#like he also needs the constant reminders of his vitality

[aashiqeddiediaz]

eddie saying "to be fair, you had just died" and then moving to put his thumb on buck's pulse i see you eddie diaz

[veronicaphoenix]

zutto — chapter one | wc: 4.9k | series masterpost

chapter summary: lia refuses to stay in the hospital one more day and convinces noah to go back to los angeles.

tags and trigger warnings: best friends to lovers, mentions of an overdose, brief descriptions of it, ptsd, angst/comfort, vomiting, mentions of nightmares, breakdowns.

general trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

“No,” Noah said.

            “But—”

            “I said no.”

            His reply was stern, hard. If Lia didn’t know him like the back of her hand, she would have been terrified by the way his features hardened as he repeated the word, resisting her plea to leave the hospital just a day after waking up. His gaze on her was severe, his eyes —usually warm and inviting— were cold and piercing as they bore into hers, as if trying to drill the seriousness of the situation into her. His jaw was clenched tightly, and a muscle ticked in his temple.

            His October eyes were filled with all the fear and pain of the past few days, and more than that: they also the carried the dread of what might come, of the dangers Lia could face if she left the hospital that day.

            Lia, who was the reason for all his fears.

            Lia, who was aware of it all.

            It didn’t matter if he ever forgave her: she would never forgive herself.

            Swallowing hard, Lia pressed her hands to the mattress to straighten herself a bit more, ignoring the crack of her back bones, if only to give Noah the same sense of seriousness she felt about leaving that place.

            “I just want to go home, Noah,” she murmured, her eyes pleading. “I need to go home.”

            She waited for his reaction, but Noah remained still. He stood in the middle of the room, still, lips pursed, hands nearly clenched at his sides. The only sign of his agitation was his increasingly rapid breathing.

            “Staying here will only make me sicker,” she continued. “I want to go home. Please.” At her pleading word, her voice diminished to a whisper, allowing the sounds of professionals and other patients outside the room to seep in, reminding her and Noah that they were not in a bubble where it was just the two of them.

            Not yet.  

            Tears welled up in her eyes again. She wasn’t lying—she felt sick, sicker than the day before. Two diseases resided within her, and she could distinguish them with painful clarity. One was the result of her overdose, leaving her weak, perpetually sleepy, struggling to retain information, and nauseous at the mere thought of food. The other was born from the hospital’s sterile smell, the constant reminder of why she was there, amplified by the pitying glances from doctors and nurses whenever they came in to check her vitals.

            She didn’t want to be there anymore. She wanted to go home and recover in the safety of her apartment’s walls. She needed to leave before she truly got worse.

            Noah was waging his own internal battle; battling against the powerful hold she had on him. He wasn’t sure he could ever deny her anything, especially not when she was so vulnerable, so in need of his care. He just wanted her to get better, and he would do anything to make that happen, even if it meant going against all reason and logic.

            He dropped his head, letting out a heavy, defeated sight. He wanted to hit something, in all honesty. He hated how easily she disarmed him, how effortlessly she did so.   

            He had watched her sleep most of the night, still trying to comprehend how she hadn’t complained about much despite her condition. It was as if she had accepted all the suffering she was enduring, as though she deserved it. Certainly, she was in pain. Dr. Dayal had mentioned that her body was slowly recovering but reminded them of many issues that still needed healing. She hadn’t mentioned feeling weak or having a headache. Nothing. Not until she told Noah she wanted to leave the hospital. He couldn’t decide whether to admire her strength, even after hitting rock bottom hours earlier, or to feel devastated at how he knew she was punishing herself internally.

            “Noah—”

            “All right,” he cut her off, rubbing his forehead. “I’ll ask Jolly to book the earliest flights and grab our things from the hotel,” he then redirected his gaze back to her. “But I’m going to ask the doctor to run another round of tests before they discharge you, and you’re going to let them, understood?”

            Lia nodded, knowing that if she fought him on this, it would only take Dr. dayal’s insistence on her staying a few more days to change Noah’s mind.

            Once it was settled, Noah slumped back into the armchair where he had spent his last three days. He was exhausted. Lia would have reached out to touch his hair if the space between the bed and his seat hadn’t been so vast. It wasn’t just her that needed to go home—he needed it just as much.

            The tour had just finished, and he was stuck in a hospital room in another state, far from home. He hadn’t had the time to rest or sleep. He hadn’t even showered since they’d been there. So, when Lia suggested he use the ensuite bathroom and wash up, Noah diligently complied, aware that he indeed needed a shower, and he might feel a bit better afterward. After all, Lia was awake, and she was okay; awake. She was back with him, and this time, he wouldn’t let her stray any farther than the steps that separated the bed and the shower.

Despite Noah’s futile efforts to stay in Illinois for a few more days to ensure Lia’s recovery, stubborn as she was even in her condition, they left the hospital and found themselves at the airport not even twenty-four hours after her discharge and merely two hours after she had met the boys.

            Th moment the Nicks and Jolly entered the hospital room, Noah had been forced to leave, overwhelmed by the emotional weight of the scenario unfolding.

            Jolly held Lia against his chest as she cried, clutching his jacket and repeating the same words over and over: “Sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Jolly cradled her, and so did Nicholas after. When Noah stepped outside, a heavy feeling crushing his chest, he found Folio pacing around, biting his nails. He was still scared, still consumed by nightmares, haunted by the sigh of Lia lying on the hotel room floor, white foam at her mouth.

            Noah and Nick acknowledged each other silently. Noah gestured towards the room with a nod, and nick, gathering his courage, entered.  

            Lia raised her head from Nicholas’ shoulder, and immediately let go of one Nick to crash into the arms of the other one, though it wasn’t clear who was holding whom. Lia and Nick cried together. From outside, Noah could hear their sobs, Nick’s voice telling her that she had no right to put them through this, to hurt them like this, while Lia apologized again and again, sobbing harder than the day Noah had brought her home from Mitch’s apartment.

            But as angry and hurt as Nick was, he didn’t let go, and held onto her because she had always been one of his dearest friends, the closest thing he had ever had to a sister.

            As the hours passed, the consequences of her actions sank deeper into Lia’s consciousness. She had not only plunged herself into darkness but had also dragged every person who loved her along. Even though she was safe for now, she knew you couldn’t just offer yourself to Death and then pull your hand away, expecting to play the game by your own rules.

            Once alone with Noah in the room again, Lia steadied herself by leaning against the bed, her gaze lost on the white tiles of the floor. She was still wearing the hospital gown and plain black underwear underneath. Her head was spinning slightly, and she wasn’t sure if she could handle the airport hustle and the trip back home. She only knew she didn’t want to spend another minute in the hospital, surrounded by reminders of mortality. It didn’t matter that Noah was looking at her with eyes that begged her to reason, to stay for a couple more days and let the professionals ensure she was truly okay.  

            Lia simply didn’t want to be there.          

            “Do you need to lie down again?” Noah’s arm was already extended toward her as he saw her lose balance. Lia’s eyes met his, and she shook her head.

            “I just need to get home,” she whispered.

            Noah’s shoulders dropped as a sigh escaped his lips. After a few seconds, he took two steps toward her, ready to stand in front of her, to move the hair away from her face and to hold her.

            They held each other’s gaze for a while, Lia’s hands clutching the same bedsheets that had covered her weak body the previous days. Why did it suddenly feel hard to swallow with Noah standing in front of her, looking at her like that?

            He was looking at her like a boy whose heart had been broken, like a boy who blamed himself for every bad thing that had happened—for every bad thing that had happened to her.

            She felt a rush of tears returning.

            If she didn’t make it home soon, she would just crash in his arms and be unable to pull herself together.  

            Before his hand could touch her face, Lia pleaded: “Please, let’s go home.”

            The tremble in her voice, the brokenness, could have brought Noah to his knees.

            He nodded fervently, and a moment later, Lia was in his arms, her hands clutching his t-shirt while his found their way through her tangled hair, pressing her head against his shoulder. His other arm wrapped around her middle, determined to keep her from ever straying far from him again.

The hours of waiting at the airport were worse than Lia had anticipated. Part of her knew she should have listened to Noah, that she shouldn’t have argued when he insisted on making sure she was ready for the hustle and bustle of travel less than three days after an overdose. But another part of her –the one that felt most lost and hurt— longed for the safety of her small apartment, the comfort of her bed, and the sense of isolation provided by her four walls. There, she could cry and scream without anyone noticing, without anyone appearing at the door with a medical report and administering another dose of who-knows-what to calm her down.

            She missed her bed, her plants, her books, the view from her balcony, and the breeze that slipped through and rustled the curtains whenever she left the door open and a slight gust of wind swept in to caress her cheeks. Lia had blocked out the traumatic images and memories of the last few days by projecting images of her apartment and the happy moments she had lived there.

            As she watched Noah lean over the counter of the airport’s only Starbucks to order drinks for everyone, she recalled one of the last times Noah had been at her apartment. They had spent a couple of hours on the couch, each with their MacBook on their lap, working on a song that now remained safely stored on Noah’s hard drive. That day, they had eaten together. They’d prepared a vegan lasagna after shopping for ingredients and following a random recipe they found online. After eating, they cleaned up together, and Noah walked around the apartment for a while with a kitchen towel draped over his shoulder, commenting on how full he felt. Lia had bitten her lip from her spot still in the kitchen, imagining how wonderful it would be to see him like that every day—so relaxed and happy, so... at home. The only problem was that that wasn’t his home; it was hers, and entertaining that idea was simply dangerous. Their time of sharing a home had passed.

            Yet, in a few hours, she would have her best friend back in her home, in her kitchen, in her living room.

            She had almost lost herself in that hotel room where she would never set foot in again, but the worst part had been nearly losing Noah. She had come close to losing a chance with him. The chance of a life by his side.

            Lia almost smiled despite the pain still gnawing at her insides and the weakness enveloping her, but as soon as Noah turned around, her attempt at a smile faded. The dark circles under Noah’s almond-shaped eyes had deepened in the last few hours, and his entire body reflected his exhaustion: his dejected expression, greasy hair, slumped shoulders, and the way he seemed to drag his feet as he moved.

            “Chamomile,” he said when he returned to the row of chairs where Lia waited, along with the two Nicks and the pile of backpacks they carried with them.

            With a small, gentle smile, Lia thanked him and took the hot drink from his hand. Dr. Dayal had recommended she avoid coffee and strong beverages for the next few days. Despite the doctor’s reluctance to discharge her, he had no choice but to let her leave.

            “Be careful. It’s hot,” Noah warned.

            As soon as his hands were free, Lia noticed how Noah put his sunglasses back on as he took a seat across from her, sinking into the uncomfortable chair.

            During the taxi ride from the hospital to the airport, he had been silent, only speaking to give directions to the driver and responding to questions with monosyllables or short phrases that didn’t invite further conversation.

            Jolly had taken care of collecting both Lia’s and Noah’s belongings from the hotel, though he waited for the cleaning service to go through Lia’s room first. Having grown up with a group of friends where alcohol, tobacco, and even drugs were never lacking, he never thought he would find himself in a situation like this, where one of the people closest to him would experience something so harrowing. He was not prepared to relive the image of Lia in Noah’s arms, unconscious, convulsing, losing herself and everyone who loved her.

            The only comfort Jolly found in the whole situation was that the nightmare wasn’t just haunting him; it was haunting everyone.

            With a long inhalation, Lia brought the Starbucks cup to her lips, holding it with both hands because she knew her strenght wasn’t back yet, and the last thing she needed at that moment was to spill a hot drink on herself. She took a small sip and savored the sensation of the liquid sliding down her throat. Around her, the bustle of the airport continued. Nicholas was talking to Matt on the phone, informing him that they would soon board and be home in a few hours. Nick had his headphones on and was trying to pretend nothing had happened while humming a song and bouncing his leg to its rhythm. Lia took a second sip, her eyes peering over the cup at Noah. He had changed clothes but was still wearing a loose hoodie and his white sneakers. With his sunglasses on, Lia couldn’t tell if his eyes were closed, if he was looking at something specific, or if he was looking straight at her.

            At that moment, a wave of nausea hit her again. Despite having eaten nothing more than a plain yogurt since leaving the hospital, she knew she was about to vomit.

            Her eyes widened in alarm as she bent down, struggling to place the chamomille tea on the floor, the only surface available. She barely registered Jolly calling her name or Noah’s figure urgently following her as she bolted to the nearest restroom.

            Stumbling into the bathroom, she collided with a woman’s shoulder. Lia wasn’t concerned with the words she might get from her, though a few seconds later, she heard the woman’s raised voice declaring that men were not allowed in that restroom.

            By the time Lia was kneeling by the airport toilet, holding her hair away from her face with one hand and gripping the seat with the other, Noah was beside her. He gently took her hair from her hand and held it back for her.

            He soothed her with soft words while she retched, oblivious to the open door and the young girls looking on with a face contorted by yuck. Noah would have told them to fuck off if it weren’t because his utter attention was on Lia.

            When her retching subsided, giving way to her heavy breathing and watery eyes, Noah tucked another loose strand of hair back behind her ear with gentle fingers and waited for Lia to straighten up.

            She did so right after flushing the toilet. Noah tore some paper from the roll and handed it to her. Her barely audible thank you got lost amid the sound of the water flushing, taking away the bile that had come out of her and the little chamomile tea she had drank. Such a waste, she thought.

            “It’s okay,” she heard Noah say beside her.

            Confusion stirred within her as he suddenly grasped her wrist, and she realized he was trying to get her black hairband out. She allowed him to proceed, and a minute later, he had deftly tied her messy hair into a bun.

            With a supportive hand on her waist, he helped her stand. Lia braced herself against the fragile wall separating the other cubicle. She spent a moment regaining her breath and composure. She wanted to lean on Noah, to let him carry her out of there and onto the plane, but the tranquility she craved wouldn’t come so easily, at least not until she was finally home.

            Turning her head toward him, her eyes still watery from the ordeal of vomiting, she asked if he could retrieve her toothbrush and toothpaste from her backpack. She didn’t need to specify where it was; he knew she kept her toiletries in a denim bag adorned with Lilo & Stitch, a souvenir from a trip to Disneyland a few years back.

            Sending a furious look to the girls still staring, he made sure Lia could stand on her own before leaving.

            A minute later, the girls were gone and Lia was alone in the bathroom. Noah returned with her toiletry bag and a bottle of water. He watched Lia as she tried to regain a sense of normalcy. After spending a few quiet minutes looking at her reflection in the mirror, Noah said: “Just a few more hours and we’ll be home.”

            She tried to send a smile his way, but all she could do was keep staring at the pain etched all over his face.

Once settled in her window seat, with Noah still standing in the aisle as he set their backpacks in the overhead compartment, her eyes landed on the buildings in the distance. No matter the buzzing sound of the plane’s engine and the chatter of the people on board, she felt distant from everyone and everything. Her eyes grew heavy, threatening to close in a matter of minutes. She knew she could never look back at this city the same way again. Her past, chasing her until the present, had put a stain to this place. She wondered if she would ever be able to come back with the boys, if Noah would ever want to perform here again, or if the memory of what had happened would forever taint the city.  

            As the skyline shrank into a thin line below, Lia felt herself drifting away, her eyelids heavy, her stomach still unsettled. Her mind was wandering to places. Her throat was dry, and she knew she should drink some water before sleep took over, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. As she sank deeper into her seat, her eyes fell to her lap. She watched her own hand move toward the seat next to her, where Noah was now sitting. His arm rested on the armrest, his hand hanging off the edge.

            Her fingertips touched his palm first, and then, slowly, her fingers intertwined with his.

            Noah’s heart skipped a beat as he watched Lia’s hand —small compared to his— wrap around his. She felt warm, and he wondered if she had a fever. He was about to ask, but when he peered away from their intertwined fingers to her, he realized she wasn’t looking at him.

            Within moments, her head gently leaned onto his shoulder. A long exhale escaped him. His chest sank, lips parted, and shoulders dropped. With his thumb, he tenderly caressed the back of Lia’s hand, noticing the subtle change in her breathing. It was calmer now. She had fallen asleep.  

            The knot in his throat wasn’t receding, though. It might not persist for days, lingering until he could replace the memory of Lia unconscious in his arms with something brighter. He wasn’t sure what awaited them upon landing in Los Angeles. The doctor had warned of tough days ahead, possibly worsening during Lia’s withdrawal process. Noah wasn’t looking forward to anymore worsening. He’d had enough. Yet, he was willing to weather any storm if it meant bringing her back, or even a stronger, better version of Lia.  

            Allowing himself to envision a moment of calm and joy with Lia once they reached her apartment, he pressed his lips to her hair.

            It wasn’t a kiss. It was just a touch, the gentle, soft pressure of his lips against her hair, and the relief that always washed over him when he touched her; the reassurance that she was there beside him, and that she was okay. Or at least, that she would be.

Most of her plants had died.

            During her absence, Lia’s flowers had wilted. Maybe because they’d been neglected in the weeks she was away, or perhaps because they had sensed Lia drifting away, and the same sadness that now filled Noah had also filled Lia’s plants. They didn’t want to live without her, just as Noah couldn’t bear to live without his best friend, without the girl he loved. The only difference was that no one could save them now. Noah had appeared on time to save his Lia, but Lia was too late to save her plants.

            Tears burst forth the moment Noah and Lia stepped into her living room, her only bag dropping to the floor.

            In an instant, Noah was holding her, cradling her head against his chest as he shushed her, desperate to comfort her despite the circumstances.

            But it didn’t matter that they were finally home, that they were finally alone, away from the noise, away from the people, away from the triggers. There was no way they could stay away from the pain. They carried it within.

            Noah had thought it a good idea to get an Uber from the airport to her apartment. Matt had come to pick them all up, but Noah considered that driving home and having to get Lia through the inevitable hassle of reaching the house and dealing with well-meaning men hovering around wouldn’t aid her condition. So, Noah arranged the ride, finally bringing Lia back to her flat.

            Her crying, however, wasn’t solely for her dead plants and the fallen, dried leaves strewn about. Her tears also fell for the empty alcohol bottles and pill blisters littering the space, remnants of the past days, of her life, of every internal wound bleeding, of the person she once was—the same person that had taken Noah to the edge.

            “Hey,” Noah whispered, reaching for her face. She buried her face in his hoodie, muffling her sobs. “Hey,” he urged, tilting her chin to meet his eyes. “We’re home. We’re finally home.” Her lip trembled. She looked so small and vulnerable. She wanted to say something, but her voice failed her. Noah continued, “we’re home and we’re going to be okay, all right?”

            She wanted to believe him so desperately, but she didn’t trust herself, and she didn’t want to break his heart anymore. She wanted to take care of it, to take care of himself. But she needed to heal first, and she didn’t know how long that would take.  

            “Why don’t you go take a shower?” Noah suggested, his thumb brushing down her temple. “I’ll clean this up, and when you’re out, I’ll have a movie ready. We can order takeout and spend the rest of the day on the sofa. Sounds good?” He tried to smile, really tried. But his words didn’t seem to have any effect on Lia, so he couldn’t bring himself to cheer up, either.

            Nonetheless, after a moment or two, Lia nodded and let go of the tight grip she’d had on him.

            As she disappeared down the hallway, Noah turned around to face the mess. He wasn’t sure he would be able to deal with it on his own, but he had no other choice.

            He moved their suitcases to Lia’s room while the shower ran in the apartment’s only bathroom. Shedding his hoodie, Noah efficiently gathered all the glass bottles, empty cans, and plastic blisters. He planned to handle the recycling tomorrow, for now stowing everything discreetly in bags where Lia wouldn’t see.

            In just fifteen minutes, he completed the task—sweeping the floor and collecting scattered dry leaves. Apart from this, Lia’s apartment remained exactly as he remembered: not minimalist, but tidy and organized. It was a space he had always adored.

            Memories flooded back of the day they had visited this same apartment together. Lia had brimmed with excitement about having her own place. Despite Noah’s sadness at the fact that his best friend wouldn’t live with him anymore, he had shared in her joy. Lia was blossoming into the independent, strong woman she was meant to be, and Noah cherished every moment.

            Succumbing to a wave of sorrow, Noah sank onto the sofa, elbows on knees, hands covering his mouth. His eyes scanned the room, eventually resting on a frame hanging in the hallway. It contained a drawing they had created as children, during one of those endless summer days spent together in his grandparents’ house. In the picture, Lia had depicted Noah with long stick legs and a wide grin, while Noah had drawn Lia as a diminutive figure with a flower crown on her head. It seemed they had both unknowingly known the tall man he would become, and the thought stirred a yearning within him, making him wonder about all the small details that had escaped them while they grew up, every single thing that Grandma knew about them and that they had laughed off.  He would make sure to ask her once he was in Japan. He wanted answers. He needed them.

            For now, he would remain in Lia’s apartment, enveloping himself in the familiar embrace of her walls and taking comfort in artifacts that not only chronicled her life, but the one they had built together; the life they had built together as kids and then as young adults; a life they’d been building since they were mere six and seven-year-olds, two kids oblivious to the obstacles ahead,  of every moment of ecstasy and misery, of love and pain.  

            The sound of running water ceased. Noah’s eyes were fixated on the hallway leading to Lia’s room. There was a churned mix of frustration, temptation, and longing inside of him. He wanted to get up and rush to her, drag her out of the shower, press her against a wall, and kiss her until the fervor might somehow mend the wounds within her.

            But he couldn’t.

            Minutes stretched agonizingly, the bouncing of his right left joining the ticking of the clock on the wall.

            When Lia appeared a while later, she halted in her tracks upon seeing Noah on the sofa, looking as if he was going to be sick, eyes rimmed red, watery, and a pulse throbbing visibly on his neck.  

            She swallowed hard.

            “Noah?” She asked softly, tentatively.  

            His eyes had been fixated on her since she stepped into the living room, the sweet scent of vanilla trailing in her wake. She wore cotton shorts and a plain t-shirt, her damp hair cascading over her chest. She looked thinner than he remembered, and perhaps it was that realization which struck him hard, pushing him to the brink as he began to shake his head.

            “Don’t ever do this to me again,” he said, voice quivering, barely audible, cracking, breaking. “I beg you. Don’t this to me again, Lia. Ever again. Please. Please, I beg you.”

            And just like that, the tears and sobs surged fort, uncontrollably.

            The intensity that his own words overwhelmed him. He buried his face in his hands, unable to contain the anguish, every cry and sob echoing through him as his chest heaved.  

            Only nine feet away, Lia turned pale, frozen momentarily, processing the image of Noah breaking down in front of her like never before. Then, she hurried to him. She knelt between his legs, her hands prying his from his face as tears streamed down her own cheeks, as she asked for forgiveness, for mercy. She pressed her face against his lap, clutching his torso tightly as Noah leaned into her, holding her close in any way he could. Their cries mingled together, filling the apartment with their shared pain, the only sound that mattered in that moment.

— prev. chapter | chapter two

I cannot express my gratitude at each of you that has been patient with me and with lia and noah's story. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and that you didn't cry too much (I did every single time I reread it to revise). We're back to regular updates, be it every week or every couple of weeks, but I promise to deliver the rest of this story during the coming months x

[suraemoon]

I don't know if your taking request but your fics are amazing, and i just wanna cry reading each one -> there so beautiful. I was wondering if I could request a john egan x reader, where the reader is upset one day, and john finds her crying, and the whole thing is just fluffy and adorable. Thank youu!!!!🩷🩷🩷🩷

Baby Blues

John Egan x Reader

💙: It is John Egan’s birthday but that doesn’t stop him from dedicating the time to help his wife love herself again. For she’s the greatest gift he’ll ever have.

🌌 Warnings: Postpartum Depression, Body Dysmorphic Behavior, Self-Criticism, Body Insecurity, Talks about not eating, Anxiety

————————————————————————

You didn’t even bother to open the curtains this morning but pesky light still managed to slip through soft fabric and fill the cold bedroom despite all of your best efforts. A sun filled-life felt like an overcast of dark clouds that a wind of self consciousness called your way.

On a typical day, it was customary for a housewife to open the windows and air out the room after a long night. You learned that from the “The Housewife Guide” book your Aunt Nellie gifted you at your bridal shower. That same book is now well loved, repeatedly red, and sat on the shelf above your dresser. The aproned and pin curled housewife is taking dinner out of the oven with one hand while holding a baby in the other.

Maybe she was Rosie the Riveter’s long lost cousin.

The mother of domesticity.

Here to remind young women that war was indeed over and the role of a strong woman was no longer needed once the boys were home.

The factories might’ve laid them off but the marital bed will always welcome them back home with open doors and soft, feathery pillows.

The to-do book had a step by step morning routine and airing out the rooms of the house was written first on the list of tasks. While you’re at it, maybe wave at your next door neighbor who was doing the same exact thing. Some days you two had matching colored aprons and sleepy babies clutching to the fabric of your dresses prompting a sweet laugh that only a woman would understand.

But today, the less people who saw you, the better. The idea of fresh air did not sound the least bit freeing but suffocating instead. It will remind you of the tightness in your lungs as you suck in your stomach. New air is right there, but no you cannot have it. You won’t allow yourself to let it in.

September 8th.

It is none other than your husband’s birthday.

Reflecting on this year of his life, there was one extra special thing that this trip around the sun entailed for the pair of you. This was also the year that you and Bucky became parents. He had been by your side through it all; showering you and your newborn baby girl with everlasting love, ample care, and unfading attention that never lost it’s sense of vitality. These heartfelt behaviors came so easily to Bucky for his soul was a complex haven holding unfaltering flame. All of these factors only added to the heavy pressure of making today perfect for a man who has made your life better in countless ways.

Ever since you gave birth to your daughter, there had been an underlying sadness, an incomprehensible emotion that served a constant source of guilt and confusion for you. Your little girl was the best thing that ever happened to you, how could you feel raindrops when the sun was shining brighter than it ever had before?

Spontaneously feeling the urge to sob during her nap time

Crippling anxiety when the pressures of being a new mom in the midst of baby boom starts to catch up and suffocate you

Total neglect of your personal needs in fear of feeling vain

Every family member gravitating towards your baby without even having the decency of offering you a simple hello.

You simply were not yourself.

Earlier in the week, you had planned a birthday lunch for Bucky at the local diner. Your mama was coming over to take care of the baby, you and your husband would be alone all day, everything was supposed to be perfect. But standing in front of the mirror in your bedroom, wearing the new dress that was supposed to make you resemble an absolute dream was shaping up to be your absolute nightmare. It seems that your eyes have a lens of self-criticism that made everything worse.

It is a blue wrap around dress with a white floral design, a style that had grown very popular in the war due to the convenience of not requiring a lot of material to make. You had gotten this dress over a year ago and it simply did not look the same on your body as when you first tried it on.

Tears start to run down your cheeks upon looking at yourself in the mirror and taking in the reflection that you’re met with. The shape of your body simply isn’t what it used to be pre-pregnancy. This is something that you have noticed before and have tried to suppress, but it being Bucky’s birthday brought out every fear and insecurity about your body.

The pouch in your lower stomach area made you want to give up eating for a week. Sucking it in worked for a little while but was an impossible to uphold.

Is this cut shorter than the other dresses? Since when were your thighs so plushy? The sensation of your thighs touching gave you some sort of horrible reaction like you were allergic to your own skin.

Immediately, you start taking it off. The only thing that kept you from ripping the dress into pieces was the material perceiving instincts that you had developed during the war. When the dress drops to the floor, the lens of insecurity do not leave with it.

You’re met with the unforgiving reflection of your lingerie. A satin white one piece set, the same one you wore for your wedding night. You chose it for today to bring back sexy, sentimental memories from the first moon you and Bucky spent as husband and wife. When it was slipped on earlier it did not evoke any strong negative emotions, you actually loved the way it differed from the nearly tired Aprons and pastel peter pan colored dresses you usually wore. But now, staring and picking apart every little detail of your body, you can’t help but hate the way it looks. When you slipped it on last year on the morning of your nuptials, you were in the best shape you’d ever been in. Your bridesmaids recommended a pre-wedding diet that went beautifully and you had received a home workout book from your mother. But fast forward to today: it was too tight in some places, milk filled breasts spilled out of the cups, your arms have more fat on them than they did before.

Believe it or not, it was the lingerie that broke you. A piece of delicate fabric made to repsrent femininity and confidence, wearing you down until you were a ball of tears on your bedroom floor. You precede to slide your body backwards until your back could feel the wall and the coldness of the hardwood began to irritate the back of your thighs. The nearest shoe becomes a weapon as you hurl it at the unforgiving glass, flinching at the loud bang it made on impact, like the mirror was your body and your heaving figure was the destructive mindset trying to abuse it.

Suddenly, there is a knock on the door and immediately you knew who it is. It is a warm knock. One full of certainty. Followed by a sing-song whistle.

“Honey?”

Oh no. He had left you in here to change and time had flown by quicker than you realized. He can’t see you crying, it’ll ruin the happy mood. He also can’t see you in the lingerie, your figure has never looked worse.

Your head drops on top of your knees as you wrap your arms around your legs. As if wanting to hide. As if scared of a man who has never once put an ounce of fear into your mind.

“Yes?” Your voices comes out more fragile and broken then you intend, making your whole body shiver in cringe.

“Are you okay in there? You said you wanted to get going by noon. Just making sure you’re still alive.” His knuckles make smaller knocks on the door, as if imitating a song.

“Um…” Your eyes begin to dart to the clothes hanging out of the wardrobe, the shoe sitting ashamedly next to the mirror, your dress still sitting in apollo of itself on the floor. “I need a few more minutes.”

“Alright, baby. Take your time. There’s no rush.” You can hear the pressure of his 6’2 body leaning against the door.

A few minutes pass by like a strike of lightning and you can’t stop the tears from rushing down your face.

Go fix your drawers and find another dress.

It’s not a big deal.

But you can’t. Your body is too weak to stand up.

Reality crashes down when the doorknob is heard twisting, the door is open but only open a centimeter. “Honey…I’m coming in.” He says that but he still waits.

“Bucky, two more minutes.. please.”

“I hear you crying in there. You don’t have to be alone. Let me help you.”

“Bucky-”

“Please. There's nothing else I wanna do but be there for you. Hearing you cry behind the door is torture. I can’t stand here and listen anymore.”

“Alright…”

The tall, commanding figure that is your husband enters the room gently and lightly as if everything is made of porcelain and he’s scared of his footsteps being too harsh or accidentally bumping into something that’d make everything go south.

In the center of the room, he sees the most fragile thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. It’s you, hands around your knees on the floor, sobbing in a set of lingerie. It was the oddest oxymoron.

“Baby…What happened? Is something wrong?”

There is a desperate but futile attempt to catch a tear threatening to run down your cheek. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I’m ruining your birthday. Making it all about me.”

“No you aren’t. Don’t say that. I just wanna make sure you’re alright is all.” Bucky makes sure that his steps are light as he walks across the room, he can sense obstacles but cannot see them. His biggest fear is making things even worse. Bucky’s heart yearned to be useful and he knew that. You both knew that.

His blue eyes would have took in the mess of a bedroom, one that resembled a retail store during the holidays, but instead fixated on only you.

His wife. The one who was always full of life, exuding kindness. The one made sure the whole house did not go to ruin with her careful routines. The one who ran her fingers through his hair when the nightmares became too much. She was a puddle of emotion on the floor and he was desperate to help her.

He sits down next to you. Your bodies are close but in fear of overwhelming you–in fear of breaking you–the only physical contact is his firm hand rubbing your back in a circular motion.

“Nothin’ looks good on me. I’m ugly, Bucky. I gave birth and nothing’s been the same. My midsection still looks pregnant. My skin breaks out. I ain’t got no waist. My arms are fat. It’s.,.it’s a disaster. A shitty disaster. It’s shitty. It’s…fuck!” Something about cursing felt so liberating in that moment. It’s a common habit you usually did not allow yourself to partake in. It was something that was a cause of many timeouts in your household growing up. But life did not want to cooperate to its own rules, so why should you?

He reprimands you, not for using the word shitty, not even for using the word fuck, but for using the word ugly. “I don’t want to hear that U-word coming out of your mouth again when talking about yourself. You ain’t ugly. There’s nothing ugly about you.”

There’s a whine of desperation to get a glimmer of understanding in his brain, “I don’t look like the girl you married. I feel like a total wreck.”

Bucky proceeds to take your left hand in his, running his fingers soothingly over your knuckles. When met with a wedding ring, disrupting the procession of soft skin, he stares at the gold fondly while processing your words. “And what did the girl I married look like? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I’m looking at her right now. I see her every day, I make love to her at night, I can’t help but smile like an idiot when I see her wearing the ring I gave her…It’s you, baby.”

“You know what I mean! I don’t even recognize myself. I was never insecure, Bucky. This isn’t me. I look in the mirror and I don’t even recognize my own reflection. I’ve never felt so awful.”

Bucky sighs and then licks his plush lips before meeting your eyes again. “I wish you could see what I see. It’s the opposite of what you’re saying. You aren’t ugly or a wreck or whatever mean word you wanna say about yourself. God, you’re gorgeous. You’re stunning even when you’re crying your little eyes out.”

He is met with only a sigh and then one of the deepest hugs he’s ever experienced. It’s as if you were holding on to him for dear life. As if the world was a vast ocean and you were so afraid of losing yourself that you clung onto the only buoy that could bring you back to shore. Then there is a few minutes of silence, taking the time to hold one another. The only sounds are your little sniffles and Bucky’s warm breathing.

After the hug shifts from intensity to pure comfort, Bucky kisses the top of your head as you lean your head on his shoulder, your wet cheek dampening his shirt.

Your small voices breaks the silence as you whisper to him defeatedly, “I got a new dress..was sposed’ to wear it for your birthday.”

He raises an eyebrow not only from your words coming unexpectedly but also his natural sense of curiosity, “And what’s stopping ya?”

“It don’t look good.”

“Bullshit.”

“It doesn’t, Bucky! I think I’d know.”

“Go put it on and let’s see. I’ll be the judge and you be the model. Sounds like a good arrangement.” He gestures around the room to random articles of clothes misplaced everywhere, assuming that the dress in question is among the crowd.

“No, I gotta pick something else. I was trying to but everything I own is maternity clothes. I could probably pass for pregnant.” You laugh dryly but can immediately recognize that Bucky did not find it the least bit funny.

He sighs and you sit there for a while, when he speaks up it's in a low grumble, “Are you done being mean to yourself?”

“What?”

He sighs at your failure to comprehend his point but tries again, “I said, are you done being mean to yourself? Then we can get started on finding a solution, honey. There’s always a solution.”

“I already tried a diet.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He sits through for a moment in deep thought, you think about smoothing the crease between his eyebrows but you know your hand would be too shaky. He gets up from his spot next to you and starts to walk towards the mirror.

“Where are you going?”

He does a quick pose in the mirror in attempt to make you laugh and then waves you over with a chuckle, “C'mere baby. Wanna show you something. The mirror ain’t gonna bite.”

You scoot towards the front of the mirror and upon the realization that you would not be getting up onto your feet, Bucky sits down next to you.

Seeing your reflection in the mirror brings you back to reality for a moment. All of that sobbing without the realization of what the man comforting you might be seeing. A blush tinted your tear stained cheeks as you try to wipe away ruined mascara.

When you manage to get a considerable amount of black makeup from beneath your under eye, you look right at Bucky. His facial expression is nothing short of gorgeous as he stares into the mirror wistfully, lost in thought and admiration. But he isn’t looking at himself, when you follow his line of sight, he is looking right at you. “Can I tell you what I see for a second?”

“If you want to.”

He takes a deep breath, “God I’m bad at words but I’ll try. First of all, you’ve got the most stunning pair of eyes that I’ve ever looked into. Truthfully. Your eye contact could make a man swoon. I know from experience that it does. I remember when I first met you, I couldn’t tell my left from my right. I even forgot my own goddamn name for Christ’s sake. They’ve got so much warmth and sparkle. The way they light up when you're excited. Or the way you squint when I make ya laugh.”

Your cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink and you cannot help but smile at this sudden confession, immediately getting the urge to show your gratitude. “Bucky, I-”

“You’ve got the softest hair too. How do you get it so soft? They’ve gotta give you your own hair products or somethin’ so your pretty face can be on the covers of those magazines.”

“Bucky, it’s your birthday. I should be the one saying nice things about you, not the other way around.”

“Shhh.. I’m on a roll and you’re gonna mess me up. If I start stuttering, it’s your fault. You get me flustered. One flutter of those lashes and my train of thought falls off a cliff.”

“I’m the one that’s flustered. You’re so sweet and your words are so kind but…you really don’t have to compliment me just because I was crying.”

He kisses your cheek and whispers his words against your soft skin. “I’m not saying these things because you are crying, I’m saying them because I love you. I absolutely adore you and everything about you. There’s not a conceited bone in your body but, Jesus Christ, you deserve to feel good about yourself.”

“I don’t know what to say except that I’ll let you continue. I’m not gonna cut you off.”

“You don’t gotta say anything. Just listen, baby. Now let’s see…” Bucky’s hand starts to trial down your thigh, his lightly calloused palm being the perfect contrast from your smooth skin. “Your legs give every starlet on Sunset Boulevard a run for their money. So perfect and smooth. If I could spend every second of the day kissin’ em, I would. Hopefully, that’s in the cards for tonight. That’d make today an even better birthday in my humble opinion.”

You couldn’t help but comment despite your prior statement. “But my thighs-”

“-are absolutely incredible. You think I’m mad because you’ve got a little more thigh? The more, the merrier. Your thighs are absolutely delicious.”

His eyes trail down to your chest, taking it all in. “Is it too crude to talk about breasts in a motivational speech?”

You giggle in response to the question, “It might be.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, his eyes thoroughly entranced with the shape of your body as if mentally undressing you. “Oh well, I don’t care You’ve got the most perfect set of knockers to ever grace the earth. I know it’s impolite to stare but you’re my wife now, so I can admit that I proudly stare. I stare like an idiot to be exact.”

“You’re the only one I want staring at ‘em so that’s good. They’re all yours.” You can’t help but chuckle since your chest has always been something that keeps Bucky enthralled. He most definitely stared proudly and unapologetically even before the wedding ring got placed on your finger.

“If you thought breasts were too dirty for conversation, I’ll refrain from talking about pussy. Fits me like a fuckin’ glove. You’ve got the tightest, most satiny and gorgeous-You know what? We can save that for later on before I get distracted.”

“You’re too much.”

Bucky smiles not only at that response but also at the sound of your gentle laughter, “Wanna know what my favorite part of you is?”

“What?”

“Your heart, baby. I married the sweetest woman. I married the strongest woman. I married a girl that I want to spend the rest of my life with because she makes me feel like the luckiest man in the world. I’m walkin’ on clouds whenever you’re around. You bring the best out of me. You always know what to say. I’ll admit that sometimes I can be hard headed but you are always there. And I’d happily scream to the heavens that you’re mine. You ain’t anyone else’s but mine. Forever.”

You smile widely and take a deep breath. The reassurance and certainty of his words were exactly what you needed. Maybe you weren’t completely happy with yourself but the fact that you will have Bucky by your side through all of the tribulation, made a feeling of warmth and security spread throughout your body. It made you feel strong and fortified. “And I married the kindest, sweetest, most lovable man. Thank you, Bucky..for all of this. You really didn’t have to take time away from your birthday to lift me up like this , but you did it anyway. Now let’s spend the rest of the day celebrating you because that is what you deserve.”

“Then let’s go put that dress on, baby.” His voice is pure cuteness and it makes you swoon.

“Let’s put it on.” You smile and for the first time this morning, there’s a sense of hope and confidence in your delicate voice. Both of you stand up at the same time and Bucky runs a hand down the side of your satin lingerie, feeling the shape of your body. “Bucky, you aren’t even supposed to see this lingerie yet. I’m ruining the surprise.”

“This is what I have to look forward to later? All of this for me? Seeing it a little early doesn’t ruin anything for me.”

You reply, “But does not seeing me cry in it make it less sexy?”

“Not at all. Because when I take it off of you later, there’s gonna be nothing sad about it.” He shrugs with a smirk on his face, very confident in his statement. The two of you exchange a shared look of anticipation. Your mind wanders to the scene in question: coming home after the sun comes down after a day of festivities and having your husband on his knees, desperate to undress you. Eager to unwrap you like a birthday present and indulge in what’s his.

You’re taken out of these fantasies abruptly by a subconscious shake to the head: a habit of yours developed to help get back on task whenever you get whisked away by daydreams. You gesture at the blue dress still in its abandoned spot on the wood floor, “This is it.”

“Oh, it was right here the whole time? Let me help you, baby.”

Once you step into the dress, Bucky pulls it up your body as if dressing a doll. After putting your arms through the correct holes, you know that this is the final moment before it would be zipped up, becoming a showcase of your true figure. Unaware of your hesitation, Bucky takes the zipper and gently pulls it up, careful to not nip any of your skin. He then takes a step back to admire you and take in the beauty of the woman standing in front of him.

“You look absolutely stunning. God, you’re unreal. Do a spin for me?”

You do a quick spin and end with your arms wrapped around Bucky’s neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss. His lips are as soft as clouds but his desire for you is absolutely ravenous. You two move in a perfect rhythm with each other, going in for more and more as time goes on.

After a few minutes of kissing he pulls away and whispers in a raspy voice, “You had nothing to be worried about. I’m already thinking about taking it off of you but I’ll try to control myself.”

You smile at him, wiping some pink lipstick off of his lips with your finger. “C'mon we’ve still got a whole birthday to celebrate.”

“As long as I get to spend it with you, I’m the happiest birthday boy.”

————————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed. This was my first time doing a full length MOTA fic and it’s been a while since I’ve written something so it definitely took me out of my comfort zone. 💙

[swanimagines]

BOUND IN DARKNESS | NIKOLAI LANTSOV

Summary: You and Nikolai see nightmares about the Darkling every night - making your duties as the King and Queen of Ravka hard. But you both know you have to push through.

Darkling was dead, yet the damage he had left remained.

Just one night of peaceful sleep was unreachable, and hoping for it was futile. You and Nikolai both woke up at some point every night to the image of the Darkling plaguing your dreams. You held each other then, shaking slightly, trying to rest just little longer so your tiredness wouldn’t show as much. Genya helped you hide your eyebags, before you dressed up and were going in front of people once again, putting on your brave face and trying to act like nothing was happening, you weren’t damaged. You needed to show that Ravka was strong, that their King and Queen would thrive and show them how to be strong again. Ravka could and would be rebuilt. Your people would be able to recover, and the Kingdom would become whole again.

The court alkemi had made you a potion that basically prevented your brains from total exhaustion, as it would have been dangerous on the long run - usually this severe nightmares were treated by resting and taking it easy, but you didn’t have that option if you didn’t want to look like weak rulers. Vulnerability was also an important part to show if you wanted your people to feel closer to you, but time for that wasn’t now. So the vials were vital for your survival during this time, and you rewarded the alkemi handsomely for making the potion for you. But he, too, reminded you that it isn’t a miracle potion you could consume for very long. Its side effects would begin coming after a week, and after that they’d become more and more severe with every vial you’d consume and eventually those could end up killing you.

So you had to avoid using those too - gulping them down only if you felt like you wouldn’t get through the day without it. It didn’t mean days without it were easy though. One of those moments were now, you and Nikolai having a meeting with your advisors. The chair you sat on started feeling impossibly comfy, the words your advisors spoke to you blended together, they echoed in the room as you slowly felt your body falling asleep.

“Moya tsaritsa, are you alright?” your advisor asked, snapping you out from your stupor and you cleared your throat, nodding and blinking rapidly.

“Yes, I just need some water,” you croaked out, feeling Nikolai’s hand grasp yours and you squeezed it back. Your maid came over in a few moments, handing you a glass of water and you smiled at her softly before taking a sip from your glass.

The water brought a welcomed burst of energy as it made its way down your throat, and you put the glass down, nodding for the advisor to continue. You knew you had a duty at hand, and it couldn’t wait - you had to push through whatever it needed.

Nikolai squeezed your hand lightly again and you shared a brief look, and you could see weariness plaguing him too. But he was better in hiding it. At that moment, you wished you had been raised as a royal, they had training even on how to stay composed and remain alert even when exhausted like this - probably because during wars, rest wasn’t an option.

You tried your best to follow the example of your husband, listening to the proposals and checking through documents, occasionally interjecting the discussions with questions, but it wasn’t long before their voices began to blend into a constant hum again, and you couldn’t really hear what they said. You just saw their lips moving and hands gesturing, but you no longer heard what they said.

Nikolai seemingly sensed your struggle and nudged your leg with his own under the table, an unspoken reminder to remain alert. You straightened your posture again, and the advisor paused again for a moment, but then continued as you were following along again. You used all your willpower to stay alert and reminded yourself that this was the only way so you would get to rest sooner today - how you would get to rest for days. Once this was over, you wouldn’t have to sit here listening to plans and trying to act like everything was okay.

When the sun started to set and the advisors finally left to their own quarters, you were letting out a sigh of relief, knowing that now you would be able to rest - even if it meant you would see your loved ones being cut in half again. You had to try to rest. Seeing nightmares and crying in Nikolai’s arms was better than sleeping while you were expected to listen.

You stood up, with Nikolai supporting you by the waist and you walked to your bed chambers together and immediately after you had taken off your jewelry, you were falling onto the bed together, wishing to be able to take even a nap before dinner without nightmares. Nikolai spooned you, his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist while his other hand grasped your hand above your head on the pillow.

As children, you both had heard the story that sleeping while touching a friend or a loved one guarantees no nightmares. It hadn’t worked til now, and you knew it wouldn’t work this time either - but it was still more comforting to wake up and notice you’re safe, with Nikolai holding you - and for him, to see you alive and breathing in his arms.

It wasn’t a situation you wanted to find yourself from when you married Nikolai while he was still Sturmhond, but the sense of duty this situation had forged into you was something you knew you should follow. For the people of Ravka, if not else. They needed to see they were safe now - they had a strong King, a strong Queen, ones who cared for them.

So you night after night, you had to try to rest. To wake up, hold each other, listen to each other, comfort each other, try to fall asleep again. Something good in the middle of this darkness, you needed to remind yourselves what was worth fighting for. Darkling was dead, for good this time. His shadow monsters weren’t attacking people anymore, things were better than in ages. Uniting Ravka was a task not any ruler would be able to accomplish, but you knew that with Nikolai, you would do it. 

You let your eyes droop closed, keeping this in mind, telling yourself that some dead shadow man wasn’t going to drag you two down. You would beat this. Together.

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[ashitakaxsan]

🎉Franky: The Unsung Hero of Spy x Family 🕵️‍♂️💥

Franky Franklin seemed like the goofy, lighthearted informant in Spy x Family, but Chapter 105 shows how much rigorous training he underwent. Besides the humor and awkward moments, Franky is a man who plays many roles—some light, some heavy, all vital to the mission and to those around him.

On a day that feels almost ordinary for Franky, we see him waking up in the morning to Japanese karakuri. Interestingly also he starts his morning ritual by enjoying listening to government-banned music. 🎉 🌟 As a well-functioning informant he listens to Fiona Chan's request for a "forged pass for the Podam School of Science. Cool that agent Nightfall(our cute, lovable Kuudere is here) has absolutely recovered after the fight against Mole Wheeler. And he's got the guts to remind her how has wants to be treated :)

and a man still holding out hope for love. His day starts with babysitting Anya, a task that, for anyone else, would be overwhelming. But for him, it’s just another part of his vigilant life. His relationship with Anya is one of the most endearing parts of his character—he’s her goofy uncle figure, someone who can make her laugh and doesn’t mind stepping up when needed. The man is a solid uncle figure, he makes it where Yuri simply fails. 🎭✨

As he takes the fee he goes to invest the money to a bet in horse races, but he's unlucky.

So he's up again to get info about any lucky route. that's when he hears the bad news from the teller. The only informant regarding access to gates 4 and above, Latchkey Lachy(whoever he is) got arrested by the always-feared force throughout Ostania, the SSS! So there's the looming menace of the Secret police.

What’s striking is his relentless optimism—even in the face of constantly changing hideouts and near-constant danger, Franky holds onto the hope that one day, he’ll find love. That's why now he's on a date with a familiar girl, Priscilla, and they'll go to watch a movie.

It’s this mix of resilience and vulnerability that makes him so relatable. He’s a man living in the shadows, often overlooked, but still working to hold onto the idea that there’s more to life than just survival.

Suddenly the news comes: Their teller is arrested "by the you-know-who": The SSS who has him, and Franky has to act quickly to save him.

The way Franky charges in and saves him is Amazing: He steps up prepared, with an effective plan as a real spy, saving the teller from the clutches of the SSS.🕵️‍♂️🛡️👧

The seeming "flower bouquet" is actually a pistole of smoke gas to make the SSS interrogators lose their focus, briefly and it works!

Watch this. How he gives them an awful time:

As they see the SSS reinforcements arriving he says: "They're welcome to try. But I'm going to show them just how hard catching rats can be!" With goggles for concealment, he fights them, using a real handgun, he presses a secret button to open a hatch, and they escape with his well big balloon:)!

This is Franky at his best—quick and profound thinking, resourceful, and willing to risk everything for the people he cares about. In this moment, we see his true heroism. He may not have the physical strength of Yor, but Franky's improved, worthy peer of Twilight. He’s a man who understands the dangers of the world he’s in, yet continues to put himself on the line.

Then he listens to Priscilla, about how she has found a boy to chaperone to the movies.🤔💔 Despite the disappointment, he calls it a good day.

Thus he and the teller go to watch a romance movie:

"How did he get so determined for the rigorous training?" you'll ask me the question.

The failings for finding love didn't get the better of him, so he made up his mind: To become someone as effective as the two people he's looking up to: Twilight and Nightfall.💪🕵️‍♂️🤔

Franky’s ability to juggle these different aspects of his life—his spy duties, his loyalty to his friends, and his optimism for happiness—makes him one of the most vital characters in Spy x Family. He reminds us that even the seemingly ordinary people in a story filled with super spies and assassins can have profound, heroic moments.

[mvltisstuff]

Hey! Can you please do a enemies to lovers (both in 118) with eddie diaz? Thanks:)

chasing pavements - e.d

summary: request

eddie diaz x reader

gif from @agentoutofdiaz

a/n: THREE MORE FINALS GUYS I GOT THIS 🤌🤌 also i am absolutely not up to par with the quality of my enemies to lovers, but i hope you still enjoy 😉

y/n asked herself the same question every single day at the beginning of her shift. what had she done to make eddie hate her so much? it seemed like he physically was unable to smile when she was around. he avoided her like the plague when in reality, she just wanted to be professional about this.

it’s a natural human response to dislike someone back. people never want to be hated and often get frustrated with the other person involved. y/n always thought the word was too harsh, always regretting it when she said it, but there was no other word to describe their relationship.

eddie’s life has been nothing but uncertainty. having a life with nothing to expect led him to loneliness, craving any form of relationship he had. after the army, he struggled with trying to get back to reality. y/n brought him back too easily, and it irked him.

it didn’t help that she was eerily similar to him personality wise. he hates to admit it, but y/n reminds him of all the things he wishes he could change in himself and she is the constant reminder of that. he couldn’t pick something specific out that he didn’t like through all the time of being bugged by her.

as a prime example, y/n walked into work that morning and almost instantly, eddie’s laugh faded away. she wasn’t even going to say anything, she couldn’t deal with him with everything else going on. her family has been on her case the past few weeks and it doesn’t seem to be over. she’s completely burnt out, eddie being part of the ash. she still showed up at work at the 118, perfectly on time for everyone else is her escape.

there’s no denying that she is a wonderful addition to the 118. she’s wildly talented in her field and knows exactly where she’s needed. she’s looked up upon by her coworkers.

“hey, y/n!” buck says, excited to see his friend.

“hi, buck,” she replies, lightly smiling trying to shield any thoughts from eddie or what she’s dealing with. she looks around at everyone, picking around at the bowl of fruit someone had cut up. the team had noticed she’d been off, zoning out and not celebrating with them as much. the thought she was avoiding them after work, and she really was.

she figured anything eddie had to say to her would just add to the pile of stress that she had, so she let him go out with the team for drinks and other stuff. everyone loved eddie, and if she caused problems with him, she thought they’d take his side without hearing the story.

of course, the affect of athena has rub off on bobby and his investigation. he wanted to have a little fun, seeing how bad y/n and eddie were together. he knew working together and saving people would be fine, so he decided to put them on ambulance together. of course, both of them thought they’d been denied to get through the gates of heaven when bobby passed out the demand. the first call was simple, driving to the hospital silently other than vital checks and orders. the next was too, neither of them speaking to each other unless they were administering something. the last call was particularly difficult for y/n, being a close reminder of what she had to deal with at home.

it was just a little kid, being the scapegoat of all the families problems. all the fights, he sat and listened to something he couldn’t control. he was so little that he called 911 out of fear, the police and the ambulance showing up. y/n was relieved no one was actually hurt and no one needed to go to the hospital, but something about it really sent her over the edge.

she was driving the ambulance back to the station, eddie in the passengers seat. she said harmless words to him, “poor kid, it sucks having to deal with that.”

“well, there’s nothing we can do. cant intervene.”

“i know, i just wish i could’ve helped-“

“what could you have helped, y/n?” he interrupts abruptly, causing her to glance at him. “clearly, you have no clue what it’s like to go through that because you wouldn’t be so caught up on it. it’s not like you would’ve made a difference anyway.”

his words were like a sword in her chest. there’s no way he really things she’s no help. the impact she’s made in the community is noticeable, and she tries so hard everyday to make the own community of her last name come together. he was hitting way too close to home, and it was her last straw before the light tears formed on her waterline. she blinked them away, trying to clear her sight but the stinging in her eyes kept bringing them up. she was already embarrassed enough, and crying in front of her the person who hated her was even more humiliating.

“jesus, y/n,” eddie mocks. “you’re a damn adult, there’s no valid reason to be crying right now.”

as they get closer to the station, she pulls into the garage, parking carefully before she shakily shoves her door open. thank god her shift ended before his did, so she could get out of this hellhole. “screw you, diaz,” she says as one final press to his button. he leans back in his seat, not expecting her to retort back to him.

she rubs her red eyes, shuffling out of the car and abandoning the ambulance behind her. eddie couldn’t even bring himself to get out. he thought he might be having a heart attack because of the new feeling he has. did he feel bad for her? he didn’t think that was possible, she’d had enough pity come her way. when y/n walked past everyone and into the showers, hen, chim, and buck gave him a look that had, “are you serious?” written all over their faces. y/n scrubbed off every last word she had received from eddie, or she tried, at least. they stuck with her like a spider in a trap, along with the other baggage she’d been carrying.

the alarm had gone off while she was in the showers, telling her that eddie was gone on a call with the rest of the team. she went into the locker rooms to get the rest of her stuff and leave this exhausting day behind her. she was shoving her stuff into her duffel bag when eddie’s phone started going wild in his cabinet. he usually brings it on calls. she didn’t let the curiosity get the best of her, needing no more reminders of him in her mind. so, she climbed into her car and started the drive home, even though nothing would be different there.

she notices someone sitting on the sidewalk against the stairs of a building. she knew who it was instantly. eddie’s son, christopher, had been waiting outside which was very odd. school had ended a while ago. his red crutches were sitting next to him and he looked around desperately for anyone he knew. she knew she couldn’t leave him there, and eddie didn’t have his phone, so she pulled into the parking lot next to the building.

“christopher? what are you doing here?”

“tía was supposed to pick me up but she didn’t show up, so i was gonna walk home.”

“oh, buddy. i’d call your dad but he’s on a call.”

“i just want to go home,” chris says, making a frown form on y/n’s face.

“you have a key, right?” christopher nods. “here, i’ll bring you home and i can make you something to eat.”

she helps him get into the car and he tells her where to go, eventually pulling up the the house of eddie. he’d probably flip his shit if he knew she was here, but he’d want his son safe at home more. it’s not like she could’ve taken him to her apartment, eddie would be livid.

the 118 had arrived back at the station, putting away their gear and setting their stuff back where it should be. eddie had overheard someone say that there were repeated calls to someone in the locker room, so he decided he should probably check his phone. his heart skipped a beat when he saw his tías name flashing across the screen a million times. “tía! ¿que paso?”

“it’s christopher! i completely forgot he was getting out at a different time and i was picking him up,” eddie hears her say and he almost drops his phone to the ground. “i went to the school, and he wasn’t there, edmundo.”

“what?” he says. “ok, i’m leaving now, i’ll go look. maybe another parent dropped him off.”

eddie speeds over to his home, passing all the cars slower than him. he would never recover if something happened to chris. he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. he slams his car door shut, running to the door and frantically turning the doorknob. he rapidly moves inside, shouting christopher’s name, praying for a reply. he walks into the kitchen to see y/n standing over a boiling pot, and his face goes pale as a ghost when he sees her.

“he’s in the living room with headphones on. i found him trying to walk home,” y/n tells him.

“where was he?”

“the offices on north west,” she takes notices of his expression. “i’m sorry, eddie. i can leave in a minute. i would’ve called you, but-“

“no apologizing, don’t worry about it,” he says, calmly. “thank you. so much, y/n, thank you.”

she nods, smiling lightly because this might get her in the door a bit better. “it’s really not a problem. i was happy to do this for him, i just wanted him safe for you.”

she begins to gather her belongings like her phone and wallet, putting it back into her purse and picking up.

“y/n, wait,” eddie says, placing a hand on her arm. “i have to say i’m sorry. i was nothing but a complete dick for no reason and i had no clue you had so much going on. i got yelled at by hen and was told to lay off.”

y/n laughs a bit, “are you only saying this because hen told you to?”

“absolutely not. y/n, you just saved my son. god only knows what could’ve happened, i mean we live in a massive city. it means the world to me that you were there for him when i couldn’t be. i’ve treated you like shit and you’ve never even done a bad thing. you just… scared me.”

“i scared you? i think you can take the prize there, eddie.”

“ok, maybe not scared, but i was intimidated. because i see so much of myself in you and i couldn’t handle that.”

“it’s ok, really. i just need breather for a little. i am that little kid that we got called to today and you completely disregarded it. i would have never done that to you.”

“i never, ever want to make you feel like that again. i want to make this work, you and i. so, stay for dinner tonight. you already went through the hassle of cooking for him, why don’t you eat it?”

“i’m happy to make boxed mac and cheese for him anytime, eddie. and i’m here for you and your kid whenever you need it.” she and eddie sit down at the table, letting whatever was on their chest come out as christopher played video games in the other room.

[eugenedebs1920]

Trust me! There’s so very little I’d want to share similarities with when it comes to maga. I also have faith in the institutions that serve as the bedrock of our democracy. What I do not have faith in is Donald Trump’s integrity, honesty, or willingness to play by the rules. This is the 3rd article I’ve ran across that seemed credible. I checked the site, small independent journalism, no red flags when checking on its credibility. I’m not saying the election was rigged! While at the same time I’m not saying it wasn’t.

The thing is… We all saw that train wreck of a campaign. We all saw the apparent cognitive decline. We saw Trump ostracize, alienate, and discriminate against SO MANY different voting blocks. Saying, “They’re eating the cats, they’re eating the dogs, they’re eating the pets!”. He was called out on, and we saw and heard, him echo words of that German dictator from WWII, Mussolini and Stalin. We heard the promises to be a dictator on day one. His heavy lean towards authoritarianism. Him calling for the licenses of CNN, ABC, CBS, NBC, MSNBC, The Washington Post, The NY Times, pretty much everyone except OAN, Newsmax and Fox News. His calls for across the board tariffs were labeled as detrimental, and recession bound, by nearly every major economic think tank. He got DESTROYED during the debate. We saw hundreds of prominent Republican figures come out in opposition to Trump. Whole movements to ensure his defeat. Almost every single person in his previous administration say they wouldn’t support him, including, for good reasons, his own vice president.

The man’s an American traitor! We all saw the lead up to Jan 6th, then what occurred. I made it my life’s goal, as well as many others, on many platforms to remind everyone of it, and the fake electors scheme, and the theft and retention of classified documents, long after he knew he had last the election. The phone calls with Putin. The sending of vital pandemic relief supplies to Putin in the hype of the epidemic. All the f*ckin Russian ties. I know a lot of Americans ain’t that bright but. Really!? No one else put that together!?

Put on top of that his pressuring of Brad Raffensperger to “find 11,780 votes” and all the conspiring behind that. Not to mention the rape and definition charges. Not to mention his company being convicted of fraud. Not to mention HIM being convicted of fraud and a convicted felon because of it.

Add to that the strange bromance with Elon Musk the owner of Tesla. Trump HATES renewable anything!! He would go off about batteries and sharks habitually! Windmills!! Hates em! Talking all kinds of sh*t on electric cars, saying they would just run out of power, that there wasn’t any charging stations, then if there was you’d be there for hours, that the army wanted electric tanks, typical Trump fabrications. Just ALL the sudden him and the richest man in the world, who just happens to be in constant contact with Putin, who just happened to call for Ukraine to surrender, who just happened to buy a major social media platform, again or whatever. Musk who just happens to own Starlink, who just happens to offer free internet service in nearly every swing state.

On top of all that the numbers just don’t add up. You’re saying that 400,000 people, went in the voting booth, ONLY voted Trump and just walked out? Didn’t vote for the Republican senator, didn’t vote for the Republican representative, didn’t vote on any of the referendums or bills? Just “bullet” voted trump? Even dumbass Tommy Tuberville said in an interview, trying to accuse the left of fuckery, “It’s just weird how, the Democratic candidate, in a state Trump won, would be elected to congress”. Yea! Sure is “weird”, Tommy!

Then, the cocky statements from Trump and the right. I was watching this sh*t like, ‘these MFers are up to something’. Then, Him saying numerous times, he doesn’t need the votes. His “little secret” with Mike Johnson. The straight arrogance from Kevin Roberts, not only in publishing project 2025 but in his statements like, “there’s a second American revolution coming” leading to “and it will be bloodless, if the left allows it to be”. Then, there’s Joe Rogan, who lets it slip on his pod that Elon had an app on his phone where he knew the election results 4 hours before anyone else. Then why did he tell Tucker Carlson he would end up in jail?

You’re telling me, that guy, running that “prestigious” a campaign, with all the shinanigans after and during his first administration, a felon, hated by his own party, that fuckin guy won all 7 swing states, which hasn’t been done by anyone in 40 fuckin years, that guy, who literally said at a town hall, “no more questions, who wants to hear anymore damn questions” then proceeded to sway on stage for 40 mins to tunes, that guy won the popular vote too!? The popular vote that a Republican has only one once since Reagan!? That fuckin guy won all 7 swing states and the popular!? I don’t know if I can buy that.

I guess what I’m getting at is, forensic audits and hand recounts in the swing states would put all that unease to rest. It should be done, and soon! Trump has cheated at everything he’s done in the past, why would that change now?

[toneelspeelster]

ethics of motherhood: the jane / charlie spring essay

ever since the release of the second season of heartstopper i've seen so many different opinions on jane spring as a parent; she's the absolute devil, overbearing, completely against understanding charlie and his relationship with nick etc. etc. but i would like to delve into why i think the way alice set up jane spring in s2 is a /great/ gateway into a deeper, nuanced storyline between jane and charlie because, quite honestly - it's clearly long overdue. once again, i'd like to use backstory from the comics to infer what might be happening to jane in the series and how, maybe a bit surprisingly to some - charlie is in some respects a lot more like her than you might think.

please note: this is not an apology, or an excuse to jane's behaviour as a mother to charlie; i just want to give her actions a context and i think, show the room for growth which I think would be a beautiful, very nuanced, storyline between parent and child to take on in charlie's mental health story in s3/4.

(tw for parental abuse, discussion of eating disorder)

one thing that really informs jane spring as a character and as a mother in general is her own mother. we see in the comics that her mother is a. physically abusive and b. does not allow jane to have any criticism against her and uses that as a reason for the abuse.

jane later tells charlie the following on her relationship with her mother, acknowledging the effect that her mother had on her - to an extent. she softens the things that happened to her.

jane knows this of her being a mother: she's overbearing, her mother was too, and she was also hoping to be very different to what her mother was to her.

now what i think is a vital thing to consider is the following: jane grew up in a household where she was physically and emotionally unsafe. she was hit for expressing normal teenage behaviour. it should be okay to sometimes not agree with your parents and pushing back at them. they should provide you with a safe method of communication for doing so but they never taught jane that. as a result, i think it's a very human response of people to try and make sure they deal with things differently when they get older; but that also can result in overcompensating behaviour.

my feeling is that jane is overly focused, i think unconsciously, on keeping in particular charlie safe, and in that sometimes loses sight on making him feel actually (emotionally) safe. because safe means to jane: performing well in school, not doing anything that might be dangerous, but also: keep in line with expected social behaviour. what is the safest thing, jane thinks? that your behaviour is perfect. because if you don't give others any reason to think you're being out of order (in whatever way), you will not get abuse. safe is being perfect, doing everything perfectly. you can and should control your life in such a way that it will be possible for things to be perfect.

and guess who feels that way too?

kids learn a lot more from their parents than they would think (or even like).

one of the most interesting changes from novel to tv series i think, is the change of having jane not being immediately supportive of nick from the get go; as it fits in quite well with jane's character trait of being focused on charlie's safety (and by extension julio's character, but he goes about this differently and quite honestly... can be quite of a wet wipe lol) and exercising control over his behaviour to make him safe in her own eyes. she wants him to be socially presentable ("please change out of your pyjamas to meet guests"), to focus on school work, and for him to listen to her when she says he needs to come home; in a sense i think she wants to be aware of where charlie is at a given time and not too stay out too late, because the night? that might be dangerous.

we have to remember that charlie was severely bullied only a year ago, and julio's constant reminders of charlie in s1 of please calling him when the situation gets out of hand with nick's circle of "friends", indicates to me that his parents were aware of the bullying, maybe being informed by ajayi bc i don't see charlie being able to tell that to his parents himself. so: nick's "sort" (tao mentions his circle as "exactly the sort of people who bullied [charlie]") are in jane's eyes boys to be weary of.

so when charlie tells his parents, jane doesn't totally trust it.

this is worsened when it turns out nick is also going on the paris trip. for charlie, that's not the only reason to on the trip at all, but the way the conversation goes with julio's comment that's the reason why he wants to go, this is where nick gets associated in her mind with charlie as something that she needs to be aware of and perhaps even intervene. to make sure he's safe. she needs to control the situation if it goes wrong.

which she does. almost immediately. when charlie shows behaviour out of the ordinary for him and the only cause she sees is nick; he's the new factor in all of this.

it's like she thinks if she doesn't completely nip this behaviour in the bud in a very hard way, all the bad things imaginable will come immediately. like charlie would flunk school within a few weeks. charlie, who's been a high achiever! julio's response is actually quite appropriate, i personally think: it's not a wonder that you're unfocused bc you have been spending time a lot (which we've seen! on screen!) but also i don't want ban you from seeing him completely, just set some boundaries.

interestingly enough, this is also due to charlie overly focusing his efforts on keeping nick essentially perfectly safe in his coming out as well; unfortunately, in that final scene shown above, he's just realised that he's got no control over nick's coming outs being perfect, as david has shown to be very biphobic and dismissive of nick in a way that neither nick or charlie had any say in or could even prevent from happening. jane has the option of trying to control things because she's his mother and has some authority over his life.

jane disappears in the show after this issue of charlie handing in his course work gets resolved for a while, so it does seem like she very much keeps to her word afterwards.

she comes back in time for some growth. tori rightly mentions that the family dinner is not something that their mum would totally enjoy bc tori has seen the criticism jane has regarding nick. but charlie does know nick, feels emotionally safe with him, especially after their convo in the louvre and nick being open about his dad, so charlie is right in saying nick, as a person not the idea that jane has of him by association, might convince her.

and he does.

nick can be trusted; nick has come out to his neglectful parent, chastised his older brother for being an asshole, mentions he feels happy with his life with charlie and living openly as his boyfriend and apologises to his mother for ruining the dinner (a sign of a well mannered boy!). and when sarah tells jane that this is something that she's never seen nick do and that must be of nick's deep care for charlie, jane thinks..

and comes around (a bit).

unfortunately, her overt focus on charlie's grades slipping being due to nick's influence in his life completely makes her neglect the signs that charlie is not eating well (that's something that is building up so gradually that i don't think she sees it as an option). there are some great metas on here by @ finnicksannie regarding this being one of the biggest reasons why charlie's grades are actually slipping.

all in all, i just want to close by saying this is a deeply traumatised mother parenting a deeply traumatised son and they both need time and therapy for a better understanding of the communication between them.

and i think the end of season 2 sets up a nice storyline about that quite nicely. jane accepts nick in their circle, but her communication with charlie has not been resolved; it's just a little tick towards her needing to trust charlie more. he's got good instincts. she's starting to realise.

this is all not an excuse. it's a set up for a responsibility on jane's part to work to communicate with charlie better. but life is life. and we're humans. sometimes we need to learn to grow.

and in the mean time, in the small moments, maybe with what you would say is the bare minimum, with not agreeing with charlie's self deprecation, jane does show her love of her son.

i don't think it's without reason that this was shown.

--

i have not read the novel solitaire / nick & charlie / this winter. feel free to add in comments if there's something in there too! but i do feel the series might incorporate jane's storyline maybe a little bit differently than from in the books; but it sounds like her controlling behaviour is a throughline to it all.

[acotar-taylorsversion]

Another Rant

I think its funny how people will say that Sarah has had this series planned since 2015/2017 and convince themselves that this means elucien is endgame because they are already mates on page because she said "not much has changed" and that this must mean that gwynriel is real, too.

Like I'm pretty sure it only started out as the first 3 acotar books and the novella anyways. "Not much has changed" means that she didn't go with mor/az and elucien. You can literally see the moments in acowar where she changed this. And please don't forget about acofas. The one where Sarah said that we would have an idea about what Elain would do with her bond. And then in acosf when she literally made Elain and Lucien's only moment together so incredibly awkward. That moment was so telling. And do I really have to go into detail about all of Elain and Az's moments? By the end of acofas I was convinced of elriel and acosf only confirmed it for me. That bonus chapter confirmed that both Elain and Az are attracted to each other and were willing to explore that.

Like first Lucien was meant to be with Nesta and then she realized that wouldn't work out cause Nesta would have destroyed him if he ran up to her after she was turned and told her he was her mate, so she stuck him with Elain. I believe she did this to keep Lucien in the story for one little part of the koschei plot and she has done absolutely nothing to prove that Elain will ever be happy with him. Like I don't honestly see anymore how Lucien could be important anymore. I used to think that he would be this vital thing for the koschei plot but when you think about it, they really don't need him. The only thing he could do is realize his spell breaking powers and free Vassa. That's it.

And Gwyn? All signs point to her being a lightsinger and I don't know why people can't realize that. Az AND Nesta both react to her powers in almost the same way. His shadows reacted to her powers, her music or singing. They also danced to the music that was played off of Bryce's phone so I can't believe that his shadows dancing is a sign that Gwyn and Az are mates. I do not see any kind of attraction or hints of gwynriel. If anything, I think Gwyn just wants to prove herself to everyone around her, especially the one who rescued her and seen the horrible thing that she went through.

And whoever thinks that Nesta would not be happy for Elain and Az because it would "leave Gwyn alone and without a love" clearly do not understand Nesta. Elain is her sister, her favorite sister, and Az is quickly becoming her best friend. She supposedly "hated" Feyre and look at what she did for her at the end of acosf. Feyre, Rhys, and Nyx would literally be dead if it wasn't for her. I can only imagine what she would do for Elain. Yes, she has found true friendship with Gwyn and Emerie, but Elain is her sister, her blood. I believe that Nesta would be ecstatic for Elain if being with Az is truly what she wanted. She would support it. The last time we seen Elain on paper was when she was walking basically arm in arm with her sisters on a happy stroll in Velaris. And I want to know why everyone thinks that Gwyn is ready to be in a relationship anyways. She can't even leave the library yet. And I highly doubt that the first man she will be with is the man that saved her, like that would be a constant reminder of that night for me. And what's to say that she is even interested in men? Like why does everyone assume that she just has to be with Az?

And yes, I know these are characters and not real people. Yes, I know Sarah will write whatever she wants. And yes, I know I could be completely wrong, but based on what she talks about, who she talks about, and what/how she has written things, I can only believe that she is going to make elriel endgame.

That's it for my rant this time. I kinda rambled on in this one lol.

And by the way, HAPPY ELRIEL MONTH 💜

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love, Pt. 2

I've been having a little too much fun writing this story. I will admit, not a lot happens in this chapter - but I promise the next chapter will be good. Just a reminder that this a (sort of) slow burn.

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 Word Count: 2750 (average 20 min read) Content Warnings: mention of mating, nothing happens....yet ;) All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil. Not beta-read. Criticism is welcome, but be sure to distinguish criticism from hate.

I hated myself for leaving Altan there. But I knew that I would hate myself more if I did anything to him.

I remember when I was a child I had always been afraid of mating. It felt like without any choice from either person - you were expected to be intimate with them. I never liked that my body would do something to me that I couldn't control. My broodmothers always told me it was the gift of Gruumsh that assured the vitality and strength of the orc races. It was something that would be mutually felt between partners. I still didn't like it, and I still was afraid of my own body for much of my childhood.

I left home for many reasons: the fact that I was a constant reminder of my father's and broodmothers' shame. The fact that there was no one left my age unmated. But also because I knew that if I left, I would reduce the chance of finding a mate. Lordhovid only would happen with a female orc. The world beyond would reduce my chances of every having to experience it, should it ever happen to me.

I sometimes wondered if I never experienced the urge to mate because I simply didn't want it. But Gruumsh be damned, I found myself in a greater predicament than even experiencing lordhovid. My greatest fear turned out to be worse than I could have imagined.

My relationship with my home and my culture was complicated. I desired to be seen as valuable and needed by my family, but I only brought shame as long as I was unable to give them children. I left for not only my own sake, but for the sake of my family. But I still carried with me a pride of my people and a want to do what was right and I carried a hope that maybe someday I could earn their love back.

My life-partner, my raebukam, the one my body began to burn for was someone I couldn't possibly be with. If I were to return with Altan to my homeland - radiant Altan who remained golden in my memories - I would be dishonored. To bring a partner who could neither bear children or fight for the tribe would spell my damnation.

Altan...I wished I had never learned his name. Altan. Altan. His name was seared into me, branded in my memories. I wished I could have met him under different circumstances. I wished I could love him and not hurt him. I wished I could have known that his feelings for me would be returned without lordhovid influencing him.

I stayed in my tiny room above the forge for the next two days. Feverish and overheated, I struggled through the days. I hadn't been able to buy enough food and I knew eventually I'd have to leave. But I insisted I couldn't leave. I would live with this if I must. I wouldn't give in to this lust. It wasn't mine. I could control it.

On the the third day, however, I heard a pounding at my door.

I was curled on the mattress on the floor that served as my bed - I could never find a bed big enough for my size - and caught in a feverish daze, trying to not think about Altan.

"Drunrag?!" Someone shouted from the other side of the door.

My heart leapt up to my throat. I knew that voice. It was like music.

Altan.

I shrank into the corner of my room, panic formed in the pit of my stomach. "No," I rasped. "You can't be here." The last two days had been near hell - I didn't know if I could be strong enough to stop myself now.

"Drunrag...please open the door." His own voice sounded exhausted. Guilt and shame flooded through me. He had been experiencing his own symptoms of lordhovid, and I had left him to suffer them alone. I selfishly had only considered myself.

Damn you, Drunrag.

"I'm not above considering breaking this door down." He said. "It's taken me these last two days to find you, and it's been absolute hell. I'm not leaving until we have a chance to talk."

"You should if you wish to be safe." I yelled back. My voice cracked from disuse and panic. "I don't want this."

"Look, I'm still not entirely sure of all that's happening to us. But I trust you not to hurt me. Can we please just talk and see what solution we can come to?"

I struggled to my feet, and stumbled to the door. I hesitated, my hand at the lock. "I'm...are you certain?"

"Just. Open the damn door, please."

I hadn't considered that Altan could posses such fire in him.

Admittedly, I knew nothing about him. I fled before I could know him. I only understood one thing: that my body wanted him.

I slid the lock back and cracked the door open. My eyes alighted upon seeing those wide, golden eyes. Altan. Gods, he really was glowing. I let out a breath that I must have been holding since I left him. The pulling in my chest lessened, now that it felt the closeness of my raebukam. However, it was painful to be so close and be denied what my body screamed for. I felt the heat inside me begin to stir again.

"Ummm," He looked up and down through the crack, a weary yet sardonic smile crossing his face. "Do you expect me to converse through this crack? I think not. Gods, where is your sense of hospitality?" He pushed against the door, and I - too stunned to do anything really - was like a leaf, easily knocked back by the small, slender man before me. I crashed against my wall and watched him step into the room. My mouth was agape as I watched him barge in.

In that moment, I studied him, really took a good look at him. He didn't seem tall for a humanoid, but his head looked like it only reached my pecs. He dressed a bit differently than I typically saw in the streets. More loose, airy clothes that exposed his golden brown skin. His coppery curls were long, but appeared mussed and unkempt, like he hadn't been taking care of himself for quite a few days.

I watched as he studied my home. It was a simply layout, a kitchen and a bedroom. The outhouse was outside. His lips were open just slightly as he took in everything. He turned suddenly to gaze into my bedroom. As he turned, the smell of sunny wheat fields overwhelmed my senses. I shuddered and closed my eyes, ignoring the pulsating inside me that urged me to grab him and pull him towards me. Everything about him was tantalizing.

He sighed. "I should have expected this. There's really not much here." He peered into the room where my mattress lay and he frowned, "If you expect me to sleep with you there, I absolutely refuse." He turned to look at me. "You may be an orc, but that doesn't mean I will resort to your way of making love. I expect our first time to be better than...this." He gestured to the general space, which I wondered if I should find offensive, but my mind quickly slipped beyond that thought to the fact that I heard him discuss potentially sleeping together...

There couldn't possibly be a chance...not in any of the nine hells. Gods tell me he's joking.

"What did you say?" I said. "You're not actually considering..."

He stepped towards me, his voice was sharp and direct. "It's not like we have another solution, right? I've had two days to ponder this. It seems you and I are deemed a worthy pairing according to your mating instinct. And strangely, my own body seems to be confirming those same feelings. If you and I are to function at all in our lives - we have to do as our bodies tell us. We must mate. Correct?"

I couldn't look at him. It was too embarrassing. I could feel my face burning with shame, but also with anger. How could he possible suggest this when I didn't want this.

"I'll take that as a yes." He said, his voice softened.

I looked up to see him. He was standing in my home. My tiny, cramped little space with only a kitchen and a bedroom. He looked perfectly normal in it. But I could see the dark circles under his eyes, the way his hair looked like it hadn't been washed or combed since I last saw him. His own breathing was heavy, like mine. His stance looked as if he were carrying an intense weight. A weight that we could remove....if I could just give in to lordhovid.

But I couldn't. I shook my head. "No, I'm not mating with you."

"What exactly is holding you back from this?" He asked. "I apologize if this may come across ignorant, I've only met a handful of orcs in my lifetime, all of them much older than me, but I was raised to believe that orcs found great pleasure in their mating customs. Help me to understand...is it that you find me unlikable?"

I grunted. Unlikeable? No, Altan seemed friendly enough, savvy enough and possessed a lot of spirit. It wasn't something I found in most people I encountered. He seemed honest too.

I shook my head. "No."

He took a step towards me, to which I took a panicked step back.

"Do I repulse you?"

I shook my head again and grunted. I found that he did the exact opposite, I couldn't focus because my eyes would wander to all of his various features. His large, golden eyes. His full lips that always seemed quirked into a smile. His exposed chest, bare and smooth. His ear poking through those soft-looking curls. No, I could not say I found him remotely repulsive.

"Are you afraid of me?" He asked.

That, I hesitated. Yes I was afraid. Of him. Of me. But mostly of what was keeping us together: lordhovid. I was scared what it would do to me, do to Altan and of how its influence brought me here.

He cocked his head. "You're afraid of me." He said it that time as a statement, not a question.

I shook my head, "I am afraid of what you are."

"A half-elf?" He laughed. "We're not known for being terrifying."

I couldn't laugh, not at that moment. I looked at him with a dark expression. "I'm afraid of you as my life-partner. I didn't want this, nor did you ask for this."

His laughter faded and his expression softened. "You really didn't choose to do this to me, did you? You didn't choose me?"

I shook my head. "lordhovid is meant to draw together those who will bear the strongest children for the orc tribe."

"Huh...curious." He said, his voice was light, curious more than anything. I wondered how none of this seemed to be affecting him as much as it affected me. He thought for a moment. "You mentioned that you were broken."

Krandad. Broken. I had grown accustomed to be called that by my broodmothers when I remained the last one unmated from my litter.

I shifted where i stood. To speak on the most intimate, sacred part of my culture to someone who was being so kind and patient to me. Someone I should trust. I somehow felt out of place, like a child. "I am unmated. It is shameful for an orc to be unmated. At first I thought it was something wrong with me. But I believe it because it's my choice."

He studied me. I didn't like his eyes on me for so long. I could feel the burning of his stare and it made my own heated skin surge with longing and want. "You don't want to mate at all, is that what you mean?"

I gave a small nod.

"Then why are we here now?" He asked.

I shook my head, "I don't know. But you were not given a choice. Nor was I. You are a stranger...and I have damned your fate to be with me." I bowed my head, looking away from him somehow made everything in my body feel so much worse. "You have my deepest apologies."

He didn't answer, didn't speak. I worried I had upset him somehow. I glanced up, and saw him staring back at me. His gaze was like the sun on my face, warming my body through every part.

"You are an honorable man, Drunrag." He said, gently. "I see that your sense of honor and your moral standing are greater than even most men. I understand that...this," He gestured between myself and him "Isn't something you want." He closed his eyes for a moment, then laughed. "You're a more complicated person than I anticipated." His eyes were like small lines when he laughed. I liked his laugh.

"I'm sorry." I said, my voice low. I didn't mean to be complicated.

"Let me make a proposition for you, then, Drunrag." He stood tall, as tall as he could against me, it was amusing to see him puff his chest and stretch his shoulders back.

"I'm listening." I said.

"You and I will not mate." He said, he smile awkwardly. "We'll see if we can manage our lives with this symptom. I'll treat it like a cold. Just a really hot, heavy, feverish cold. Who knows, maybe it eventually goes away. Or, you could see if there's some kind of potion? Spell? A Sorcerer, perhaps, that could remove it for you. And if we find that it's too much. Well, I know where you live. Let's say we reconvene in a month and see if we need to revisit option number one."

He smiled warmly at me, and it made my insides twist. Why was he being so understanding of my situation?

"You're being too kind." I said.

He shrugged, "What else can I do? I won't force myself on you, I would hate myself for that, handsome as you are."

Handsome? He must have been trying to be polite. Nothing more. Except that I didn't know how to answer him, and I felt the silence between us build uncomfortably.

"Well," He said with a forced smile. "I suppose there's nothing more to do, right?"

I hesitated before I nodded to him. "Right?"

He looked around the space once more, and then back up to me. "I would like to think maybe we could be friends...once all of this is over?"

His smile was more genuine as he cast his attention my way. He really did have a glow to him, an aura of warmth that made him easy to like. I wondered then if maybe it would be so bad sleep with him...just once. What would it feel like to hold him? I looked down a bit and caught the slight curve of his waist. I imagined my arms...

I clenched my eyes shut, closing the thought before my body reached a new temperature.

"Thank you, Altan, for your understanding." I said, gaining my composure. "In a month's time."

His smile faltered for just a moment, a brief look of wanting and disappointment, before he nodded his head and made his way to the door. "In a month's time."

The door shut behind him and I felt his presence on the other side of it. I pondered our last interaction together. Why did he seem so disappointed?

It was frustrating to feel that tug and pull inside me that tried to pull me back to him. I shoved the urge away and locked the door after I felt some distance between us. Would I always know approximately where he was? Would I ever sense his emotions or if he was in danger?

I ran my hands through my hair, several times, to try to distract myself from the heat and pressure inside me. I was stronger than my bodily urges. I was stronger than the pull that kept me near Altan. I was stronger than all of that. I repeated the words as I looked around my now empty apartment.

Was this really to be my life from now on?

[analogwriting]

Childhood Crush

Chapter 22: Bismuth

Killer x gn!reader word count: 2.3k a/n: got y'all two chapters cause it's the man's birthday, but who knows might fuck around and KEEP GOING next (end)

“What do you mean I have to fuckin’ drink this? It looks radioactive.” Eustass looked at you with pure disgust on his face as he held a cup of green liquid. You let out a hard sigh, looking at him.

“It looks like ass. It’s going to taste like ass. But I promise, it’s going to do a lot of good. It’s something I specially crafted.” 

You watched as he frowned, looking into the cup. He was sitting upright now, which was good. His injuries were healing well and almost didn’t need bandages at this point, so he could sit up without difficulty. “Just fucking drink it.”

“I’m getting there,” he snapped at you. Well, he seemed just fine. He was arguing just like he always did, so you weren’t going to complain. You were just glad to see him conscious. “I swear, I will shove a funnel down your throat and make you drink it if you don’t hurry-”

“Fucking okay!” Eustass quickly slams back the concoction you made for him. It was the smartest decision he’s ever made because you knew that shit tasted like ass so the quicker he downed it, the better. You watched as his eyes widened and he immediately started coughing. Luckily, he already swallowed it, so you didn’t have to worry about him spitting it out. You couldn’t help but snicker.

“That tasted like fucking ass! Are you trying to kill me, Bigs? Is this to get back at me for almost dying?” 

You put your hands on your hips and laughed loudly at his reactions. “No, but it is a brownie point, for sure.” You shook your head, taking the cup from him and setting it on to the counter across the room. “I did warn you that it wasn’t going to taste good.”

“I don’t think anything could have prepared me for how terrible that tasted,” Eustass grumbled. “You couldn’t make it taste any better? Aren’t you some groundbreaking scientist? Can’t even make medicine taste good?” You just chuckled in amusement as he grumbled, more or less, to himself. “Maybe I could, I just wanted to punish you.”

“I knew it!”

As things calmed down, you looked up at him from your clipboard. You followed his gaze over to where Killer was laying. You mirrored his frown, walking over to check on Killer’s vitals. He seemed to be healing up just fine, but something was just keeping him from waking up. 

“I did it, you know,” you said softly, not looking at your brother. You felt the air in the infirmary tense for a moment. “What?” His voice was laced with disbelief, soft.

You finished up checking on Killer before looking at your brother. His eyes were wide and his entire face showed the disbelief that was in his voice. “The reason I stayed in Wano? I did it.” 

Eustass looked from you to the bed where his first mate lay. “Well, why haven’t you given it to him yet?” 

You shook your head. “Not yet. I want to wait until he’s up and awake. I don’t want to overwhelm his body. He’s already got a ton of medicine pumping through his veins and his body is working overtime to heal itself. I didn’t want to add the antidote on top of it. Besides,” you paused, looking over to the unconscious man. 

“Right now that smile is a constant reminder that he is alive.” You looked back at Eustass. “You had your vivre card and he has that curse of a smile. Those are the two tell tale signs that you both are stable and okay. If someone with the SMILE fruit dies, their grins fade. And I…” You took a deep breath. “I had never been so relieved to see that dastardly smile when I found the two of you in the state I found you in.” You frowned.

A frown also settled into your brother’s face. The both of you were concerned about Killer - the whole crew was. Speaking of, you knew they should be waking soon. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, providing a warm glow to the room. “Better get ready, captain,” you mused, looking at him. There was a flash of something in his eye.

The look was much like that of when he came to you when you first set sail. He had been somewhat of a new captain and everything seemed to be going awry. It was doubt in himself. You walked over to him, sitting on the edge of the bed. He wouldn’t look at you, instead looking over at the floor. 

“Tungsten,” you said, voice softening. It was moments like this that you felt like you were kids again. Just the two of you, you giving him some kind of advice or instilling his confidence once more. It was when you took on the more parental role, consoling your little brother.

He still didn’t look at you. “What.” His tone was short with you and you knew he was going to be a bit more stubborn. “How about you tell me what’s on your mind?” 

“There’s nothing on my mind,” he said, trying his hardest not to look at you as your own eyes bored into him. 

“That’s a fuckin’ lie. Everyone says we’re ass at lying - it’s not in our genes. So, try again.” You narrowed your eyes at him and he finally looked at you with a scowl. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

“Annoyance runs in the family,” you retorted and he rolled his eyes. He let out a long sigh, mulling over his words before finally speaking. “I got my ass kicked and our ship was destroyed. I don’t deserve the title of captain anymore.”

You looked at him for a moment, thinking about your next words. “Well, you have this ship and you’re not the only captain who has had his ass kicked,” you said simply with a shrug. You knew the way to deal with Eustass wasn’t pitying him or babying him, it was laying out facts. 

“You still have your crew who cares a whole lot about you. It’s only a matter of time before they pile in here, actually. I had to basically lock them out of this room because they didn’t want to leave your side.” You figured you’d keep the small detail of Heat and Wire pleading for his life secret for now. They could tell him that.

“But we don’t have the Jolly Roger either. We’re not a pirate crew anymore. The Kid Pirates are dead,” he mumbled. Seeing him so broken and defeated…it hurt. Your face softened and you looked at him for a moment, thinking. You stood up, leaving the room for a moment before returning.

“You mean this one?” You walked over, handing him his Jolly Roger that was folded neatly. He took it, his eyes widened. “But…wh-” He was stammering, flabbergasted. “How?” He finally spoke, looking at you.

You just shrugged, a grin on your face. It had actually washed up on the shore of the island they had been on. It was an extremely lucky coincidence. A sign that the Kid Pirates weren’t over just yet. A sign of hope. “Now, you have your Jolly Roger, a loyally devoted crew, and a ship. So, I’d say that you’re still a captain.” You grinned at him. “I’m manifesting that your vice captain is going to wake up and you also have me, the world’s best scientist.”

He just stared at you for a long moment, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to find the words to say. “You look like a fish when you do that.” His face immediately turned into a glare as you laughed. 

“Is that captain awake?” you heard from down the hallway. You looked over at Eustass and grinned. “They’re awaaaake.”

“Yes!” you shouted and there was suddenly a collection of footsteps rapidly running down the hallway towards the room. You moved as everyone piled in, dogpiling their captain. “Be careful, he’s healing!” But your cries fell on deaf ears. You let it slide this time. Eustass was mostly healed by now, it was just getting him back into moving around. 

There was a lot of crying and cheering. You took this time to slip out of the room to start cooking for the crew. You figured you’d make your brother’s favorite since he was finally awake. The kitchen wasn’t too far away, so you could hear their excited chatter from where you were cooking. 

--

“So, I’m all good?” Eustass looked at you from where he was sitting. He was on the edge of the bed. You had just given him a full inspection. You nodded. “Yeah. Just don’t go too crazy, but you’re good to start moving around. I’d give you a cane to help you, but I know you wouldn’t even use it so there’s no point.”

“You’re fuckin’ right there’s not. I don’t need a damn cane. I’m not old!” 

“It’s not even that deep. It’s literally to help you walk and it wouldn’t be forever. Just until you were used to walking again.” You rolled your eyes at him, turning to put some things away. His muscles had atrophied a bit since he was in bed for so long, so he was going to be stiff and struggle with moving around properly for a little bit. Sure, you moved them around while they were unconscious, but that only did so much.

You heard as he shifted to stand up, grunting a little bit. You so badly wanted to make fun of him for grunting like an old man, but held your tongue for once. “Like I said, don’t try to move too fast, alright?” You turned back around to see him doing some simple stretches and you sighed. “Careful.”

“What? I’m just stretching.”

“You’ll pull something!” 

“Shut your pus, I’m fine. I’m taking it easy, chill out,” he grumbled, stopping his movements. 

“It’ll probably be another couple of weeks before you can walk normally and about a month before you’re mostly recovered. You…really got fucked up there, Tungsten,” you said with a small frown. He looked over at you, shuffling towards you. He placed a hand on your head and looked at you.

“I…” You looked at him, blinking.

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” you mused, looking at him with a smug smile. Both of you were somewhat terrible at being serious and sappy, so you always looked to lighten the mood.

“You heard me, I'm not saying it again.”

“No, I don’t think I did.”

“Fucking, c’mon. You know this is hard enough.”

“I think it’s well deserved.”

Eustass groaned, rolling his eyes. “I’m sorry for making you worry, Bigs. You specifically told me not to go and get myself killed and I almost did and I’m sorry for that. There. Happy?”

You smiled up at him. “Very.” You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him gently, but firm. You felt him relax, wrapping his arm around you. “Just…please take care of yourself. I can’t stand the thought of losing you.” You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if something happened to your brother. He’s been there since you were three. It’s always been the two of you against the world. Well, at least until the other three entered the picture, but for a long time it was just the two of you.

You pulled away, sniffling. “Alright. Take a lap around the ship. Carefully. You need to get used to moving around again. I’ll set up some simple weights to help with your arm as well.” You looked at him, putting a hand on your hip. “I’ve already given everyone else a firm talking to. So, they know not to push you.” You headed over to a closet, rummaging around.

“I need you to get used to moving around so gentle exercise is the way to go, but don’t push yourself. Take frequent breaks. Like I said, this ship is much smaller than the Victoria Punk, so don’t think it’s a large task, okay?” You presented him with his feathered cloak. “Put this on. The breeze is a little chilly and the last thing you need is a cold on top of everything else.”

He took the piece of clothing from you, putting it on. “You worry too much, Bigs,” he said with a sigh.

“I feel like it’s warranted.” You looked at him with a deadpan expression. 

“Fair enough.” He rolled his eyes, heading out of the room and down the hallway. In the distance, you heard everyone greeting him excitedly. You figured it was also time to do check ups for everyone. You were so focused on Eustass and Killer that you weren’t able to focus on much else. Yes, you did make sure everyone was healed up and taken care of in that sense, but they needed their routine check ups. You didn’t even get a chance to do that before they departed from Wano.

Wire making you sleep really helped set your mind straight as well, so you silently thanked him for that. You weren’t about to admit it. Like your brother, you were prideful.

You were standing at your desk, examining your papers when you suddenly felt a pair of strong arms slowly wrap around your middle accompanied by someone’s face pressing into your neck. You tensed for a moment before you looked down, realizing. Your eyes widened as your heart raced.

“K-Killer?”

[lumi-klovstad-games]

Bastion, Blade, Last Line: The Corpse Eaters

In the Grim Darkness of the Far Future, there is only war.

Few understood war like Rogal Dorn, the Praetorian of Terra, and Primarch of the Imperial Fists, and many of the legion's successors have devoted themselves to his mastery of defensive warfare and siegecraft. Few have done so as well as the grimly named Corpse Eaters.

The Corpse Eaters are a Chapter known for their grim reputation and heroic deeds, which belie their macabre name. Founded sometime after the Horus Heresy, they trace their lineage back to the Imperial Fists, inheriting their gene-seed's stoicism and dedication to duty. Their founding was driven by the need for a specialized chapter that could hold ground under the most harrowing conditions, especially when performing combat rescue missions to retrieve vital Imperial personnel or recover relics.

Their homeworld, Kenov, is a bleak and desolate place with ash-choked skies, barren wastelands, and a deadly climate. The planet was once a thriving industrial world, but it fell into ruin due to millennia of exploitation and warp storms. Despite this, the people of Kenov are tough and resilient, surviving in underground bunkers and fortress cities. The Corpse Eaters recruit from this hardy populace, finding suitable aspirants who have proven their worth in defending their subterranean settlements from the constant threats of xenos, mutants, and the chaotic environment itself.

The name "Corpse Eaters" dates back to the Chapter's early history, when a brutal siege during the Age of Apostasy earned them infamy. In the Siege of Ormor’s Gate, the Corpse Eaters were tasked with defending a besieged hive city against an overwhelming tide of heretical forces. Despite being cut off from resupply, the Chapter held its ground, sustaining themselves by salvaging the dead for sustenance. While the Chapter never resorted to cannibalism in the conventional sense, their Apothecaries extracted vital nutrients and fluids from fallen warriors to sustain their battle-brothers. This practice, while a desperate necessity at the time, earned the Chapter the grim epithet of "Corpse Eaters."

Though the incident sparked controversy, the Corpse Eaters chose to embrace the name as a reminder of their willingness to make any sacrifice to fulfill their duty. The morbid title serves as a constant acknowledgment that in the grim darkness of the far future, survival and victory often demand unthinkable choices.

Despite the darkness associated with their name, the Corpse Eaters are one of the more compassionate and humane Space Marine Chapters, especially towards civilians and the soldiers of the Imperial Guard. Their experiences on Kenov have instilled a deep understanding of human suffering and an empathy for the plight of the common Imperial citizen. The Chapter believes that every life saved is a victory, and they regularly undertake missions to rescue endangered civilians, protect retreating forces, and evacuate Imperial Guard units who would otherwise be left to die.

The Corpse Eaters also maintain close ties with the Astra Militarum, often operating as a shield for beleaguered Guard regiments. They do not regard human soldiers as mere expendable assets but rather as fellow warriors of the Emperor, deserving of protection and respect. Their Combat Rescue squads are particularly renowned for deploying into battle zones that others would consider too dangerous, risking their own lives to extract wounded guardsmen or save isolated platoons. This reputation has earned them the gratitude and admiration of countless regiments, as well as an enduring respect within the Imperial military hierarchy.

The current Chapter Master, Eussorus, is a figure of grim nobility, embodying the Corpse Eaters’ ethos. Known as the “Grim Bastion,” he is a master of defensive warfare and siegecraft, his strategies often revolving around holding a seemingly hopeless position against insurmountable odds. Eussorus is a pragmatic and duty-bound leader who places great emphasis on the protection of the Imperium's citizens. His stern appearance and gruff demeanor conceal a deep-seated sense of compassion that drives his resolve to defend humanity at all costs.

Eussorus rose to the position of Chapter Master following a pivotal battle known as the Red Sun Standoff, where he led a small force of Corpse Eaters in defending an isolated outpost from a massive Ork Waaagh! The situation appeared dire, and evacuation was impossible. Yet, through sheer tenacity, strategic brilliance, and innovative use of fortifications, Eussorus held out for over a month until reinforcements arrived. His leadership saved thousands of lives, both Astartes and civilians, and his promotion was all but inevitable afterward.

The Chapter’s traditions are a blend of grim practicality and solemn reverence. Their battle rites often involve the collection of relics from fallen brothers, as well as the use of recovered blood from fallen Brothers to honor the Chapter’s legacy. They also maintain extensive ossuaries where the bones of fallen battle-brothers are kept and revered as sacred objects. These relics are carried into battle by veteran warriors, serving as both a symbol of inspiration and a reminder of the sacrifices made by those who came before, and a commitment that even in death, the victory and the glory belongs to the WHOLE Chapter.

The Corpse Eaters’ Librarians play an essential role in preserving the Chapter's history and guiding its spiritual path. They are known as the Bone Scribes, chronicling the deeds of each battle-brother and conducting rituals of remembrance. The Bone Scribes frequently use fragments of bone dust from honored fallen in these rites, symbolically connecting the living with the dead.

The Corpse Eaters excel in defensive warfare and siege tactics. Their strategies revolve around turning every position into a bastion of resilience, using fortifications, booby traps, and guerrilla warfare to outlast and grind down the enemy. Combat Rescue is another specialty, where the Chapter deploys with surgical precision to extract valuable personnel or key relics from the midst of chaos. This dual focus on defense and rescue has made them highly adaptable, capable of weathering sieges and launching daring recoveries behind enemy lines.

Their arsenal reflects this focus, favoring heavy weapons, siege tanks, and fortification tools. Terminator Squads and Devastator Squads are often used to anchor defensive lines, while Assault Marines and Tactical Squads act as rapid-response units. Their Dreadnoughts, many of whom are heroes from the Siege of Ormor’s Gate, serve as living legends of the Chapter, embodying its unbreakable spirit.

The Corpse Eaters' relationship with the wider Imperium is complex. The Inquisition, in particular, has scrutinized their practices, though their loyalty has never been in doubt. Their name often causes misunderstandings, especially among those unfamiliar with the Chapter’s history. However, for those who have fought alongside them, the Corpse Eaters are regarded as tireless defenders of the Imperium and champions of humanity.

Their bonds with the Astra Militarum are among the strongest, with many Guard regiments proudly displaying tokens given to them by the Corpse Eaters in gratitude for their shared struggles. This bond has also led to joint training exercises and combined operations, where the Chapter’s expertise in defensive warfare significantly enhances the effectiveness of Imperial Guard forces.

The Chapter’s motto, "We are the bastion; we are the blade; we are the last line", encapsulates their commitment to protecting the Imperium against all odds. It serves as a reminder that even in the darkest times, the Corpse Eaters will stand fast, ready to defend the innocent and the helpless from the horrors of the galaxy.

Despite their grim name and history, the Corpse Eaters stand as a paradox within the grim darkness of the far future: warriors who embrace the morbid as a means to honor sacrifice, yet wield it as a shield to protect those unable to protect themselves. They are a Chapter whose hearts, though hardened, still beat with a sense of duty and compassion rare among the Adeptus Astartes.

[creative-kny-fics]

Warning: This fanfic contains tickles. Also remind them that I don't speak English, so if they find any errors, let me know to correct it. I hope you like it!

Summary: One of the requests asked which Mitsui and Iguro were the lers and Tomioka the lee. so here we go

Lers: Mitsuri Kanroji and Iguro Obanai

Lee: Giyuu Tomioka

'Hello! My name is Giyuu Tomioka, but you can call me Giyuu!' '....EH?!!!!!!!!', Giyuu covered his ears, the hashiras looked ahead in disbelief. Giyuu was a child now, he looked so different…

'Well my dear children, how can you see, Giyuu Tomioka has been turned back into a child, I don't know how long he will remain in that state, but it is vitally important that he be protected until we find a solution or he returns to his age. real' 'Oyakata-Sama! I offer to take care of the little boy!', Kanroji raised her hand enthusiastically, and well, Iguro wasn't going to let Giyuu stay alone with her, so he also offered

Kagaya thanked and admired both of them, having finished the hashira meeting, Giyuu, Mitsuri and Iguro stayed at the Kanroji estate.

'I have prepared delicious pancakes! There is also honey, I like to eat pancakes with honey! ' 'Sounds delicious!' Mitsuri and Giyuu jumped happily as they circled

For Iguro, it was rare to see Giyuu smiling, but he didn't focus on that, only on Kanroji's happy expression at that moment.

'Know? You and my sister would get along very well, you remind me a lot of her... Ohh, Tsutako! She must be worried about me! It just can't be! Poor her, where could she be?!' 'Sister? Tomioka has a sister?', Kanroji froze, what was he going to tell Giyuu? She tried to evade the subject, but something changed...

Giyuu was crying, he was desperate, he grabbed Mitsuri's haori, imploring her to believe him, 'A demon killed my sister' 'I'm not crazy' 'Please help', was all he said

Mitsuri did the first thing that came to her mind, she pulled Giyuu into her arms and hugged him, stroking his hair and comforting him.

'We believe you Giyuu... We believe you...', Mitsuri cried with him, it was contagious. Iguro personally, he didn't know what to do, he sighed and gently patted both of their heads, it was the first and only thing that occurred to him

Iguro and Mitsuri were evaded from their work, Tomioka's constant change was evident. They took him to Shinobu, he examined him carefully, as soon as he came out he ran to hug Mitsuri.

'AND?' 'Ara~ a rare demonic art, it seems, Tomioka is growing by the hour. His years are increasing, it is very likely that tonight he has already returned to his real age, but even so, take care of little Giyuu, he looks very traumatized and needs you to support him and give him love, I say this for you, Iguro'

Shinobu was right, as the hours passed, Giyuu increased in height and age, but there was an age in which they were very worried, he didn't wake up or respond, it was as if he were in a coma. They took him to Shinobu's estate and a few minutes later, he woke up, it was a busy day. Night finally came, Giyuu was currently a teenager, he looked about Mitsuri's age.

'When is it that it will return to its normal state?' 'Patience Iguro - San.. Well, as I was saying Giyuu, Iguro and I are hashiras, we haven't joined the organization yet but we will join later', Giyuu thought for a moment, approached Kanroji and patted his head, Mitsuri blushed and Iguro was jealous

'Hey Tomioka, shall we play a game?' 'No... Thank you...', Giyuu and his inferiority complex again, Mitsuri looked sad, Giyuu then sighed and agreed. 'Okay, close your eyes' 'Huh? Alright?'

'Iguro-San, what are you planning?' 'Kocho said that we give him attention and affection, right? So...', Iguro waved his fingers in the air, Mitsuri understood and agreed, immobilized Tomioka, who opened his eyes and saw Iguro's threatening fingers dig into his ribs.

'I do not want to play!' 'Very late, it's not going to kill you idiot'

'He-! No-! Dohon't-!' 'Don't what? Tickle you? Too late, tickle tickle tickle~!', Mitsuri sang, digging her nails into Giyuu's ribs, he tried his best not to give in, but when Iguro also linked his fingers together, he started laughing as if his life depended on it.

'NOHOHOHO!! NO NO NO!!! STOHOHOHOP!!!NOT THE RIBS!!!' 'Why not?'

Giyuu kicked, trying to get the 2 hashiras off of him, but he couldn't, every attempt was anticipated and besides he couldn't do much, if he lowered his arms, he would only trap more of their fingers and they would tickle him more.

'Why don't you defend yourself? Why don't you lower your arms? Do you like it? Did you want this?' Damn Iguro, Giyuu thought before almost throwing him off him when he arched his back.

'FUHUHUHUCK!!! MIHIHITSURI!!! STAHAHAHAP HIHIHIM!!!' 'I will, if you say you're a giggle bug', yes he is

'WHAHAHAT?! NOOOO!!! THAHAHAT'S MEHEHEAN!! DOHOHON'T FOHOHORCE ME!! I CAHAHAN'T!!!' 'Then suffer', Giyuu refused to admit something that was obvious, but he truly felt his stomach and cheeks ache from laughing so much.

'Ohh is anyone embarrassed~? Look how red it is! Isn't that cute, Iggy?' '...Yes', he was only doing it for Mitsuri

'I-I CAHAHAN'T!! IT'S SOOO EMBARRASING!! *snorts* NAHAHAHAHA!!! *squeals* OK OK!!! I'M A GIHIHIGGLE BUHUHUG!!!' 'Ohhh~ how cute Giyuu~! Or should I say... Gigglyuu? Well Obanai, we can stop', Obanai grunted but stopped, he was enjoying making Tomioka suffer, but what Mitsuri says is an order for him

When they finished, Giyuu had finally returned to his original age, he looked at both of them and covered his face in embarrassment. 'Ohhh~!! Tomioka - San is so cute~!'

'...Don't tell anyone... please...', Mitsuri swore and Iguro promised, crossing his fingers under his haori.

[eluxcastar]

Can I ask for Hc's of A yandere Guren x reader?

Guren as a yandere

── ୨୧：guren ichinose x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: a retainer of the Ichinoses, you want to go out, and he is starkly against letting you do so. It's not safe for you, haven't you realised that yet?

୨୧﹑genre :: in the get traumatised category ♡

୨୧﹑content :: yandere (obviously) guren is basically a huge asshole, like he's lowkey rude 💀, implied infantilising, impled murder (blink and you'll miss it), his solution to many things is either to stroke their ego or degrade them, there's a very obvious power imbalance that Guren does in fact abuse

୨୧﹑words :: 1312

so it just so happened I was writing something related to Guren that gave me the idea for this and I was unceremoniously dragged back to tumblr to write this. also sorry I said I was gonna post a while ago but things happened (╥╯^╰╥) I feel better today though so now I bring you this. Pretty sure I've never actually written for Guren before now so he may be a bit iffy

the Lieutenant Colonel is one the most helpful he can be towards you, who is supposed to be a member of a retainer house to his family, the one who is supposed to be born to serve him. You manage to fit in well enough in the Demon Army, he makes sure of that, even if your job has never really tended to revolve around combat unless necessary.

it is his orders never to leave the city walls unless he asks you to, and never to venture too far away if you do. By his own words, equipment management for the Moon Demon Company is important, though it has never exactly been the most fun of jobs. If it is what he asks of you, you have little say in the matter. It never helps that your complaints to him are met with high praise to your attentiveness to detail and skill in this particular line of work. Anything that will make you stay right where you are.

each and every time, there's an excuse. Something that pushes and pulls you on a rollercoaster of feeling either somewhat content in pleasing a member of the Ichinose family or feeling as if you are a disappointment to him for underestimating how thought out Guren's decision to put you in charge of this work. Something to make sure you sit down and shut up. Something. Your work is necessary, he doesn't have time to fill your position, the members of your assigned 'squad' are all inexperienced in field work, each time they go out somebody ends up dead after getting separated from your group and next time that could be you.

that or it's a 'next time' that never comes.

though Guren admires that you have a desire to be helpful (his own words), he convinces you that your vital help is needed elsewhere, and to stop hassling him because you've devalued your own field of expertise. It's irritating. It comes off as something like getting told that the big kids don't want to play with you before Guren banishes you back to your room.

sometimes there are days Guren is tolerable, and those are the days in which he asks for your help in other things, and when his praise is least grating. He appreciates your work instead of trying to push you back down into your place, even when he's figured out that the surefire way to shut you up is to remind you you're merely a retainer. You are to do what he says exactly as he says it and you are not to fuss because this is your born purpose. He has so kindly offered to release you from this responsibility if you wish it so, but knowing the ridicule you'll likely face is enough to make you shut your big mouth and shake your head.

but he can only be patient for so long, and so your constant 'defiance' ends up landing in you in the equivalent of adult detention as he asks (more like orders) you to do you work where he can see you to make sure you don't intentionally make yourself look incompetent to get out of it. You've never pulled such a thing before, so it confuses you, but you begrudgingly accept. You always find yourself with little say in these matters, holing up in some corner of his office to go over the inventory records and reports broken or missing equipment that would need to be replaced.

it's an awkward silence, even with the record player spinning a vinyl record he found from God knows where, broken only by the occasional flip of paper or the moment you forced yourself to clear your throat, a sigh, a pen scribbling away at paper. It was something quite close to torture actually.

but it certainly shut you up again.

you decide to keep your comments to yourself, avoid Guren altogether in fact and hurriedly make up some excuse why you were busy every time he was in to check up on how things were. Truth be told you hate this work, never wanted it and still don't want it, but after being told it was one of your few options after training it was your own lifeline to be able to bargain with Guren for a spot.

to be honest he finds that really annoying about you.

though doing his best to keep you out of danger you insist on endangering yourself senselessly, and so if Guren would like to keep you locked up in your safe little cage where you stay under only his command he must continue to make life on the battlefield quite unappealing.

there is only one way to achieve such a thing. Guren must endanger you only once to never again fret over the possibility of you being harmed. Something to bring you down again so you start to appreciate how much effort he puts into protecting you.

he's quite insistent on talking to you on this particular day. Guren was willing to wait just to talk to you specifically, even when he had recently been content with talking to anyone for verbal reports. This was personal business apparently and he asked that you drop everything and come talk to him.

"You can go." is the first thing out of his mouth, and your eyes light up wondering if maybe— just maybe he was saying what you thought. "We're short some people, it's not like it's heavy combat." he quickly waves off the gravity of it with a motion of his hand.

he lied about that part, where he said it wasn't heavy combat.

stronger Vampires can easily overpower Demons of higher calibres, let alone ones with no particular importance, merely Rakshasa as was carried by many underlings of Guren's. It didn't stand a chance, it's hard to even remember how you got from leisurely wandering around with little care in the world to crawling along the floor in a pool of blood you weren't sure whether or not to be thankful wasn't yours. It all went horrible wrong somewhere, somewhere between venturing into an abandoned building and where you sit now letting blood soak into your clothes as you freeze up from the fear and realisation finally sinking in. You got ambushed at some point, your clothes being stained by the red smears on the floor that used to be your friends, and as the last remaining you know you won't survive that. Vampires are quite cruel like that, they like to play with their food sometimes.

you scrunch yourself into a tight ball at the thought and just lay there on the floor, replaying the events in your mind as you wonder what you were thinking exactly. How could you hope to be useful when you were still the little kid Guren had been treating you like? You should've just stayed where he told you to.

a heavy thud against your side causes you to flinch, but the weight dissipates so quickly all you can see are scattered ashes and the faint glow of Guren's violet eyes. "Do you understand it now?" he asks the question quite coldly, "It's too dangerous out here."

"Everyone is dead, aren't they?" your voice is shakier than you expected, quieter. It almost doesn't even register that you managed to survive. You look down at your hands, covered in blood that's beginning to dry and make your hands feel icky. Your uniform sticks to your skin uncomfortably. You feel dirty thinking about why that is.

he never answers your question, just quietly moves closer to you as your only comfort. You stiffen when his hand touches your back and swallow the urge to pull away. You know the answer to that anyway.

you never quite thought you'd be glad to return to busy work.

[slrsunfire]

I’ve been trying to get a little mdtb piece out for Tobirama’s birthday but I don’t think I’ll be able to post it for his actual day :( 

It’s a re-work of a mdtb a/b/o fic I’ve been playing with in the background between all my projects and I’m thinking I’m just going to keep this a one shot due to time constraints. I can always add on to the ‘verse later if I so desire and interest is there. 

Anyway, here’s a sneak peek until I can get this posted: 

----

Izuna shot up from the desk fast enough his form blurred when the briefest surge of electricity was conducted through the wood, and Tobirama couldn’t help but smirk viciously in vindication at the yelp that followed.

“Ow, what the fuck Tobirama!”

“I told you to get off the desk, Izuna,” Tobirama lightly reminded the man, “it’s not my fault you can’t follow directions.”

Izuna glowered at him for his cheek, and Tobirama smugly rolled up the scroll he’d just completed before standing to walk it over to the outgoing document box that was due to be picked up in an hour or so.

“See if I come to check on you again. I can’t believe you shocked me.”

“I warned you,” Tobirama calmly retorted as he checked to make sure he’d already deposited all of the other vital documents needing immediate filing for the day.

“What is this?”

At the question, Tobirama’s head snapped up and he spun around, just in time to see Izuna pick up the hanten jacket he’d kept stored in his lower desk drawer, it’s furoshiki covering discarded on the floor beside Izuna’s feet.

For a moment all he could do was stare at Izuna in shock before his face flooded with color.

“It’s a coat, what does it look like?” Tobirama waspishly retorted, trying for unimpressed as he glared at his formal rival.

Tobirama had no idea how to classify the stare Izuna turned on him next as the shorter omega shifted to really look at him, his pleasant, almost cinnamon tinged scent unfurling around him with his quickly shifting emotions.

“Where did you get it, Tobirama?”

At the question, Tobirama’s lips pursed as he juggled being honest or brushing Izuna off.

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted after a moment of struggling with himself, “I came back to my office and found it waiting for me on my birthday. Is it really so surprising I’d get a gift?”

Izuna’s expression turned utterly serious, which in turn made Tobirama’s hair stand on end out of pure instinct. Nothing good usually came from such a thing. He’d learned that very well during their constant and repeated battles over the years.

“It’s not just a coat, Tobirama. This is—”

Tobirama watched Izuna pause and take a deep, almost calming breath before he continued.  

“These seals, they’re proprietary Uchiha seals. The coat stitching, too— I’d recognize it anywhere. My mother had a jacket just like this that our father gave her at the start of their courting, made with good Yuki silk like this that our seamstresses wove to make the coat. It’s the first gift you give someone you wish to bond with, Tobirama. It’s a promise to cover you in their protection, and a sign you are already being pursued to any others who would dare to approach you with alternate offers.”

He theoretically understood what Izuna was saying, but Tobirama found himself also doubting he was understanding Izuna properly. An Uchiha was—or wanted to—court him of all people?

“I had no idea,” Tobirama breathed out the moment he got his voice back, certain his eyes had to be incredibly wide. “I haven’t even—how will they know if I agree or not?”

[theangelcatalogue]

Help LGBTQ Refugee Survive Camp!!

Hello! I'm Angel! And this is something my friend and moot, @starsinthenigth, told me about!

This is a fundraiser made by a guy called Judas (internet name NervesNebula), he's an American fundraising for his friend, Abdul who's currently in Gorom Refugee Settlement, because he's been the target of anti-LGBTQ+ harassment. For months, he's been relying on Judas alone, but now he needs more money than Judas is able to provide in order to pay for food and shelter. Abdul hopes to start a business so that he doesn't have to rely on me so much, but he needs money to do it!!

This is Abdul story in his own words:

" My name is Abdul and I am reaching out to you with a heavy heart, seeking your compassion, understanding, and support. I am a survivor, an advocate, and a member of the LGBTQ+ community. Today, I want to share with you my story of resilience, courage, and the desperate need for assistance.

Five years ago, I made the painful decision to flee my home country, Uganda, where my sexual orientation made me a target of persecution and discrimination. In search of a safe haven, I embarked on a journey into the unknown, leaving behind everything I held dear. Little did I know that my path would be filled with unimaginable hardships and struggles.

Since arriving in a foreign land in Kenya I faced countless challenges forcing me to flee to South Sudan. I am not just fighting for my own survival, but also for the well-being of other young individuals, especially children, who find themselves in similar circumstances. The weight of responsibility on my shoulders is immense, as I strive to provide them with a glimmer of hope and a chance for a better future.

As I stand before you today, I am compelled to admit that the road has been so hard. I find myself in a very bad state . Basic necessities like food, shelter, and medical care have become luxuries I can no longer afford. Hunger has become my constant companion, and the nights spent in the cold have taken a toll on my health and spirit.

Despite these overwhelming challenges, my determination remains unyielding. I refuse to let despair define my journey. I believe that within every heart, there lies a reservoir of kindness and empathy. It is this belief that gives me the strength to reach out to you, to share my story, and to ask for your support in my fight for survival.

The funds raised through this GoFundMe campaign will be used to address our most immediate needs. They will enable me to secure safe, stable housing, ensuring that the children under my care have a roof over their heads. They will provide nourishing meals, clean water, and access to healthcare, allowing us to regain our strength and vitality. Additionally, these funds will help us create sustainable livelihood opportunities, empowering us to break free from the cycle of poverty and build a brighter future.

Your contribution, no matter the size, will make a profound difference in our lives. It will not only alleviate the suffering we endure but also serve as a beacon of hope, reminding us that compassion and solidarity exist in this world.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to read our story and for considering our plea for help.

Your generosity will not be forgotten our spirit of humanity. "

THE LINK FOR THE FUNDRAISER

They raised 611 USD raised of their $6,000 goal!

Please! Donate if you can! You can also share this story!