not be for you! I really enjoyed writing this; it's my first time writing smut for Alastor, so hopefully I do not disappoint you all. I also posted the fic on AO3, if you'd prefer reading there. Have fun!

There was something about going to church that felt incredibly soothing. The deafening silence every time you walked in during the early hours of the day, steps echoing against the painted ceiling and colourful rose window, the shadows dancing behind the burning wicks of the candles set on each side of the main aisle, the smell of dust dancing in the air like a reminder of how desolate the people who came to visit truly were. You had not always been religious, but you had found peace in believing that there was a divine truth, that being good in this life would give you eternal bliss.

The church was a small one, and an old one; how it was still standing you had no idea. It was annexed to a small decrepit churchyard with moss-covered headstones that dated from at least two centuries ago. To any passersby, it'd be believed to be abandoned, as the outside of the building was quite literally falling apart, the bricks slowly eroding and the tiles covering the roof covered with the same moss as the headstones. The exterior appearance did not matter however, only the inside did; that's where God resided after all.

Despite its age, the inside and of the church was well kept. Yes, the rose window was cracked, and, as an attempt to keep the place as pure as possible, electricity had never been installed. The candles did the job of keeping the inside lit, and as for the temperature, well, dressing warmly was mandatory during the colder months of the year. The benches were old and the varnish that had once covered them was long gone; dents and chips could be found here and there, but they were still sturdy. The altar was small and simple, a wooden thing settled on a small stage that hovered only a few inches above the floor. Near the entrance sat a confessional which reeked of mould, but in the absolute presence of God, the smell was easily forgotten.

You had a habit of going to pray most days when you were not bedridden from the exhaustion of spending the night reading your favourite verses. 5 AM; the perfect time to pray, just as the world welcomed the sun's warmth and light. Very rarely did you meet anyone else; it had happened a few times, mostly old people nearing death coming to ask for absolution for their sins. Otherwise, the only person you had seen was the priest, whom you only had spoken to once or twice. He would look at you while you kneeled and mumbled prayers and verses, a smile plastered on his face.

It was the only downside of it all, that unsettling presence. The priest, a handsome man you had apologized to God for finding attractive, was always smiling. It was a bone-chilling sight; it made you feel as though he could see right through you, like he had access to every single thought that cluttered the inside of your mind. He had asked for your name once and had told you to have a 'delightful rest of the day'. That day had turned out to be horrible, as you had learned your grandmother was diagnosed with stage four cancer and only had a few months left. You had prayed for her, but God had decided to take her, nonetheless. Your subconscious had linked the priest's words as a direct cause of your grandmother's tragic diagnosis, and you had tried your best to avoid talking to him ever since.

When you woke up that morning, sweaty and feeling stickiness between your thighs, you felt sick to your stomach remembering the dreams that had plagued your mind in your slumber. A faceless man, dragging his lips down your stomach, his fingers touching your body in a way that was so sinful; the only logical explanation was that you had been visited by an incubus, an agent of evil. God was testing you, letting evil reach you to see if you'd be as faithful as Job or if you'd succumb to sin like Eve had. You cleaned yourself and changed your nightgown to proper clothes, putting a slightly warm coat on before leaving your house.

The sun had not yet started to show itself, and a thick fog floated above the quiet streets. The sky was covered with grey clouds that seemed to hang low, you wondered if you could touch them if you reached up, but your mind was too preoccupied with your predicament to try and touch something so close to Heaven. Mind running faster than a hare trying to escape a wolf, you tried to convince yourself simple prayers would do, but a loud voice kept coming back, telling you this could only be forgiven by confessing. The thought of having to talk to the priest whom you had convinced yourself was the catalyst of your grandmother's death made you want to cry, but the thought of failing God and disappointing Him was far more upsetting. You reached the church as the first rays of light made the dew covering the Earth glisten, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open.

Your eyes fell upon the priest, who was bent down in the middle of the aisle, a long match in his hand as he lit the candles up. You froze, your eyes running across his shoulders and back. The door closed loudly behind you, and you jumped; the man's head snapped in your direction, his smile growing when he saw who had just walked in.

"You are quite early today, my dear," the priest stated simply, his focus going back to the unlit candles that still begged to melt under the burning flames. "Luckily enough, our Creator does not sleep; we're under scrutiny every second of our time on this earth."

You gulped at the words, the implications they held. You crept closer to the man, fidgeting as you thought of what to say. You let out a small quiet sigh, biting down your bottom lip as you stopped and stood a few feet away from him. The man straightened up and turned in your direction, his head tilted to the left as his gaze travelled across your face, "Oh my, whatever has you this upset?"

Your cheeks flushed as your eyes shifted from his eyes to the floor, the shame of what you had yet to confess weighing down your shoulders like the cross your Saviour had carried through heat and pain. You felt tiny, the priest towering over you; he had to be close to two feet taller than you. Had this been how Lucifer felt when he was at last pushed to meet his fate in the depths, a force greater than all administrating the final judgment? Sinfully powerless, a mere weak being? Tears gathered at your lower lash lines as you spoke, oh so quietly, your voice like the echo of an echo, "Father, I have sinned."

Seconds passed, silent ones, before the man hummed and walked past you, making his way to the front of the church. You twirled around, your eyes landing on where the priest now stood, in front of the old rotting confessional. You gulped, nodding to no one in particular before slowly making your way to the man who was stepping into the booth, the door closing behind him. You did the same, slowly closing the door after giving the empty church one last look, your eyes lingering a few seconds on the nailed Christ resting behind the altar, seemingly judging you.

You sat down, cringing at the creaking of the wood beneath your weight. The grille was pulled up, the silhouette of the man on the other side vaguely distinguishable. You took a deep breath, then spoke softly as you brought your right hand to your forehead, the gesture almost instinctual, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." You put your hand on your thigh, staring at the unmoving priest, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It is.... too much time, since my last confession. I am a university student, in my last year to obtain a bachelor's degree." A low hum was heard, and you shifted in your seat, trying to find the exact words for your confession.

"Father, something terrible happened last night. In my weakened sleeping state, evil befell me. I was plagued with sinful dreams. You must understand, I am thoroughly devoted to Christ and our Lord, never have I let a man, or anyone, disgrace the body I was given; never have I had thoughts or dreams of this kind. I fear my will is not strong enough, that this evil shall come back and torment me. I fear I will fall into sin, just as our first predecessors did. I am nothing but willing, Father, so please, do help me. I am sorry for all these sins, and the sins of my past life."

You sniffled, wiping away the tears that had fallen down your rosy cheeks, your eyes glued on the silhouette of the man beyond the grille. His silence made you want to cry even more; were you a lost case? Had your fate already been sealed, your soul now tainted because of the touch of evil in such sacred places? You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you waited, seconds becoming minutes.

"This evil you speak of, what exactly has it done to you?" His voice seemed to have dropped lower, the sound a bit raspier. You furrowed your brow slightly at the question; you had been clear about the incident. As if feeling your hesitation, the priest continued, "Ma chère, only by knowing exactly what this evil put you through can I give you absolution."

You felt a blush creep up your neck, and flinched as the crack of thunder was heard beyond the church walls; your heartbeat quickened, was this Him telling you to obey?

You let out a small breath, before speaking up, the words shaky, "As I slept, this evil... Entered my dreams. It took advantage of my defenselessness. It disgraced my soul and my body. Upon waking up, there was... Remains of the sinful things it had my body do." You could feel the man's stare on you despite the grille separating you, causing yours to drop to your knees, feeling vulnerable.

"What sinful things did it inflict upon you?" Rain had started falling, as if the sky itself cried for you; the sound of it hammered against the roof, a continuous wail of grief for your poor soul.

"Father, I don't understand how this is necessa-"

"Do you not want absolution? Do you desire to be locked out of His kingdom? The choice is yours," his tone was harsher, demanding, even. You gulped and shook your head; no, that was not what you wanted. It was the furthest thing from it.

"I apologize for questioning your words, Father," you began, fidgeting with the hem of your coat, "From what I can remember... This evil took the shape of a man. A faceless man. I was in bed, and it joined me, and... We, uh, we kissed. It took my nightgown off." Your hands felt clammy, and you couldn't help but press your thighs together as you recollected the events of your dreams. "It kissed my breasts, then my stomach. It went... Down there, and stayed there until my whole body tensed up. Afterwards, it pushed itself inside me, it thoroughly disgraced my body. When I woke up, my body showed signs that it had reacted to the defiling. Father, please, believe me when I tell you that I was coerced by evil."

Thunder was heard again, breaking the silence that had settled between you and the priest. As the minutes passed, you became uneasy; was the man disgusted with you? Could he sense the sins radiating from your being? He cleared his throat, breaking your train of thought. Your eyes went back to his silhouette, waiting for him to speak up.

"I fear this is beyond the power bestowed upon me, dear," his voice was silky, it made warmth spread inside your chest, as if the vibrations it had created affected your very cells.

Your eyes widened; that was impossible. You had confessed and explained the evil that had haunted you. You had done exactly what He told His followers to do, confessed and asked for forgiveness. You shuffled closer to the grille, tearing up as you begged, "Father, please, there must be a way. I will do anything; I will suffer just like our Saviour has if it's what it takes. I'm supplying you, help me get rid of this evil."

“Very well,” the man said. You watched as his silhouette stood up and opened the door of the booth before it disappeared. The door of your little chamber opened, and you turned your head to look at the tall priest, who adjusted his glasses as he stared down at you. You took a few seconds to really look at him. Despite his smile that made shivers run down your spine, the man was handsome. His skin was tan, his hair dark and styled in an old-fashioned way. His features were sharp, intimidating, almost. Towering over you, his shoulders were wider than some quarterbacks’, and his waist was ridiculously small compared to them. His hands seemed to be twice the size of yours, and you found yourself wondering how he managed to button up his shirts with such big hands.

You looked back at his face as you blushed, realizing the man before you knew of your body in such intimate ways. You slowly stood up as you held his gaze, unsure of what to say next. He took a step aside and gestured for you to step out of the confessional, before closing the door behind you. The priest smiled down at you, “Follow me, dear.”

He started walking down the aisle, the flames of the candles on each side of it dancing as he passed by. You hesitantly followed him, looking out one of the small windows to see the rain pouring onto the world as lightning illuminated the sky. He stopped at the altar and turned to you, his smile ever present. You stopped in front of the stage; sinners did not belong anywhere close to that sacred place. The man stayed silent and with a gesture of his hand, permitted you to step up. You gulped and got on the stage, feeling extremely out of place.

“There is one way for you to repent,” he began, his stare fixed on you, “Though it is a bit unorthodox. The choice is yours, but you must remember that there is no place for sinners in Heaven.” He watched as you nodded quickly; you were eager to be forgiven, to go back to being free of sin. The corner of his lips twitched before he uttered one word, “Strip.”

Your eyes widened as your face turned a deeper shade of crimson. Stripping? You searched his face for hints of dishonesty, hoping he was playing a sick joke on you, but to your dismay, he was serious. Your body was frozen as you looked at him, not even the booming thunder making you flinch.

You opened your mouth to ask why, but the man beat you to it, answering your question before you even uttered a word, “Only by showing Him precisely how this evil tainted you can you be absolved. There is no need to be shy, ma chérie; isn’t He all-knowing? All-seeing? Wasn’t the shame of nudity created by His first creations’ sin? There is no purer form of devotion than to go beyond the embarrassment and bare yourself to Him; than to accept the vulnerable nature of your existence.”

He brought his right hand up to lay it flat against the wooden altar, observing you as you fought an inner battle with your dignity. His words were true, the wisdom of a man devoted to God, of someone who knew scriptures and their meaning. As if feeling your unmoving incertitude, he spoke up once again, “Proverbs 28:13.”

You blinked up at him, mind searching for the verse you had read many times before. You licked your bottom lip with your tongue before reciting softly, “He who covers his sins will not prosper, but whoever confesses and forsakes them will have mercy.” The priest hummed, and you raised your gaze to the crucifix hung on the wall behind the altar, feeling as if He was patiently waiting for you to submit to His will. You puffed out a small breath as you nodded to yourself, a hand coming up to the zipper of your coat, slowly bringing it down to then shrug off the piece of clothing and letting it fall on the floor.

You could already feel the wet cold seep through your thin sweater, but you ignored the feeling as you grabbed the bottom of it and lifted it up until it was completely off you; it dropped, finding its place next to your coat at your feet. Your eyes were unfocused, staring into thin air as you slipped your thumbs under the elastic band of your skirt, pushing it down so it pooled at your ankles. You stepped out of it, getting slightly closer to the priest whose gaze was burning your skin despite the goosebumps covering it. You brought a hand to your back, unclasping your bra before slowly taking it off, baring your breasts to the man. Your nipples hardened as the freezing air licked them and you bit hard down your bottom lip as you slid your underwear down your legs, then stepped out of your shoes, leaving you only wearing your lace-arbored anklets.

The man lifted a hand in your direction, a silent request for you to grab it. You did so all while avoiding looking up at him and followed him as he made his way behind the altar, his fingers squeezing yours slightly, “Our Lord blessed you with rare beauty, dear one, what a shame it led evil to you.” You gasped softly as his other hand wrapped around your waist, your eyes shooting up to look at him. He was still smiling, though his eyes seemed clouded with something you could not put your finger on.

He let go of your hand and grabbed the other side of your waist before effortlessly hoisting you up on the altar, the skin of your ass stinging from the cold of the wooden surface. Your gaze was questioning, and the man recited, his voice low and quieter than it had previously been, “I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service.” You gaped at him; a true man of God, that’s what he was. “Offer your body to Him, and you shall be absolved. Show Him what evil has done to you, so He can forgive and make you pure again,” he held your stare, his pupils slightly dilated. You nodded once, and the priest stepped aside, leaving you to face your Saviour in your naked glory.

You slowly leaned back, using your left elbow to not completely lie down on the wood. You brought your trembling right hand to your lips, the tip of your index finger stroking the pink flesh as you recalled where the lips of the faceless man had touched you. They lingered there for a few seconds before dipping to your neck, dancing around the column of your throat as your eyes fluttered shut; if goosebumps had not already been covering your body fault of the moist cold, they would have appeared, the feeling titillating. Your chest rose and fell in a timely rhythm as you dragged your touch to your breasts where your finger gently caressed your right nipple. Your lips parted, small breaths making their way out as you gathered with your small hand the heavy fat of your breast, squeezing. You could feel the stare of the priest on you, but you attempted to ignore it as you kept going.

Your fingers went down your stomach, using your nails to slightly scratch the skin, and they stopped a few inches below your belly button. You opened your eyes and looked at the crucifix; His peaceful expression, despite being nailed and in pain, gave you courage and you spread your legs, giving your Saviour the perfect view of your most intimate era. You nibbled on your bottom lip as you slowly brought your fingers down, choking on a soft moan when they made contact with your clit. The simple touch made your composure fall a little, your lips parted as your face reddened, feeling more exposed than you had ever felt before. You gently pushed against the bundle of nerves, gasping as your fingers started to move, following a small eight-pattern.

You could feel your heartbeat thundering against your ribcage, matching the loud striking of the heavenly fire against the earth beyond the safety of the church walls. Soft pants left your mouth as you started working on yourself, closing your eyes to focus on the memories of the previous night. Every touch and stroke were vividly drawn in your mind, your fingers moving in an almost instinctual way, leaving you a whimpering mess. You moved your elbow that was holding your weight, slowly leaning your back against the cold wood, before bringing the now free hand to your face, covering your mouth with it as your thighs trembled. Your body was thrumming, humming with new sensations, your mind as foggy as the early morning that had welcomed you when you had stepped out of your home.

Lost in pleasure, you jumped, your eyes shooting open as you felt long fingers wrap around your wrist, the priest looking down at you, his own eyes sharper and darker than they had been earlier. Your fingers nestled between your thighs stopped moving as you stared at him, but he tsked, “My dear, you must not hide anything from Him. These lovely, sinful sounds you make, are not to be repressed. Let them be; let Him hear what evil inflicted upon you,” his voice sent a chill down your spine, your back arching slightly. You watched as the corner of his lips twitched and let him pull your hand away from your mouth, gulping as you nodded weakly. “Good girl.”

Your breath hitched at the praise, eyes not leaving his’ as your fingers started to move once again, bringing your legs up to rest your heels against the altar, spreading your legs a bit more. As if in a trance, your gaze fixed on the priest as you moaned and gasped, your hips twitching as you rubbed your clit. You saw his Adam’s apple bob, his eyes narrowing as you used your free hand to caress the skin of your stomach, slowly inching towards your left breast. Your fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance, and with a bite on your bottom lip and a pinch of your nipple, you pushed your middle finger all the way to the second knuckle, your eyes widening at the feeling. You let out a throaty whine, pressing your head harder against the wooden surface that supported your weight. The cold was long forgotten, your body covered in a thin layer of sweat, muscles spasming here and there.

You slid your other hand between your thighs, the digits quickly finding your clit and gently stimulating it as you managed to push your finger further inside yourself. The faceless man from your dreams had used three fingers, and you could only wonder how your dream self had taken them, as you were struggling with a lonely, short finger. Despite the uncomfortable feeling, you bit down your lip and pushed your index alongside the finger that was already pressed inside you. Your face scrunched up at the stretch, a silent sob echoing through the dimly lit space. You felt your walls clench around your digits, your free hand still working on your clit as a way to make the dull ache more bearable. You waited a minute, giving your body time to adjust to the feeling, before carefully pulling the fingers out and thrusting them back in, a surprised whimper leaving your lips as a new feeling started to blossom in your lower stomach.

You arched your back and started speeding up the motion of your hands, unable to keep quiet as your body grew warmer and more tense. Your eyes fluttered open to look up at the priest, who was as still as Christ watching you from His cross on the wall. As you exhaled, you pushed a third finger in, welcoming the stretch with a high-pitched whine. Your knees dropped down onto the altar, leaving your womanhood fully exposed; you watched as the man glanced at where your hands were working in tandem to replicate almost exactly what the evil from your dream had done to you. You gathered the little concentration you had left and started muttering through gasps and moans, “Compassionate Father, you are the Lord who rescues His people. When I am overwhelmed with shame, help me find solace in you. You have said that you will help—though my sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are as red as crimson, they shall be like wool. Remind me that I have been purified by you, that the curse of sin and evil is no longer upon me. In your powerful name, Ame-” You were cut off by a large hand wrapping around your lower face, the feeling making your body jolt.

Right, it had to be the same as the dream; you had not uttered a prayer in it, far from it. You closed your eyes, moaning against the palm covering your mouth, as you focused on the growing tension in your core. Every second felt like minutes and every minute felt like hours as you quickly thrust your fingers in and out, all while you rubbed and nudged your clit. The pressure was almost unbearable, your whole body twitching as your hips tried to follow the movements of your digits as if they had a mind of their own. The priest moved his hand away, and you opened your eyes to watch him bring it to his mouth where he licked his palm, which was covered with your drool.

Something snapped inside of you and a loud sob made its way out of your throat as your muscles tensed up, your walls clenching tightly around your fingers as you stilled them, your mind unable to think about anything beyond the blinding pleasure that took over your body. Your eyes rolled back, pitiful sounds leaving your mouth as your back arched from the altar, your thighs squeezing together, trapping your hands between them. This felt so much better than it had felt in your dream. You teared up; the Lord’s love was so strong; evil could not even compare.

After a few seconds, your body relaxed, and you were left panting and sweaty, as if you had just run a marathon. Slowly opening your eyes, your vision became clearer as you blinked, a smile tugging at your lips as you looked at the crucifix, then up to the priest who had not moved. You removed your hands from between your thighs and brought your left one up to wipe the pearls of sweat on your forehead with the back of it. You wrapped your right arm around your chest, trying to hide your breasts as you spoke up, your voice small but hoarse, “Have I done it, Father? Am I free of sin? Has our Lord given me absolution?” Hope lingered; you had done what you were told to do, you had been good, and your Lord was good and forgiving, He had to have seen how faithful you were.

The man’s eyebrows raised before he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head slightly, “My dear, this was only your confession. The truest and purest form of confession.” Your smile dropped. You looked at him as he made his way closer to the wall, where he stopped in front of the crucifix that had observed you as you worked on yourself. His chin tilted up as he looked at it, before his head slowly turned to look at you, “But confession is not enough for this type of sin, sadly; you must also be cleansed.”

You sat up, your brows furrowed, watching as the man stepped closer to you. He stood in front of you, his right hand coming to rest on your thigh, just above your knee. His touch was warm and inviting, but you still wondered what his words meant, so you asked, “Cleansed?”

His thumb stroked your skin as he hummed and brought his other hand up to your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it, “Yes, dearest, cleansed. Your body was defiled by evil, it must be purified. You’ve shown our Lord and Saviour how, and now He shall reclaim your body as His’.” You looked at him, your eyes round and big, trying to make sense of the words that had just been spoken. A small pout appeared on your lips, and the tall priest bent down, his face now closer to yours as he said, his voice slightly louder than a whisper, “You are so easy to read, you know? But to ease your confusion; I shall represent our Lord and make you pure again.”

You froze, the realization of what the man meant hitting you just like David’s stone had hit Goliath. You gaped at him, your mouth opening and closing, searching your brain for the right words to speak, afraid to insult God and the man who stood before you. You gulped and said after taking in a deep breath, “Our Lord… I cannot think of mentions of this procedure in the scriptures,” you blinked, your eyes shining as you looked into his’. “Father, has this procedure been tested before? Where does it come from?”

His long fingers dug into the fat of your thigh as you saw the muscle of his jaw clench, a small whimper leaving your lips at the feeling. He kept squeezing, his creepy smile growing, “Are you implying my authority was not given to me by our Lord? That my will does not stem from His’? That I would go against scriptures, something I have devoted my life to?” You shook your head quickly; you had messed up. You were to never question the words of a priest, for he was much closer to God than you were, and you had done just that. This evil needed to leave; it made you do, think and say things that would only make you unworthy of Heaven.

“Father, do forgive me! This evil, it has taken control of my body and sou-”

“There’s no need for that. I shall make your sins a purest white than Abraham’s sacrificial lamb. You will be reborn a new woman, utterly sinless,” he inched his hand higher on your thigh, “That is what you want, isn’t it? To let your God make you pure again?” You gave him a slow nod and his smile widened as he brought his free hand to his face, removing his glasses and putting them on the altar next to you. He nudged your knees open and settled between them, sliding a hand against the back of your head as he sang praise to you, “What a good girl you are, ma chère.”

His lips smashed against yours and you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to follow his lead. The hand resting on your thigh slid to your waist and forced you to get closer to him, his chest pressing against your naked breasts. You moaned into the kiss, pictures of your dream flooding your mind, causing you to wrap your legs around his tiny waist and arms around his neck. You ran your fingers through his hair, letting the man run his tongue along your bottom lip, your mouth opening slightly in response. His kisses travelled down your chin, to your throat, his teeth nipping at your skin as you let your head fall back, giving him better access.

His mouth slid to your chest, and you lowered your chin to look down at him as he wrapped his swollen lips around your left nipple. You grabbed a handful of his hair and pressed him closer to you, arching your back slightly. His eye shot up to look at you, humming against your skin, the vibration leaving you a whimpering mess. He separated from your pink, wet bud with a last lick, smiling as he flicked your other nipple with his thumb, “So eager for absolution, aren’t you?” Your soft pants were interrupted with a small gulp as you nodded once again; there was nothing you wanted more. He ran a hand up and down your thigh before grabbing it and removing it from his waist, doing the same motion with the other one a few seconds later. You silently watched as he kneeled, his face a few inches away from your exposed core. The sight made your heart skip a beat.

Something caught your eyes on the wall, and you looked up, seeing a rainbow light up the crucifix hung on the wall; the rain and thunder had dissipated as suddenly as they had appeared, and sun rays were beaming through the colourful tainted glass of the rose window at the entrance of the church. A small smile tugged at your lips, this had to be a sign you were on the right path. You bit down your bottom lip and gazed down, seeing the priest eyeing your womanhood, a hungry look on his face. Your cheeks reddened as you waited for the man to do something.

He slowly inched closer, and let his nose nudge your puffy clit, causing you to gasp softly at the feeling. You felt something warm run up and down your slit, your grip on his hair tightening as he flattened his tongue against your entrance. Your brows knitted, a small noise leaving your lips as he started to move his wet appendage up and down, moving his head slightly as he did so to get his nose to bump against your clit with each lick. His hands went to your ass, and he brought you even closer to his face; you wondered how he could even breathe.

Your mind started to wander as pleasure slowly took over your limbs; was the man between your legs mistaking you for a wine-filled chalice? The slurping noises his mouth was making against you travelled through your body and rendered you dizzy. You pushed his hair back from his forehead and his eyes shot open to look up at you as his fingers dug into the fat of your ass. His pupils were dilated to the point that you could barely see his iris and there was wetness spreading on his cheeks and nose. Lips parted, you sighed and slightly scratched his scalp with your nails, leaving the man groaning as his stare was still fixed on your face. One of his hands made its way down your thigh and disappeared from your view before it reappeared; a dainty wooden-beaded rosary was dangling from his fingers.

The priest took his mouth away from you, a wide smirk painting his lips as he grabbed your wrist and dropped the prayer beads in your much smaller palm. His other hand came forward and started stroking the skin of your inner thigh as he wrapped his long digits around yours, forcing you to hold the rosary. He licked his bottom lip before speaking up, “You know how this works, don’t you?” His smile grew as he watched you nod, “Perfect. Recite them in your head, except the Five Decades; you must recite those aloud. It’s Thursday, so Luminous Mysteries. Whatever your Lord has planned next and does to you, you must keep going, understood?” You nodded again but he shook his head, “Use your words, dearest.”

“I understand, Father,” you said, your voice small.

The man hummed and let go of your hand, dropping it to your other thigh, massaging the skin there as well. His gaze dropped to where your thumb moved to make the Sign of the Cross on the small crucifix pendant. You closed your eyes as you started reciting the Apostles’ Creed, surrendering your body to the faithful man kneeling before you. His lips pressed against you as you finished the first prayer, your finger moving to the first bead. He fell into a now familiar rhythm, leaving you incapable of staying silent as you breathed out soft moans. Something prodded at your entrance and slowly slipped in as you fell back against the altar with a thud. You arched your back as it kept going, much deeper than you had reached with your fingers. It pumped in and out a few times before the man added a second finger, the pressure and stretch making you whimper.

His tongue kept alternating between sucking on and flicking your clit as you busied yourself with prayers. The priest hummed against you before removing himself; you opened your eyes and lifted your head from the wooden surface, eyes widening when you saw blood on his chin and bottom lip. He removed his fingers from you and showed them to you; they were bloody too. You stared at him silently, uncertain of what to say, but he broke the silence, “See what the evil has left in you? Aren’t you so lucky your Lord is ever so forgiving? That he’s cleaning you up to make you free of sin?” You nodded and bit the inside of your cheek. His eyes were gleaming as his fingers went to your lower stomach, smearing the blood on your skin, which made goosebumps appear.

You studied his face, his sharp, dark hooded eyes were staring at you under his defined eyebrows, his plump lips were stretched in a smile; his tanned cheeks and chin were coated with a sheening coat of your wetness and blood. His hair was now messy—your doing—and his fingers were slowly making their way back to your slit. Without thinking about it, you reached out and cupped his cheek with your free hand, rubbing your thumb against his bottom lip. His tongue darted out to lick your digit as his fingers sank back in you, knocking the breath out of you. Your eyes closed shut as you gasped, your hand falling from his face to rest on your hip. You heard him laugh under his breath before the warmth of his mouth was back on you. Your mind reminded you of the rosary you were holding, and you started reciting the Hail Mary.

As you neared the end of the Glory Be, you felt the man add another finger, the stretch making your eyes tear up as you mewled weakly. The words of the prayer passed in your mind, disappearing as he started to thrust them in and out. Your walls clenched tightly around his digits as your chest rose and fell quickly, panting as your body tried to get adjusted to the burning feeling.

Your fingers landed on the first Decade, and you gathered all your strength to start reciting the prayer, your voice shaky, “Then Jesus came to Galilee to the Jordan to John, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying ‘I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?’ But Jesus answered him, ‘Let it be so now; for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.’ Then he consented.” You were interrupted by a yelp as you felt the priest’s teeth grazing your clit, your free hand landing in his hair, gripping it. Your hips kept twitching as you kept going, stuttering through the words, “And when Jesus was baptized, he went up immediately from the water, and behold, the heavens were opened and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and alighting on him; and lo, a voice from heaven, saying, ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.’”

The drag of the man’s fingers had turned pleasurable, and you felt your muscles tense up, the feeling in your lower stomach rapidly growing. You pushed on the back of his head, searching for more friction, and you moaned out loudly when he started mumbling against your clit as his fingers kept moving, “Oh my Jesus, forgive me of my sins, save us from the fires of hell; lead all souls to Heaven, especially those who have most need of your mercy.” You could not register the words but the movements of his lips on you made you come undone, your back arching from the altar as your thighs trapped his head in place, your hips lifting to follow his fingers and urge him to press his tongue harder against you. Your every muscle tensed up, crying out as the waves of your orgasm hit you just like the Red Sea had crashed into the Egyptians as He closed its parting. You spasmed around him, your walls trying to push his fingers out, and you felt wetness drip down your ass.

He separated from your clit, kissing it softly as he removed his digits from you, slowly standing up as you cracked your eyes open, your body still jolting randomly as it calmed down from your high. The light coming from the rose window had moved, and from your angle, it looked like a halo surrounding the priest’s head; a breathtaking sight that had you gape in awe. You watched as he tugged at the collar of his shirt, taking his Roman collar off and letting it fall to his feet. Your wetness was dripping from his lips which were harbouring a soft smile, his hands moving unhurriedly to unbutton his cassock. His eyes travelled up and down your spent body, then to the rosary you had forgotten you were still holding; you clenched your fingers around it and moved to a new bead, your lips moving silently as you recited the Hail Mary in your mind.

You kept your eyes on his hands as they reached the last button, the man shrugging off the black piece of clothing, revealing he was wearing a white tank top and black pants underneath it. You gulped at the true size of his shoulders; you had thought his cassock gave the illusion he was large, but even with it off, he looked huge. The smallness of his waist only accentuated how massive the built of the priest was. He had muscles but they were lean; despite it all, he looked strong and exuded a masculine aura that had you squirming in place.

Your observations were interrupted by his voice, “Do you feel like the weight of your sin has lessened, ma chère?” You dipped your chin once; you did feel lighter. The man grinned wider as his hands wrapped around your waist, bringing your torso up effortlessly so you were now sitting. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning over so his lips pressed against the shell of your ear, whispering, “You did so well, dear, you’re almost as pure as the day you were born. There’s only a step left in this procedure, but it will hurt at first.” He pressed a hand on the back of your head and pushed forward, forcing you to bury your face in the crook of his neck. You inhaled and felt his fingers massage your scalp gently.

He smelled so intoxicating; a mixture of moss, rain, coffee, tobacco and a hint of something floral emitted from his skin. You realized you had pressed your lips against the man’s neck when you felt him tense up, his hand stilling in your hair. You backed away slightly, blushing so brightly you were grateful he could not see your face, muttering an apology. His body relaxed again, and he hummed, “There’s no need for apologies. Bite down my shoulder—don’t be scared to bite hard—it will make you focus on something else.”

You opened your mouth to ask what he meant but pressed your lips together when you heard a zipper, followed by the shuffling of clothes between your bodies. You brought your hands to his chest, the rosary still in your hand, fingers fidgeting with the beads as you felt one of his large and cold hands spread your thighs a little further apart. You felt his fingers run up and down your slit and you gasped at the feeling, your nails slightly digging into the muscles of his chest. A wet sound travelled up to your ears and you closed your eyes, a shiver running down your spine when you felt a hand drop to your hip, kneading the fat there, and his voice, now a low murmur, “Bite down.”

You barely had the time to process the words that you felt pressure against your entrance which ceded, your walls wrapping around something so thick you shrieked before sinking your teeth into the man’s shoulder. It felt like you were being split in half; the thickness slowly forced its way inside you as tears gathered at your lower lash lines before they dripped down your cheeks. You bit down harder and pulled away quickly when you felt iron-tasting warmth coat the inside of your mouth, but the hand still in your hair pushed you against the bleeding bite mark, the priest almost growling, “Bite, and drink. At this moment, I am God; I am Christ. His blood is mine, and my blood is His’. Savour, dear one, and let me cleanse you inside out.” You let out a shaky breath before sinking your teeth back in his flesh, your brows knitting as he pushed his length an inch deeper inside you, “So obedient.”

You let the blood fill your mouth and swallowed, cringing at the taste but unwilling to go against Heavenly orders. Your arms snaked around his waist as he kept slowly pushing himself into you. The pain was unbearable, but your mind went to Christ, and how much he had suffered for the sins of all; the ache between your legs was a pinch compared to what he had endured, so you toughened up and let your tongue lap at the blood. Your brain felt foggy, and you could only take it as a sign that it was your body reacting to being filled with the divine energy pouring out from the priest. His length reached deeper than his fingers had, and you wondered how much of it you had left to take in.

You soon had your answer, the man stilling as his pelvis pressed against yours; he was so deep in you, stretching you so wide. Your mouth detached from his neck, and you pressed your forehead against his skin, panting loudly as you tried your best to relax your walls around him. The hand that was in your hair made its way to your waist, squeezing gently as you felt his lips press against your ear once again, “Your Lord is so pleased with you; you’re taking his cock so well. You’ll be redeemed in no time.” He slowly pulled out, leaving only his tip in, before thrusting in you at a medium speed, leaving you sobbing against his neck. It was overwhelming, the feeling of his length rubbing your inside and the warmth spreading in your chest, God’s love making you burn up. The feeling started to transform from pain to pleasurable pressure, your pained cries turning into needy moans.

You had managed to reach the tenth Hail Mary in your mind, your fingers reaching the second Decade. You whimpered out the beginning of the Second Luminous Mystery, “On the third day there was a marriage at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there; Jesus also was invited to the marriage, with his disciples.” The priest started moving faster, his hips meeting yours at a much quicker speed; you whined as his tip hit a certain spot inside you, the rosary dropping on the floor as you dug your nails into the man’s shoulder blades. You could not concentrate on anything other than the drag of his length against your walls, panting and gasping each time he bottomed out.

He slightly pulled away from your body and looked down at you, his hips still moving as he brought a hand to grab your jaw from under, forcing you to look at him. He eyed you before crashing his lips against yours, moaning as he tasted his blood in your mouth. You slid your hands up to his hair, tugging at it and scratching his scalp as your teeth clashed together, tongues dancing. You pressed your chest closer to his’ and sighed as your nipples rubbed against his tank top, the feeling sending electric shocks to your core. You parted away from his lips, catching your breath, and your eyes opened and landed on the crucifix watching you; you smiled softly—oh how good was His clemency. Your gaze went back to the priest who was slightly panting, his lower face covered in blood—just like yours— as he smirked at you, sliding his hand to your cheek, stroking the skin tenderly.

In half a second, he pulled out and manhandled you, so you were now bent over the altar, your breasts pressed against the wooden surface as your feet dangled in the air, his large hands holding you up. His knee nudged your legs open wider and you felt him slip back inside you, the new position bringing a different sensation. His hips met your ass, and he started thrusting into you eagerly, loud smacks echoing through the church. You held yourself up on your elbows, holding your head up as you looked at the front door; if someone were to walk in, they would see the priest cleansing you, a Godsent blessing.

Your elbows started to tremble, and the man noticed; he slid a hand below your stomach and hoisted you up against his chest, your back pressed against him. He held you up, his arms wrapped around you as his pelvis smacked against your ass, your feet dangling one foot above the floor. He slid a hand down, his fingers running down your slit, groaning as he felt where you two were connected. He ran them up again and pushed his middle finger against your puffy clit, gently rubbing it as he kept working himself in and out of you. Your head fell back on his shoulder, and he took the opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, kissing and nibbling at the skin.

You truly never had felt anything like this; if you had been a fool, you’d have thought you were glowing from how fulfilled you felt. The familiar tension grew in your lower stomach, lewd noises leaving your mouth as the man dug the fingers of his other hand into your flesh, holding you closer to him as his movements became erratic. His groans and grunts were sending shivers down your back, only adding to the multitudes of sensations you were currently drowning in. As if he could feel you were close to reaching your orgasm, he mumbled against your neck, “Let go, ma chérie. Let evil leave your body, let God replace it with goodness.”

Your breath hitched and with a few more nudges on your clit, the pressure building inside you snapped. Your vision went white as you came, the feeling different from your previous releases. Even through the waves of pleasure, you could feel something drip down your thighs and could hear squelches as the priest kept thrusting his length in you. Your mouth was open, silent cries leaving your throat as you clenched tightly around the man. You felt his lips move against your neck, but you were too lost in feelings to understand what he was saying.

Your tensed-up muscles slowly relaxed as the remains of your orgasm washed over your body. You whimpered as the man kept moving, your core feeling overstimulated by his length still burying itself inside your sensitive walls. He quickly pushed your front back against the altar, grabbing your hips as he moved both his hips and yours in sync, your nails digging into the wood as your ass smacked against him. His thrusts were harsh and fast, leaving you breathless; tears were streaming down your cheeks at the delightful ache.

His hips stilled, his length buried deep inside you, as he groaned lowly. You felt your inside be flooded with warmth, whining as you dropped your forehead against the wooden surface, the cold of it grounding you. You were panting, the warmth creating a pleasant pressure inside your core as the priest rubbed his thumbs over your Venus dimples. He stayed inside you for a few more seconds, before easing out of you, leaving you feeling empty. He once again manhandled you so you were now sitting facing him, holding your limp body up as he dragged a hand up your moist thigh, grinning, “See this wetness? It was the remains of evil leaving your body.” His hand reached your slit and he gathered a sticky white substance on his fingers, bringing his hand up close to your lips, “And this is goodness. Do remember, my dear, your sins are scarlet and they shall be as white as snow.”

You gaped at him; he truly was a man of God. He pushed his fingers past your lips, and you let him, wrapping them around his digits as your tongue licked at the goodness. The taste was bitter, but as your eyes met his’, all you could think about was how caring and selfless the man standing in front of you was. You had come to him, worrying about your purity, and he had completely cleansed you of sin and given you his own God-gifted goodness, not asking anything in return. He removed his fingers from your mouth and brushed your cheek with the back of his index, his smile not faltering, “What is this look you are giving me?”

You blinked a few times, your cheeks flushing as you realized you had been staring, “Father, I must thank you. My body and soul were barren, and you made them anew again. I do not know how I could ever repay you.” His eyes narrowed at your words, his hand reaching to grab his glasses before he put them on and ran a hand through his hair. It dropped to your thigh and drew shapes on there, his gaze not leaving yours.

“Alastor,” he said simply before stepping away from you and bending down to grab your clothes. Your expression turned to a confused one as you watched him slip your underwear up your legs, your skirt following. You let him dress you, his fingers skilfully clasping your bra behind your back before he motioned you to lift your arms so he could slip your shirt back on. Once dressed he let his hand lay on your thigh again, before he spoke up, “My name is Alastor. Call me by it and your debt is repaid.” He grabbed one of your hands and dropped the rosary in it before grabbing your waist and helping you down the altar, “Keep this, use it whenever you feel evil is near.”

You nodded up at him and smiled, your grin faltering for a second when you saw that the crucifix on the wall had detached and was now hanging upside down. Oddly, you thought nothing of it and you looked back at Alastor, your smile spreading wide, “Thank you, Fa—Alastor.” You squeezed the rosary between your fingers, watching as he bent down once again, but this time to grab his cassock and Roman collar. You stood silently as he buttoned it up and placed the white collar around his neck. He straightened the fabric with his hands, before meeting your eyes.

“You look quite a mess, dearest, you’d better go home and clean yourself.”

Your hand flew up to your face where dried blood was caked on your chin and around your mouth, and you felt a blush creep up your neck at his words; he did not look any better. Despite it, you nodded, shifting on your feet as you thanked him once again, “I cannot express how thankful I am, Alastor, truly. You, uh, you should probably get cleaned up too; people would probably wonder why there’s blood smeared on their priest’s face.” The man chuckled and nodded before bending down to grab your coat, handing it to you once he straightened up. You took it and quickly slipped it on, putting the rosary in one of the pockets.

You clasped your hands together and bit down your bottom lip as the man put a hand against your back and urged you to walk with him. You walked down the main aisle silently, stopping once you had reached the end of it. You turned to him and opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it, “Go, now. Enjoy your newly found purity.” You smiled and dipped your chin once; he grinned back, “I will see you tomorrow, though I am hoping you will not walk back in here with that same pitiful expression you had earlier.”

You let out a small laugh as you gestured that you agreed before giving him one last glance and turning around, walking towards the door. You could feel his stare burn holes in your back but ignore the feeling, pushing against the door and stepping outside, the sunlight momentarily blinding you. You sighed loudly, looking around to make sure no one was close; the last thing you wanted was someone seeing you limp, your face bloody. You began to make your way back home, ignoring the way your thighs stuck together from your and Alastor’s bodily fluids. You thought about his words, and strangely, you found yourself disagreeing; you hoped the faceless man would come back. You had tasted true goodness, the powerful and unconditional love and mercy of God, and you wanted more of it.

[kyracooneyx23]

I loved you Leah Williamson fic! I was wondering if you could do a Lucy Bronze x matildas reader where reader and lucy both player for barca and then they verse each other in the world cup semi final

Don't Be Sorry - Lucy Bronze

Lucy bronze x matildas!reader

summary - the Matildas lose to England in the semi final of the womens world cup and you take the blame.

warnings - death threats and hate comments

90+ minutes of you playing your heart out, the hope of a World Cup final promised if your team could get the result you desperately wanted slipped through your fingers as the dreaded sound of the full-time whistle rang through your mind. You collapse to the floor, face buried in your hands as you feel your tears wet the floor around you. The salty taste burned your already parched throat as you sobbed into your hand.

You were never an emotional person over football, but you had the weight of an entire country resting on your shoulders and you had let them down.

This was the moment you had spent your life working towards, ever since you were 4 years old, when you first watched a game of women's football you had made it your goal to one day be like the women you had seen on your screen. You promised yourself that one day you would represent your country in a World Cup, and now that dream had become reality you had stuffed everything up.

The haunting images of the ball flying past you and into the net still haunts you. You had the chance to stop the ball from going in but stuck your leg out too far and the ball went right past.

Not only did you feel like you had let down your fans, you had let down your teammates as well. It was your job as the team's main center-back to stop the goals and you failed. It was a stupid mistake for Tony to pick you to start, even more stupid that he'd kept you on the full game.

You felt the England player's hands patting you softly on the back, but you didn't bother getting up to congratulate them on their success not feeling up to facing other people.

'Hey, it's going to be ok y/n/n.' You hear the soft, comforting whisper of your captain, whose voice makes you sob even harder. You roll over onto your back so you can see her properly, out of everyone on this pitch you knew you owed her a proper apology.

'I'm so sorry Sam.' Your voice is hoarse and it pains you to see her tear-stained cheeks 'I let the whole team down, I know how much this meant to you. I'm sorry for ruining it, you deserved the win.' You burst into tears again as your captain pulled you into a warm embrace, rubbing your back to try and calm you down.

'This is not your fault.' She says, her voice is stern but you know she's not using the tone in a mean way, 'You played your heart out. I'm not allowing you or anyone to take the blame for the result. Every single person who has pulled on the green and gold jersey this tournament needs to be proud of everything they have done. We've made history this World Cup and that can't be forgotten because of one game. We still have the bronze medal match, we need to dust ourselves off and focus on winning that.' Your breathing slows down, knowing you were overreacting and that Sam was right. You needed to concentrate on the third-place game, there was still a chance to bring home some silverware for your country.

As you rose from the ground, extending congratulations to several of the Lionesses for their victory, you found yourself mid-conversation with Kyra and Mini. Suddenly, you felt the gentle embrace of two arms encircling your waist and a head nestling into the curve of your neck.

You turn around, enveloping your girlfriend in an embrace, the silent language of your intertwined bodies speaks more than any words could in the moment. It was a relief to be in the arms that felt more like home than anywhere else, her presence was all you needed to feel slightly better. Tears trickle down your cheeks again, a release from the flood of emotions that have become too overwhelming.

After a while the silence is broken 'I'm so sorry,' Lucy whispers into your ear 'I know how much this meant to you baby, I wish it didn't have to end this way.' You shake your head at her words, not wanting to ruin the special moment that she had also worked so hard for.

'Luc, don't be sorry. I'm not hearing it. Go and make the most of this moment. You deserve it.' You say pulling out of the hug, not wanting your disappointment to ruin her occasion, you knew better than anyone how much effort Lucy put into getting here in her career.

Lucy looks at you with sincerity in her eyes, you can see how excited she is to have made it to a World Cup final, but she still stays with you instead of celebrating with her team. You know you would've done the same thing if the roles were reversed but you still feel bad for keeping her away. 'Babe, go celebrate, I know you want to.' You tell her, your tone almost demanding.

But she doesn't leave your side and for the next 15 minutes she's constantly peppering your face with kisses and expressing words of admiration and respect, acknowledging the relentless dedication you had put into getting here. You keep trying to push her away but she refuses to leave, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and keeping you tucked as close to her as she possibly could not letting you free anytime soon.

Whilst you walk around the pitch together the fact that you two are rivals dissolves, no one would know that one of you had just lost to the other in a World Cup semi-final if it wasn't for the two different jerseys the two of you were wearing.

You gaze at her, and you know that you look like the biggest simp for her as you send her a loving look. The fan's edits after this match would be crazy.

The two of you were a popular couple that the fans adored even though you two had never properly gone public with your relationship, you just weren't the best at keeping it much of a secret.

Neither of you minded though, you found both the tiktoks quite funny.

After a little more walking around with Lucy, you know you can't let her stay with you any longer. 'You've poured your heart into every match, every training session,' you murmur, your voice barely a whisper against the loud atmosphere. 'You deserve this win more than anyone. This victory is yours, you've earned it through all your determination and hard work. Now please go and celebrate, I know that you'll be greatly missed in the changing rooms. I refuse to keep you to myself anymore, we'll have so much time just the two of us back in Barca. I love you, now enjoy your win' You tell her managing to wriggle free from her tight grip and place a light kiss on her lips, which she tries to deepen before you pull away laughing lightly at her clinginess.

'I love you sunshine.' She tells you blowing you a kiss before running over to her teammates who all bring her in for a large group hug. You smile at her almost forgetting how you'd felt only a short time ago.

Seeing Lucy happy made you happy.

'Hello, Miss Bronze.' Caitlin says standing beside you and you can hear the smirk in her voice. 'Care to join your team anytime soon or are you going to keep staring at your girl like a freak for the rest of the night?' She laughs and you shove her slightly.

'I'm coming, you can piss off now.' You tell the brunette, following her towards the team huddle not too far away from where you were. Steph and Kyra wrap their arms around you as you squeeze into the team circle.

The circle is quieter than your previous huddles, the energy gone from the disappointing loss and everyone exhausted from the game you'd just played.

Tony speaks to everyone, telling us it's not over yet and we can't stop working. The talk is coming to an end when he begins to talk about how we should all be very proud of ourselves 'You girls should all be extremely proud of what you have done,' he waves his hand across the sea of fans in green and gold, still screaming and cheering despite the loss. 'Every single one of you has won the hearts of a nation, you have inspired generations to come, and have changed the future of women's football in Australia. That is an incredible achievement.' A small round of applause echoes throughout the group and Tony finishes up the talk letting everyone head off.

All the girls do one more lap of the field, thanking the fans for their support before quickly getting changed and heading back to the hotel, everyone wanting a good nights rest after the long day.

The next day, the bright sun and Kyra's snoring wakes you up. You chuck a pillow at her, laughing at her annoyed grunts and swearing before getting out of bed, showering, and getting changed. You're quick, not wanting to be late for Lucy as the two of you had planned to go out for coffee this morning. You were excited to see how hungover she would be, you'd be surprised if she even managed to get out of bed this morning.

You weren't meant to be meeting Lucy until 10 and it was only 9:15 when you got out of the shower, so you took the extra time to scroll on your phone.

You had hardly thought about the game last night, knowing it would only affect your upcoming game if you worried about that too much. But as you open your phone, which you hadn't been on since before the game, your stomach twists and you feel like you're going to be sick.

A million notifications pop up on your screen. DM's of people telling you to kill yourself and posts that tagged you showing the two goals you couldn't stop yesterday. You tried not to read them but there were too many and you couldn't stop yourself.

Y/N L/N can go fucking throw herself off the Sydney Harbor Bridge for all I care. What a fucking joke this is, I knew women's football would suck. You're telling me that a 'professional' fullback can't stop the easiest goals. hope she fucking dies, let down a whole country.

Morning Y/N, hope you slept terribly last night. Let down a whole country with your shit performance. I'm sure many people would appreciate it if you took a break from football and found a job you're good at. I don't want to see you step foot on a pitch ever again and if you do I'll make sure you're sorry for it.

L/N just proves that female athletes are all just sluts, lost her team a world cup semi-final and all she did after the game was eye fuck Lucy Bronze, what happened to being a team player?

Hi Y/N, thanks to you my daughter cried herself to sleep last night, what happened to inspiring all the young girls, get a fucking life and get back into the kitchen. women like you don't belong on a football pitch. Never touch a football again thanks.

There were so many, all saying the same kind of things that it all just blurred together. Your thoughts from yesterday returned and all you could think about was about how all these people were right. You let down your country and you were a joke.

You were so caught up in everything that you hardly noticed the time slowly tick past 10:15 and all the notifications from Lucy asking where you were. You just sat on your bed, not quite sure what to do. You'd never felt more like a failure in your life, tears poured down your face they were practically choking you but you didn't mind.

You had let down your country and thousands of people agreed with you.

When you didn't answer Lucy's fifth call she got seriously worried. You always had your phone on you and you never ignored Lucy's calls. She called you one more time and when you didn't answer, she took matters into her own hands.

As soon as the Uber arrived outside your hotel, Lucy sprinted up to your room. Until security stopped her at the front desk, demanding that she prove that she was staying at the hotel before they let her in.

She was begging them for a good five minutes until it got to the point when she was offering money for them to let her in. Fortunately, Alanna spotted Lucy at the desk and after seeing her desperate expression she decided to go over and see what was happening.

'Is everything all right?' She asked both the receptionist and Lucy.

'She's not letting me see y/n/n' Lucy snapped shooting the desk lady a dirty glare.

'I need proof, I can't just let anyone in.' She says matter-of-factly causing Lucy to roll her eyes. Alanna ignores the lady giving Lucy all her attention.

'I thought she was going out to see you?' Alanna asked confused 'That's what Kyra told everyone.'

'She was meant to, but she didn't show up and hasn't been answering my calls, I need to know if she's ok.' Lucy's forehead creased with worry, her girlfriend was never late and always picked up the phone.

'I'm sure she'll be fine, I'll take you to go and check her room and see if she's there.' Alanna tells the brunette before turning around having a quick word with the receptionist who mumbles something under her breath before turning to Lucy and allowing her to go up, apologising for the trouble.

Her words aren't heard by the English footballer who is already speed-walking up the hallway despite having no clue where she is going. Alanna jogs lightly to catch up to her grabbing her wrist to stop her from walking. At first, Lucy tries to pull her wrist away but stops when Alanna drops it.

'Her rooms the other way.' Alanna says softly, causing Lucy to turn around and start power walking in the opposite direction. Alanna laughs lightly at her. 'Slow down, you're just going to get lost. I'll take you to her.'

You're curled up under the blankets in your bed. You'd been lying there for almost an hour. Your phone was on silent so you hadn't seen all the missed calls from Lucy, you felt guilty for not showing up but surely she wouldn't care too much. No one in their right mind would want to be seen with a mess like you, especially not the Lucy Bronze.

You lay in silence for a while longer, nobody disrupting you as the do not disturb sign was up and all the girls were out for the off day. You were almost too caught up in your thoughts to hear the knocking on the door and Alanna's voice calling out your name.

'Y/N, are you in there?' She asked again 'Y/N?' You groaned pulling the blankets up so they were almost covering your head.

'Go away Lani.' You mumble only just loud enough for her to hear. You are shocked when she agrees and you hear her footsteps getting further away.

You roll further into your bed, groaning when you hear another knock on the door. 'Baby, are you alright?' Your girlfriend asks, your stomach flips with guilt.

'I don't want to talk right now Luce.' You tell her even though you know that's not going to stop her from coming to see you.

'I need to know that my girlfriends ok.' She tells you and you hear the doorknob twist, the bright light that fills your room makes your head pound and you bury your face into the pillow.

When Lucy sees you lying in the darkness she immediately rushes to your side and places a hand on your forehead, probably checking to see if you had a temperature.

'What's wrong my love?' She asks sitting next to you on the bed and stroking your back. 'Are you sick? Do you need me to get anything for you?' The brunette asks the worry evident in her tone. You turn around to face her, only seeing her concerned face makes you burst out crying.

As tears streamed down your cheeks, you poured your heart out to your girlfriend, the weight of disappointment and guilt heavy on your shoulders, you couldn't not tell her about what was going on.

The two of you told each other everything.

In the quiet of the hotel room, you confessed her insecurities, voice choking with emotion. 'I'm a failure,' you whispered, hands trembling as you recounted the mistakes that haunted you from the semi-finals and all the awful messages you'd received after the game. With each word, Lucy listened intently, offering comforting words of reassurance. 'You're not a failure,' she whispered back, gently wiping away your tears. 'You're brave for putting yourself out there, for giving it your all. Football doesn't define you; your resilience does. You are the best player I know, you didn't win Player of the Year for nothing. All the girls were talking about how well you played last night, just because the result didn't go your way it doesn't mean you're a failure.' She places light kisses over your face 'The people hating are all just dickheads, I can't imagine them doing even half of what you've achieved. Don't let them get to you.' She tells you, midway through your conversation she had laid down beside you, wrapping you in her arms. You had your head lying on her chest, the beat of her heart helping calm you down.

You don't know how you got a girlfriend like Lucy. But you were undeniably grateful for her no matter what. She'd been there for you through the worst and best parts of your life.

'I'm sorry Lucy.' You whisper to her.

'Don't be sorry.' She tells you placing a light kiss on your forehead 'You've done nothing wrong.'

'You're meant to be enjoying making it to the final, but instead you're stuck looking after me.'

'Yeah, but being stuck with my favorite person in the world is my kind of heaven.' She tells you softly causing a small smile to break out on your face 'I love you y/n/n.'

'Love you more.' You say back to her.

'That's impossible baby.' A small smirk appears on her face 'I'll always love you the most.'

[heavenlymorals]

This started out as a list for me for fanfiction purposes, but then I decided I should just post it cuz why the hell not?

These are my observations for what religions some RDR characters may follow. These assumptions are going to be based off cultural details and dialogue.

Again, they're only assumptions, so I'm very much aware that they can be wrong.

Dutch: Dutch is really interesting in the sense that he believes in a higher power. The three main components of Romantacism were the relationship between man and man, man and nature, and man and god. Dutch is a romantic. He also has many lines where he talks about heaven, with one being: "Be a man who knows that there is a heaven above or scurry off like some god forsaken monkeys." We know Dutch isn't Catholic considering his negative views towards Catholicism ("Here we are in this strange land of Papists and rapists."), so he is most likely from some sort of protestant background who then rejected it for the romantic tradition as many of the newspapers in RDR1 would say things about Dutch not getting saved. John says the same thing. Dutch is a diest but not a Christian.

Hosea: Hosea is some sort of protestant Christian and we get this through cultural background and dialogue. We learn that when he was younger, he wanted to be a priest but let go of that because he needed to be Catholic. America was and still is a majority protestant nation but even moreso back then. We also hear him talk about heaven and hell a couple of times, lamenting about how when he does, he won't see Bessie because she'll be in heaven. He is angry at his faith, yes, with the line of "And we're supposed to believe in judgement" when ranting about Bessie's death, but then apologizes, admitting that he can't understand it, not that he doesn't believe.

Arthur is agnostic, but he's open to the idea of faith. In one of this journal entries, he says something about whether he can achieve salvation or heaven or whether that's all fairy tales, as he's not sure what to believe when he dies, even though to the nun, he says he doesn't believe in anything. Arthur also seems to have a distaste for the church as an organization, evidenced by his dialogue with the grave digger debtor, but he seems to like religious people, or at the very least he is open to them. He never knocks down Brother Dorkins and he feels at peace when he speaks to the nun in their final meeting at the train station. Very interesting that he feels better after he talks to the nun, a character who is supposed to embody positive religion and what it can do for people.

John is a non practicing Christian, which makes sense considering his background and the work he has to put in to keep his family safe. It keeps him from actively practicing. Though he's a realist and isn't practically concerned about religion in his everyday life, shown by his father dismissive attitude towards religious people in the game, God is still an active force in his life. Throughout the story, John has lines about God as an active force in his life. When he marries Abigail, he says he wants to marry her "in front of God." A preacher authenticates the wedding. John owns a Bible in his house, makes references about Dutch not getting saved, and talks to Jack about the possibility of redemption as something the "good book" says, despite not reading it with him.

Abigail seems to also be a more practicing Christian, given that she does ask Jack a couple of times throughout the story to read verses for her, but beyond that, I feel like she is also pretty lukewarm in regards to her faith, but she is still a Christian.

Sean and Javier are all most likely cultural Catholics. Sean is an Irish man and is proud of his Irish heritage, which also includes Irish Catholicism and he mentions being a child of God a couple times throughout background dialogue. Javier is a Mexican man and Mexico is very Catholic and though he doesn't really speak of it, he has done the symbol of the cross in game, so it's likely that he still holds some religious thoughts.

Molly is most likely an Irish Protestant due to her conflicts with Sean as well as her family's connections with the English.

Charles is tricky because we know that despite being proud of his native heritage, he is still very much displaced from his culture. What this means is that while he might follow native religion, it equally as likely that he follows some sort of protestantism because of his lack of time with his tribe, forced assimilation, and his relationship with his black father, who would culturally most likely be a Christian. There are really no clues or hints about Charles' beliefs besides his cultural backgrounds so take that as you will.

Micah is a reddit atheist. He doesn't believe in divinity at all and he uses that to shape his worldview as well. No such thing as heaven and hell, only winners and losers. He bullies Swanson a lot for his faith and constantly belittles the idea of religion.

Karen, Tilly, Marybeth, Grimshaw, Pearson, Lenny, Leopald, Josiah, and Kieran don't really have any clues as to what they personally believe. The only idea that we have is the setting that they lived in and the culture that they frequented which makes it most likely that they are some sort of Christian, but what denomination? Don't know.

Sadie is a Christian, but most likely non practicing. We have multiple lines with her referencing God as an active force. "Everyone's got to choose who they're loyal to. God, the state, themselves. If a bounty hunter wants to last, his loyalty has got to be with the one issuing the bounty, plain and simple." "Guess he began to believe he was God or something."

Uncle is nonreligious, most likely agnostic due to his very lax tone in regards to faith, which is also evidenced by his rather wild lifestyle in multiple stories of his. "Do you believe in reincarnation?" "I hope and pray to whatever is out there-" "It's like rooming with the King James Bible."

Swanson is a protestant. Need I say more?

I'll post more later if I feel like it 🫶🏼

[sanemisstalker]

Incel! Gyutaro, but it's a modern western college! au and you whip him into shape real fast. My ex won't talk to me, so I'm very much fantasizing about a man that will be obsessive over me ---> gyutaro NSFW

CW// Fem reader / AFAB genitalia / Breasted Reader / INCEL MENTALITIES : Sexism, Poly Hate / BDSM dynamics/ Implied ED (Gyutaro is a gym junkie who should definitely be eating more) / SH / Men's Mental Health / Inconsistent POV because I'm writing this with my hand down my pants (I am joking)

PART TWO <-

-You go to community College with him. He's some fucking dude in your necessary math course they wouldn't let you drop. He sits next to you in the booths.

-He's not awful looking. He's got some weird scars across his face, but like, they're kind of artsy. They add a flare the guy would be lacking otherwise.

-His vibe is a little... weird. He doesn't talk in class ever. You see him around campus and he doesn't seem... at all versed in social interaction. You once watched him get into a fight, which was a little sexy, but since it was with Tengen Uzui, your eyes were much more interested in the latter.

-Gyutaro is used to that though. Never being the one looked at. Typical of women like you. You're always frothing at the mouth over fucking Chad's like Tengen- He got it. Tengen was built, strong jawed, and just reeked of sex appeal wherever he walked. He always had the glaze of one of those five sluts he hung out with on his lips-

-Tengen was lucky. He's apparently been training since he was young- to look like a Greek God and all. Gyutaro spent the first years of his life fighting to survive in a hospital, and then every year after fighting to live in his home safely.

-and girls like you- sluts like you were always going to favour Tengen. Always assholes.

-After that fight, you began speaking to Gyutaro. You didn't come onto the topic immediately- you didn't want to pry- So You'd mention his shirt.

-'Is that Death Cab For Cutie?' His heart dropped when you spoke. He didn't even register you were talking about his shirt.

-'Are... Are you talking to me?' He'd croak. His voice was quite nice. Soft, but low.

-'Yeah- Your shirt? That's... That's death cab for cutie, right?'

-'Y-Yeah.'

-As classes rolled by, you came to understand that Gyutaro was a very... disturbed individual. Aside from being generally jumpy and odd, his moral opinions specifically toward women were less than desirable.

-You came to know of his opinions toward Tengen as well. The level of insecurity dripping from every word was palatable... even through the venom.

-He called women 'femoids' and constantly tried to express that Tengen had been given a bigger genetic stick in life. You could never decide if he was referring to Tengen's dick or not.

-You were different, though, He'd assure. You always got what he was saying. Even if you were just letting him mindlessly ramble about his awful, borderline questionable mentalities.

-with said mentalities, you began to realize that Gyutaro was a very easy man. An incredibly easy man. Who was incredibly attracted to every woman he met- but especially you.

-'Gyutaro, have you ever slept with anyone?' You'd ask one day, on the way to the cafeteria. On the few days he chose that over the gym, he'd walk with you. You worried about him, occasionally.

-The question would visibly startle him.

-'I-No. I'm - ha- I'm not... Why?' He'd cut over his own words, face burning.

-'Just curious. You seem all cool, like you get around.' You'd melt a little at that prideful look on his face. How absolutely smitten.

-Maybe the power went to your head, but you began to seek little moments of affirmation from Gyutaro. You'd bend over, a little too close to him- The chronic porn addict. Knowing what it did to him.

-You'd always compliment his shirts- All of his bands incredibly main stream despite his insistence that they weren't.

-You remembered the noise he made when you grabbed his arm in class, once. The teacher had decided to round up the class grade- just barely passing you- and you turned and clung onto his arm, and it was almost like he choked.

-'Hey, Gyutaro, can I come over and study?' You'd pose one day. His face would turn red, a hand flying to his scarred wrist. He itched the skin off- almost always raw.

-'To my- my dorm?'

-'Mhm.'

-'My room isn't-' He'd pause. 'Why? What do you want?' His emotions would flit, unsure of your reasoning. You'd roll your eyes.

-'To hang out? You know? On the one night a week we don't have homework?'

-'Aren't you going to go... party? You do every other weekend.' You found the tang of malice on his tongue adorable. Irritating, but adorable.

'One, I don't party every week. Two, I think you'd be fun to hang out with. What, am I not pretty enough to bring back to your roomate? Am I not allowed in the great and powerful lord Gyutaro's room? ' You'd taunt.

-'N-no. You're pr- no I-'

-'Cool! You live in the good dorms, right?'

-Gyutaro did live in the good dorms. He was also very lucky to be in a one man dorm. Apparently his old roomate, Akaza, had moved out to join a frat.

-Not that you could tell it was a good dorm. The thing was filthy. It smelled like hell, too. Like Gyutaro.

-'I'm sorry for the mess.' He'd grumble. 'I get really busy...'

-'You're fine. Are you a PC gamer?' You'd point to his massive set up.

-'Y-yeah.'

-'Thats cool- ooooh, a Scott Pilgrim poster. I love that movie.' God, you just knew everything, didn't you? All the things girls weren't supposed to like. Gyutaro had been fantasizing about this very moment since you bothered to open your mouth at him. He guessed his work outs had been paying off.

-'Yeah its a good comic, too.'

-The conversation would sway too and frough. Not every really finding a groove. A girl in his room, and he could barely speak to her- you decided to take drastic measures.

-'Hey, Gyutaro, do you want to like do something? Like... a game.' You'd ask, turning to face him.

-'I- um- I have some two players-'

-'Not a game like that.' You'd laugh. He'd quirk an eyebrow. 'I'm like... horny. Like a party game'

-If you'd suddenly fired a gun next to his ear, the effect those words had on Gyutaro would've been the same. He gaped at your bluntness.

-'You're horny?'

-'Yeah... I want to do something... Dirty, I don't know.' You jerked the air off.

-'A-are you gonna leave?' He'd ask, sounding pathetic. 'Do you need me to leave?' What a dumb question, he realized, the second it left his mouth. This was his home, why would he let you jerk off-

-'Do you want to watch? It'd be rude to make you leave.' You completely understood the absurdity of the words coming from your mouth. Every word made Gyutaro's face twist into something akin to... excited disgust. It was fascinating.

-'W-watch?' He didn't understand why he stuttered so much around you.

-'Yeah... Watch? We don't need to like- play like... strip poker or anything. I just want to do something raunchy.'

-'We-we're not dating. You should do that with your boyfriend.'

-'Gyutaro, you know I don't have a boyfriend.' You'd remind. 'Are you scared?'

-'I'm not scared- I-'

-'We're adults. We can do what we want.' His traditionalist mindset was wanning by the word. He wanted you something awful, and here you were, offering to... touch yourself infront of him-

-He'd been leaning on his bed, and you began to creep forward.

-'Do you have any toys?'

-'You mean like vibes?' If his voice wasn't cracking, it was dry. Painfully so. 'I-'

-'Any you haven't put in you?'

-'I'm not into that.' He'd defend. A lie. A painful lie at that. 'I-'

-'Into what?' You'd bring your hand toward the edge of his shirt. He'd begin shaking under your touch. 'No bandaids over your nipples?'

-You'd been so kind and casual to him thus far. Always appreciating his bands and asking about his games. You're eyes had never even fixated on his birthmarks- He never expected you to actually like him-

-'I-I'm not some... some freak.'

-'You think I'm a freak for being into that?' His heart would ache at the sigh in your voice, guilt growing in his stomach as your hand left. 'Sorry, I guess I'll just go back to my dorm.'

-As you turned to leave, Gyutaro would scramble off the bed, eyes blown wide. His foot would knock into an empty can on the floor, and He'd probably tip over some of the comics on his nightstand.

-'Wait-wait!' He'd step over a pile of clothes, and begin rummaging around in the drawer behind his bed.

-His thin hand would come back with a small pink vibe- attached to a thin white wire. You could barely fight back the evil grin on your face as he resurfaced, face just as pink as the vibrator.

-You feigned needing help onto his bed, just so he'd pick you up and set you there. His tenseness was comedic. As you fully situated yourself, Gyutaro just stood, hands in his pockets-

-'Well, come on?' You ushered, nodding to the space between your legs. Gyutaro looked to the spot and then back to you.

-This couldn't be real. You couldn't be fucking real. Even as you spread your legs infront of him, revealing your dripping fucking pussy-- it could not be fucking real. It was too pornographic. You couldn't be serious- Any second you'd snap your legs shut, realize how fucking disgusting he was- how worthless and weird- and you'd spit on him, get up, and leave-

-But you didn't. You pressed the vibe to your clit and Gyutaro watched in awe as your pussy clenched around nothing. Begging, pleading for a cock to fill you, just like all the forums said it would.

-You swore you heard him whimper- gasp- Feeling all powerful under his watchful eye. You were very pleased to find he was bulging through his sweats, a small wet patch already forming.

-He wouldn't be able to get over how fucking wet you were. How good your pussy responded to the vibrations, how good you looked when you craved dick-

-'You should... Your hard on looks like it hurts.'

-Fuck, everything hurt. Your voice made his balls ache, begging for release. He didn't want to cum so early- Didn't want to be a minute man infront of you.

-You wanted him to cum early so bad. His dick had already soaked through his sweats with pre- you knew you could get him worse.

-'Gyutaro, can you- Can you finger me?'

-So fucking cruel. So fucking evil-

-You knew he'd be no good. Too rough and fast, but to your surprise, he shook his head. Very admant.

-'Why not?'

-'I- my hands are gross.' He'd whisper. The poor thing sounded close to tears. He wanted to finger you so bad, but he was all to aware of the cracks and scabs along his knuckles. 'I don't want to get you dirty.'

-'Do you have gloves?' You were surprised by the desperation in your own voice. Fuck.

-'L-like latex?'

-'Mhm'

-Gyutaro had cleared the bed and rush to his bathroom, yanking the gloves from the medicine cabinet. You heard the faucet start, and then a crash and a bang-

-And then Gyutaro was back infront of you, one hand covered with a glove. And he smelled like cologne. You held back a laugh.

-He shivered at the way your pussy sucked his finger in. And then a second not even a minute later.

-'It hurts... You should get on top of me. It'll help.' You reasoned.

-Gyutaro watched you with wide eyes as he bent down next to you, the curve of his wrist allowing him to begin an all too gentle thrust into your pussy.

-His face was right by yours, drinking in the sight of you growing heavy eyed and huffy with awe.

-He picked up his speed. Fuck- you were a real doll, alright. So fucking perfect. All for him. All his- you were his, he decided, deluded by the intimacy of the situation.

-You weren't going to be allowed to go anywhere with any other man- ever again. Nobody else could see this. Nobody was going to see you cum other than him, make you cum, other than him.

-'You keep going just past it-' You'd groan with frustration.

-'Past- What?'

-'I need you to- my g-spot you keep hitting everything but it-'

-His face would turn bright red at the critique.

-'Your g-spot?'

-'Of course you wouldn't know what that is.' You'd snark, reaching down to grab his wrist. His jaw would tighten as you began to guide his hand in and out of your pussy, back arching as he grazed a textured part of your walls.

-He felt like a dildo, an object for you to chase your high-

-Gyutaro came before you, his free hand rushing to try and prevent it, but you'd feel him shiver and hear a soft-

-'Fuck- fuck!'

-And you' look to see a wet patch on the crotch of his sweats. It looked like he pissed himself, the stain starting at least midway down his thigh-

-You imagined such a gigantic load being forced past your cervix. His cock had to be huge- fucking huge- with enough cum to spill for days after.

-'I'm-I'm cumming-' You'd squeak as the vibrator paired with Gyutaro's shame sent you spiraling. His head would snap up to watch-

-You'd leave with nothing but a thanks, and a small comment on how he needed to clean his room - The look of shock on his face borderline second orgasm worthy- He'd already gotten hard again. He wanted to go- wanted you.

-But he'd get a text from you later that night. You'd be at a party- like he knew you were supposed to be.

-'Lol' would accompany a photo of you in a slutty little dress next to Tengen Uzui and those three bimbos always by his side. It would dock his confidence, send him spiraling- panicking-

-But it'd be there...a thin little wire peaking out from between your thighs.

-You'd send him your address and hope he'd have the balls to do something about it.

[imagine-you]

my love is alive and not dead [Logan/Reader]

Summary: The sixth and final chapter of won't somebody come take me home. All hell has well and truly broken loose with the arrival of old friends and unwanted guests. You want nothing more than to send Jean and the other Logan home, but you start to realize that your main priority has to be freeing your Logan from Apocalypse's clutches. You're not prepared for the sacrifice you'll have to make to wake Logan, but it might be the only way to get him home and secure the future you're so desperate to share with him. Word Count: 10.1k This Chapter May Contain: Angst, Reunions, Surprise Cameos!, Near-Death Experiences, Logan Brooding, Retribution, Teamwork, Fluff, and A Happy Ending.

Home 'Verse Read On AO3

"Get the fuck out," you spat at Jean and the other Logan. You knew Jean was the bigger threat, especially when she was using her full powers, but you couldn't take your eyes off the other Logan. You didn't trust him and you sure as hell didn't want to let your guard down around him. "Leave," you demanded when they both kept staring at you. "I don't care how the fuck you do it, but you’ve got to go back. You sure as hell can't stay here."  

"We're only here to help," Jean claimed, holding on to her usual unbothered facade. "I've defeated Apocalypse before. I can do it again. I thought you would appreciate us lending a hand." 

You rolled your eyes, beginning to form a spiked forcefield around your fist. "Get out," you ordered. "We've got more than enough here to defeat Apocalypse. We don’t need you. We’ve never needed you," you stressed, meeting the other Logan’s stare.  

"Are you really going to deny our help because of our past?" Jean wondered, arching an eyebrow at you in question. “I thought you’d want to put all that behind us given the current circumstances.” 

You let out a disbelieving laugh, taking a step in her direction. You didn't care if she could kill you with just a though, because all you wanted to do was hurt her. She had swept your life away from you like it was nothing and now she wanted to play nice? You didn’t trust her as far as you could throw her and that was not at all. You wanted her and the other Logan gone so badly that you could feel your shoulders pull tight with tension. You were poised, ready to strike at just one wrong word, but you weren’t even sure which one of them you wanted to hit more.  

"Hold on, now," Cable started, moving to put himself between you and Jean. "We're all here for the same reason." 

"Are we?" You questioned, looking from Jean to the other Logan. "Because I can't help but think their motives aren't so altruistic. After Scott died, those two made my life hell," you reminded everyone in the room. "You really think I can trust them to help me get back the love of my life? What the fuck are you two even doing here? Shouldn’t you have fucked off into the sunset together with your kid?" 

You noticed the other Logan shift warily on his feet. "You came back to get me from Omega Red. We can do this for you." You thought he would leave it there, touched that maybe he had found some semblance of compassion since you were gone. Until he opened his mouth again. "And then you can come back home." 

You blinked at him in surprise before the words fully registered. "What the fuck did you just say?" 

“Oh, it’s about to get good,” you heard Wade mutter. 

"Come home," the other Logan repeated, having the audacity to look like he genuinely wanted you back in your original universe.  

 You could do nothing but stare at the other Logan for a moment before you started laughing. It was too high, too hysterical, and entirely done with the whole situation. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you growled.  

Cable held a hand up, his palm facing you. "Why don't we just calm down, alright? Let's think about the bigger picture here." 

"No, no," Wade tutted, shaking a finger at Cable. "Let her cook." 

"What is wrong with you?" You couldn't help but wonder as you stared down the other Logan. "Do you not remember when you dropped me at the first opportunity for her?" You gestured towards Jean, trying hard not to sneer at her. "Do you not remember when I showed up to save your ass and then told you I was happier here? Do you not remember that I never want to go back, because I found the right Logan? The better Logan? Huh? Any of that ringing a bell?" 

The other Logan's jaw was clenched, and you could see him trying to suppress his irritation. "This isn't your home," he tried to argue, and you finally decided you had enough.  

You lunged at the other Logan, letting the spikes disappear as you hit him over and over again. You didn’t want this to be over too soon, preferring to take your time with the other Logan. You wanted him to feel pain and while it would never compare to the kind he had inflicted on you, it would have to do for now. So, you let your forcefield take the brunt of the impact, bringing it down into his face over and over again.  

The other Logan’s nose broke and blood was now pouring freely from a cut on his lip, but you couldn't stop. You realized that the other Logan was simply letting you take out all your anger on him and that only fueled your rage more. You didn't need pity from him or any favors. You needed him gone.  

You had drawn your fist up for another hit when you staggered back, clutching your head as a blinding agony took over. It took you entirely too long to realize it was Jean. You remembered the psychic blasts she would bestow on opponents, putting them through unimaginable pain. Now you knew what it felt like, and it only served to piss you off even more.  

You turned your attention away from the other Logan and towards her. You could shield yourself, but you wanted to annoy her. So, you brought up a shaky hand and pushed past the pain to erect a forcefield around her, cutting off her psychic power. Jean narrowed her eyes at you, but you weren't done. You felt a grin form on your face as the first spike shot out, nearly catching Jean in the side. Her eyes went wide in surprise, and you spat out a mouthful of blood. Jean's attack had startled you enough that you had bitten the side of your mouth and now blood was all you could taste.  

"You're not the only one with tricks," you told her. "Want another one?" 

"Alright, alright," Magik sighed before grabbing your arm. "Break it up, children." 

You were suddenly on the front lawn, Magik still keeping a tight grip on your arm. You could hear shouting inside the mansion, and you turned back to consider it, not able to get a good glimpse into the room where you were previously standing. 

You were equal parts grateful and annoyed for Illyana’s intervention. You wanted to see just how many hits you could get in before Jean crumbled. You wanted to bash the other Logan’s face in until he could see nothing but his own blood. You wanted to destroy them, but you also knew that it wouldn’t bring you the peace you sought. You would only get that back once the pair of them were gone and you had your Logan back. Now, you were caught in a weird limbo where nothing felt right, and everything was fucked up.  

"Fuck," you sighed before letting yourself drop onto the ground.  

"Fuck," Illyana agreed, sitting down at your side. "Breakups are messy." 

You snorted, shaking your head. "It's not even the breakup anymore," you admitted, listening to the raised voices inside the front room.  

You heard the other Logan roar before Wade was thrown through the window. He was bent over the frame, a piece of glass sticking through his torso. He let himself fall forward as a flash lit up the front room and you heard Charles tell Alex to calm down in an exasperated voice.  

You watched as Wade practically bounced back to his feet, shaking off glass as he rapidly healed the claw marks along his ribs.  

"It's her and it's him and it's them here together while my Logan is off being a weapon for Apocalypse. They're the last people I wanted to see," you continued once the ruckus died down. 

Wade dropped down on your other side, throwing an arm around your shoulders.  

"Maybe I should have called on a different ex of yours," Illyana mused, gaining Wade's attention. You could feel him practically perk up at your side.  

"Oh? Please share," Wade chimed in, leaning forward to get a better look at Illyana. "I thought she only had eyes for tall, dark, and angry in there." 

Illyana laughed, shooting you a smirk. "Not entirely," she allowed with a shrug of her shoulders. "There was one Sergeant Barnes. The two of you were so sweet together." 

You hadn't thought of Bucky in a while, but you couldn't deny that you missed him. Before the two of you fell together, you had been friends. You had been pining over Logan and Bucky had been missing Steve, so it just made sense that the two of you would seek comfort in each other. It had been good, perfect, until it wasn't. But you knew that despite the distance, if Magik had gone to him telling him you needed help, he would have dropped everything to be here.  

"Oh my God," Wade gasped, pointing at you. "Look at that smile. You fucked the Winter Soldier! Wow, you really like the strong, silent, traumatized type," he remarked, bumping his shoulder into yours.  

You ignored Wade and turned your focus on Illyana. "You need to take them back. I don't want them here. I don't need them here." 

"I think you do," she refuted, shaking her head. "Jean killed Apocalypse once before. Maybe she can kill this one too. You're being stubborn, no?" 

You sighed, not wanting to admit that maybe Magik was right. There were a lot of things you were willing to compromise for the sake of Logan, your dignity among them. "I'm not apologizing," you told her, knowing you sounded childish. "And I can't promise that I won't try to kill Jean or that asshole in there if they piss me off." 

"First, we kill Apocalypse," Magik replied, before shooting you a conspiratorial smirk. "And then if you still want to kill the two idiots, I'll help you." 

"Yes," Wade hissed in approval. "That's what I'm talking about," he agreed with a hand raised at Illyana. She simply quirked an eyebrow at him before reluctantly giving him a high-five.  

"It is chaos in there," Piotr interrupted, approaching the three of you. "I do not think this was the best idea." 

"You're telling me," you sighed, before gesturing towards Illyana. "Piotr, this is Illyana. Rasputin," you added, glancing between the two of them. "And this is Piotr Rasputin." 

Illyana looked intrigued as she turned her full attention on Piotr. She moved to stand, saying something in Russian, before Piotr responded. They had a whole conversation before wonder flashed across Piotr's face as he held his hand out for Illyana to shake.  

"Not that this isn't fascinating," Wade started, springing to his feet. He reached out a hand, helping you up off the ground. "But what the fuck is going on here?" 

"It seems we share a sibling," Illyana answered, still watching Piotr in fascination. "A brother named Mikhail." 

"Maybe we were brother and sister in another universe," Piotr speculated with a nod of his head.  

Illyana let slip a soft smile in Piotr's direction before she let it fall away. "We should go back inside. Apocalypse will only grow stronger and I'm sure you're eager to get back to your Logan. Think you can play nice? Just for now?" 

"I'll try," you conceded, shooting Wade a wary look. "But if he pisses me off, I'm going to break his face. Again." 

Wade offered you a fist bump as you trudged back into the house. You knew whatever you were about to face, he would have your back.  

The other Logan had already healed by the time you reconvened with the rest of the group. He was leaning up against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he glowered at the others in the room. You had to fight the urge to hit him again, instead sticking to Wade's side next to the doorway in case you wanted to make a strategic retreat.  

Of course, it didn't take long for everything to go pear-shaped.  

It started off civil and quickly teetered into more bickering and yelling.  

"We just need a plan," Cable reiterated for what felt like the fiftieth time. "Why can't we just act like a fucking team instead of a bunch of children?" 

"Because we're not a team," you reminded him. "Some of us shouldn't even be here." 

Wade snorted, before turning his gaze on the other Logan. "You got that right." 

"We got a problem here, bub?"  

"Oh, I've got ninety-nine problems, bitch, and you're every one." 

The other Logan freed his claws with a growl. "Come over here and say that." 

"Oh, I can take you, big guy," Wade promised with a laugh. "But before we get started, let me tell you my safeword." 

"Do you ever just shut the fuck up?" The other Logan snarled, taking a step towards Wade.  

"Not really, no," Wade answered, holding his hand out and curling his fingers in towards his palm, silently beckoning Logan forward.  

"We're not going to get shit done like this," Alex groaned, looking like he was barely keeping himself contained. "My brother has been taken by this Apocalypse fuck and we're getting nowhere. I swear to God, if he dies because we can’t get our shit together, I’m killing every one in this room." 

"We should figure out where Apocalypse is looking for his next Horseman," your Erik volunteered. His jaw was clenched, and you knew he was growing tired of the fighting. He had very little patience for team squabbles and you reckoned it wouldn’t be long until he started showcasing his own power, seeking an end to the arguing. 

"I can go down to Cerebro," Charles volunteered, but from the way he looked at his Erik, you knew he was hesitant to leave him. 

"That's a start," Remy mused from where he was sitting in an armchair near the broken window. "We also need to figure out how this little team of ours is gonna work when half of us wants to kill the other half." 

"I don't remember ever havin' a problem with you, sugar," Rogue pointed out, watching Remy with interest.  

"I'd never have a problem with someone so beautiful," Remy replied with a smirk. He turned his gaze on the others, his eyes landing on Jean and the other Logan. "But this won't work if we don't all play nice now." 

"I'll play nice if Wolvie over there does," Wade promised, nodding at the other Logan.  

"Don't fucking call me that," the other Logan snapped, the fragile peace in the room breaking again.  

You didn't want to listen to another argument, so you slipped out of the room.  

You found yourself wandering until you stopped outside a familiar door. You opened it, taking in the sight of the room before you. It wasn't yours, at least not in this universe, but you still found yourself walking inside as if it still belonged to you.  

You wandered from the bed towards the window. It was still the same view. You weren't sure why you were expecting it to be different, but you found it oddly comforting.  

Here, you could see the trees that outlined the property. The way the sunlight hit them, the branches swaying lazily in the breeze, brought you a measure of peace you hadn’t felt since Logan was taken. It was a sight you had appreciated in your old universe when you just needed time to think. It had offered you solace in your desolation, and while you weren’t so lonely in this universe, you still wanted a moment to yourself.  

It was incredibly short-lived.  

"I thought I'd find you here." 

You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. You should have known he wouldn't be able to just leave you alone. In the Void, you had dreamt of having a moment like this one. One where you left, and he tracked you down, and you knew that he well and truly cared about you. But everything had changed, and you no longer felt anything for him except for disdain.  

You no longer needed him and you sure as hell didn’t want him here. All you really wanted was for him to go away. 

Since when had he ever given you what you wanted? 

"Get out," you ordered, not bothering to even look at the other Logan. You were trying and failing to grip tightly onto the brief semblance of serenity you had forged for yourself. You didn’t want to allow him to disrupt it, but he had a penchant for fucking things up for you.  

"You know," he started, moving further into the room.  

You groaned, letting your head dop forward until your forehead touched the glass window. “Can’t you just fucking listen to me for once?” 

"The baby wasn't mine,” the other Logan continued, ignoring your words. He didn’t say anything for a moment, letting you absorb the bombshell he dropped. “It was Scott's," he informed you, as if he thought you should give a fuck. As if he thought it changed anything between the two of you. "Jean's still in love with him." 

You laughed, not even able to help it. "I could've told you that if you hadn't dropped me the second she bothered to look at you. How’s it feel, huh? Being second best. Never measuring up to the person she really loves and lying awake at night knowing there’s not a damn thing you can do to make her love you like you love her. Never being good enough. Knowing that when she looks at you, she’s wishing you were him. Bet it fucking sucks, right? Because that’s exactly what you put me through, so I’m only going to ask you this once and I deserve an answer. Why the fuck are you even telling me this?"  

You finally turned to meet his gaze, reading his expression. No matter how much you wished to forget him, you had spent years knowing him. You didn't need to be a telepath to know what he was thinking. "Let me guess," you started, leaning against the wall behind you. "You got everything you ever wanted, paid whatever price it took, except it wasn't exactly like you pictured it. Guess that's why they say be careful what you wish for." 

"I thought she needed me," the other Logan admitted with a scowl. "But she never really did. I only ever wanted to be there for her. I wanted to be what she needed," he added with a rueful grimace. He locked eyes with you, his expression mournful but without a hint of remorse for what he had put you through. "But you, you always needed me. And I didn't appreciate that enough. But I know now. I know what you need and it’s not with him. You should come back, and I'll be better this time."  

You laughed again, this time nowhere near as amused. "You're fucking crazy, you know that? It's not my fucking fault that you fucked it all up between us. But you know what? You did me a fucking favor," you spat, advancing on him. "Because once I get Logan back, my Logan, and you fuck back off to your universe, I want nothing to do with you. You can fuck off and die for all I care, because I found someone who actually loves me and would never abandon me." 

The other Logan didn't say anything for one beat of your heart and then the next before he shook his head. "Well, he's not here now, is he?" 

"That was the wrong thing to say," you warned him before drawing your fist back and punching him again without the aid of your forcefield. Pain radiated up your arm, but it almost felt good. The blood running from the other Logan's nose felt even better.  

You decided to hit him again and again before using a forcefield to push him to the floor. You kept him there, not wanting him to move until you said what you hoped would be your final words to him.  

“I don’t need you. I don’t love you. Not anymore and never again, because I found someone, a whole family,” you amended, knowing you couldn’t discount just how much everyone in this universe truly meant to you. “So, listen to me when I tell you that I’m not going back. I never am. So, you better accept the reality you brought on yourself real fuckin’ fast, because I will never go back to you. Never,” you stressed, waiting for the hint of begrudging acceptance in his expression before you let your forcefield go. “You can do one good thing for me, just the one,” you allowed, taking a step away from him. “You can help me get my Logan back, but then once that’s done, I want you to get the fuck out of here. I’m never going back there to be with you and I sure as hell don’t warrant being your fallback plan. I don’t care if you go back to Jean and I don’t care if you leave the X-Men and wander off into the wilderness to find yourself. As long as you go back, then I don’t care. That’s all I want. That’s all I’ll ever need from you again. You got that?” 

 The other Logan briefly rolled his eyes, but his head dipped in a tiny nod of understanding. You knew only time would tell if your words had actually hit home, but you couldn’t keep trying to get it through his thick skull that you were well and truly off the market.  

You had more important things to worry about.  

"I came to check on you, but you seem to have yourself well in hand," Remy interrupted from the doorway. "C'mon, chérie," he prompted, beckoning you towards him. "Last thing you need is a broken hand along with broken ribs." 

You glanced down at your hand, the knuckles split and bleeding. When you flexed your fingers, you could feel a bone-deep ache work its way up your arm. “Yeah,” you sighed, “I’m done here.” 

Remy chuckled, glancing down at the other Logan. “Oh, I can see that.” 

You shot the other Logan a glare on your way past him, shaking out your hand. "I still don't trust you," you informed Remy as you followed him out of the room.  

"I wouldn't expect you to," he allowed with a smile. “But I supposed between me and your friend in there, I’m the better option. Did you enjoy your present?” 

You felt a reluctant smile tug at your lips as you thought about your getaway with Logan. You really didn’t trust Remy, not after everything that happened with Sinister, but you got the hint he wanted to try to make amends. “I did,” you confirmed with a nod of your head. “Didn’t think you and Wade would conspire like that.” 

“I owed you and le petit rouge wanted to get you something nice. It was really nothing,” he deflected with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“Well, thanks,” you told him, not wanting it to go unsaid between the two of you. “Keep that coming and maybe I’ll even start to like you.” 

Remy shot you a pleased grin over his shoulder. “Well, how can I resist a temptation like that?” 

You followed Remy down one hallway and then another, realizing he was starting to take you towards Cerebro. You were brought up short by Rogue leaning against the wall, obviously waiting for the two of you.  

"Wondered when we'd run into each other again," Remy mused, joining Rogue with a satisfied smirk.  

"Funny, I was wonderin' the same thing," she told him, matching his grin.  

Remy swayed forward just the tiniest bit, as if drawn in by Rogue, and you did not want to be the one to interrupt whatever the fuck they had going on. You clapped a hand to Remy's shoulder, waving off his questioning look, as you passed the pair.  

You made your way down to Cerebro, glad that you didn't run into anyone else on the way there. You got there in time to see Charles with the helmet on his head, his eyes closed as he concentrated. Piotr was standing right behind Charles, with your Erik not far behind. He was still watching over Charles, even if this wasn't his husband, as if he wanted to protect any Charles he came across.  

"What's going on?" You asked Wade, who was standing back near the doorway.  

"Ol' Chuck over there thinks he knows where Apocalypse might be holing up with his Horseman." Wade glanced at you, his tone changing to concern. "You alright there, baby bird? You're looking a little freaked out." 

"I had a talk with the other Logan," you confessed, not able to stop the frown from forming on your face. You had spent many days and nights in your old universe wishing that the other Logan would see sense and come back to you. Now, that you were finally happy, here he was making good on that wish. It just made you hate him even more.  

"Oh? How'd that go? You happen to knock him out again? I'm sad I missed the show." 

"No," you answered, "although, I did hit him again. A few times,” you confessed with an embarrassed wince. You didn’t like letting your anger get the best of you, but you felt like it was warranted for this situation. “He wanted me to go back with him, because Jean's still obsessed with Scott. The baby's Scott's by the way." 

"God," Wade groaned, stomping his foot on the floor with a huff. "I miss all the good drama, I swear. Your life is angstier than a season of Degrassi. It really goes there, huh?" 

"I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you told him, letting your arm brush against his in apology. “But I do know that I need Logan back," you sighed. "At least Laura doesn't have to deal with this bullshit. I don't want her seeing him like that.” 

"Like what?"  

"He was just...completely blank,” you settled on with a frown. “He didn't even recognize me. It was like all that we had been through was just wiped away with one touch from Apocalypse. And he's going to try to kill us, because that’s what Apocalypse will want, and I don't want Laura fighting him. She doesn't deserve to have to go through that." 

"And you do?" Wade argued, his tone disapproving. "You love him. You shouldn't have to fight him either. Not when he's going to be trying to kill all of us. I can take on the angry bear just fine all by myself, so maybe you should just wait here. Where it’s safe," he tacked on, letting you know what he was really worried about. 

"Like that'll happen," you dismissed with a humorless laugh. "I have to be there, Wade. I can’t just leave him there. Even if something goes wrong, because it will, I have to be there for him." 

Wade heaved a heavy sigh before nodding his head. "Yeah, I was afraid you were gonna say that."  

You gifted him with a sad smile before swaying into his side, letting him put an arm around your shoulders.  

"Then let's fucking go," you decided, watching Charles take off Cerebro's helmet and give a satisfied nod to Erik and Piotr.  

"Let's fucking go," Wade agreed with a nod of his head.  

Wanda and Pietro weren’t thrilled they had to stay behind with Charles and their father. Your Erik considered the two with a wistful expression before shifting his gaze towards Charles and the other Erik.  

“I’ll bring Lorna back,” your Erik promised with a solemn expression. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her. I know how precious your loved ones are to you,” he continued, meeting Charles’ eyes.  

There was a long, drawn-out moment when it was clear that Erik and Charles were having a conversation only they could hear. Charles ducked his head, a blush dusting his cheeks, and you marveled at the sight of Charles acting shy. You had only ever really known Charles as the steadfast headmaster, Professor X, mentor and advisor. But you were starting to realize there was a whole lot more to Charles than you had ever known, and you couldn’t help but feel curious about what his past held.  

The other Erik, where he was still lying injured on the couch, looked like he was seconds away from getting up to fight your Erik. He was jealous, you realized with a grin, and you wondered if it was part of a plot to get the Erik and Charles of this universe together too.  

From the smug expression on your Erik’s face and the challenging eyebrow he arched at the injured Erik, you knew you were right.  

“Are you sure we can’t go?” Pietro checked, speeding from one end of the room to the other. “I’m fast. You might need me.” 

“And I can fight too,” Wanda insisted, turning a frustrated look in your direction.  

“I’m afraid it’s best if you stay here,” Charles remarked, regaining his composure. “If Apocalypse has your sister, then there’s every reason to believe he’ll use her against you.” 

Pietro was practically pouting at being left out and Wade leaned over towards you.  

“Sequel material,” he whispered, ignoring your questioning look.  

Once the team or whatever the hell you all were assembled, it didn’t take long to get everyone on the X-Jet. Cable was piloting, ignoring Piotr’s attempt to take the role for himself, and promised that it wouldn’t be long until you arrived.   

You were used to being on the X-Jet, but you didn't know how to handle the awkward tension that threatened to suffocate you. The other Logan and Jean were on the opposite side of the jet from you, and while you did your best to ignore them, you could still feel the weight of their stares.  

"You alright there?" Alex asked, addressing you. He had chosen the seat on your right, spending the ride so far with an irritated expression and flexing his hands, as if he was gearing up to use his power.  

"Yeah," you lied with a nod of your head. "Worried about Logan. You?" 

"Same," he dutifully lied as well. "Worried about my brother. I'm worried about what this Apocalypse fuck might be doing to him. Worried about his girlfriend too. Scotty sure loves her," he told you. “It’d destroy him if anything happened to her.” 

"He'll be okay," you tried to promise, even though you weren't entirely sure. All you could think about was Scott's body cradled by a grieving Jean. Scott might not have been your favorite person on the team, but he had been your leader. He made the tough calls and he kept the team together when you all threatened to crumble. Without him, everything fell apart.  

You found yourself meeting Jean's gaze, knowing she could read what was on your mind. It was likely the only time you would ever feel sympathy for her, because while you had gotten your second chance with the love of your life, she never would.  

"Five minutes," Cable called from the front of the jet. "Get ready!" 

"So, we'll get Logan back and then you and him and the little munchkin can ride happily off into the sunset," Wade started, dropping down into the seat on your other side. "Then you and Logan and Vanessa and me can have a double wedding and a shared honeymoon and our rugrats will be friends." 

You couldn't help the grin that tugged at your lips. Wade always knew what to say to make you feel better.  

"Munchkin?" The other Logan repeated with a scowl. "What the hell are you talking about?" 

"Laura," you supplied, feeling just a bit of a thrill at how vindictive your next words would feel. "My daughter. With my Logan." 

The other Logan's face fell at your words and Wade snickered, turning to hide his face in your shoulder.  

"Oh, you are evil," he approved with a kiss to your cheek. "Baby bird's got claws." 

You shook your head, knocking your head gently into Wade's. "You are so weird," you breathed, tone affectionate.  

"You know it," Wade pointed out, fully sitting up in his seat once he felt the jet begin to descend. "It's showtime," he muttered, shooting you one more searching look before he was up and checking over his holstered weapons.  

You weren't really sure what you were expecting once the jet landed. You thought you would find a scene of total chaos. Hollowed-out buildings and corpses littering the ground. But all you saw when you made it off the walkway leading out of the X-Jet was Apocalypse waiting in the middle of an abandoned street.  

"Did you think you could sneak up on me?" Apocalypse wondered, watching as your makeshift team filed out onto the street. "Nothing will stop me." 

"Oh my God," Wade breathed as he took a step towards Apocalypse. "I didn’t know it was you! I loved you in Star Wars." 

Apocalypse considered Wade with a thoughtful glance before he turned his attention on Jean. "Don't I already have one of you? I admit, you would make a formidable Horseman, but I already have my team. Besides, it was never my intention to take your variant or her companion. It seems as if that was plot devised by Sinister. Now, we might never know what he had planned for them. Pity," he said, finally turning his gaze on you.  

You couldn't help but wonder if this had somehow been part of Nathaniel's plan all along. Maybe he knew if he was going to die, then he could still fuck everyone over just one last time.  

"Scott," Alex muttered, his attention caught by something just beyond Apocalypse.  

It was Scott and Jean. Both had been knocked unconscious and were lying on the sidewalk. You couldn't even tell if they were breathing, because they were too far away, but you sure as hell knew how to spot a trap that obvious. 

"Alex, don't," you warned when you noticed Alex tense up, coiled to attack. 

"You're gonna regret taking my brother," Alex told Apocalypse, ignoring you, as he geared up for his attack. He shot one plasma burst at Apocalypse, but Apocalypse seemed to anticipate the move and blocked it with a forcefield.  

"And you will regret fighting me," Apocalypse claimed with a satisfied smile.  

You nearly didn't see him, because you were so focused on Apocalypse. But you sure as hell noticed his power, an intense heat that only grew stronger. There was a burst of light before you finally saw him. You had no idea who he was, but he practically glowed, radiating a light so strong you nearly had to look away. He held up his hand, aimed at Alex, and you reacted instinctively.  

"Remy," you called, an idea coming to you. You had no idea if it would work, but you had to at least try. It might be the only way to save Alex's life. You met his gaze, nodding towards where you were forming a forcefield around the guy preparing to kill Alex. "Make it go boom," you commanded, catching his excited grin before you focused on your forcefield. 

The guy, whoever he was, was extremely powerful. You could feel the force of his power slamming against your forcefield, and you had to grit your teeth, feeling like you were barely holding on. Remy worked quick as he charged one of his cards and threw it at your forcefield.  

You watched it land, relief flooding you when you noticed the pink glow of Remy's power engulf it. Your heart was beating fast in your chest and you had to pour everything you had into your forcefield. When Remy's charge activated, you only had a moment to prepare before the explosion happened.  

The force of it was focused inward on the stranger caught in your trap. There was blood coating the sides of your forcefield, and you were hesitant to drop it, because he had been so incredibly powerful. You weren't even sure if he was dead but you waited until you felt the remnants of his power slip away from your defenses.  

"You dare to take Sunfire from me? My Famine?" Apocalypse questioned, barely concealed fury in his voice. "My other Horsemen won't fall so easy," he promised and then you heard the roar.  

It wasn't Logan. This was deeper, louder, and unfathomably terrifying.  

"Oh, fuck! Fuckety, fuckety, fuck, fuck!" Wade yelled, before pointing at something just behind you. "The Hulk is in this?! Ah fuck, not again," Wade groaned, sounding resigned. 

"Shit," you breathed just before a giant green hand entered your field of vision and swatted Wade away like he was a fly.  

You took off running, all hell breaking loose as you caught sight of a girl with dark green hair wielding a power that reminded you a lot of Erik's. Between her and the Hulk, they were making quick work of keeping the team busy and their focus off Apocalypse.  

You searched the chaos unfolding before you and finally spotted your Logan. There was a red cloth wrapped around most of his face, but his claws gave away his identity. He was fighting the other Logan, both throwing themselves into the fight with a ferocity that terrified you.  

Jean had turned her attention on Apocalypse while Alex helped her with his plasma blasts. They were both being careful not to hit the other Jean and Scott and you knew both were fighting to ensure that Scott survived. Erik, Magik, and Rogue were fighting Lorna and Piotr, Remy, Wade, and Cable were all taking on the Hulk.  

You wanted to run to Logan and try to get him to remember. You wondered if you could break him of Apocalypse's spell, but you weren't even sure if it was possible. You had decided to try something, anything to get through to Logan, when you found yourself in the middle of a different fight.  

The Hulk let out another roar before pounding his fist on the ground, sending the others around him flying back with the impact. You weren't sure how, but you managed to snag his attention, and he advanced on you.  

"Y/N, run!" Wade yelled, but you were eager to get the entire fight finished so you could get Logan back. You formed a forcefield around Hulk, one of the biggest you had ever created. You could feel the stretch of the field as it entrapped him, and you were worried that it would simply end up snapping. He brought a fist up to pound on the side of the forcefield and you could feel it rattle you, practically shaking you with its force.  

The Hulk wouldn't die easy, but maybe if you could keep him contained for long enough, then the fight with Apocalypse could be won. All you had to do was subdue him and wait for Apocalypse to fall. 

In theory, it was a decent plan. In execution? You should have never taken your focus off of Logan.  

You were so focused on keeping the Hulk in your forcefield that when someone stepped in front of you, you didn't even register the threat at first. You only had a moment before you pulled in a breath and felt it cut off with a wheeze, agony blooming quick through your chest. Your forcefield dropped as you stared up into Logan's eyes, shock and fear warring within you.  

"Logan," you gasped, reaching up to grasp his wrist. Both sets of his claws were buried in your sides and you could feel them inch deeper with every attempted breath. You felt like you couldn't focus on one thought, but all you could see was the man you loved.  

"You're hurting me," you managed to choke out, the taste of blood slipping into your mouth. You coughed, crying out when that only made the pain worse. Red was spreading out across your shirt and soon enough you would be soaked with your own blood. You could hear Wade screaming your name and Hulk was barreling towards Cable and Logan didn't even realize he was killing you. All you could think was that once he regained control of his own mind, this would kill him.  

"It's okay," you got out on a shudder. You stopped gripping his wrist and instead brought your hands up to cup his face. It only brought you more pain, your full weight resting on his claws, but you knew a losing battle when you were faced with one. At least you could spend your final moments doing something you truly wanted to do. "You have to forgive yourself, alright? Because I forgive you." You were rapidly losing vision, the picture before you fading into a disorienting shade of grey before color flooded back in only to be snatched away again. "I love you," you whispered, blood starting to leak from the corner of your mouth. "I love you, Logan," you stressed before letting yourself fall forward just enough to brush a kiss against his lips.  

He pushed you back, adamantium slicing you deeper, and you cried out in agony.  

Recognition suddenly flooded Logan's eyes and you dropped to the ground when he quickly pulled his claws from you. "Oh God," he breathed, horror and guilt clouding his expression. "Y/N, I--" he only managed before Piotr tackled him to the ground.  

Logan was quick to throw him off before he was back at your side. He pressed a gentle hand to your side, before shaking his head. "Baby, I don't know what to do."  

Logan wasn't usually one for pet names, but he only brought them out for certain situations. You knew he must have really been scared, but you were having a hard time feeling anything at all. "It's okay," you told him just as Wade dropped to his knees at your other side. "It wasn't you. It wasn’t you," you assured him when he looked like he wanted to protest. 

"I wasn't even aware of what I was doing. It’s like he pulled a mask down over my face and I couldn’t see past it. He had me doing so much fucked up shit for him and I didn't even blink. And he wanted me to kill you, and I was gonna, but then I just couldn't." There were tears in Logan's eyes and he looked like he wanted to scoop you up into his arms, but he was too worried it would only hurt you more. "I don't even know how I broke out of it. God, I wish I'd done it sooner." Logan's hands were trembling as he cupped your face, managing to press a chaste kiss to your lips.  

"I know what pulled you out if," Wade chimed in, reaching out to grab your hand, despite Logan's snarl in his direction. "Wuv," he answered, "Twue wuv. God, where's Fred Savage when you need him?" 

You could feel your eyelids growing heavier and you were having trouble keeping your eyes open. "I just need to sleep," you mumbled, already feeling yourself begin to slip away. “Just let me rest my eyes.” 

"Wade," Logan said, looking to him in panic. "What do we do? I don’t know what to do here." 

Wade was silent for long enough that you started to realize you must be well and truly fucked. "I'll watch over her," Wade finally volunteered before nodding at the fight that had been carrying on around you. "And you go help them finish that fucker off for good." 

You managed to turn your head to the side to see Jean along with Erik and Illyana fighting Apocalypse. Logan gave a firm nod of his head before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I'm gonna make this right, sweetheart, okay? And you just hold on for me. You hold on and I’ll be back for you," he promised you, before you watched resolve fall over him.  

He turned away from you, letting loose a low growl, before he sprinted towards Apocalypse. You started losing moments in bits and pieces. Wade was gripping your hand so tight and you didn't have the heart to tell him you couldn't even feel it. The other Logan was getting thrown around by the Hulk while Piotr landed hits where he could and Remy distracted him with explosions. Alex was hovering over his brother, willing him to wake up. Rogue was pressing an uncovered hand to Lorna's neck, effectively draining her and knocking her out. Rogue then turned her attention towards Hulk, using Lorna’s stolen power to help Remy. 

And Logan, who was nearly feral in his rage, was bringing his claws relentlessly into Apocalypse's neck. Apocalypse had been weakened from the onslaught of Jean's full power combined with the others. Erik had taken a metal beam and impaled Apocalypse with it, nearly pinning him to the ground. Magik had managed to hit Apocalypse over and over again with her sword, leaving Apocalypse hurt enough that when Logan took one last swipe with his claws, letting out a howl of grief and fury, Apocalypse's head rolled back and fell to the ground.  

You managed to hold on long enough to see Logan turning to look for you, unhinged and wild, the brute Erik had always made him out to be. But the second he met your eyes, his expression softened and the love you had been missing flooded back onto his face.  

It was the last thing you saw before unconsciousness finally rushed in to carry you away.  

You woke to a steady beeping noise and the feeling of being suffocated. You opened your eyes, blinded by a bright white light, before you closed them again. You were sore and your mouth felt like it was full of cotton and you didn't remember how you got here.  

"On your left," Wade called, gaining your attention.  

You managed to open your eyes again, seeing Wade still outfitted in his full bloodied Deadpool getup sitting in the chair at your side.  

He let out a pleased snort and turned his full focus on you, carelessly throwing away the People magazine in his hand to the side.  

"I've always wanted to say that in this kind of situation, but no one ever really wants me at their bedside when they wake up. Can’t imagine why," he mused with a wistful sigh. 

You glanced from Wade to Laura sleeping on the couch against the wall. Something wasn’t quite right, you realized through the haze of painkillers. It took you entirely too long to figure out that Logan wasn't in the room.  

"You missed a lot while you were out," Wade continued, leaning forward in his chair to consider you. "But I guess several hours of life-saving surgery and numerous blood transfusions will take a lot out of someone. So, let me catch you up. The people your friend Magik brought here have all fucked back off to their universe. That other Logan said it was what you wanted, so he left with his pretend baby mama. Had a feeling there was some trouble in paradise for that particular couple, especially when Logan almost killed that other douchenozzle when he tried to get all weepy over you. Rogue and Gambit seem to have something going on now. You think correspondence across the multiverse is hard? Because they've got some shit to figure out. And Logan? Well, he's being a broody little bitch who thinks you don't love him anymore because he almost killed you."  

You weren't sure what to say, mind overloaded from information. You were relieved the other Logan and Jean were gone, but you were a bit sad you didn’t get to tell Illyana or your Erik goodbye. You were pretty sure they would forgive you, though, considering the near-death experience.  

"Where is he?" You croaked, wincing when you noticed how your throat felt like it had been scraped raw. 

"They only took out the breathing tube a little while ago,” Wade informed you. “And that idiot is somewhere around here," Wade answered, shrugging his shoulders. "He hasn't left the hospital since they brought you in, but he's also been reluctant to show his face around here. It’s not like his claws managed to snag on anything vital. That’s the only reason you’re alive, you know that? I’ve got a theory, though. I think the angry bear, despite how much he claims he can’t remember being a puppet, knew it was you he was trying to kill. I think he did what he could not to hurt you. If it was anyone else, they would’ve been dead long before they could try to kiss him."  

You knew Logan would never truly leave you, but he wasn’t going to concede easily. He was probably spending his time thinking he was a danger to you and convincing himself that it was best if he loved you from afar. He was likely already thinking of moving into an apartment across the hall and only seeing you when you needed help. 

You couldn’t have that. Not after everything fighting for him for so long. You needed Logan all the time and you would be damned if you let him slip away from you.  

It didn't take you long to make up your mind.  

"I need a favor," you told Wade, already struggling to sit up.  

Wade reached out, placing a hand on your lower back to help you. "I thought you'd see things my way." 

You rolled your eyes, an indescribable fondness welling within you for Wade. "I need a distraction so I can get out of here." 

"Leave it to us," Laura cut in, moving to get off the couch. You didn’t even notice her wake up. "And if you ever go off into a fight without me again, I'll kill you myself next time." 

"No, you won't," you pointed out, slowly raising your arms to beckon her into an embrace.  

Laura huffed out a laugh into your shoulder, her arms cautiously coming up to wrap around you. "He's just worried, you know. He thinks it's all his fault." 

"And I'll just have to convince him it's not," you easily replied, as if dealing with a stubborn Logan was ever easy.  

"Good," Laura responded with a smile.  

You held her by the shoulders, being careful not to aggravate your injuries, and simply took her in for a moment. You hadn't been lying when you told the other Logan Laura was your daughter. It might not have been through any conventional means, but she sure as hell was your kid now. And you were so fiercely proud of her and you loved her so much that just looking at her felt like you were lighting up inside.  

"Love you, kid," you told her, pouring in all your affection for her into the words.  

"I'm not a kid," Laura refuted with a shake of her head, but the smile on her face returned the love you felt for her.  

"Yeah, yeah, you're a grown teenager," Wade dismissed with a wave of his hand. "You going to get the angry bear or not, baby bird? Because clock’s ticking and the longer you let him brood, the longer it’ll take to pull him out of it." 

"Yeah," you allowed with a nod of your head, turning a grin on Wade. He was your best friend and so much more to you. He was your family, your confidant, your protector, and your savior. You figured as long as you had Wade, Laura, and Logan, you would always be home. Now, you had two of them, so you just had to go track down the last one to make the set complete.  

Wade clapped his hands together, shooting an expectant look at Laura. "Then let's get ready to cause one hell of a distraction, munchkin." 

Wade's idea of a distraction entailed flirting with a nurse while Laura set a fire in the break room. As the fire alarm rang, you slipped out of your room once you had managed to get dressed in the clothes Laura had left for you. Your sides ached and you felt like you couldn't pull in a full breath, but you reasoned it was a lot preferable to the death you had been prepared to endure.  

It didn't take you long to find him. Logan might have thought he was hiding, but a waiting room just down the hall wasn't exactly subtle. The fire alarm had drawn enough attention that the room was empty save for him.  

"Hey," you whispered, watching him from the doorway.  

He was leaning forward in his seat, his elbows on his knees and hands hanging in front of him. His head was bowed, and it took him a few seconds after you spoke to finally look at you.  

"You shouldn't be out here," he protested, making to get up.  

You shook your head, crossing the room until you could cautiously lower yourself into the seat next to him. He gave you an exasperated sigh, shaking his head.  

"I take it the fire alarm was Wade? Should've known you'd be stubborn about it," he grumbled. 

"About what? About you trying to keep your distance because you think you're to blame?" 

"I am to blame," Logan snarled, his hands shaking in front of him. Logan clasped them together tightly enough that he was starting to draw blood and you could see the way his shoulders tensed. You knew he wasn't angry with you, his fury focused on himself, but you didn’t want him to hurt himself over something completely out of his control. "I'm the one who hurt you. It was my claws that did the damage." 

"No, Logan," you argued, wanting so badly to reach out, but not sure if you were welcome to touch him. "It wasn't you. It was all Apocalypse. I know you would never hurt me. Not willingly," you amended when he shot you a doubtful look. "The second you snapped out of it, you tried to take care of me. That wasn't you, Logan, and I would never hold that against you." 

"You should," he muttered, turning his head away to stare down at his hands.  

"The only reason you went with Apocalypse was to save me," you reminded him. "If I had been stronger, if I hadn't been so distracted--" 

"Don’t do that," Logan denied, turning an incredulous stare on you. "You're one of the strongest people I've ever met. The shit you go through and you're still able to pull yourself back up and keep fighting. You've never surrendered to it the way most people would have." 

"I did once," you admitted with a grimace. "In Nathaniel's world that he built for me. But that's because I lost you and Laura and Wade. I can't do any of this without you." You knew you had a darkness in you, fed by years of pain and abandonment. But your family, especially Logan, was the light that broke through it. As long as you had them, you would never lose your way, because they would be there to guide you home.  

"That wasn't real," Logan pointed out. "There's no way in hell I'd ever leave you like that." 

"Yeah? You seem to be trying your best to right now. Or else what are you doing in this fucking waiting room and not with me where I need you?" 

Logan tried to look away, but you took your chance and tucked your fingers under his chin, pulling his gaze back to you.  

"There's nowhere you can go that I won't chase you down. You did it for me with Sinister and I did it for you with Apocalypse. If I have to, I will spend the rest of my life telling you that what happened to me wasn't your fault, because I love, you idiot. I love you more than anything and there's no me without you, don't you get that? It's always been you. It's always going to be you." 

Logan pulled in a shaky breath. Understanding was beginning to dawn on his face and you decided to go for broke.  

"Take me home, Logan," you pleaded, pulling your touch away from him. “Take me back to our home.”  

Astonishment flashed across his face. "You shouldn't want to go anywhere with me." 

You reached out to grab his hand, pulling it towards you. You placed a kiss to his knuckles, where his claws would spring free in heat of battle. You heard Logan's breath hitch, terrified, as a guarded hope overwrote his expression.  

 “I know what I want and it’s always going to be you.” You didn’t know how to tell Logan that you wanted everything with him. The good and the bad and the deadly and the fun. You wanted to build a home with him and Laura. You wanted to coerce Laura to take college classes after completing her GED and you wanted to watch her grow up without having to worry about her survival at every turn. You wanted to have Vanessa and Wade over for dinner and you wanted to fill the spaces of your home with love and laughter and family and friendship. You wanted to end each day with Logan only to begin the next one with him as well. You only wanted what you had been fighting for all along. 

Logan, at your side, and forever yours.   

"Logan Howlett, I will gladly spend the rest of my life with you. No matter how short or how long that might be for me. I want you to occupy all the rest of my moments. You’re it for me and the rest of my life is yours if you’ll have it," you told him, letting your fingers lace through his so you could hold on tight to his hand. You could feel your pulse fluttering and your heart pick up its beat, because while you were confident that Logan loved you with the same intensity you felt, you knew he had a self-sacrificing streak a mile wide. Logan would run if he thought it would save you, but you would never let him slip right out of your hold again.  

After what felt like an eternity, Logan snorted, the sound half-amused and wholly confused. "You proposing or something?" There was a brief flare of hope in his eyes, but you knew he assumed you were joking.  

"Yeah," you replied, dead serious. "I'd get down on one knee, but you'd just have to help me back up off the floor, and I can't spare that kind of dignity right now. Not until I've got an answer." 

Logan watched you for another long moment, as if trying to assess the sincerity of your words. Finally, he squeezed your hand, nodding his head in answer. "Alright, then," he conceded with a barely-there smile that betrayed just how pleased he was feeling. "Let's get married." 

You tugged Logan into a kiss, savoring the reminder of his taste and touch, when you were startled by the sound of someone clapping. Logan groaned, resting his forehead against yours, and met your eyes.  

"Think we can disinvite Wade from the wedding?" 

"You kidding? You can't leave me without a maid of honor." 

You looked over to see Laura and Wade watching the pair of you from the doorway. It looked like Laura had managed to singe the ends of her hair with her distraction.  

“You wanna celebrate with us or what?” You asked, already wondering how soon you could be released from the hospital so you could go home with your favorite people.  

You met Logan’s gaze and from the warm smile on his face, you knew he was thinking the same thing. 

Laura threw herself at the pair of you as Wade kept clapping. He heaved a sigh, placing a hand to his chest. "God, I love a happy ending."  Author's Note: This has been such a wild ride and I can't thank y'all enough for going on it with me. There will (hopefully) be a sequel eventually. I want to bring in Venom along with bringing back Peter Parker, Wanda and Pietro, and probably Rogue and Magik. Maybe even Bucky. My next fic will be my Wade/Reader/Logan one, though, which also involves some past Johnny Storm/Reader. If you want to be tagged in the new fic, just let me know!

Taglist: @wonderfrost @mrsyixingunicorn10 @blackbleedingrose @arrozyfrijoles23 @elianamarie-blog

@sarahskywalker-amidala @whiskytoast @shizzybarnaclee @zbeez-outlet @halepack2011

@facelessfionna @i-left-my-cat-on-the-stove @whyam1heree @serendippindots @janilovecookies

@lollipopsandstuff @4ria790 @jtthompson @id-rather-be-in-middle-earth @the-gentle-spirit

@hazel2928 @gothicknightz @mkay33 @bibblesdiscordkitten @albionfay

@songwizard @kailera @zeeader @amandarobertsboyce @shilohh28

@astudyoftimeywimeystuff @whatthefawk-isthis @loonalockley @newromantics98 @cherrypieyourface

@gigabitemyass @yyhdl @lunaticgurly @starbuni @quinnlyyy

@i-wear-wet-socks313 @itsspiderluv @slightlymediocree @ayamenimthiriel

[rwrbficrecs]

We’ll Invite Something In by @smc-27 (book-verse)

@dot524: This is a fandom favorite and for good reason. In this canon divergence AU, Alex is President, Henry is out, and they never got together in their 20s. Instead, they encounter each other in their late 30s and a very different type of relationship ensues. They still hide it at first, but there’s a lot of living that they both have done and need to work through. I really enjoyed the character dynamics here and how the premise changed both Alex and Henry, making them bolder and more mature. Definitely read this one!

Eyes Blue, Like the Atlantic by bleedingballroomfloor (book-verse)

@dot524: A Titanic AU! Adapted by an excellent writer, this one has suspense, action, romance, and intrigue. There is a MCD (Main Character Death) in here and some other tags to be aware of, but also vibrant scenes with dancing, chasing, art, and formal wear. I really enjoyed it!

Clean Slate by @smc-27 (book-verse)

@heysweetheart-writes: This was just so excellent. I devoured it in no time, couldn't put it down. I love the way Alex just slips into Henry's life like a silk glove even though Henry has his hesitations. There's abslutely no angst at all other than "you're too young for me" "no, next question" I love it. I love Henry finally feeling young for the first time. I think that is something that Henry generally feels after meeting Alex, like he's never been able to, no matter at what point in life he is. ANYWAY I'm talking about Henry way too much again for a rec. Read this.

Most People Exist by @sprigsofviolets (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Henry, 30, is a nurse on a cancer ward. From the very first moment he feels an intense connection and attraction to his newest patient, the one who has a brain tumor and is named Alexander Claremont-Diaz. - The tags say it all: "Falling in love, Slow Burn, Angst with a happy ending, Hurt/Comfort". After reading this story I am a whole new person. I laughed and cried, had butterflies in my stomach, I felt it all. Hands down one of the best fics I've ever read!

after hours by @dumbpeachjuice (book-verse)

@na-dineee: How much can happen in a few hours? stutteringpeach: Hold my beer. 😅🤝 Reading this was truly a roller coaster ride, my stomach was doing somersaults non-stop: On his last evening in New York, poet Henry meets bartender Alex and the two spend the night together - in true "Before Sunrise" style. To sum it all up: enchanting, sweet, phenomenal, iconic!

No. 1 (Royal Red and Blue) Oil on Canvas by @captainjunglegym (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: This fic is so twisted and surprising in the best way! The summary did not prepare me for all the action that comes after the initial relationship drama and I'd really like to fawn over it some more but I don't want to spoil the fun of figuring out what really is going on and what are characters' motivations. Just give it a try.

Meet the Parents (series) by @14carrotghoul (book-verse)

@dot524: I really enjoyed these thoughtful character studies of Ellen and Oscar. The two short stories are a series of canon vignettes from Oscar and Ellen’s POV. These glimpses of the Claremont-Diaz parents add heart and depth to the RWRB canon, giving insight about how Ellen and Oscar think about parenthood, power, family, and each other.

Leave The World Better Than You Found It: A BONES AU by @treluna4 (book/movie-verse)

@myheartalivewrites: I really enjoyed this FirstPrince meets procedural TV show fic! With Alex as Booth and Henry as Brennan, they learn to work together, solve crimes--and fall in love, of course. Plus take down a very satisfying book villain.

No Laughing Matter by @inexplicablymine (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This fic is absolutely hysterical- a must read if you need something to cheer you up! It's also very relatable for anyone who, like me, has said things they've regretted in all the best ways!

in summer air by @acdsbff (book-verse)

@na-dineee: I need a vacation and vitamin D - maybe that's why this series (both POVs are covered 🥰) captivated me so much?! It is set on a Greek island, where Alex, just cheated on by his boyfriend, meets hotel owner Henry. What follows is a whirlwind speedrun romance against a beautiful backdrop. Really therapeutic for the heart on dreary days!!

here is a map (with your name as a capital) by @alasse9 (book-verse)

@dot524: What an incredible surprise to have this entire 50k story drop at once. In this canon divergent story, Alex and Henry start getting to know each other in Rio, when Alex helps him recover from a panic attack. Their friendship, and later their relationship, is a delightful slow burn with funny moments, heartbreak, and steady support of each other. I thoroughly enjoyed this start to finish — the characterization of both Alex and Henry is on point and I really enjoyed how the writer changed some of the scenes from the book while keeping key callbacks. A delight.

Claremont 2008 by @happiness-of-the-pursuit (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This friends to lovers AU is done so well! Having Henry and Alex meet as kids means we get years of their friendship before they even start dating, and it gives every aspect of their relationship so much depth through this entire fic. It also gives some events only referenced in the novel a completely different perspective, which makes them even better!

keep me in the moment (don't it feel so real?) by @anincompletelist (book-verse)

@heysweetheart-writes: I absolutely love everything that comes out of Sarah's magic little fingers and this was no exception. Alex and Henry are best friends and pinning over eache other unknowingly and an accidental lil discovery turns their relationship upside-down (for the better) absolutely recommended. I honestly loved it so much.

you know i can't be found with you by @dumbpeachjuice (book-verse)

@heysweetheart-writes: This was SO much fun. Alex was RELENTLESS and I absolutely love an older Henry. It was also very fucking funny. 10/10

the great duck fiasco by @alexclaremont-diaz (book-verse)

@suseagull04: A spy AU, dating apps, and Alex's Texas roots combine in the funniest way possible- definitely read this if you want a good laugh!

[m3tr0n0m333]

»A SPARK OF HOPE«

A fankid AU: Introduction

Circa 200 years into the future…

Past the death of the renowned, world famous hero: Sonic the Hedgehog, his immortal rival resides in a secluded location not many know about, or dare to stumble upon. He’s made himself a peaceful abode, isolated from the rest of the world— prying eyes or hands seeking his power or presence.

Shadow merely wishes to live without the stress of catastrophe weighing on his shoulders. And with the death of the biggest villain of the era- Doctor Robotnik, he succeeds for the most part- until a mysterious illness overcomes him, and he’s forced to reach out for help.

Upon wandering to the familiar-yet-changed Emerald Town, Shadow spots a recognizable logo on a building.

With curiosity and intrigue, the ebony hedgehog makes his next exploration the inside of this tall establishment.

[REFS AND MORE UNDER CUT]

No, it will not stay this well formatted most of the time. Guess I just felt like putting effort into it.

This au focuses around Tails, Shadow, and my fankid, Sparks! (No ships between these three, although they do end up as a family of sorts.) (+ Silver, who exists around this time, gets to be the cool cousin of sorts)

Shadow, as described, had isolated himself for quite a few years. And got an illness. But it’s far from mysterious.

His inhibitor rings have rusted and aren’t as effective as they were, well, 200 years ago, causing his chaos energy to run irregularly and make him fatigued/sick. Of course, it was a gradual process, so it was a little difficult to have spotted it right away. And when you’re sick, the obvious becomes… less obvious?

During this lengthy intermission between supposed canon and au, (I may go off canon quite a bit. I’m not professionally well versed in all the Sonic lore…) Miles Prower (formedly gone as “Tails” for his iconic two tailed ‘mutation’) had grown rather successful. A well-off entrepreneur of his own brand. He lives comfortably, although he does lack the bonds he once had.

As a kitsune, Miles’ life expectancy is lengthened, and gaining another tail every 100 years. He had existed much past his more mortal friends and allies, but pushed forwards to a brighter future, sort of. In this time, he has developed more of his kitsune oriented abilities, taking a favor to illusions.

Shadow wanders upon the main building, the HQ erected at Emerald Town, where his house once was. As Shadow wanders, Miles is aware of the old friend bumbling through the building and decides to play a little prank with some illusions and the high tech security measures he has installed in the building. (Nothing harmful, promise)

Once Shadow reaches the top, Miles reveals himself with a bold act of bravado. As of which they have some reunion and reaccqeuaintence time. Shadow explains his problem to Miles, Miles points out the problem and offers to make Shadow new inhibitor rings (and fix his air shoes in the process). Afterwards, he offers a residence for Shadow with him, but the hedgehog refuses, intending to return to his reclusive life.

On his path of return, he comes across a kid, sitting alone in the rain.

He resembles someone.

Spiky blue quills colored like the wind and the sky, peachy fur on his chest and muzzle. Pointed ears, although a bit droopier.

He sat with his legs pressed against his chest, on the edge of the sidewalk. Alone, yet he wears an expression closer to irritation rather than fear or melancholy.

After some questioning, he discovers that the kid ran from an orphanage, one he describes as nasty and disrespectful to him, like gum sticking his shoe to the floor. He describes that he had ran, to find some freedom. He’s a fast runner, you know? Maybe if he can get faster and faster, he may actually break the barrier keeping him chained to the orphanage.

When the sky darkens, illuminating the moon and the stars, Shadow stands. To lead the kid back to where he should be encourages him to have hope, but without acting to give him it. Words are empty when actions don’t reflect it.

The kid begs to let him free. Lead him somewhere else, not back to his prison. No one will take him back in the orphanage. He deserves to be free. He can take care of himself out here- a string of reasons to grasp why he shouldn’t go back.

Shadow continues to walk in silence.

…

Perhaps it was pity. Shadow would like to believe it is, but it’s hard to describe the pull of his actions towards another decision. He felt this was right, despite denial weighing on this choice.

Shadow returned to the tall building, where Miles— although surprised to see his return— welcomed him back warmly. When asked for the reason of his return, Shadow provides a rather bashful explanation.

He doesn’t know how to take care of a child.

—

References + Character Design and Personality Rambles

Eyyyy it’s the old man (quite literally at this point. He’s like 200+ years??). How did he survive all those years in isolation without going insane?? I have no idea. He probably talks to the animal inhabitants of the place he lived in I think. I like to think maybe he found himself an ancient library to make himself at home and spent most of his time reading books and doing house chores.

To be honest I tried to reference other Shadow redesigns because I also wanted to put some more Black Arms traits on him, but I honestly don’t know know much about the Black Arms so all he got was a longer tail <3

He’s a tiiiny bit pinker in this design. Like the red highlights on his quills are more pivoted towards the pink on the color wheel, and the white fur also has a tint of pink. No reason. He just gets to be slightly pinker. As a treat.

^^ (Miles noticed. Shadow did not.)

Anyways, you may be wondering, why didn’t Shadow take the offer of staying with Miles the first time? After being alone without friends were so long, you would think he is drawn to the idea of having company again. Well, the thing is, I think that Shadow hates change, in a way. He’s drawn himself away from society, lived self sustained, without the pressures and all that. Suddenly, he gets the offer to reintegrate into a society he is not well versed in? Seems incredibly overwhelming. And Shadow believes he was perfectly content in his serene lifestyle.

He only reconsidered the second time because he doesn’t know how to take care of the kid he freshly adopted (and probably not correctly adopted either) and only thought of Tails for help. As far as he knows, Tails is the only other old friend that exists alongside him right now so…

This sets up the story of Shadow and Tails tries to take care of this kid and slowly forms into a type of found family that doesn’t quite fit into the boundaries of what a family would be like. They are not even close to traditional family roles, I think, other than a child-parent relationship between Shadow and Sparks (who I have yet to introduce)

During this story, Shadow gets back into the action of adventure again. He’s reminded of the exhilaration he felt in the past. Even little things such as banter and skating down hill. He missed it all, although he doesn’t admit it.

Here is Miles!! He dropped the name “Tails” after a while, deeming it something he doesn’t identify as deeply with anymore. (Maybe because no one was around to call him that old nickname anymore)

So you know how I mentioned he’s become an entrepreneur of sorts? It was bound to happen, I think. Imagine living 200+ years and still not figuring out how to earn the most money and live comfortably.

Anyways, while coloring his design, I did realize that he vaguely reminds me of Eggman… it’s probably the red, gold and white colors. Fits him well though, yeah? He always did share some traits with Eggman, I think. He just turned out more benevolent, he still has the high tech tendencies that Eggman held, as well as other habits.

I think Miles had earned some of an ego over time. When most acquaintances leave(died), and you rise to the top, everyone feels so far. And Miles stop bothering to seek out meaningful relationships to save him some suffering. He can still have fun, he can still have friends- just not with the strong intimate bond he had with his initial family.

When Shadow returned, he felt a spark- the hope- the opportunity to have a semblance of the old life again. Nostalgia is a strong feeling. That is why he offered for Shadow to stay. He didn’t expect him to, but that didn’t stop his heart from swelling with joy when Shadow did return.

Here is Sparks! The kid Shadow picked off the street yaknow yaknow… He is meant to resemble Sonic. Not uncannily resemble him though. Just enough that both Shadow and Tails can look at him and think… he kind of reminds me of his other blue hedgehog I had a deep connection with….

Part of why Shadow adopted Sparks is honestly because of his resemblance to Sonic. He would not like to acknowledge it, as it seems like such a cruel thing to give the hope of a new connection to someone that doesn’t know that that new connection did not start off new at all in the other side.

Of course, Sparks acts nothing like Sonic, despite similar appearances. Even though Sparks also shares the same sentiments— wanting freedom— as well as abilities— such as superspeed— Sparks acts more towards the pessimistic side. He’s not as charming as Sonic had been. (And although he does have superspeed, I believe it’s not to the extent that Sonic had.)

Additionally, when Shadow had been taking him back to the orphanage, he really wasn’t forced. Sparks intended to follow him back. Perhaps out of habit. And inevitable loop of escaping but returning once again. But also because if cowardice, knowing he wouldn’t be able to make it by himself. He’s immature, he’s inexperienced, Sparks is aware of that, yet still tries- only to the extent of what he knows he can succeed: aka running away, but never staying away. His cowardice is one of the traits he does not share with Sonic.

During his description of the orphanage to Shadow, he’s a bit of an unreliable narrator. The orphanage isn’t as miserable as Sparks describes it as. It’s a pretty normal orphanage, Sparks is just a troublemaker- and he hates the idea of being trapped in one place.

Anyways, Sparks resembles a star of sorts. He’s a little star themed. <3

[dearstvckyx]

“That when a heart breaks, it ain't broken forever” - MV1

Pairing : Sierra Verstappen x Max Verstappen (Main) , Sierra Verstappen x Victoria Verstappen (Mentioned) , Sierra Verstappem x Blue Jaye Verstappen (Mentioned) , Sierra Verstappen x Sophie Kumpen (Mentioned)

Genre : angst , sad , emotional, just get the tissues okay

Mentions : drg use, addiction, death, character death, oc death

about oc : Sierra Verstappen ~~is~~ was the oldest sibling of the Verstappen Three (Her, Max and Victoria). Was a singer/rapper.

about : After her death due to an OD, Max is cleaning her house out and he finds tucked away in her office and cd holder with unreleased songs, one being Temporary.

Max sits at desk that used to alway occupy his older sister warmth and scent, staring down at the disc with his and Vics name he decides to put it into Sierra’s computer. The video begins with the camera low to the ground filming someone’s feet and Max, being the observer he is, notices it’s Sierra shoes. And as the camera pans up to familiar older girl with dyed dark blue hair and the blue eyes, he starts to get emotional seeing her face once more. And finally, He hears that voice that used to sing him to sleep, that used to stand up for him in school, the voice that would calm his anxiety down after a bad race or a fight with their father.

A lot of people ask me, am I afraid of death? - The truth is, I think what scares me the most - Is not being able to say all the things I wanna say to you - When I'm no longer here - So this song is for Maxie for when that day comes

Hearing not just her voice but calling him Maxie, the one who started that nicknamed, made Max tear up a bit. The video fake glitches, to a video of Sierra and Max when Max was a kid,

Where's Maxie? Where's he at?This ain't Maxie! Who is it? It's a monster (ahh)

Max laughed at the video from childhood, Sierra was the only one who could get Max into a video

I've been waiting all night for the sunrise - To take away the dark sky - You're the dad monster and them are the baby monsters and - I'm the mom monster - Oh - All it takes is a new day sometimes - To get me in a better state of mind - Give me a kiss, monster, give me a kiss - Love you (I love you)

Max takes notice that this part is talking about their family's dynamics and the hope that each new day brings healing. The video glitches once more to Max still pretending to be a “monster”. And hearing that ‘I Love You’ once more broke Max’s heart. Once the chorus is over, Verse 2 begins playing, the video cuts back to Sierra sitting in front of at TV that’s playing all and everything of the Verstappen Three (Sierra, Max & Victoria)

Yeah, so Maxie Emil, I wrote you this song - To help you cope with life now that I'm gone - How should I start? Just wanna say - Look after Vicky, Bluey, and Mommy dear - And, sweetie, be strong, I know I was your rock - And I still am, saying goodbye is just not - Ever easy, but why you crying? Just stop - Max, baby, dry your eye, this is not - Forever

Max hears the chorus began again before hearing,

Sissy - What? - When I used to have this when I was a little kid - Baby, are you okay?

Max was surprised to hear their mother's voice, but he was happy to hear it

Yeah, and you will get over me and move on - You can play me on repeat on a song - But don't you dare shed a tear, what'd I tell you? - "Straighten up, little soldier, " them times when I held you - Emilian, it'll be okay, baby, I'm here, Max - I'm watchin' you right now, baby boy, I vow - I will protect you, your guardian angel - As hard as this may feel, us parting is painful - And, darling, the rain will drive you insane still - You will remain strong, Maxie, just hang on - It won't be too long, I need you to move on - And remember, it will get better - 'Cause times heals and when a

Max realizes that, yes he can listen to her music but he wants to hear it person then a recording. Max remembers his fathers rage after a bad race of Maxs, which resulted in Max running away and sitting somewhere by himself crying before he felt the warmth and inhaled the strawberry scented perfume, he had relized his older sister was hugging him and talking him down from this panic attack. Max remembers the words “straight up little soldier. you did great and im still so proud of you.” That one word was one he really only heard from Sierra.

I know this big boy - And he’s really handsome - You know what his name is? - Maxie! - Maxie, how did you know?

Max laughs at his younger confident self,

Yeah, and if there's days where you wanna lock yourself in your room and cry - Just think about how when you were little, how you and I back and forth to the studio, we used to drive - You strapped in the backseat 'cause you were my little sidekick, yeah, sweetie, I know this hurts - Bean, I'm wishing your pain away - Remember this, Maxie Emil - There’s gonna be rainy days - I promise you'll get through 'em and make it regardless - Fuck it, Emilian, I'll be honest - I knew that you was gonna take this the hardest - Sweetie, get up, I know that is is breaking your heart, it's the hardest thing I ever wrote (daddy)Hailie, sweetheart, it's okay for you to let me go - Baby, I promise you that when a-

Max knows and remembers what his sister is talking about. Growing up if Sierra noticed Max was upset, stressed or tired, or just needing a break from karting or dealing with their father, she would take Max with her to the recording studio, Max was almost nearly the first one to hear her music before it was released.

And hearing that nickname Bean, The one Sierra created because Max hated green beans that he would throw them across the room. This part makes Max laugh once more, something he hasn't done in 3 weeks. And once again his bigger sister was right, Max is taking Sierras death harder then anyone, then their younger siblings, their father, their mother and the world.

What's your favorite song? My favorite song right now - Mine and your favorite song, - but I like this part, that's your favorite part, sis?

You're taping me, bitch - I got you on tape cussin' - Can you hear? -Yeah - No, bitch - No what? - No, I said, I said, no, bitch - Okay, no cussin'

Max laughs at this part, Sierra was more of a parent than Jos was to Max. Making him food before and after school, taking him to school, helping him with school work, going to any parent - teacher conferences. With this parental role Sierra had taken on she made sure Max did have some rules one was: No cussing. And Max remembers faking his sister out by saying words that sound close to the swears.

Max leans back, tears in his, and thinks for a moment before grabbing his sister’s phone and getting her managers number off it. Calling her, Max mentions he found the song and wants to see if they can release it, and they do. Max is happy for once these past couple weeks, he knows that she wanted him to find that song, to listen to it, to fight for it to be released. And Max knows Sierra is standing next to him smiling proud once more.

liked by landonorris everythingsierrav and others

maxverstappen1 i am surprised the new outlet haven’t said it before us, our sister Sierra Eliza Verstappen has passed away, today marks 5 weeks of her being gone and it’s something i’m not used to. i miss hearing her voice and her nicknames for me. i got in touched with her manager and label to release this song i heard when cleaning out her house, it’s called “Temporary” and in the words of my older sister, “i hope you enjoy, this masterpiece.” - Max Maxie

charles_leclerc she was a lovely person max ❤️

landonorris the big sister of the paddock

f1 the verstappen three !

victoriaverstappen she was proud of Max, of everything you have done and will do

sophiekumpen im so glad you fought for them to release this song son, you can tell Sierra meant every word

lewishamilton replaying this so many times

- comments haven’t been limited -

liked by sabrinacarpenter lewishamilton oscarpiastri and others

billboard Temporary by Sierra Verstappen sill stands at number one for the 34 week in a row, looks like being number one is a Verstappen sibling thing - Keep Streaming

- Comments Have Been Turned Off -

[fernlessbastard]

ok hot take. we all hate capitalists. I know. I do too. I really, REALLY hate capitalists.

that being said C!Quackity is the definition of a capitalist. like in a fully "I made the money, I deserve it because I took the risks." "its not my fault that some people dont work as hard as I do." "las nevadas is a company, the only government is the corporation which Quackity owns." way.

he is sat RIGHT at the bottom right corner on the political compass, and he is not budging. obviously, thats not to say hes a homophobe or a racist or generally a bigot, but hes very much a land hoarding, greedy, individualistic, profiteer type guy.

him and wilbur have gotten into several arguments about this, as with pretty much all of the ways Quackity runs his goverment, and shots have been FIRED.

I think the main argument from wilbur would be: "was it your fault that you were homeless after you ran from schlatt? do you really belive that youre the only person who has ever needed to run from financial abuse?" and "if it hadn't been for my policies about taking in all we can feed, then you would have starved to death in the woods. according to your philosophy I should have told you to piss off because you wernt profitable."

and then quackity responding with: "you change your ideology like youre a kid playing dressup, dont act like youre better than me because you woke up and decided that being a marxist suited your situation best, you just want something to argue about." and "you only took me in BECAUSE I was profitable. maybe not through labour but you would have used me as a bargaining chip any day of the week."

anyways, they've both been heads of state and both of them are well versed in political science and economics, which leads to both some very fun conversations and some less fun arguments. (wilbur might enjoy it a little)

ok so yes I agree with that take in the context of the smp, but it's also important to point out that minecraft "capitalism" is what those capitalists who want to convince you it's good claim capitalism to be. Food is abundant, shelter has little requirements to be functional, you can literally just dig a little into a hill and you're set, and then make a farm from things you can find anywhere. Anyone can mine, anyone has access to anywhere that isn't already someone's exact base, food is easily accessible and renewable, etc etc.

What Quackity's doing is he's actually providing a luxury service which isn't at all necessary. And Las Nevadas deserves to earn a profit from people using its facilities, cause they've been carefully and deliberately made to provide entertainment. Quackity doesn't have monopoly on food, shelter, land, resources, etc. Anyone could make their own small version of LN if they had the want and time to. So it isn't fair putting cQuackity in the same box as idfk bezos or musk, cause in cQ's case it's deserved, earned, and not a monopoly that causes everyone but him to suffer. Translating that into real life is just simply much more difficult than taking it at face value

As a sidenote I think that while Quackity is like that on the outside, he still wouldn't ignore someone needing help. Like, he's definitely got that built up resentment of "I had to work for all of this so hard, I've gotten through so many hardships. Why should someone else have it easier??" but then when the push comes to shove he's still end up helping, even if just a little bit.

[yuseirra]

The way I see it, there will be like two more stages for alnst:

Hyuna and Mizi will be forced to compete and Mizi will win, and upon seeing Hyuna go, Luka will completely collapse inside.

The guy accepts his role as being devised as a singing star-doll crafted for the stage, he is perfect for it and he was created for that purpose. If there's just one thing he began to desire and wanted, that proves he's "alive" it'd be Hyuna..

He wouldn't be able to enjoy being on stage anymore if she's gone, will it? He'll have to start questioning about the whole idea of this whole alien stage thing, but it's too late and he's gone too far. If him and Mizi does a rematch after that, he'd appear to rule over the stage in the first verse but significantly start to falter and break down afterwards, Mizi won't lose, she has too many lives she carries with her and she loved everyone that was in this series(except Luka)he however, would nothing to live for and base his reasons for living, he'd have no point on continuing. He'd be so hollow.

I don't see him as the real evil though.. The evil is the stage and the system, Luka's someone who's adapted to it very well, and he's using things he could use as an advantage because that's allowed and an efficient way to win, he's being clever. I'm not sure if he's so attached to his life anyway(it doesn't seem that way either, in fact) but it is a competition of life or death. He's just.. A very capable contestant. In the end, he's just another person being attached to a string and pushed around who chose to decide being on stage must be the sole purpose of his life.

He did(probably)kill Hyuna's brother though, that's so messed up.. If that never happened, I feel he actually would have had a chance with forming a pretty good relationship with her. I think she does like him and that's why she has such a hard time bringing herself to face him.

I think it's a given that he really wants her, and seeing how things are in this series, no one seems to get to be together with the one they want to be with. So he won't get it either.

It'd actually be a happy ending for him in a sense if he can die FOR Hyuna. But I feel even that wouldn't be allowed for his case, and he'd have to watch her die from his throne in a pretty helpless way.

Mizi seems to be the main character of this series, she's formed a bond with all the major characters and she absorbed what's been playing out in this story from the very first stage, hasn't she? I feel she'd be the one to bring closure to it all somehow. If Luka's the "final boss", it'll be these two that will have a rematch as the finale, and the outcome will be different this time. She'll be the one to make Luka "lose" for the first time. Will he be saved? I don't know. I actually don't want him to die but... This is how I picture things will play out till the ending.

[desultory-novice]

Apologies AU - Good Ending Drop

Hey, everyone. It was my goal to finish Apologies in tandem with the Tournament, but for health reasons, I won't be able to as I planned. Because I tied the story to the tournament and don't feel like untangling it again and making everyone wait more, I'm going to give you all the ending spoilers, as I promised I would if I became unable to finish the story.

What I'm about to describe is THE Good Ending. The True Ending I had planned out almost from the beginning!

-

In the main-verse...

Susie, who sees too much of herself in Adeleine, decides to take matters into her own hands to bring the girl's older brother back.

She takes the vial of Dark Matter Swordsman DNA that was harvested from King Dedede. Meta Knight catches up with her and argues against it. It's foolish, dangerous, and liable to be nothing but painful to all parties involved. But Susie anticipated interference and asked Zan to bodyguard her. When Zan arrives (late) to the lab, the argument has caused the vial to begin to react to all the negativity in the room. Zan recognizes its contents as Dark Matter and insists on calling Lord Hyness, who in his own quirky way, analyzes their problem and suggests that while the contents are too weak to survive on their own, a resurrection could be possible, using Void's powers to mimic a hive queen, supplying whatever creature emerges the power to survive on Popstar without burning up into ash...

-

In the tourney-verse...

White-Haired Noir is at peace with his life and has come to accept the death of his precious little sister many years ago, but...a part of him still wishes to make Adeleine happy.

Using his fairy-born dimension sight, he discovers an Alternate Noir who is 98% percent compatible with main-verse Noir. This is the Purgatory!Noir from the Re_Birthday post. And he drags this unstable, utterly clueless Noir out of this peaceful void without his permission and secretly "volunteers"  the massively confused, un-alive but un-dead teen boy for the Kirby OC Tournament.

It is White-Haired Noir that is the "good" voice on phone and in Noir's head, encouraging rationality. His goal? Get Noir some friends. Get him to face up to/open up to people about his past. And get him caring about his life enough that he wants to live...! 

White-Haired Noir has seen what the main-verse Star Allies are attempting and knows that the odds of them actually bringing "Noir" back instead of just an emotionless monster are low without a compatible "Noir Soul" (haha) to inhabit the new vessel.

Over the course of many in-tourney events, including Noir learning to have faith in the sibling bonds he built with Gooey despite being Dark Matter at the time, learning to separate himself and Adeleine as individuals instead of clinging to her to his own neglect, privately opening up to King Dedede, who put the pieces together post-possession, about some awful stuff Noir put up with for years in secret from Raquelle's father (who privately loathed Neichel AND her kids and took it out on Noir) to "pay" for Adeleine's good life...

And lastly, using the power of wishes to interrogate if THIS Noir's true wish is to die and be free, to have never been born, to have had a normal "perfect" life, or if he simply wishes for a second chance to be with those he cares about... White-Haired Noir determines that Tourney!Noir is ready and reveals his plan to him. Noir confesses to him that he really does want to live and be with his family again and offers up his stronger soul for Susie and the gang's vessel.

-

Back in the main-verse...

The experiment is a success! They have brought, well, something back. It is not quite like Dark Matter Swordsman in form, nor is it exactly a human boy. It looks a little bit like a spiky haired-Gooey.

After some tense questioning of the emotionless, memoryless, unresponsive goo, it...suddenly seems to awaken. With the voice of a deeply shaken and scared young boy, the violet-eyed blob questions the mad scientist, cultists, and masked man surrounding him... Where the hell is he? And where are his little brother and sister?

Meta Knight welcomes Noir back to the world of the living.

Later, after Noir has time to dress himself in an appropriate scarf, Adeleine and Gooey are brought in and it is a happy and tear-filled reunion all around as Noir confirms that, while this form is strange, it's not dangerous and he's not in pain. He is then re-introduced to King Dedede, whereupon it's revealed that even though Noir likes him, he's still a snarky teen punk at heart, as he sasses the king horribly. (Dedede has gained another kid, but at what cost? XD)

...And that's it.

That's the ending to Apologies I've held onto for nearly a year.

For reading through all that, here is a short comic I drew a while back of the reunited family having a snowball fight in White Wafers.

-

(Not to unnecessarily over-explain the story but because the comic is a little vague, I have to tell you that no, Noir does not ever return to human after his revival. I meant it when I wrote in several places that their parting on Shiver Star was the last time they'd see each other "...in this form." This is merely meant to depict a moment in which Adeleine, seeing her brother alive and smiling and laughing and having real fun for the first time in so long, is able to imagine his old self smiling and is at peace that her brother is finally free from the hurt and misery he bore up with for so long.)

(...And yes, he has a long, silly tongue just like Gooey. Which is why he hides all but his eyes behind the scarf. Gotta keep up that cool older brother look even as a little goo creature! While Noir can't become human - frankly, he doesn't miss having a human body, given the stuff in his adolescence and being over-stressed, underfed, under-slept and just overall sick all the time in his later teens - he does eventually acquire the ability to shift into his old "Swordsman" form for short bursts of time.)

-

(Lastly, you might wonder how I could have had this exact ending in mind from almost the beginning when so much of it is tied up in recent posts like the tourney? ...Well, originally what was going to happen to allow Noir to be properly resurrected into the Dark Matter Goo body is that the Dream Rod from Star Allies was going to appear in response to a grieving Adeleine's wishes to see her brother again, bringing Noir-as-Swordsman back. At least for a LITTLE while, as it would be revealed that with Zero dead, Noir, who was entirely composed of Dark Matter at this point, couldn't survive on Popstar. Every moment he was there, his body was burning.)

(Still, he lasts long enough to have one final talk with Adeleine that helps heal him from the torturous events of DL 3 - in which we learn a highly disappointed Zero drove Noir to the absolute breaking point, shattering his mind and his newly regained soul. Adeleine also tells Noir she has finally realized everything he did for her during their childhood and apologizes to him for not seeing it before. With dawn on the horizon, Noir asks to look over Adeleine's sketchbooks with her before the end... He dies one last time, peacefully, while Adeleine finally gets to properly mourn him.)

(Then, all the "main-verse" sections proceed to happen as stated above!)

-

(...Okay, okay. One last thing. There was also an alternate ending planned where Magolor, taking advantage of the fact that Merry Magoland was built on a nexus point, finds a way to reunite Adeleine and White-Haired Noir - still a teen in this version - using his theme park as a union point, as special birthday gift for Adeleine.)

(I was kinda fond of this one for reuniting the timelines, but it opened up a lot of questions such as, if Magolor made it so that Noir and Adeleine from two different dimensions can see each other as long as they're both in Magoland, could others from the WH Noir-verse see the main-verse this way? It invited too many questions, so that's why I scrapped that one and just let White-Haired Noir grow up instead.)

[annoyingann]

DA FINAL POST

Today, while I have some time, I want to show you the latest information post of references

MORE TEXT!

We have 4 characters

CALEB! demon of alcohol and drunkenness (Opiven'/Опивень)

Of course, he doesn't loom in front of other characters all the time, but he lives his dirty life. In the past, he was also a man, but a very shameless one (much more cruel than Izm, although it's hard to call him a cutie either). He robbed, drank, even killed (guess who :D), but still he himself was not immortal. After his death, for his passion for alcohol and idle behavior, he was turned into a drunken demon, aka a drunkard. Shaggy, hairy, with a pig's snout, the demon incites peaceful people to drunkenness, and then quietly leads them to dangerous places.

"kicked the drunk"

GRIMSHAW! The priest

Continuing with the secondary characters, I definitely want to mention Grimshaw. Unfortunately, very little is known about him in the canon, so in the AU he also remains a mysterious person.

Oops! Looks like we have another ghost child :P (or maybe an demon.. hard to say, he didn't say it himself)

I admit, I'm afraid to even write headcanons about the interaction of Eid and Grimshaw, I'm poorly versed in their canon (⁠ ⁠ꈨຶ⁠ ⁠˙̫̮⁠ ⁠ꈨຶ⁠ ⁠)

ISLA! The Shaman

Isla, like all the other canonical secondary characters, practically does not appear in the main plot, BUT she exists and even does her own thing.

She is a wandering shaman, as some believe. No one knows where she is from, no one knows her purpose, but she has amazing knowledge of the medicine of that time. "As soon as she sees, she will immediately determine his illness" - as they say about her. She does not speak to people, only with gestures or short phrases in her native language, which no one knows..

There is a rumor that she can see the spirits of the dead, and her native language is a way to talk to them.

DESMOND! The innkeeper

There is little to say about his story. He was and remains a fan of hallucinogenic mushrooms. The only thing that distinguishes him from the canonical BP Desmond is the length of his hair and a pub instead of a club. Yes, he owns a pub. Yes, he tries to brew beer himself ("beer" in the broad sense of drinking: kvass, home-brew, etc.)

He also picks mushrooms in the forest himself + has connections with witches and sorcerers. In fact, the earnings from the pub go to stoned tinctures. It is difficult to say much about this character.. It can only be added that it was in Desmond's pub that the fatal skirmish with Caleb took place for Izm. In general, it can be emphasized that Caleb was a regular visitor to this establishment.

[buttermander]

So i envisioned an animatic depicting the origins of the ichor operation in my head despite having no idea how to make one

So i discovered Scylla from EPIC: the musical and my mind somehow devised a possible animatic idea for it, even though I don't how to make animatics. Bascially it has the very start of Dandy's little ichor operation and stuff with a few toons surviving. I can describe what I saw

So Dandy has called all the toons to a lower floor but didn't tell them the reason for it, but they all went with it since he's the defacto leader after Gardenview closed. Astro is uneasy as his psychic abilities seem to have given him visions in his sleep of something bad happening. When everyone gets to the spot they find a strange closed door before the intercom comes on , with Dandy's voice greeting them ( represented by the " Hello... " ). Suddenly the door begins to burst open before something builds up behind it, until a massive literal flood of ichor emerges, Astro tells everyone to run for their lives ( " ROW FOR YOUR LIVES!! ") .. running back to the elevator based on his premonition, but the others misinterpret the warning at first, instead moving to climb on top of objects to avoid the flood. Several toons get caught ( Sprout, Finn, Pebble, etc ) as the tide pulls them under. A few other toons ( Boxten . Poppy , Vee , Goob , Scraps , Rodger, Toodles) notice Astro running to the elevator and quickly leave the high ground to follow, unknowingly saving themselves.

Here shots would lime up to a different line

" Drown in your sorrow and fears " , - Sprout is caught in the flood and he and Cosmo desperately reach for each other, only for Sprout to sink under

" Choke on your blood and your tears " - Finn manages to stay afloat with his life jacket trying to swim to the others, only for the ichor to form into hands to push him under

" Bleed till you run out of years " - The other toons watch Pebble and a few others sinking in the tide unable to save the rock, the aformented toons notice Astro running and move to follow.

" We must do what it takes to Survive " - The group fleeing to the elevator keeps running and then it cuts to Cosmo finding Sprout's scarf in the tide, approaching trying to save his best friend only for a massive black claw to reach from the depths and grab him

Now the second verse reveals why Astro ran to the elevator based on his vision. Those caught in the tide are now twisteds attacking those on the high ground with their backs turned to a wall. Again the different lines correlate to a shot

" Give up your honor and faith " - Twisted Sprout grabs Cosmo , holding him by his neck before plunging him into the ichor

" Live out your life as a wraith " - Twisted Finn moves through the tide of ichor like a shark on the hunt before leaping out and grabbing Shrimpo , pulling him under.

" Die in the blood where you bathe " - Twisted Pebble stands over a pile of victims in the tide, currently carrying Scraps in his teeth who sacrificed herself to save Goob. Other twisteds are attacking remaining survivors in the background.

" We must do what it takes to survive " - the others continue running only for Rodger to have to let himself get grabbed to prevent the beasts that were once fellow toons from harming Toodles, the survivors ( Astro , Boxten, Poppy , Toodles , Goob , Vee ) make it into the elevator at the last minute before the residual flood or the twisteds, both the initial ones and the victims reanimated by the ichor can manage to claim them. ( The six survivors parallel the 6 deaths that occur in the actual musical during the song )

The animatic ends with the others mourning as Astro begins to feel guilt that he could have warned everyone else far earlier and stopped this from happening. Vee moves over and tries to reassure the fellow main toon as the group is left to descend to another floor as the song ends

Yeah I thought this entire concept in my dang head without being capable of making it.... what is wrong with me?!?! If this post does inspire you and try and make the concept for yourself than go hecking ahead, this song works too well for the beginning of the ichor operation.

[bettyshoweduptotheparty]

You're Losing Me Analysis

Ok, you got me, enough people messaged me with cute gifs and pretty pleases asking for this analysis to motivate me to finish it. So, here it is, my lyrical analysis of You're Losing Me.

I will stick to my interpretation of this song NOT being about a romantic relationship, the poll I did a while ago showed that most people interpret it to be about a romantic relationship breakdown. I will explain why I don't think that, but if you do, the main lyrical themes will still apply. (Colour coding of main themes at the end)

Before any lyrics, this songs starts with two sounds: A heartbeat and a massive sigh. Like, a really big one, you can even hear the inbreath. Something I've only ever experienced when someone is really, really exhausted and annoyed. I've sometimes made that noise when I'm standing in the pieces of something my children have broken, after I've told them a thousand times not to break it. The non-verbal expression of 'I f*cking told you this would happen'. So, before we even hear any words, I'm able to tell that this is about something that has happened before. We've been round and round this thing a million times. This breakdown has been a long time coming, a death by a thousand cuts if you will ;)

The heartbeat also sets the scene for the main lyrical theme before the first verse starts: A patient in an emergency situation, I envision a hospital room with a heart monitor. Over this heartbeat (and minimal production) we hear Taylor addressing her audience by saying

You say, "I don't understand," and I say, "I know you don't"

The You and the I are having a disagreement, but it's not so much an argument, as a miscommunication. They don't understand what she's saying but Taylor was already expecting that. Immediately, the first line confirms what the sigh was already indicating: This is not a new issue, we've been here many times before so Taylor is well aware that this communication isn't working. Then in the next line

We thought a cure would come through in time, now, I fear it won't

She introduces the medical theme in the lyrics with the word 'cure'. The metaphor is that the relationship that's being described here is the patient that's dying in hospital. This theme is incredibly present throughout the entire song, there is a constant 'brink of death' threat, with mentions of 'gashes', my face was grey' and 'too far gone to bring back to life'. And then, of course, the chorus is the culmination of this with the repetitions of 'Stop, you're losing me' and 'I can't find a pulse, my heart won't start anymore'. This gives me images of an emergency room situation where the patient is flatlining and the doctors are trying to revive them. Or maybe a battlefield, as the last line of the first verse introduces the secondary theme of war or combat with 'You might just have dealt the final blow'. Taylor has of course used the war imagery many times before when talking about conflict, such as in All Too Well ('I'm a soldier who's returning half her weight'), Call it What You Want ('I brought a knife to a gun fight'), The Great War, and the Archer ('I'm ready for combat').

So, despite the initial resignation, Taylor is fighting with the person/people she is addressing here. They are the one that's injuring the patient to the point of near death. And in the chorus she is telling them that, asking them to stop, because the relationship is dying. But we don't yet learn what she is asking them to stop doing. She does, however, show the problem in the relationship when she says:

Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?

It's a WE versus I situation: We used to love this room, but now I (and only I) am left sitting alone in the dark. And only I get to make the decision about what to do with all the stuff we built together, because you're not even here to sit in the dark with me. Also, notice the light versus dark comparison. You are only there for the light (easy) parts, and not the dark (hard). In that context, I am inclined to interpret the room in this line as her stages and the light being the spotlight. We loved standing in the light together/You loved seeing me in the light, but now you've left me in the dark. This is why I really think this song is about the relationship with her majority fanbase and not a romantic relationship. Since 1989 she's written about her romantic partner in a way that makes it clear that this person is with her through thick and thin, on reputation we had End Game and New Years Day, the ultimate song about being there after the party when the glitter fades and it's not glamorous anymore, and in CIWYW she literally says her lover's 'starry eyes sparking up my darkest night'. So, I don't think it's her partner who is leaving her in the dark here, it's the fans. And the 'everything we built' is of course the fame/sold out stadiums etc. And that theme continues in the next verse:

Every morning I glared at you with storms in my eyes How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick

Now the picture is becoming clearer as to what the 'you' here is doing that Taylor is asking them to stop, or better what they're NOT doing. She's glaring at them, sending signals and biting her nails, using all forms of non-verbal communication, but they're not being received. Or she's being willfully ignored. The 'I sent you signals' is a screaming parallel to 'I gave so many signs' from Exile and 'sending signals to be double-crossed' from Evermore. And I think in all three cases, it is referring to queer flagging. And just like in High Infidelity (a similar song thematically) she says 'There's many ways that you can kill the one you love/ the slowest way is never loving them enough', here she's saying 'How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?. Both boils down to the same thing: Your ignorance is killing me and it's a slow and painful death. She ends the verse on the medical theme which has now slightly shifted to Taylor being the dying patient ('My face was grey' - corpse) and the relationship being sick. Over the chorus we still hear the heartbeat though, so she's dying but she's not dead yet.

Let's talk about the bridge. This is juicy, as Taylor's bridges always are, but this one, of course, had the one line that sent all the swifties into an angry rampage against Joe Alwyn. But we'll get to that. The first line is in fact my favourite:

How long could we be a sad song 'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life?

She calls the relationship a 'sad song'. And that's obviously an interesting thing for a songwriter to say, and I've seen many good interpretations of this line, but mine is this: Taylor is the girl who made her name as the young country singer who writes sad breakup songs about her past relationships. And she owned that for a while, until she openly discussed how much it trivialises her writing and that songs are more than just the person she's writing about (not as simple as a paternity test etc.), but have people stopped making her songs about men? When the Joe breakup hit the news, wasn't the first thing the swifties said 'Oh, the next album is going to be soooo sad...."?? So...for some people she still is, and will always be, just the girl who writes about breakups. And she's saying to those people 'how long can this relationship last if that's all you'll ever see me for?' She also, once again uses the medical theme of 'bringing the relationship back to life' when it has in fact died multiple deaths already. But this time it might just be 'too far gone' to be revived.

I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier Fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me I'm the best thing at this party (You're losing me)

She also continues the war/combat theme with being the 'bravest soldier' who is bleeding whilst on the frontline 'fighting in only your army'. This is also important. Taylor is the soldier but she's not fighting for her own cause, she's fighting in the other person's army. She's making herself bleed, for the other person's sake. Much like a closeted gay person pretending to be straight for the mass appeal. It's making me bleed for your benefit, but you don't even notice, DON'T YOU IGNORE ME!! And then we get to the ultimate bait and switch line:

And I wouldn't marry me either A pathological people pleaser Who only wanted you to see her

Where you will all shout at me 'How can it not be about a romantic relationship, it has the line about marrying!!!'. Relax, I think this is intentional. What an easy way to make the whole song sound like it's about a breakup with just one line when the rest of the song suggest something else (to me at least). I don't see this as being about a literal marriage proposal, more like a 'I wouldn't choose me either'. Very much along the lines of Anti Hero, I'm the problem, why would you choose me, but I'd still love it if you did. And she even says in the next part 'I have nothing to believe, unless you're choosing me.'

And I'm fadin', thinkin'

(POV changes, addresses self:) "Do something, babe, say something" (Say something) "Lose something, babe, risk something" (You're losing me) "Choose something, babe, I got nothing" (I got nothing) "To believe, unless you're choosin' me"

So in the imperatives, the direction of address changes and she's now thinking to/addressing herself with these commands: 'DO something, SAY something, LOSE something, CHOOSE something, RISK something.' Almost like she's trying to jumpstart herself into action. This all screams BE BRAVE to me, especially the 'say something' because in the previous verse she was communicating in all these non-verbal ways (glaring, signals, nail biting) and that wasn't working. She's telling herself to be brave and SAY something, make it unmistakably clear, but that may well mean risking something and losing it. Also, choose something babe, you can't play both sides forever. In the last line she then addresses the audience again by saying 'I have nothing to believe unless you're choosing me.' She wants to be chosen by her audience as her authentic self, not as the 'sad song' girl. Once she's said all those hard hitting truths, what follows is a massive pause, a moment of total silence. Like the moment when you've finally said all you wanted to say and now you're waiting for the reaction. And when you almost think the song has ended, we get the heartbeat again and one more chorus.

SILENCE You're losin' me Stop (Stop, stop), you're losin' me Stop (Stop, stop), you're losin' me I can't find a pulse (HEARTBEAT STOPS) My heart won't start anymore

In this last chorus the Stops are now echoed twice to increase the urgency in this plea, it sounds almost like she's saying 'stop, stop stop! It's really about to be over!'. And it is, as the heartbeats stops on the word 'pulse' and the patient has finally died. She concludes on what we have just witnessed 'My heart won't start anymore' but there is no 'for you' this time, because the relationship is dead now. No more coming back this time.

Thematically, to fit into the concept of midnights, this could be a song set in early 2019 when she was planning her coming out, or it could be more recent, as an internal counter piece to Anti Hero. I hope this lived up to what you hoped for, people who asked so nicely :)

blue - medical theme/imagery

orange - direct address to audience

green - war/combat theme