#like. they don't register it as their own

[chaoskirin]

You can't convince people who won't vote.

I'm done of pandering, pussyfooting, or being nice. Those people are idiots. Morons. They will never get that the people who were punished were the queer, disabled, immigrant, POC, homeless, different, autistic, children, and elderly.

There is a break in logic in the brains of these people. They suffer from liberalism and black/white thinking. To them, there is no middle ground. They would rather harm millions of people than do what those million of people beg them to do and vote for an imperfect candidate.

You cannot ever get through to these fuckheads. They will never listen. They will never sit themselves down and think about what they did, because in their mind, they got their imaginary asspats from the universe for not voting, or voting their conscience. Thousands of people are about to die, but they'll never reflect on what they did. It will always come back to "maybe the democrats should have provided a better candidate, then!"

They live in a fucking fairy world where if they just clap their hands hard enough, the capitalist hellscape of the United States will listen and give them Bernie Sanders. And if not, they'll take up arms from behind their computers and start a revolution of words, which SURELY the people telling them to do damage control will abide while fighting for their lives against a literal dictator.

There is no words you can offer to make them pull their head out from their ascending colon (look it up to see just how far they have themselves shoved up their own ass). If they try just a little harder, they might even be able to give themselves an at-home appendectomy, much like pregnant people who don't want their babies will have to give themselves their own abortions.

I know you're trying to help them see the light, but there is no light behind these people's eyes. There is nothing they can get. Nothing they can spontaneously understand. Because if they haven't figured it out in the last ten fucking years, they're a lost cause.

You know what you have to turn your attention to? Making sure people are registered. Make sure suppression isn't destroying the ability to vote for the people who really want to. Post on your local facebook, on Next Door, on those old forums that look like they're straight out of early 2000's AOL, and let people know you will help them make sure they can vote. Thousands of people, possibly tens of thousands, could not vote because of suppression.

Don't waste your time on people who've had the opportunity to listen and rejected logic for their own happy feelgood time. Spend your time on people who actually matter.

going insane hearing talk about whether harris did enough to "earn" votes. no candidate has ever or can ever earn my vote because a vote is not a payment i send to a politician and it's stupid to think about it like it is. exact same thinking error that leads to people talking about not voting like it's a boycott. if anyone earned my vote it's the people i tried to use that vote to protect

[ram-bles]

HELLOOOO

I got a silly little ask, just a drabble from you would be fine 😁

Like- the reader (gender neutral) wasn't very open about their hobbies and such. One of their hobbies was like martial arts or smth (THIS IS VERY CRUCIAL ☝️☝️☝️)

Wellll, one day Jimmy (🤮) decided to try and touch the reader inappropriately and they just throw him over their shoulder saying something along the lines of "Do NOT touch me."

I KNOW IT'S CRINGE BUT PLEASEEEE, IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY 🙏🙏🙏🙏

I saw you're writing for only Curly and Daisuke, but if you wanna you can add other characters into the mix. It's all platonic, just a silly little ask cuz I wanna laugh 😁😁😁

[ Tulpar Crew & Reader ]

Oh I love this one. Also this reminded me to update my list thank u 4 unintentionally reminding me anon.,.,. ALSO DONT WORRY I DONT THINK IT'S CRINGE !

gender neutral reader, it gets silly later on i promise. not proof-read. wrote this really quick.

⚠️ tw: stalking, jimmy being a little too forward and close

The day was pretty much mundane, like always. Everyone was in their designated work stations, including you of course. Though, something felt off. It had been like this for the past week, and you hated it. You even blamed your lack of sleep for it. It seemed like there was something— someone, watching and following you when you were alone.

One time, you'd even woken up to the sound of your quarter's door closing. You stayed up all night, not wanting to inconvenience the other crew members for what you think might just be all in your head. Well, that is until psych evaluation day came and you opened up about this to Anya who so easily believed you, but seemed so uncomfortable with the topic. You decided not to pry out of respect. She offers her company when you need it.

That same night, Daisuke offered to host a game session to which everyone reluctantly agreed to.

Establishing good bonds between workers is key to an efficient working environment!

Anya, Swansea and Daisuke were sitting by the sofa, Curly dragged a chair just beside the game table, whilst you and Jimmy sat beside each other on the floor. The game involved four players and the crew decided that whoever loses first has to swap with whoever hasn't played yet for the next rounds. The game was getting heated, Daisuke and Anya, neck on neck. Unfortunately, not the only thing neck on neck. Everyone else was too focused on the game to even notice what Jimmy was doing. You can feel his breath against your skin. You eyed the others in hopes that they would see. Too busy. Annoyed and grossed out, you elbowed his ribs in warning, glaring at him. "Jimmy, don't touch me." He seems pissed, but that doesn't deter him from getting his entertainment. Jimmy presses on and you swear you felt your eyebrows twitch. The balls of this guy to even do this here.

Daisuke throws the dice, the three leans in in anticipation as they watch it slowly roll to a stop and—

CRASH!

Some game pieces flew in different directions, two table legs snapping from the force and Jimmy's weight. It was radio silent for a moment. The crew having different variations of shocked expressions. You had grabbed his arm and flipped his body onto the furniture.

"Fuckin' pervert. Are you deaf, or what? I said do NOT touch me."

Daisuke threw his hands up in the air and settled it on each side of his head, frustrated. "Oh, come on, man! I was so close to winni—!" His whining ceases when Swansea nudges him, instantly shutting up and processing what had just happened. It took a few blinks for him to register and he eventually bursts out laughing and pointing at Jimmy. It took everything from Swansea not to burst out laughing as well. Instead, he crosses his arms and huffs with a proud smile. 'Atta' kid.'

Anya on the other hand slips out a gasp, covering her mouth. Mostly out of shock, and no sympathy for the man whatsoever. When the other intern started laughing, she had to bite her lip and look away to suppress her own fit.

[ History of glenohumeral joint subluxation.

It happened way too fast for Jimmy to even process what just happened. He spits out something hard, probably a tooth. His shoulder slightly stings as well, probably dislocated. He'll get back at you some other time, he can't get back at you when everyone else is here and that pisses him off even more.

Curly had mixed feelings. But of course, he prioritizes his role and he has to mediate everything first and foremost. Rubbing his face, he sighs and stands up, putting his hands on his hips. He calls your name and you tilted your head to look up at him. "I have to discuss... this with you later on. Please drop by the cockpit, yeah?" You roll your eyes and nod, pouting. "Swansea, could we borrow your intern real quick?"

"Shift's over, go ahead."

He gives the eldest a nod. "Daisuke, please assist Anya. Help her bring Jimmy to medical."

"Youuuuu got it, Big C." He finger guns towards the captain then stands up to hover over the co-pilot. Curly could only give Daisuke an awkward smile at the nickname.

"Never call him that again."

"El Capitano." Daisuke helps Jimmy up, making sure he's pulling them up by the injured arm, making the man grit his teeth and groan in pain. Before the guy could even cuss at the intern, Swansea continued bickering.

"Do your damn job."

"Yessir. Swansir."

Anya and Daisuke finally went off the bring the poor injured co-pilot to treat him. And if you'd like to know, Anya taught Daisuke how to pull Jimmy's shoulder back to place. Yes, everyone heard him when it happened.

You helped Swansea clean up the mess by the lounge and in apology, offered to help repair the table the next day. He agrees and even offers Daisuke to assist you.

Curly had to lightly reprimand you for your actions, but you'd explained to him what happened. The best he could do for you for now is lie on the report.

Sustained through occupational accident.

Employee confirmed inebriated while working.

Property damage docked to Jimmy.]

[moonchildreads]

don't you know what the night can do?

summary: you call for help in the middle of the night and eddie comes to your rescue

pairing: best friend!eddie x reader

tags/warnings: mdni. technically a college au? depression, abusive relationship (not eddie, he's a sweetie), talks of potential homelessness, no SA happens but eddie thinks it did for a second before it's cleared up (again, it does NOT happen, but since it could be triggering consider this your warning), hurt/comfort, happy ending!

wc: 2.8k

a/n: i was supposed to post this yesterday but upon rereading it i realised it was me trauma dumping so i rewrote a significant portion of this to make it into it's own thing. i hope it brings you as much comfort for you as it did for me, and if you are in a situation like reader is, please seek help. i believe in you and i am rooting for you 🖤

Now's the time when it's down to me and you Spread these wings, we'll be flying

It’s already late when the phone rings and he’s immediately shoving his feet into his sneakers, rushing out the door of his apartment and into his van. It’s even more late when he parks across the street and decides against waking your entire building up by ringing your doorbell. Hurriedly, he searches his glove box for that little spare key you gave him for emergencies - the one that has a big metal ring and a tiny plastic tab with your name on it. He lets himself in, the storm outside in the sky and inside your head getting worse and worse every second that ticks by.

Eddie finds you slumped against the small table where your phone rests, the receiver still in your hand, and he knows. He knows something terrible has happened and it doesn’t matter that he’s been anticipating it ever since you told him you’d begun dating that asshole classmate of yours because nothing could have prevented his heart from shattering the moment he sees you.

You’re a lifeless looking doll, devoid of any emotion and feeling. He’d fear you’re actually dead if he couldn’t see your chest rising and falling slowly.

“Sweetheart?” he says, lowering himself to where you’re sitting and trying not to spook you. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” you say, almost surprised when his eyes come into view. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, baby, of course I’m here,” he shuffles closer to you, but still doesn’t touch you.

Eddie swears he can still feel your arms around his neck sometimes, how your hands always used to find his, and how your legs would tangle on the couch all the time. You don’t like to be touched too much these days. He misses your warmth.

“Are you okay?” he repeats.

“Cold.”

“You’re cold? Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“NO!”

Your voice rings loud in the quiet apartment, your eyes locking with his in a fiery yet terrified stare. What are you so afraid of? Eddie takes in your appearance and it’s clear that you’ve been crying, though he doesn’t really understand why. He peers into the hallway that leads to your bedroom, searching for answers though he finds none.

“I- I’m sorry… I made a mess,” you explain, deflating once more. “I was upset and the sheets, they… they’re not on the bed anymore.”

“That’s okay,” Eddie says. “We can put them back on.”

You afford him a movement that barely registers as a nod and he thinks he hasn’t seen duller eyes in his entire life, except for when he used to look into the mirror when he was younger. You shouldn’t feel like that, not if he can help it. He raises up onto his knees, still keeping his distance but signaling that it’s time to get up.

“It’s late, sweetheart. Come on, you need to get some sleep.”

“Can… can I get a hug first? Please?” you whisper, your face contorting into a pitiful sight.

Eddie doesn't say anything before he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms shielding you from anything and everything that might be trying to hurt you. He lets you bury yourself into him, lets you crawl underneath his skin and bones, become a part of his very soul and he holds you tighter whenever you exhale another heavy breath.

He waits and waits with his ass turning into ice on the harsh linoleum floor of your kitchenette area, and he doesn’t let go before you do because you once read to him that you should always hug kids until they let go first and he still hasn’t forgotten about it. A booming thunder shakes your windows and Eddie feels as though the storm has moved inside your home. You are no longer a kid, but right now you remind him too much of himself when he first went to live with Wayne, and so he keeps holding you until you pull away first.

"I really needed that, thank you," you smile up at him, but it doesn't reach your eyes. He takes it as a win anyways, because you haven’t smiled in a while and Eddie has always loved your smile.

"You can have as many hugs as you'd like, sweetheart. Why don't you go take a shower while I get your bed ready, huh? You can leave the door open if you want, I’ll be here."

You follow him into your hallway, eyes full of tears at his words. He might be the only person in the world that knows you better than you know yourself, and you don’t take that for granted. You take a hot shower and rub at your skin with your washcloth until it's raw and sensitive and cleansed, and when you come out wrapped in your fluffiest towel Eddie says nothing about the fact that when he walked into your bedroom, he could tell that you’d ripped your bed sheets off the mattress somewhere between a nervous fit and calling him in the middle of the night. There’s a new set, clean and smelling like your favorite fabric softener, and he’s laid out your most comfortable sleepwear at the end of your bed.

Eddie throws your used sheets into the washing machine and gets it started while you get changed, and when you're done you fish out a pair of his pajama pants and a shirt he left behind what feels like eons ago. He thanks you, almost surprised to see you have those clothes and it dawns on you that he doesn’t remember he gave them to you, because you haven't had one of the movie nights where he used to wear them in a while now. When you're both ready for bed, Eddie lifts your covers for you and tucks you in, laying next to you on top of the duvet.

"You can get in if you want," you say, and it's clear you want him to do it.

Eddie thinks he'll never be able to say no to you, so he gets in without you having to ask twice. You are quick to shift closer to him once he gets under the sheets and he takes the hint to put his arms around you, bringing your head to his shoulder and tangling his legs with yours. It’s been ages since he’s held you like this and he’s not going to start complaining about it now - not when you’re right back where you’ve always belonged.

"I have to move out by the end of the month," you mutter, starting to explain the night's events.

"That sucks. You’ve been house hunting yet?"

"No. I found out today and I was hoping Matt would help."

"And he didn't," Eddie says, knowingly.

"He didn't," you confirm. "I asked him to come over earlier because I was upset and he said he’d be here for dinner."

"You cooked?" he hums, petting the back of your head.

"Yeah. I made, uhm, lemon chicken? It wasn't very good."

You've always been a wonderful cook, at least in Eddie's eyes. You don't have a lot of recipes you can whip out from under your belt upon short notice, but the ones you do have are some of his favorites. The chocolate chip cookies he has to hide from Wayne, the chicken noodle soup you bring over when he’s sick, the banana pancakes that always went along with his scrambled eggs and bacon when he used to sleep over. You've never made lemon chicken for him, but you're good at following a cookbook so he thinks it mustn't have turned out inedible.

By now Eddie has learned that "it wasn't very good" means "Matt didn't like it". He doesn’t understand why that piece of shit is dating you if never likes anything you do. Hearing you repeat the things he says to make you feel bad makes your best friend want to dig through your fridge for the leftovers and eat them all just to prove to you that your boyfriend is wrong.

"I think I have to break up with Matt."

Your words make Eddie's head turn. Of all the things you could have said tonight, this was not something he ever imagined. He could have sworn you'd date Matt until he'd decided he'd had enough of you, or you'd marry him and he'd have to sit in the front row watching that fucking guy sap you of your life force for the rest of your days.

Eddie is haunted by the sound of your vacant voice when you'd asked him to come over. At the forefront of his mind he can see it all in loose pieces: the disarray in your bedroom, your obsession with being clean, Matt not being here after you said he’d come over earlier for dinner. He waits for you to paint a clear picture, hoping he won't have to break your boyfriend's nose (or worse) when he sees him around.

"Did he hurt you?" Eddie asks, heart sinking.

"I don't think he likes me anymore," you say, breaking down. Eddie shifts closer and holds you while you shiver. "He, um… he said I can't live with him if I can't find a place before I have to move out of here. A-and when I got upset because I don't want to be fucking homeless during my last semester, he- he tried to distract me with sex."

"What the fuck."

"I t-think he only came o-over ‘cause he wan- he wanted to get laid," you admit between hiccups. "And when he- he couldn't g-get it, he just left.”

"Sweetheart, fuck, I'm so sorry. He's such a fucking asshole," he lets you sob into his arms, the tears coming out of your tired eyes rivalring the downpour outside hitting your windows.

“He- he wouldn’t even hug me. I was crying and he just stood there! He doesn’t care about me being homeless, he- he doesn’t care about me at all!”

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he says gently, and you want to believe he’s telling the truth but you don’t. You can’t.

“It’s not. It’s not okay,” you try to move away but he follows you, heart chasing after yours.

"What do you mean, baby?" he brushes a tear away from your face as you both sit up.

“I- I don’t know what’s wrong and I’m just… there’s nothing in here,” you say through your teeth while you grab at your shirt frantically, scaring him with the rough motion. "I feel so empty and I think- I know there's something really wrong with me, Eddie. Something has to be wrong. I’m not normal.”

"Hey, no, no, there's nothing wrong with you," he pulls you into him once more, not letting you run away from him again. "Sweetheart, I promise you, you're- you're not empty, what are you even saying? You're full - you're so full. You're full of love, a-and kindness, and if that son of a bitch is making you feel like you're not full then, I don’t know, dump his ass! He's mean and pathetic, please don't- don't break yourself into a million pieces for someone who doesn't deserve you."

"I don't feel full, Ed."

"That’s okay, we can work on it," Eddie says, confidently. "And I’m not gonna let you be homeless, I swear. You can move in with me until you feel ready to start house hunting!"

"What if I never feel better?"

"Then we’ll live together forever,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you know he means it.

"Ed-"

"Babe. I'm serious. One hundred percent. You can even have my bedroom, I don't care."

"And where are you gonna sleep, huh? Don't be stupid."

"Wayne slept in the living room for like a decade and he's still kicking, I'll survive."

You turn in his arms so you can look at him. Eddie looks back at you with his warm eyes and mischievous smile firmly planted on his face. He’s so special to you. And luckily for him, you've never been able to say no to him either.

"When is your lease over?" you ask, wiping your tears and feeling suddenly determined.

"Uh, after you graduate I think?"

"I’ll move in with you but don't renew it. Let's find a new place."

"Yeah?" Eddie grins. "You wanna be roommates? For real?"

"I think- I think it could be good for me," you raise your hands and squish his cheeks. I think you could be good for me. "I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you."

"Me too," he says, gaze softening.

He knows it's not your fault Matt has taken over your life, not when he's conditioned you for the past year to depend on him for everything. Eddie also knows he himself has been the source of many of your fights, and while it hurts to see you cry every time Matt gives you the silent treatment until you apologize for something you didn't do, your adamant refusal to cut your best friend off your life makes him incredibly proud of you.

As much as you've stood up for Eddie throughout your lives, you've never been good at standing up for yourself. He thinks it’s time he starts standing up for you too.

"You, um," Eddie starts, grabbing your wrists to pull your hands away from his cheeks and onto his lap. "You really are gonna break up with him though, right? Because I don't think I can pretend like everything's cool with the guy when he keeps hurting you like this."

"No, I know. I can't keep going like this anymore. There's... there's so much stuff you don't even know, Ed. Sometimes he really scares me," you confess.

"He hasn't, like… hit you or anything, right?" his throat constricts.

"No, but he says things... weird things. He's so mean sometimes,” you huff, finally getting rightfully angry. “He got mad for no reason the other day and said that the only time he felt I loved him was when he got sick and I stayed with him during Spring Break. I spent an entire week taking care of him and then when he gave me the fucking plague, because of course I got it from him, Robin had to take care of me because he was sooo busy."

"He's such a goddamn loser, he totally held you hostage ‘cause you had plans that didn’t involve him for once. I knew he had a problem with us going to Steve's cabin, he’s never liked any of us!”

"Also he says I humiliate him in class because I think I'm smarter than him. Like it’s my fault his grades suck.”

"You are, though," Eddie says, grinning.

“Huh?”

"You are smarter than him. You have always been the smartest of us all."

"No, I’m not,” you scoff. “Nancy was valedictorian."

"Be real, you didn't want that shit anyway."

"No, I really didn't," you giggle softly. "I was too busy running around town with you and Jonathan.”

“Those were the good days,” he snorts. “We totally made Hopper age in dog years.”

After the laughter ends, you two look at each other and know that something has changed tonight. Something that was slowly veering off track got violently course-corrected, and you let yourself feel hopeful for the first time in a very long time.

You’ll go to sleep in Eddie’s arms and wake up to the smell of him frying bacon. You’ll whip your banana pancakes from thin air and you’ll start deciding together what you want to sell, what you’ll put in storage and what you’ll take with you once you move out of your place. You’ll talk about your finals coming up and Eddie’s new job, and he’ll do the dishes while you call Nancy, who’ll call Jonathan, who’ll shake Argyle up, who’ll call Eden, who’ll call and wake up Robin, who’ll yell at a sleepy Steve to get up, who’ll then call you to ask when they should be coming to help you lug all your stuff into Eddie’s van.

And Matt won’t call all weekend, because he doesn’t care about you, but you will never know that because you’ll be getting drunk at Robin and Steve’s while Eden tells you about a two bedroom apartment that a classmate of hers is vacating after graduation, and everyone else will make bets on how long it’s going to take for you and Eddie to notice that you won’t actually need two bedrooms.

But for now, with eyes that hurt from crying and limbs that feel heavy with a tiredness you’ve been carrying for months, you feel a little less empty because you know that no matter what the future holds, you’ll always have Eddie by your side.

thank you for reading!

[justlettheraincome]

I've met someone

"I've met someone" It was a notion, that Aziraphale had dreaded for a long time. There was a smile playing on Crowley's lips. Just the faintest notion of love hanging in the air. "You've met someone?", he repeatet. "Yes, lovely bloke", Crowley puttered on: "900 year old timelord, has seen the start of the universe and could actually name all of my stars…" There was a pain digging into Aziraphales heart. Crowley had met someone, someone who shared his ife experience. And his interests. Someone, who maybe wasn't so afraid of speed. Or his own feelings. Aziraphale felt the ground under his feet start to spin. "- anyways, I digress", Crowley finished the tangent. Taking a closer look at Aziraphale's face, he asked: "Are you alright?" "Yes, yes perfectly fine. Do go on my dear." Crowley shook his head slightly, as if to acknowledge that he didn't really believe Aziraphale. But his point seemed to be important to him, so he didn't dig further: "We talked about the problems of a nearly eternal life. And discovered that we had quite a lot in common." Aziraphale felt the ground sway again. He breathed in, softly. This was an important experience in Crowleys life. Even if he would have loved to be that guy instead of listening to Crowley going on and on about him, he owed Crowley the respect to listen to his feelings. "Including the regret of not saying something very important. And he doesn't have the chance to say it anymore. But I do. And I don't want to regret not saying it." What was Crowley going on about? Aziraphale had lost him somewhere on the way. Hadn't he just been explaining how great that guy was? "Right, okay, yes, so… We've known each other a long time. We've been on this planet for a long time. I mean, you and me. I could always rely on you. You could always rely on me. We're a team, a group. Group of the two of us. And we've spent our existence pretending that we aren't. I mean, the last few years, not really. And I would like to spend… The rest of eternity not pretending any more." With that sentence, Crowley seemed to deflate. Aziraphale needed a moment to register: "Not pretending anymore?" he repeated slowly. Crowley closed the distance between them. Yellow eyes pierced into sky-blue ones. He took another deep breath in: "Aziraphale…", there was just the tiniest bit of hesitation in his voice. A fear not yet fully overcome. "I love you."

[bloggerspam]

"Sam's going to kill us."

Val mutters, dragging Danny with a firm grip to his arm. He's not eating nearly enough if his arm is this skinny. Val's going to have to call Jazz about it.

"Sam won't kill us,." Danny soothes, letting her plop him into the seat of his own damn motorcycle. Hers is still 'out of commission' so she hops on behind him.

"I'm sorry, are we talking about the same Sam Manson?" Val snarks, putting on her helmet and feeling jittery as Danny slowly puts on his.

The microphones flicker to life, just as Danny revs up the bike. "We're on vacation, it's not like we're on a schedule and it's not our fault your college administration is literally the pits."

They have 15 minutes to get to the Thai place to grab dinner, and 10 minutes to get back to the hotel before they're irrevocably late. The talk with her professor, and subsequently the talk with the woman at the Bursar's office, ran longer than either of them expected it to. But it's all sorted now, her scholarship is in tact, and apparently she even has a monthly stipend, which will make things much easier on her and her dad.

"Just floor it Fenton!" Val growls, and she can feel his eyes rolling as he digs in.

"You asked for it!" Danny cackles, and does as he's bid.

They make good time on the Thai food, but of course (as all things go with Danny) Fenton Luck strikes again.

They're about halfway back to the hotel, when they get, of all things, pulled over for speeding.

"How did you not see the police car?" Val grouses, texting Sam and Tucker and trying to make sure her hands are visible. You never know.

When Danny doesn't answer her, she leans a little to see what's going on. He's looking through what looks like a small compartment on the side of the bike near the handlebars, frozen like he's just discovered something devastating.

"What's going on?" Val hisses, jabbing Danny in the side and jolting him to look at her. It's hard to tell through the dark visor, but she recognizes the way his body scrunches up. Something's wrong.

"So. Uh." Danny starts, curling his shoulders in and of all things, touching his index fingers together delicately like some kind of sheepish cartoon character, "Remember how I only just finished this bike last month?"

Val freezes. "Danny. Danny don't tell me you didn't—"

A cough to their left has both of them whipping their heads around. The officer who pulled them over, presumably, waits bemusedly with his arms crossed and hip popped like he thinks they're funny. He's tall, lithe but definitely packin' some muscle with dark blue eyes and black hair that reminds her of Danny. Gotham sure has a lot of people of the same coloring—even her boss shares it, though his eyes are more teal-in shade.

"License and registration, please." The officer chirps, looking both apologetic and stern at the same time. She's only ever seen Jazz pull that look off, and honestly she'd be more relaxed at the sight if Danny hadn't forgotten to register his god damn motorcycle. Considering the bike is tricked out to all hell, runs on ghost tech and thoroughly looks as illegal as it apparently is, she'd be surprised if they weren't arrested.

"Uh. So. Here's the thing Officer…" Val face palms as Danny fumbles his way through a shoddy explanation of his own incompetence. Dumbest smart guy she'll ever know, she fuckin' swears—him and Tucker!

She sighs. Sam's definitely going to kill them. At least the bloodshed will have to wait until after she bails them out.

Small mercies.

===

"Tucker, hurry up." Sam hisses, which, easy for her to say. She's not the one with asthma and a propensity to sit at home and do nothing but play games for weekend long marathons.

"I'm trying Sam, I don't even know what you even need me for, you know how to hot wire a motorcycle!" Tucker grunts as he crawls painfully over the crest of the fence. The points of it jab into his kidney, maybe even his gall bladder. Does he even need those things? Is he gonna die? He'll have to ask Danny.

"I haven't read Danny's manual on the new bike yet, dingus." Sam growls, but thankfully catches him when he successfully rolls over to the other side. His hero, really. Danny can take a back seat.

Tucker had hacked the impound's records earlier that day, so they head immediately towards the correct lot.

Except when they get there, they're not the only ones.

If Tucker isn't mistaken—and he rarely ever is—that is Jason Todd and Stephanie Brown, the current crushes Danny and Val are harboring, and they are just as if not more surprised to see Sam and Tucker.

Jason is currently crouched beside the bike, examining the side console meant for diagnosis and looking utterly lost. Stephanie—Steph, he recalls Val saying she introduced herself as—looks like she's breaking into the wheel lock.

Well shit. Can you do the Spiderman meme if none of you look alike?

The four of them stand there frozen, staring at each other and gaping stupidly and each no doubt wondering what the fuck is happening right now.

Sam, of course, is the first to recover. "Jason Todd. Stephanie Brown." She crosses her arms, pops her hip and raises an eyebrow. "What do you think you're doing?"

Steph recovers second. "What are you, a cop?"

The sheer offense that Sam adopts over her face would make Tucker laugh, if they weren't standing in the middle of an impound lot trying to steal an illegal ecto-bike at close to 10pm.

"What she means," Tucker opens his arms wide, holding Sam back with one and gesturing towards the bike with the other, "Is if you're not careful, that thing could blow up—literally—in your faces."

Sam huffs, making a sort of well? gesture.

"Oh." Jason carefully stands up from his crouch, snagging Steph by the back of her shirt and pulling them away just slightly, "We just—ahem, wanted to help."

"Help your employee?" Sam challenges, before smirking, "Or trying to impress the boy you like?"

Steph coughs, covering a laugh, freezing when Sam turns her wicked eyes on her, "Or perhaps you were cajoled into it," Sam squints, "Stephanie Brown, right? You seem quite fond of Val, what with all the invitations to spar."

"Not that Val ever realizes," Tucker laughs, "Ignore Sam over here—Tucker, by the way, nice to meetcha, heard a lot about ya'll—She just likes giving her friends' love interests a good once over, y'know?""

Steph and Jason share a look, before looking away with decidedly redder faces. Jason splotchy on the bridge of his nose, Steph burning her neck. Even in the dark, Tucker can see it, hard not to when you're the only one with melanin in the group.

"Listen," Tucker decides to be merciful, "We—I love whatever is goin' on here, big fan of when people love on my friends, real refreshing actually—"

Sam huffs, elbowing him, so he coughs and tries again. "The point is, whilst the thought is nice, I wasn't joking when i said it would literally blow up in your faces."

Sam rolls her eyes as his dramatics, but doesn't disagree. "It runs off highly sensitive and reactive fluids, kept securely in a blast proof container. But if you happened to open it, accidentally or otherwise fiddling with the controls…"

Tuck mimes a little kabloom!

"What?" Steph stumbles back, though all Jason does is eye the bike in a new light. Hm. Interesting. That's certainly a Red Hood expression if Tucker ever did see one. Judging by the way Sam squints at the other man, she thinks so too.

"How did you even know Danny's bike was taken to the impound anyway?" Sam is really doing this whole shovel talk thing at 110% huh. Not that Tuck blames her, with Danny's history of people fucking him over. "Are you tracking him?"

That gets Tucker's hackles up immediately. He knew that Oracle was snooping around Amity Park files, but as far as he knew, she hadn't gotten far. The Fentons are a fairly visible family, what with their patents and unhinged nature of advertising their inventions, but Danny and Jazz are actually pretty invisible on the internet.

They, unlike their parents, took internet safety very seriously.

To be more precise, Jazz did, and Danny learned from her, so.

Plus, Tucker's no slouch at protecting his friends from the perils of the interweb. Especially since he and Technus like to futz around with firewalls every second Saturday of the month.

You don't take down an entire Government Organization's network together and just stop hanging out. It's just not done.

"No!" Jason and Steph yell in sync, whipping their heads towards each other after a moment, "At least, I'm not—"

Before it can devolve into what looks like a sibling fight, Sam stomps her foot down. Childishly, Tucker might add, if he didn't value his life. (Which he does, so he keeps his mouth shut.)

"How." Sam growls. They shut up immediately, going shifty.

Jason, brave man that he is, mumbles something under his breath. Steph, a much more braver woman, shuts her eyes and throws Jason under the proverbial bus in a rush of panicked words.

"His brother is the cop that arrested them!" Her voice echoes in the darkness of the impound lot. Jason slaps his hands against his face, groaning and quietly hissing at Steph about inside voices, dumbass.

Tucker can't help it. Once the words register, all he can do is laugh and laugh and laugh.

Sam sighs, pushing Jason out of the way and shoving Tucker, who is struggling to breathe, towards the bike to unlock it. "I need a drink."

"Y-you," Tucker's hands are steady and quick, even through his laughter, "doN't ev-e-n drink!"

"Ice cream then." Sam grumbles. "Why are Danny's love interests always so troublesome?"

"You tell m-me," There's a click, Tucker's laughter just barely dying down as he stands up and allows Jason to start rolling the bike off the lot, "You were one of-of them!"

Jason stiffens, but Sam pats him on the shoulder, hard. "When we were 14 and our only other choice was you, Tuck."

"Hey! That's hurtful, first of all," Tucker feels indignant, "And second of all, you could have been an A-lister from the start if you wanted to. Third of all, Danny had choices! Dash and Wes were right there."

They manage to get out of the impound lot easily enough, and with Steph and Jason's lead they start heading towards the city proper.

"You mean his bully and stalker?" Sam challenges, crossing her arms as they stop by what Tucker assumes to be either Jason or Steph's car.

Jason stiffens up again, grip going white on Danny's handlebars, though he relaxes at Tucker's next statement.

"You and I both know Danny would have brought them to heel." Tucker counters, "Besides, the point was that Danny had options. He just never noticed."

Sam thinks on that, before nodding. "True."

Jason huffs a small laugh, looking charmed beyond belief. "He that oblivious?"

"Sam had to sit him down and tell him she wanted to be boyfriend and girlfriend before he even realized Sam liked him." Tucker shakes his head, grinning, "Still didn't believe her until she planted one on him."

"Better than Val," Sam chuckles, facing Steph, "She's a bad bitch when it comes to men but suddenly a pretty lady talks to her and she's all that's just how girls are, Sam! How am I supposed to tell when they're flirting, Sam! Girls are smarter and if they liked me like that it would be OBVIOUS Sam!"

Steph giggles, hand coming up to stifle it, and her eyes gain a new gleam to her eye. Oh good, so Steph does like Val back. Nice.

"So how was this gonna go?" Tucker says after a moment of silence. "You get the bike, then what?"

Jason and Steph share a look, before Jason's nose gets all red again. "I was gonna wait outside for him, have Dick pull some strings to bail them out and uh, surprise Danny with the bike."

Sam and Tucker look at Steph, who shrugs. "He and Val got locked up together so…I thought Val would appreciate not having to third wheel." She pats the hood of the car, "Was gonna offer her a ride home, after Jason did his thing."

Sam and Tucker perk up then, turning back to Jason. "You gonna ask him on a date??"

"I mean, he's not here for long, right? Just for Christmas?" Jason twitches, like he wants to shove his hands in his pockets, but can't because he's holding up Danny's bike. His shoulders hike up and he pops the bike stand. "I wanted to at least get his number. Get to know him better."

There's a moment of silence, before Tucker and Sam place a hand on each of Jason's shoulders, excitement palpable. "GODS, are we glad you're a bad bitch who gets what he wants. Val was right about you!"

"Uh," Jason's eyes are wide, surprised as if he wasn't expecting that, "Thanks?" He coughs, the red of his nose traveling to his cheeks and staining his ears.

Sam and Tuck let go, though Sam gives him a hearty pat on the back to go with the motion.

"I was gonna bail them out in the morning, let 'em sit in their shame for a bit." Sam turns towards Steph, "You guys know any good ice cream shops open this late in the mean time?"

Steph grins, "Information like that's gonna cost ya." She's clearly joking though, considering she immediately pulls out her phone to bring up some ice cream shops on GPS.

"Will embarrassing stories about Danny and Val cover it?" Tucker cheekily asks.

"Sold, to the man in the beret." Jason deadpans, smirking as he points at Tucker.

It's the start of a beautiful friendship.

Mechanic!Val AU, but make it gay and sapphic.

ya'll can thank the HH discord for this one. Specifically the menace known as @clockwayswrites (and @impyssadobsessions for the art that inspired the damn thing)

Dead on Main and with some future Val/Steph >)

also @belfry-ghost did a doodle for this AU and everyone should go love on his art. Val's so unf.

===

Val’s pretty sure her new boss Jay is actually a crime lord.

She’s pretty sure he’s The Crime Lord, actually. She’s like, 98% sure she works for Red Hood now, and she’s low key mad about it. She squints at the man now, with his white streak and almost imperceptible green sheen to his eyes. 

The problem is that Val did perceive it. Because she used to date a guy whose baby blue eyes changed ever so slightly in the same way. Thinking about Danny makes her even madder.

To be clear, she’s not mad about Red Hood himself. 

She’s just mad that, of all the mechanic shops in all of Crime Alley, she just had to work for her ex-boyfriend’s third place Hall Pass pick. It also makes her miss her friends way more, and Val is hardly what one would call a well-adjusted woman, so she’s mad about it.

She huffs as she lifts the hood of the second car she’s working on today. Being a mechanic wasn’t really on the docket for Val’s life goals, nor was being in Gotham, but she got a full ticket ride on Wayne Foundation scholarships, and honestly? 

Gotham is Amity Park Lite: Gargoyles and Furries Edition. 

Between a full ride to Gotham U and being stuck at Elmerton Community College? The choice was easy. 

So here she is, working for the resident Crime Lord in his civvies. 

Jay pays good, teaches her what she needs to know, and bonus: he sometimes helps with her English Literature class. He’s flexible on hours, and she’s even got rudimentary insurance. 

All in All?  It could be worse—she could still be working for Vlad, after all. 

It's the little things.

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers: Character Interviews (Kant/Bison Focus)

So this proved to be super interesting. Let us see what can be gleaned from these brief little interview segments with Kant and Bison.

Immediately, I'm struck by how serious and stoic Kant comes across. He has a very mature aura, and is quite hard to read (which I guess is a plus considering what he gets up to). I didn't expect this, based on how flirty and forward he appeared to be in the trailer, and that makes me wonder if it's all part of a persona he's playing. Or whether the real Kant is in fact more measured and introspective, and Bison just brings out his playful side?

A notable trait that gets signposted repeatedly is Kant's care for his brother Babe. I believe Khao has made a similar comment about him being family-oriented. It makes a tonne of sense to me as to why Bison would be drawn to a 'family man'; someone who has strong family values, when Bison's essentially been rejected by his own.

"My goal in life is to make sure my brother grows up into a good man. I want to make sure he doesn't feel like he's lacking anything. We're all we've got right now." "I just live day by day, just keeping with my goal which is making sure my brother grows up well." This is so telling of Kant's mentality. Not only does it suggest that Kant is a stand-in parent of sorts, but that he doesn't live for himself. (Which could be something of a parallel to Bison - who is unable to live by his own rules). His goals centre entirely on his loved ones' needs being met and supporting them. This definitely gives provider with self-sacrificing tendencies.

"I feel like my goal is just to make sure my loved ones get to live their dreams. For now, I just want my brother to have a good life. But one day, if someone comes into my life and I love them, my goal would be to make sure they get to achieve their dreams." And yet another selfless, touching sentiment. The desire to aid your loved ones to actualise their dreams, possibly before or over your own. I expect Kant will be a very doting, nurturing soul. (Lucky Bison).

I wonder if Kant and Fadel will empathise with one another over their respective little brothers, and the sense of responsibility that comes with it. Bonding opportunity perhaps?

The most mysterious thing Kant says is "One more thing I'm not a big fan of is the beach." (The reason is personal). Curious. First has specifically talked about filming on the beach, where they were able to do a lot more improv. Any speculations on the above are wide open.

Now let's move onto our resident Murder Kitten. I've always said that Bison reads as a real sweetie-pie based on everything we've seen thus far. He's very animated and expressive. Khao very deliberately uses a softer, lighter vocal register as Bison, which just accentuates this cute, darling image. A real child at heart who wants to make up for a life he didn't get to lead. "I go out, I'm just trying to live outside the burger shop." His childhood dream about seeing the northern lights is just another example of a boy who has daydreamed of escape, and welcomes any excuse to be as far away from his actual life as possible. He also mentions being fond of a stray cat who resides near their burger bar, who he enjoys feeding and playing with. This precious boy, I cant. (Note: I need to have scenes of this in the show PURR-LEASE).

Everything about Bison as a person feels at odds with his violent lifestyle, which seems to be a central conflict in Bison's character arc. It does beg the question of what if Bison had never been adopted, what kind of life would he be living instead? And I think this drives Kant's desire to fight for Bison's chance at a new start. A boy with big dreams meets a man who wants to realise them. What a match.

Another comment we've heard before in the pilot is "I also don't like liars", no doubt foreshadowing the fallout when he finds out Kant did exactly that. I do think it's likely that whatever drives Kant to take the detective job has reasons to do with his own brother. He may wish to clear his record of anything untoward for his brother's sake. Based on this premise, when Bison does find out why Kant did what he did, I think that will help soothe any hard feelings.

On a side note - I've seen a comment mention that Kant apparently calls Bison 'kitten' in the novel. ERM HULLO?!! I will allow one spoiler, and that is whether this is true or not. And if so, I DEMAND that it is a featured pet name in the show, because why on earth would you miss an opportunity like that?!

You can keep tabs on bird-inacage’s BL meta directory for other long-form posts around The Heart Killers, which I'll be updating as the show airs.

[erosmutt]

so i have some sort of request.. i was thinking like sam and chubby!reader. Sam would never admit he found chubby girls hot until this one and when they’re alone all he does is praise her and can’t stop burying his face in her thighs and worshiping her pussy

of course!!! i love love loveeeee sam and chubby reader.

corey looks at sam curiously, head tilted. "dude, what's got you fucked up?" he follows the boy's gaze and furrows his brows. "why're you lookin' at her? you think she's hot or somethin'?"

the 'her' in question is you, the new transfer. a chubby girl that totally does not fit in. skinny is in, and unfortunately, being pretty in the face isn't gonna save you.

sam comes out of his stupor and winces as he registers his friend's question. "no," he says with mock disgust. lies. he does think you're hot. sexy, even. you've got the nicest curves he's ever seen on a girl. he would never, ever admit that he found fat girls hot, especially not with his friends all being with slim blondes. "just wondering what else she's gonna have for lunch." he tries to joke, making corey chuckle. bastard.

come last period, you and sam both find yourselves late to class. "hey," you say as you rummage through your locker. "sorry if i'm in your way, just a sec." he leans against his own locker, fishing his pack of cigs out of his pocket. "you aren't in my way." he takes his headphones off, letting them rest around his neck. "...what class're you going to?" you look up at him with a small smile. "anatomy. you?" he smacks the pack against his palm. "um, bio. there's a shortcut to the lab, lemme show you."

and of course, listening to him, you find yourself in a janitor's closet with your skirt bunched up around your waist instead of in class.

sam is on his knees before you, hands digging into your fat thighs, thumbs caressing your stretch marks as he sloppily devours your plump pussy, nose buried against your trimmed mound. your eyes flutter closed as you tangle your fingers in his hair, other hand covering your mouth to stay quiet. "mmph, hmm,"

he pulls away for air before going right back in, tongue working at your clit, saliva coating both your slit and his chin. "huhh," he gasps, nails leaving crescent marks in your soft skin. "fuck," he swallows. "you taste so fuckin'-" he licks his lips. "-good." he looks up at you, leaning into your touch. "'s feel good?" he slurs.

"keep going," you murmur. "make me cum, please." sam shivers as he begins to make out with your cunt, ringed fingers coming up to tease your hole, making him smile against you at the loud squelching. "such a pretty cunt," he whispers between caresses with his tongue. "hhuh... uh huh..." he suckles on your clit, groaning at the way you trap his head between your thighs. when your legs started to quiver, he forced you up against the wall to hold still. his jaw's starting to ache, but damnit, you're gonna cum before he stops.

you tug on his locks, making his scalp sting as you finish, squirting onto his tongue, chin, and onto the floor, fluid running down your thighs. "holy shit," you both say at the same time. you laugh, and he does too, licking his lips. "don't tell anyone about this okay? i don't need them knowing i'm fucking around with you." he reaches for the paper towels on the shelf and cleans his own mouth, shoving the roll into your arms. "got it?" you just blink at him as you tear some off. "sure..." he opens the door and leaves, making you look down at your shoes. "...dickhead."

[jsprnt]

as the saying goes: with every high, comes a low

kenan yıldız x reader

A/N: writing this brought back both good memories and ptsd from the euros 🥲🥲 based on this request, thank you for requesting 🤍🤍 also this is so sappyyy, guess who’s in her feels? 😛

W/C: 1.090

ninety minutes of straight-up torture.

a small fifteen-minute break to calm your pounding heart down, before it starts heavily thumping against your rib cage again.

you wouldn’t be surprised if you dropped onto the floor due to the amount of times your heart rate had skyrocketed.

anxiety and anticipation.

the only words that could describe your mental state in the moment.

losing a match was painful, but even more painful after turkey had been doing so well in the tournament.

as the partner of a football player, you carried your own sadness, and your boyfriend’s sadness.

you bite your lip when the referee ends the match. enough to draw a small amount of blood. the metallic taste fills your mouth, and makes you feel even more horrible.

the chants of the turkey supporters had been non-stop since the start of the game. at first full of joy, then encouragement, then slowly trailing off to tears and disappointment.

even so, everyone had an incredible sense of pride in their hearts for their country. no matter the loss.

when you're given the go-ahead, all family members and friends of the turkey players make their way out of their seats.

you hurry as you go down, your heart aching as you imagine all of the disappointment and anger brewing in your lover’s heart.

when you finally reach him, kenan immediately pulls you into a private room. without a word, his arms wrap around your back, and he buries his handsome face in the crook of your neck.

feeling his breath hit your skin, you sigh shakily. not caring about his sweaty hair and body, you reach up to run your hand down his back.

"are you okay?"

of course, he wasn't, but you could barely register how fast the team had lost control of the match. let alone form a coherent, comforting thought.

you rake your unoccupied hand through his hair, your heart beating in your ears as you try to find the words to comfort your boyfriend.

though, his lack of response told you enough.

after a long stretch of silence, you start spilling your thoughts. licking your dry lips before speaking.

"I'm so fucking proud of you, kenan.."

the words leave your mouth with deep emotion. followed by a tremble of your lip as you try to keep your tears at bay.

"whatever people say, whatever anyone says doesn't matter. you worked so fucking hard, you put your entire soul and body into it. that's what matters. you tried, and I know you did your best.."

you pause as a shaky sigh leaves kenan's mouth. his athletic body pressing into yours, the smell of sweat, notes of his musky cologne, and your perfume creating a familiar atmosphere.

your heart breaks when you hear a small sniffle. your eyes closing as you hold back your own tears.

"you can cry. it's okay, cry it out. I know it hurts, baby.." you whisper, finally feeling hot tears hit your own cheeks, as his transfer down your neck.

"I worked so hard. so many nights and days- and this is the performance I put on when my team, and my entire country is leaning on me!.."

"shh, don't blame yourself, honey. I know it will sound cliché, but you did your absolute best. you can’t do more than your best, baby..”

you pause to pat his back, tears messing up your makeup, and making your nose run.

"it was going so well, you guys created so many chances. it was just an unlucky second half.."

"to have something in the palm of my hand, and then to just lose it within twenty minutes- hurts so fucking bad.." his shoulders shake with the painful sobs. the emotion expressed by your boyfriend causing a soft whimper to leave your own mouth.

"never ever think that the entire thing was on you. It was destined to be like this. as humans, we will learn and grow, even if we don’t see immediate results.."

kenan moves his head to look at you, your heart practically cracking at the sadness on his face.

the hopeless look in his beautiful brown eyes, the irritation of his soft skin- and the fastened pace of his pulse.

"why are you crying?" he asks, and you can swear he starts crying harder after seeing the tears on your face.

"because, you're hurting. don't ever want you to feel bad or upset.." your voice cracks, and you tighten your grip on the fabric of his training jacket.

"fuck. don't you ever cry over me, baby.." kenan rasps, cupping your cheek with his roughened palm. both your eyes visibly red and irritated from the salty tears.

"how can I not?" you question, before pulling his head into your neck again. cradling the back of his head, as you hug each other as tightly as humanly possible.

"i love you so much. your joy is mine. so how can your hurt not be mine?" you ask, raking your fingers through his hair.

"i love you too. so bad it kills me to see you cry over me.." he chokes out, his fingers curling around your body, holding you incredibly close against his warm skin.

you hold each other for a couple of minutes, the only sound in the room being the cold air conditioning, and the sound of your combined sobs.

you can hear kenan take a deep, stuttering breath, before he speaks.

"we’re such crybabies.."

his voice is raw, but thick with fondness and warmth..

your lover always knew how to lighten up the mood, while others could never do so in similar situations.

you chuckle a little through tears, pulling back to look at him. you raise your hand to wipe the tears on kenan's cheeks, his bloodshot eyes on yours.

pushing back his hair, you expose his forehead, wiping away the rest of the moisture with your sleeve.

"your eyes are all red.." you comment, knowing you probably looked the exact same.

"what do you need when we get back to the hotel? a bath? a cuddle? good food?" you inquire, wanting to provide him the best comfort you could offer.

you watch him take a breath before he speaks, and he whips out a tissue from his pocket, before dabbing at the tears on your face.

he was so gentle and thoughtful, like always.

"I just need you. I just need my sweet baby next to me, and everything will be alright.."

[tiny-minecraft-rabbit]

Please do Rats Treebark #4!!!

"Captain! Look out!" Martyn shouted, shoving Ren to the side. The snap that resulted turned everything into blinding white fire, an explosion going through his leg.

"Lieutenant!" Ren's voice was distant despite him being right next to him.

Martyn couldn't think. Martyn couldn't see. His world had narrowed to the pain that was moving in waves across his body, centering from the place where the trap had snapped around his leg.

His leg. Thank goodness it was his leg and not the rest of him. Thank goodness it was him and not the Captain. The Captain that had been too focused on backing away from the cat to see the trap in the first place.

Oh FUCK the cat-

"I got you. I got you Lieutenant," Ren's voice was near his ear. He could barely register the Captain's arms wrapped around his own and pulled them further under the cabinet they had slipped uner.

His eyes blinked away the spots just enough to see the cat's paw reaching under. It's claws just barely grazed the trap still snapped around his leg- he quickly closed his eyes when it processed in his brain that that was his leg that was smushed in the trap that was dragging with him.

"You guys okay over there?"

That was.. That was Owen, he had going on the supply run with them. He was on the other side of the room, he thinks, the three of them serperating when the cat had entered.

"No!" Ren's voice was screechy with panic, octaves higher than his voice actually allowed, "Martyn's leg- we can't- we can't leave like this."

"O-Okay. I'll get the cat out the room, lead it away for a bit. Do you think you can get to the tunnel out when I do?" Owen asked, taking charge of the situation quickly despite his own panic.

He could feel Ren's chest heaving. Ren must of sat against the wall and pulled Martyn into his lap. That was nice. "I- I don't think- It's still in the trap! Juice, his leg is still in the trap."

"Shoot. Right, okay. I'm leading the cat out and I'll circle back around. Hang tight you two. Be right back."

Martyn heard the telltale squeak of a rat hitting the floor running and then the skittering of cat claws on a wood floor.

The blinding pain had reduced some, it was still throbing all through out his body, but at least there was some space to think now.

Ther was an arm wrapped around his torso, holding him in place against the Captain, and a hand wrapped around his head and fingers scraping against his ear. It was probably meant to be comforting but Ren was too panicked himself and was scratching a little hard and fast. Not that Martyn minded, it certainly wasn't the worst thing he was feeling at the moment.

"What were you thinking?" Ren muttered, head dropping and resting against Martyn's.

It took Martyn a few deep breaths to get his answer out, fighting against the fog. "You were backing right into it. Would have- Would have been a lot worse than a leg if I didn't do something."

"You could have died," Ren hissed, the hand around his ear unintentionally squeezing. Not painfully. Ren couldn't hurt him.

"My life or yours, Captain? Yours. Every time."

Ren was silent for a moment, "We will be talking about this later. When you're not delirious with pain."

They wouldn't.

Martyn wasn't changing his mind on this. He was a selfish man. A very selfish man; and if potentially dying to a stupid human trap meant he never had to see the end of Ren's life, then so be it.

[calware]

You might've answered something like this before but how do you pick colours for your art? Your choices are always so striking, visually interesting and delightful. I would love to learn your ways. (also hi)

WAAHHHH THANK YOU <3 <3 (also hi!!) first of all i do have a post from quite a while back with some general tips that you can check out, but my process has changed a bit since then so i can definitely elaborate a little bit more!

observation

this first tip is not very straightforward (sorry) but something i try to do is pay attention to the colors and lighting in the real world and try to remember what moments really stick with me. like when you're watching the sunset and the light from the sky washes everything in pink and tints the buildings orange, or when it's dusk and the light blue of the sky contrasts with the dark blues of everything that's in shadow, or looking in a lake and all the greens, browns, and blues mix together in rich jewel tones

i try to keep track of these things & the emotions they make me feel (almost like taking notes in a mental journal) so i can try referencing them when i want a certain drawing to feel a certain way. AGAIN this is really not straightforward and i don't really know how helpful it actually is...? but i find that observation can be a really helpful tool and i find myself doing it a lot

references

sort of the same as the last point BUT using preexisting photos and artwork instead! this one is more straightforward because you can actually reference them as you are drawing. i said this in the other post i made but i think that looking at other images and asking yourself "how is the artist/photographer using the colors to make it look this way? how do i recreate that?" and using that as a way to study their use of colors can be really helpful. if you find a drawing that has cool colors, try using those colors in your own drawings and see how they look!

that said, i would try to avoid color-picking things directly because i find that if you try choosing them on your own you 1) gain a better understanding of what you're doing 2) have more control over what you're doing and 3) you can "push" your colors in ways you might not if you color-pick directly

play with contrasting hues

i think this might just be a personal preference, but i find that i'm not as big of a fan of monochromatic images, and i prefer it when drawings utilize a wide variety of hues. this goes especially for ones that implement more contrast in the hues (not necessarily where the colors have more contrast in value, but rather contrast as in they're further apart on the color wheel)

for example, in this drawing, everything is washed in green light except for rose's skin, which is a very saturated reddish-brown. this is sort of what i mean by "pushing" the colors because, in a realistic setting, a person sitting in green lighting is going to have a more greenish-looking skin tone (like in this drawing). you can see this in how the whites of the drawing—her hair and eyes—are greenish, but i made the stylistic choice to not do the same with her skin to create contrast between the two hues

i edited the one on the bottom to match the green-ness of the rest of the image, and the effect is pretty noticeable! green light makes people look less lively, almost sickly (which is good to use if that's the feeling you want to show, of course)

another small example of this is in this drawing where i use a couple of different hues in davesprite's body. overall, it registers as orange, but i like to ever-so-slightly introduce a bit of green to contrast with the orange, letting the lightest values tip into the greens instead of stopping at yellow to contrast with the muted red in the wings. the darkest values are purple, which also contrasts with the yellow parts. the only hue missing from this image is blue! the colors are all still analogous, and the greens and purples are a lot less saturated than the oranges and yellows, so nothing clashes and overall leads to a more subtle contrast

the colors on the top are the ones from the image, while the ones on the bottom i see used a lot more commonly—which isn't a bad thing! i just think it looks nice to use a wide range of hues because of the way they complement each other :)

other than these strategies, my process varies greatly depending on what i'm working on, so it's difficult to get any more specific than this (unless you'd like to ask about the process of a specific drawing!) there isn't really any step-by-step method i use for every drawing i make, usually i am doing something different each time based on the goals i have for the project

[d1xonss]

Desert Rose

Chapter 65 ~ A Friend

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 5

✧ Word Count : 5.8k

In this chapter ~ After the restless night spent in the barn, amends were made the following morning, just the closure Rose needed to finally be able to move on. Though the peace didn't last, especially when the group is greeted with a new and unfamiliar face. A stranger who spreads the word of the community he comes from.

After Rick's motivational speech, and hundreds of walkers trying to break down the barn doors at nightfall, sleep still didn't come to me. I remained wide awake, numbly looking around at my surroundings for an eternity and a half until the sun started to peek through the cracks of the walls. It was only then I started to slightly doze off. Exhaustion ached in my bones, begging for me to get a few hours of rest in the safe space while I had the chance, yet I still tossed and turned uncomfortably.

My eyes fluttered shut after the long hours of restlessness, not even registering the footsteps that were approaching until the figure sat themselves down beside me. My neck jerked a bit as I opened my eyes slowly when I felt the presence, my heart sinking a little when I saw it was Maggie. It's not that I didn't want to talk to her, I just didn't know how. I didn't know what to say. It felt stupid and inconsiderate to bring up Beth, but yet it was the only thing on my mind, and something we hadn't so much as acknowledged in weeks.

She looked me over for a few lingering moments, managing a small smile, the first one I had seen from her in a very long time. I found myself unable to hold back one of my own, watching as her eyes lit up at just my simple gesture.

At first we didn't speak, just enjoying what was left of the quiet until her voice came out just barely above a whisper. "I miss you."

The simplicity felt like a punch to the gut, but what seemed to hurt worse was the softness of her tone. She didn't sound bitter, or angry at me for avoiding her whenever I could. Just sad.

"I miss you too." I whispered, trying to swallow my emotion. "Mags, I'm so sorry. I just...I've been...I didn't know what to say; I still don't. I'm just so sorry." I admitted sadly.

She shook her head, "You don't ever need to say you're sorry to me, okay? I just needed to...actually talk to you again. I know you've been distant because of everything, and I understand why...but please-"

"I'm trying." I interrupted softly, "I had an...epiphany last night, or something," I huffed, "It made me realize what I was doing...and I just need to keep fighting. We all do. Pushing everyone away isn't the way to do that...so, I'm trying."

A tear of utter exhaustion slipped down her rosy cheek as she nodded again, "I'm trying too. Even though it feels impossible...suffering with one thing after another. But I understand the need to be alone being easier than facing whatever hell we've ended up in...believe me, I do." she sniffled.

My chest ached upon hearing her own battle with sadness, reaching out to wrap my arms around her shoulders before I could even process what I was doing, pulling her into a tight hug. She sighed shakily, feeling her arms come around my middle in an instant as her shoulders began to shake whilst she cried. And it wasn't long before her sobs coaxed my own, the two of us finally mourning the loss of Beth together, the relief feeling like no other.

"I miss her." she muttered through the tears.

I nodded slowly, "Yeah...me too."

She gripped onto me tighter, my shirt scrunching up in her grasp as we were both content with quietly crying in each other's arms. In a way, this was something that we both needed. Clearing the air, the tension, and everything else in between as I felt like I could finally look her in the eye again. Something therapeutic. Neither one of us knew how much time passed while we let everything out, but it didn't matter to me. I just knew that I had her back, and that's all I could care about right now.

Eventually we untangled our arms from one another, laughing quietly once we saw each other's tear stained cheeks. Nothing about it was funny, but the sleep deprivation was clearly catching up to the both of us.

She attempted to dry her eyes with the back of her hand, "She loved you a whole lot you know."

I smiled sadly, "I could say the same thing about you."

The sound of shuffling from just behind me is what cut the conversation short, seeing Daryl moving quietly to lean up against the wall, closing his eyes once more to block the blinding sun. I frowned at the thought of having to talk to him after everything that happened. I knew we were okay, but I just didn't know what I would say. I didn't know how to even begin to explain everything that had been running through my head, it was all too much.

Though Maggie noticed my change in emotion, "What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

My gaze turned toward her again, "What isn't wrong?" I asked bitterly, letting out a soft breath, "I have no idea...what I'm going to say to him."

She glanced past my shoulder to see where I was nodding before scoffing quietly, "You joking? That man practically kisses the dirt you walk on, it'll be alright...promise. Don't worry over it too much."

"I don't even know where to start." I muttered.

She shrugged, "Tell him everything."

I rolled my eyes slightly, "Start. I don't know where to start."

She laughed quietly, "Okay...just explain how you've been feeling, how hard it's taken a toll on you. And reassure him it has nothing to do with him."

"Okay," I agreed, "You know, with my luck I'll probably end up word vomiting all over him but...better than bottling it up, right?"

An amused smile crossed her face, "Right." she echoed, slowly standing back up to her feet, "I'm going to talk to Sasha, maybe take a walk...you're more than welcome to come with if you want."

My eyes glanced from her to Daryl a few times, thinking about how some fresh air would be nice, but in my mind, I knew what was more important. "I- uh...I think I've got some stuff to take care of first."

She glanced back over to where my eyes kept darting to, nodding in understanding before she walked over near where Sasha had been sleeping for the night. I watched as she leaned down to gently wake her, before they both headed outside the barn doors quietly to talk.

My heart felt a bit heavier as I looked back towards Daryl, seeing his eyes were still closed as he groggily attempted to wake up for the day and I sighed to myself. What was I supposed to say? How much was I going to tell him? How I was sorry for my mood swings yesterday? I felt that I was never really good at expressing my negative feelings and he deserved something that was actually worth listening to.

But I guess I was just going to have to wing it, seeing as though my body was being drawn to him faster than I anticipated.

I cautiously sat myself down next to him, the noise my boots made not going unnoticed by him as he immediately seemed to open his eyes. He jolted a bit on alert, but once he was it was just me, he relaxed greatly. It still managed to amaze me that after all we've been through, biting his head off no less than yesterday, he still looked at me with all the love in the world. He looked at me as if nothing happened, like everything was perfectly fine. But we both knew that wasn't the case.

"Hi." I whispered.

Though I internally cursed the moment the word left my mouth. Hi? What the hell was wrong with me? Well, I guess you have to start somewhere.

He chuckled softly, "Hey."

I took a deep breath, "I'm so sorry." I spoke quietly, tears already threatening to fall from my eyes from only three words, and yet I had so much more to say.

"I've been pulling away from everyone...thinking it would be easier...but believe me, pulling away from you hurt me more than you could imagine. I didn't mean any of the things I said yesterday, about letting me go...don't." I pleaded, "Because I don't want to let you go. I couldn't have asked for a more supportive husband, especially right now, being there for me even when I didn't want you to be. You've been incredible and I've just been such a bitch, and I'm just- I'm so sorry-"

The entire time I was talking, I watched as he bit his lower lip to try and keep himself together. But toward the end where my voice started to crack, he finally had enough and brought his hands up to my cheeks to wipe my tears.

"Shh," he shushed me, "It's okay, it's okay." he whispered before slowly bringing me into a hug, giving me a chance to pull away if I wanted, but that was far from what I wanted. I practically crashed into his arms and held onto him tightly like I never wanted to part from him again, but the truth was I didn't. I felt like I lost so much time with shutting myself out, yet he was the same perfect man that was always willing to wait. I didn't deserve him. I never did.

"Don't you ever say yer sorry bout that." he said a bit sternly, pulling back to look me in the eye, "Ya hear me?"

I nodded my head tearfully. "I know yer hurtin. I know why ya said the things ya said, or did the things ya did. Ya never have to explain yerself to me. M' always gonna be right here...didn't I promise ya that yesterday?"

I nodded again, "I- I just didn't want you to think that-"

"I know," he said softly, "I know, Rosie." he wiped more tears from my cheeks as he spoke in a hushed tone, "The only thing that hurt me these past few weeks was seein ya so broken. And the fact that I didn't know how to help, hurt me even more."

"I'm sorry." I repeated like a broken record.

He shook his head firmly, "Stop. Stop apologizin."

I exhaled a shuttering breath, nodding my head again, "I wanted you to know how much I didn't mean it. How much I wanted to take it back right after I said it."

"I know," he assured once more, "I won't hold it against ya...just wanna be able to be here for ya."

I shook my head slowly, "You have been. You've been so patient with me...you're perfect."

He scoffed, "I ain't perfect."

"You are to me." I stated almost firmly, wanting him to hear just how much I apricated him.

He smiled the biggest smile I had seen from him in a while, his eyes wrinkling at the corners as he leaned in to plant a brief kiss on my lips before bringing me into his embrace once more. It was like fireworks erupted in my stomach at the familiar feeling. He was always so gentle and loving, which only made me only pull him in closer. His hand traced soothing circles along my back whilst the other went up to my hair, running his fingers through my mess of curls. I missed his touch. I missed his warmth. I missed him.

He pulled back slightly after a few moments, peppering soft kisses across my skin as if he had been deprived, his beard tickling and scratching me to which I laughed into his shoulder. I heard a soft hum vibrate through his body, his arms squeezing me tighter.

"I missed that sound." he muttered quietly.

I felt my face flush a bit at the sincerity behind his voice, pulling my face back enough to look at him, "I missed you."

He tilted his head a bit, "I missed ya more, angel."

I smiled softly, pecking his lips once more before I snuggled into his side, letting out a breath of relief I felt I had been holding in for ages. His presence alone was something that I desperately needed, not knowing just how bad I needed it until I had it again.

We found ourselves talking amongst one another for what felt like forever as the morning slowly ticked by. There was simply too much to say, too much to fill in of the events that happened during the long and hopeless weeks. It felt like a breath of fresh air, having someone listen to you so intently when you could've sworn that these thoughts and feelings you brought up were pointless after feeling so small for so long.

Our voices didn't quiet down until we noticed almost everyone was slowly starting to wake now, knowing we would surely have to get a move on soon. My eyes looked around as they scattered, slowly packing their things and overhearing the hushed conversations, my gaze eventually catching sight of Rick. He was already looking toward me, his brows furrowed slightly in worry as if there was a silent question he was projecting across the space between us. I could read it clear as day.

My only response was a simple smile, assuring him that I was just fine. And that alone seemed to take some of the weight off his shoulders, nodding back toward me subtly, the exchange being for our eyes only.

But the peaceful moment was quickly cut shorter than I would've liked as the barn doors creaked loudly when they opened once more, my head tilting up a bit to see who entered the space. I assumed it was only Maggie and Sasha coming back inside considering how long they had been out. But what I didn't expect was to see a man trailing behind them, Daryl and I trading only one look before we both jumped up to our feet.

"Everyone...this is Aaron." Maggie announced.

The group perked up at the unfamiliar name, the sound of guns loading filling the air after her voice traveled around, finding myself instinctively aiming my weapon at the man as well.

I fell in line beside Rick while Daryl brushed past everyone else to look out the barn doors, sticking his head outside to glance around and make sure no one else lingered there from what he could see. I aimed my gun right at the man's head, but I didn't feel any type of fear, silently knowing I would kill him in a split second if he tried anything. My only question was why? Why the fuck did they bring him back here? Clearly, we had learned nothing from recent events.

"We met him outside, he's by himself." Maggie assured with raised hands.

"We took his weapons, and his gear." Sasha added.

I saw the two women gesturing and talking from the corner of my eye, but I never took my stare off the stranger in front of us. Everyone remained dead silent, watching as Daryl shut the wooden doors with a slam before swiftly turning around to pat him down, making sure he didn't have any hidden things under his clothes. Though in the end he didn't find anything, letting out a huff as he stepped back, watching him like a hawk. The man himself felt the tension in the room, his eyes looking all of us over a bit fearfully. Watching as he slowly became more intimidated.

"Hi," Aaron breathed, "It's nice to meet you." he greeted while attempting to take a step forward, only for Rick to send him a glare which ultimately kept him in place.

"You said he had a weapon?" Rick asked Maggie.

She nodded silently before stepping over towards him to hand over the small gun, Rick examining it in his hands for a moment before placing it behind his back, "Is there something you need?" he asked.

"He has a camp nearby. He wants us to audition for membership." Sasha informed.

I furrowed my brows, "Audition?" I asked in disbelief.

His head turned as soon as he heard me speak, "I- I wish there was another word for it. Audition makes it sound like we're some kind of a dance troupe...that's only on Friday nights." he attempted to joke, laughing lightly at his own words. But no one else followed, and he seemed to realize he was dealing with a pretty tough crowd.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, "And uh, it's not a camp. It's a community. And I think you all would make valuable additions. But it's not my call, my job is to convince you all to follow me back home."

I couldn't shake the anxious feeling that formed in my stomach that this was an awful lot like when a murder tries to get a child to hop in his van because he said he had candy. The way he worded things wasn't very convincing to me. And Rick beginning to tense from beside me only caused my nerves to grow.

"I know, if I were you I wouldn't go either. Not until I knew exactly what I was getting into..." Aaron assured before looking behind him, "Sasha, can you hand Rick my pack?"

She stared at him for a moment before reaching down to pick up his bag from the ground, walking over to Rick and handing it over, "In the front pocket there's an envelope. There's no way I could convince you to come with me just by talking about our community, that's why I brought those."

Rick opened it up, revealing the many pieces of paper inside that he easily started to look through. I dared to take my eyes off the man momentarily to glance over his shoulder to see what it was for myself, my eyes scanning multiple photographs of the community he was supposedly talking about. And he would not shut up.

"I apologize in advance for the picture quality, we just found an old camera store-"

"Nobody gives a shit." Daryl muttered.

Aaron looked over his shoulder at him with a nervous nod, "You're absolutely one hundred percent right." he spoke, my eyes still trained down to then see a picture of the front gates. "That's the first thing I wanted to show you. Because nothing I say about our community will matter unless you know you'll be safe. If you join us...you will be."

He kept going on and on about the thick walls and how nothing got through them without their say so, which was total bullshit. Even if nothing has gotten through thus far, it will. It always does.

I began to slowly tune out his voice while scanning each and every one of the images that Rick thumbed through, noticing the fact that he didn't seem to be listening to him either. The moment he hit the end of the somewhat endless pictures, he looked down at me, as if silently asking my opinion on what to do with this guy. I glanced back to see him still rambling, my mind racing as I thought of what answer to give.

I wasn't sure if we were ready to take another risk like this, and we sure as hell didn't have it in us to lose anyone else. I didn't want to deal with strangers, and judging by how big this place looked, there was going to be a lot of new people surrounding us constantly. I didn't want to go through it all over again.

My eyes panned back up to Rick's face, seeing him still waiting expectantly for any kind of indication of what I was thinking. I simply shook my head at him. And apparently that was the only answer he needed. He instantly turned to begin to walk up toward the man without a second thought, Aaron still seeming a bit unphased by the man approaching him in record speed. But before he could even blink, he fell back onto the ground harshly after Rick laid him on his ass with one single punch. It was then and only then I lowered my gun, seeing that he was passed out cold.

Everyone seemed utterly unphased with Rick's actions, except for Maggie and Sasha who quickly lowered themselves onto the ground next to him. The two looked him over carefully as they laid him down flat on his back, Daryl walking back over to search him once more just in case.

Michonne's voice sounded quietly from behind me, looking over my shoulder to see her slightly scolding Rick for what he did, seeming to believe the talk of the community. I couldn't blame her in the slightest for wanting to have hope, but everything he was spitting out almost seemed too good to be true. Rick's thoughts seemed to match mine as he didn't listen to her protests for very long, before his paranoia slipped through the cracks of the walls he attempted to build.

"We need eyes in every direction, they're coming for us." he announced, "We might not know how or when...but they are."

Maggie looked over at him in slight shock, "Sasha and I didn't even see him out there, if he wanted to hurt us he could've." she stated firmly.

But Rick ignored her, "Anyone see anything?"

"Just a lot of places to hide." Glenn muttered as he leaned further towards the small space in between the doors, squinting to try and see better into the distance.

I moved from my place, passing the few people in my way so I could come up next to him and see where he was looking. Rick demanded we keep an eye out with a slight panic in his voice and I did just that, scanning through the forest ahead of us to try and make out anything. Though I couldn't really see much from how far away we seemed to be, and who knows how many people he could potentially have out there with him.

"You see something I'm not?" Glenn asked in a hushed tone.

I shook my head, "No, nothing...we might actually have to go out there to try and find where his people are."

"If  he has any people." he clarified.

My head turned to look at him, squinting my eyes a bit while I gestured to the man still lying a few feet from us, "You can't look me in the eye and honestly tell me that this man right here, is alone out there. The guy looks like a grown eagle scouts' member for Christ's sake."

He blinked at the accuracy before his eyes settled on the ground instead, his silence alone telling me I had a point. I huffed softly to myself while glancing back outside for another moment, only to hear the man behind me suddenly laugh a little as he slowly came to.

I whipped back around to face him again, pulling out my gun to aim at his head from behind before he had the chance to get up, earning a look of disapproval from Maggie. She slowly shook her head at my actions, but I just shook my head back at her, telling her I wasn't budging.

"That's a hell of a right cross there Rick." he complimented groggily as his eyes surely still felt heavy.

Rick gestured with his hand, "Sit him up."

Maggie and Michonne moved to his aid, grasping his arms to help him up as he responded, "You're being cautious... I completely understand-"

"How many of your people are out there?" Rick asked harshly. The man hesitated to answer. "You have a flare gun to signal your people, so how many of them are there?" he asked again.

Aaron sighed, "Does it matter?"

I scoffed, "What the hell do you mean does it matter? Of course it does."

His head snapped back towards me, the end of my gun now right between his eyes as he spoke again, "I- I mean, of course it matters how many people are actually out there, but does it matter how many people I tell you are out there?"

My eyes narrowed at him, my patience thinning as he continued to speak, "Because I'm pretty sure no matter what number I say...eight, thirty-two, four hundred and forty-four, zero. No matter what I say you're not going to trust me."

"Well, it's hard to trust anybody who smiles after getting punched in the face." I pointed out as I loaded a bullet into the chamber.

He swallowed a bit thickly, "How about a guy who leaves bottles of water for you on the road?"

My heart stopped for a moment as I moved closer to press the gun up against the side of his head, causing him to laugh nervously, "How long you people been followin us?" my husband's voice cut through the thick silence.

Aaron glanced over at him, "Long enough to see that you practically ignore a pack of roamers on your trail. Long enough to see that despite a lack of food and water you never turned on each other. And long enough to see two people having a heart to heart after going through what seems like a whole lot." he finished, looking directly up to me.

His words only surprised be further, how much information he seemed to hold. But I didn't dare allow him to see how his words seemed to affect me. "You're survivors," he continued, "And you're people. Like I said- and I hope you won't punch me for saying it again, that is the most important resource in the world."

There was a long silence that followed and it seemed like we weren't getting many answers that we wanted, just answers that he wanted us to hear. I for one was getting sick of him rambling on and on, my frustration growing as I pressed the gun further into his temple to grab his attention.

When his eyes met mine, once again I asked, "How many others are out there?" my tone cold and demanding.

He sighed shakily before finally answering, "One."

I looked up instinctively to find Rick's face in the mix of the others, seeing him shaking his head at me as he copied my actions from earlier, telling me he didn't trust it one bit. Aaron looked between Rick and I, the wheels turning in his head at our silent conversation, "I knew you wouldn't believe me...if it's not words, if it's not pictures, what would it take to convince you that this is for real?"

No one answered his question, but a lightbulb seemed to appear in his head and he sat up a little straighter, disregarding the gun I still had to his head, "What if I drove you to the community?"

"No." I said immediately.

"Hey," Rick said to get my attention and held his hand out to stop me from talking, "I'm not sure how the sixteen of us are going to fit in a car you and your one friend drove down here in."

"We drove separately." he stated, "If we found a group, we wanted to be able to bring them all home, there's enough room for all of us."

"And you're parked just a couple miles away?" Carol asked.

"East on ridge road just after you hit Route 16." Aaron informed, "We wanted to get closer but then the storm came and blocked the road. We couldn't clear it."

"Yeah, you've really thought this through." Rick muttered still in disbelief.

Aaron sighed, "Rick, if I wanted to ambush you, I'd do it here. You know light the barn on fire while you slept, pick you off as you ran out the only exit...you can trust me." His eyes then moved back over to me, "And you don't have to keep a gun to my head, I won't try anything." he assured in a soft tone.

"Look at my face." I snapped.

His eyes immediately scanned my features, noticing his attention being drawn to the one thing I wanted him to see. What I wanted him to remember. I gestured towards the prominent scars, "This right here...is what happened the last time I let my guard down for a split second...so I think I'm good."

His eyes widened a little, but he didn't break eye contact as he slowly nodded, "Whatever makes you more comfortable."

His compassion threw me off a little, but I still didn't back down. I could feel everyone tense a little at the sensitive subject, and no one knew what to say next. Their minds were all racing on what to do, but I already knew my vote; we weren't going anywhere. None of us were ready to trust people again.

"I'll go check out the cars." Michonne announced, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence that fell.

"There aren't any cars." Rick spoke lowly.

"There's only one way to find out." she argued.

"We don't need to find out." he said quickly without missing a beat.

She took a step closer to him, "We do." she assured, a beat of silence passing before she continued, "You know what you know and you're sure of it...I'm not."

"Me neither." Maggie chimed in.

An unsettling feeling washed over me as I looked at the two of them in disbelief, slowly raising to my full height again and taking the gun away from Aaron's head in the process, "Hold on...have you guys forgotten the last time we tried to join a community, because I haven't."

The room was silent again as I continued to move forward towards them, "Hell, I wasn't even there and I remember how fucked up that shit was, what if this is the same thing? Do we really want to take that risk?"

"I would." Aaron piped in from behind me.

My face dropped as I turned around slowly again to face him, "Does it look like I was talking to you?"

His mouth clamped shut again, looking down toward the ground to avoid my eyes which caused a satisfied hum to escape me before I turned back to face the others. "All I'm staying is this is a big risk, and quite frankly I don't know if I'm willing to take it."

"No, we're doing this," Sasha argued, "We aren't going to let your one bad feeling ruin it for the rest of us...it's not our fault you have trust issues."

Her words cut through me like a knife as I instinctively stepped closer to her, but her hand flying towards her gun in her holster caused me to pause, my eyes traveling to it cautiously. I scoffed to myself as my eyes met hers again, continuing to slowly step closer to her, ignoring the protests of Rick from just behind my head. I didn't stop until I practically right in her face, tilting my head with narrowed eyes at the silent threat she had just made.

"Go ahead." I spoke.

She didn't meet my gaze, she simply couldn't because of her all bark no bite attitude, yet her hand didn't move either. I lowered my head a bit so she would finally look me in the eye and when I got her attention, I spoke again.

"Do it." I challenged.

I watched as her jaw clenched a few times before finally removing her hand and staying in place with her head hung low. She was really going to shoot me over a disagreement? Fuck this bitch.

I nodded my head with a scoff and backed away from her before I did something I regretted, feeling a hand on my shoulder turning me around. I came face to face with Rick as he tried to get my attention, clearly trying to prevent a fight from breaking out as he pulled me away from her.

"It wouldn't hurt to check out." Rick admitted quietly, his hand giving my shoulder a squeeze as if a silent plea not to freak out.

My eyes widened in shock, "You're kidding."

He shook his head, "If it's safe, we have nothing to worry about. We could send a group to check it out."

"And what happened to not believing this asshole five seconds ago?"

He sighed, "I'm thinking of Judith...and Carl...If this place is real and it's safe, the kids could have a life there...right?"

He knew damn well what he was doing by bringing the kids into this and it was working. Of course I knew that they both needed somewhere to grow up, not just the random shelter we found here and there, but an actual gated place. A safe place. One that they wouldn't have to be constantly watching their backs for the potential danger.

Which is the only reason why I found myself slowly nodding my head, "Okay...fine. But I'm going with that group to check the cars."

"Hell no you ain't." Daryl quickly stepped in upon hearing my assertiveness.

"I want to see for myself." I gently argued, "It'll help convince me that this is actually real...please."

He didn't get much of a chance to respond before Glenn spoke up, "I'll go too."

"Me too." Maggie offered.

I smiled at them in appreciation before looking over towards Abraham. As soon as we made eye contact, he nodded in agreement, "I'll walk with 'em." he stated while loading his gun.

Rick squeezing my shoulder caused me to look at him again, "Be safe." he said seriously.

"I will." I promised, pulling him in for a quick hug.

Once we broke away, I walked over to my bag to grab a few extra arrows, purposefully avoiding Daryl who clearly didn't like the fact that I was joining the others for the little quest. But I had all the badasses coming with me so I knew we would be fine no matter what happened. Though I knew he wouldn't let me leave without getting at least a few words in, and to no surprise, he was standing just behind me when I finally turned back around.

"Yes?" I asked sweetly, trying to butter him up at least a little.

He grumbled a little at my tone, "I don't like that yer goin out there..."

I sighed, "Yeah, well it's not up to you. Plus, I've always been able to handle myself fine, you know that better than anyone." I said as I adjusted the weapons on my frame.

He nodded, "I know...but that don't mean I gotta like it."

I smiled a little at him and stepped forward to leave a small kiss on his cheek, before pulling him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and cradled the back of my head with one of his rough hands, kissing the side of it tenderly.

"Stay safe, ya hear me?" he muttered into my hair.

I nodded, "You too."

And just like that, we were off.

The small group we formed walked further and further away from the others in comfortable silence, taking the opportunity to let my mind wander a bit. I wanted to trust this guy. If I was being honest, he seemed genuine, and the pictures looked to be real. But then again people had become insanely dangerous, and risks were something that this group didn't do very often with every good reason you could imagine behind it.

I wanted this place to be real so badly but I almost didn't want to admit it out loud as if it would somehow jinx it. All of us deserved a safe place to rest our heads at night and eat a decent meal, but especially the kids. I wanted this place to be real for them. I wanted them to be able to grow up in a good environment, not one that was filled with fear. We had all been through so much, practically hell and back, that I felt we earned this.

Maybe this would be it. And I guess we were all about to find out.

~ Thanks for reading!

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[haru-natsuka]

Second Male Leads Are all Yanderes but I Won't Rest Until I Win My Love Back (Female Reader x OCs)

CHAPTER 6

Story will start after the synopsis

Every second male lead who appeared in this world had a hidden yandere side that can emerge at any moment and turn them into a twisted and obsessive villain.

As someone with a severe case of the "second male lead syndrome", you are determined to pursue your love for the second male lead, leaving the original male lead to become the second.

While you were busy chasing after the second male lead, the original male lead kept on bothering you and trying to get you to choose him instead.

"Don't you dare to come any closer!" You snap at the original male lead, your tone sharp and firm.

"Oh, and who's going to stop me? You?" The yandere stares at you, a menacing look in their eyes, as their body slowly moves closer.

"Too close! Step back!"

"Your words mean nothing to me. You can't control me. I will come as close as I please, you can't stop me."

As if a yandere was not enough, when you chose to ignore the original male lead, another second male lead suddenly entered your life, further complicating the situation.

The yandere and the upcoming second male lead both seem determined to have you for themselves, and they were both very possessive and pushy in their approaches to you.

You just wanted to be happy with your true love. Yandere or not, you would stick with your crush!

CHAPTER 1 << CHAPTER 2 << CHAPTER 3 << CHAPTER 4 << CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6: WORRISOME

Adrian's voice was filled with a mix of relief and anxiety as he pulled back you to be completely within his arms, the back of your head was gently being held by him which lead for your face pressed against his chest.

His hold on you growing tighter with each passing second. He clutched you as if ensuring your presence was real and solid, a desperate need to feel your safety.

"I'm just glad you're safe," he repeated, his words choked with emotion. "But please, promise me never to disappear like that again. I was losing my mind with worry."

"Ohhh Adrian," you replied, a hint of amusement laced in your tone as you tried to lighten the tense surrounding and his worry. "Did you miss me that much?" you teased. "We were only apart for a few hours, and here I am, safe and sound."

As you spoke, you extended your hand to pat his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart beneath your palm while doing so. It beat so quickly, a testament to the anxiety he had endured.

"It was more than just a few hours," he murmured, his grip on you unyielding.

"It was 8 hours, 43 minutes, and 27 seconds," His words carrying a hint of desperation. "Anything could have happened to you in that time!" The gravity of his concern was evident in his voice, a reflection of the anxious hours he had spent waiting for your return.

'Wow, that's a bit too precise'

"I-!..."

Adrian paused for a moment, a glimmer of insight flickering in his eyes. He seemed to be engaged in a silent conversation with himself, contemplating his own actions and their consequences. After a few seconds, he turned his gaze back to you, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Is it because I was being a bit emotional earlier?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of self-reflection. "Is this my punishment for that?"

He gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and affectionate as he stared at your face with a familiar mixture of pain and guilt expression that indicated his internal emotion. As you observed Adrian's expression, a pang of recognition and concern registered within you.

'This face is the exact one he had as that time... When his heart was broken because of his best friends... Adrian is self blaming himself again...'

"Look at me, Adrian. I'm fine, healthy, perfectly well and I am here now right?"

You cup his face in your hands. Adrian's gaze reluctantly lifted to meet yours, his eyes pained but hopeful. The torment and guilt evident on his face slowly ebbed away as you spoke.

"Instead of thinking about today, let's focus on tomorrow. Let's spend the whole day together until we got bored!" you suggested, your voice warm and soothing as you were comforting your man. "We can do farming, planting tomatoes, cherries... Oh! or we can go fishing too."

Adrian's expression visibly brightened at your suggestion, the guilt and worry gradually fading from his eyes as he saw you were trying to comfort him just like you always did. The you who always consoled him. The you, who always forgive him. Seeing your willingness to offer support, Adrian made the conscious decision not to dwell on his negative emotions.

He smiled, a genuine smile that reached all the way to his eyes. The smile that could shine a thousand miles away. That was your Adrian smile.

"That does sound wonderful. As long as I get to spend time with you, it doesn't matter what we do. I will never left you alone anymore. It will never be boring." he replied, his voice carrying a mixture of excitement and relief.

"But still don't push yourself too much with my whims. Are you suggesting to be with me even by sacrificing your sleep time?" Adrian's tone shifted, becoming more serious as he voiced his concerns. There was an air of caution in his words, and he looked at you with a hint of worry.

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you responded to Adrian's concern with a lighthearted tone, a hint of a mischievous smirk on your lips.

"Oh, don't worry about me, Adrian," you reassured him. "I can always make up for it later by dozing off in those cozy arms of yours."

Upon hearing your lighthearted response, a soft chuckle escaped Adrian's lips. He could not help but be endeared by your confident nonchalance. The thought of you dozing off in his arms brought a tender smile to his face.

"I'll take it as a badge of honor for being such a comfort to you, Y/N"

As he looked at you closely, he could notice the subtle signs of exhaustion on your face. He recalled how unsteady your breathing was when he first laid eyes on you. a pang of guilt washed over him as he realized how self-centered he had been for holding you back.

"You know, you seem a bit tired," his voice gentle and filled with worry. "We should head back to our home."

The word of our home echoed in your brain as it could be define as another meaning but no, Adrian would not mean that. Adrian was simply innocent and pure while you were really lustful and impure.

'Is it wrong to have this thoughts and imagination, oh God forgive me for wanting to steal your angel'

As you tried to take a few steps backwards, preparing yourself for the walk home but almost immediately, you fall flat on the ground. Adrian, caught off guard by your unexpected fall, failed to catch you in time. Your startled expression mirrored the surprise on Adrian's face as he quickly rushed over to your side, kneeling down beside you as he observed your condition.

"I'm sorry but my legs are too shaky" You give him an assuring smile but in your mind, you blamed the entire thing on that scoundrel who disturbed your date with your man earlier.

'Next time we meet, I will punch his face for sure. No- there should not be another time. Hmmph! He should just rot in hell!'

"Are you really alright? Should we go to a physician? Can I examine your legs?" He instinctively reached out to check your legs, but you gently stopped his hand, giving him a reassuring smile.

"I'm good Adrian. Let just go home. I'm just in need for a rest"

Respecting your insistence, Adrian refrained from bombarding you with questions. With a gentle yet firm grip, he carefully lifted you into his arms, carrying you effortlessly towards your home. A sense of responsibility washed over him, fueling his determination to care for you, making up for his own actions that morning.

Your whole body tensed, startled to be in the arms of the person you love but did not complain as you viewed this as an opportunity to indulge yourself with being held within his warm arms. Your eyes trailed from his chest to his face and the most closest part to you, his neck.

'Neck fetish, please don't activate now'

You slapped yourself multiple times in your mind but in reality you hung your head low and covered your face with your hands as you bite the inner part of your mouth to control your desire. You did not want your man to think you were somehow mental or crazy.

As you were busy fangirling in your heart and brain, you noticed the short path to your house became long. You slowly raised your head and saw his expression shifting from conflicted to reddened with embarrassment. The tinge of red on his cheeks growing more apparent with each passing moment. Adrian stepped halt in front of the door of your house.

Despite being neighbours, neither you nor Adrian had ever crossed the line and entered each other's homes. Both of you had a strong respect for each other's privacy, and Adrian was keenly aware of the boundaries and propriety associated with a man entering a single lady's residence.

"Adrian, you can put me down now"

Adrian hesitated for a brief moment, his protective instincts refusing to let go of you just yet when you were in that weak state.

"But-" he protested, his voice laced with concern.

"The strength of my legs has returned. Thank you for making it easier for me" Adrian just tighten his hold on you as he reluctant to let you be on your own. Amused by his adorable yet concerning behavior, you refrained from making it more challenging for him, even though secretly, you found it quite endearing.

"If you don't put me down, your first kiss here will be mine" You tapped your finger lightly on his lips as you chose to threaten him with the most effective way for Adrian. It was a coward move but it was the best action for him and at this time.

"I know you, Y/N. You will not force yourself on me" It was not like yesterday the two of you know each other and Adrian could distinguish between a true and empty threat coming from you. He was still stubborn to help you although he is hopeless now.

Without thinking twice, you brought yourself closer to his lips "Then, you need to know me better. My heart is always for you, so kissing the person you love..., it's not hard at all Adrian"

His blushing worsen as he did not expect that move from you. He choose to carefully lower you to the ground as he knew now that was not an empty threat, ensuring that you were steady on your feet before reluctantly letting go.

You let out a lighthearted chuckles as you had fun teasing your man. However, the truth was, you also feeling shy for making such a move. You still could feel his hot breath on your face earlier and your heart still pounding so hard. You took his hands in your hold and kissed his fingertips just to add his embarrassment more.

"Thank you for always care for me. I know I choose the right person to fall in love with"

Adrian timidly took back his hands and just pat your head gently. His eyes could not even land on you properly as he was still a blushing madness. His other hand covered part of his lower face.

"Take care, Y/N. Goodnight" Adrian could not even talk properly that his words became a whisper.

"Night too Adrian. Sweet dreams and see you tomorrow" You closed the door before melting on the floor as you scream for your stupidity.

"Where did that courage come from! What did I do! How can I even do that!"

You wanted to bang your head for choosing such a low quality threat for Adrian. Outside of your house was Adrian who heard you scream. He took a sit in front of the entrance as he tried to cool down his red face and ears with the night's chill air. This time, he was the one feeling weak on his feet.

The following morning, you woke up before the sun had even risen, your steps light with anticipation as you reminisced about the events of the previous day.

'Let's not think about the negative side! Just remember you got to see Adrian flustered face! His hot breath! His muscles arms! I should learn painting and paint myself that spectacular scenery!'

It was a pleasant and calm morning. Just as you were about to walk into the forest, passing the first line of trees, a long-standing enemy revealed himself from behind the tree.

"AHHHHHH!!!"

'THE SATAN HAS REVEALED HIMSELF AGAIN!!!'

Tag list:

@d3sperate-enuf @sirenetheblogger @orinnie @aoiyx @chin-chii @elsoleil @iamapotatoe @yzuposts @black-butterfly-2405

@beeskn3es @ivorette @type-ink @lol-leo

[meownotgood]

pillars. / viktor x gn!reader, fluff and angst, lots of angst actually, implied childhood friends, confession kisses, mentions of death, one singular czech pet name, kissing viktor's moles, takes place during s1 act 2, so technically no s2 spoilers but some things are implied. word count: 7.9k

read on ao3

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"You look exhausted," You hum, your voice thick with fatigue in unison, "Don't you think you should rest?" 

Viktor takes a breath deep and slow enough to hear, his hands briefly faltering as he twirls a small, bronze magnifying glass with his fingers, but he doesn't reply, nor does he turn away from his notes. 

The lab is cool, quiet — aside from the distant hum of various pressure valves and idle machinery. The Hexcore thrums. Runic engravings litter each complex, geometric surface. Viktor rests his balled-up hand on his face, bony knuckles pressing into his cheek. With his inkpen, he messily scrawls something into his notebook. Low, blue light illuminates the cluttered room and his workspace. Each side of the Hexcore pulses when you approach behind him, twirling to its own complex, ominous rhythm. Acknowledging you, somewhat. 

Viktor inhales sharply, and shakes his head frustratedly, crossing out what he'd just written with jittery, forceful motions. 

It wouldn't be the first time you've found him here, like this, mulling over some sort of invention or idea when most of the city is already asleep. Falling into a focused routine is merely second nature. And normally, you wouldn't protest. 

When you were much, much younger, staying awake as long as you could felt fun. Helping Viktor cram studying for exams in between finishing an invention the night before Progress Day became a yearly occurrence. In the weeks before finalizing blueprints for the Hexgates, you'd almost forgotten when either of you had last seen the sun. It's just that this routine has been far more absorbing, far more taxing — and the repercussions are painted clearly on Viktor's shadowed face. 

He looks drained. Worn. Like if he tried to stand, if he wasn't leaning against his desk and absorbed in his research, the weight of his own exhaustion might make him crumble and collapse. The ends of his hair stick out in messy, curled strands, from where he's anxiously twirled them around his fingers. 

You hate the dark bags that have made their home under his eyes. You feel a knot in your gut as you watch Viktor's hands; shaky, and imprecise. Flipping through the pages of his notebook to search for something. Tracing a sentence with the end of his inkpen, only for his gaze to flicker back to the start when the words failed to register. 

You sigh. Forcing a smile, even though he can't see it, you take another stumbling step forwards. Your arms wrap around his thin figure loosely, and your weight settles gently yet firmly against his hunched back, in something of a tender, evocative hug. 

Viktor shifts, his grip tightens on his pen when it almost slips. You nuzzle into the perfect, head-shaped space at the crook of his neck, breathing him in — flooding your senses with a coffee-warm richness, with the scent of ash and sweat and lingering sparks. 

His gaze softens like melted honey. As if the simple press of your body to his returned pieces to himself he'd thought he lost. Brows unpinching, your heat at his neck spreads across him in waves, contradicting the collected edge kept in his tone. 

"I'm not yet tired," Viktor lies, trying his hardest not to lean into your embrace. "I'd like to analyze this for a few moments longer. This page is," He shakes his head. "Incomplete. If I could find the key to what induces some form of response, then-" 

As if on queue, the Hexcore sparks with energy, twirling faster, glowing with luminous constellations. Viktor swiftly moves to jot something down, but as fast as the Hexcore reacted, it's just as quick to return to normalcy. 

He mutters something under his breath, slightly jostling you from his shoulders when he leans forwards in focus. 

"I swear," You're grumbling; you rest your chin on the hard edge of his shoulder, glancing between the Hexcore and his notes with passive interest. "You've always been like this." 

"Like what?" Viktor flips through his notebook once more. "Stubborn, I'm assuming?" 

"Stubborn, yes. Smart. Terribly ambitious." You reach up, until you're able to place a few taps onto his forehead with the end of your finger. Viktor barely seems to notice. He adds onto an almost-full page by messily writing in the margins. 

"I know how hard it is for you to stop those gears in that brain of yours. Once they're going, it's impossible to get them to stop." 

"Mm. And you know how important this pursuit is in particular, yes?" 

He reaches for a notched turn dial on the opposite side of his desk, connected to the Hexcore by a series of braided wires and support poles. Your gaze follows his hands — gripping carefully, with delicate, calloused fingers. There's a distinct pause. A moment of palpable tension, as you both instinctively hold your breath. 

Viktor twists the dial. Once, twice. 

The Hexcore gives off a few miniscule, pitiful sparks, like a God's first attempt at a lightning storm. And he expels a long, drowsy, disappointed sigh. 

"I do," You murmur, sympathetic. 

Viktor grinds his jaw, hard enough to feel it aching, but even through his fierce familiarity with self-induced destruction, even though he isn't deserving of this, he can't hope to hold onto the ragged bites of stress in his veins. Not when you're so warm, when the feeling you ignite in his chest with your voice alone is so terribly soft. He has missed this. 

"But I also know," You're continuing, "Every time you get close to a breakthrough, once you let yourself rest," Viktor's head nods sleepily, struggling not to fall, and you playfully tap your index finger to the end of his nose. 

"That's when you find it." 

Part of him wishes he could keep himself from listening. Of course, as strongly as he wants to be better and more efficient, because taking a break is like admitting defeat, and defeat is worse than accepting he might've reached the end of his line — he knows you're right. 

Placing the cap on his pen, he leaves it in the middle of his notebook, closes the pages to save his spot before hastily, reluctantly pushing it aside. 

You grin. You slowly shift up, and Viktor feels your arms sliding from his shoulders, your weight leaving his body. For a second, he thinks you might move, believes you'll leave and feels a sharp grind between his ribs at the thought. Instead, you place your palms on his rigid shoulders, and you squeeze. 

His lashes flutter, eyes partially rolling into his skull. His head grows dizzy, like he'd been spun. Frustration melts out of him as warmth and light take its place, shining from your touch like the kiss of stars and the rays of the sun. Bright and lovely; galaxies weaving themselves into his tired muscles. 

Relaxing, he can't help but lean back, dropping his head against your waiting chest. 

"I saw Jayce before I left this morning," You're murmuring. It's in one ear, and out the other at first. You lean in, speaking close to him this time, to make sure you've been heard. Your voice shudders through him, warm like candle wax. "Says he hasn't seen you sleep in days." 

"In one day," Viktor corrects, rather matter-of-fact for someone who's busy melting into you like his limbs are boneless. "Technically, about twenty- no, twenty two hours. More or less. Honestly… hardly worth the over-exaggeration." 

"Vik," You scoff playfully, breath fanning warmly on his skin. "You're doing it again." 

Your palms move. They drift from his shoulders to his arms, fingertips gently toying with his sleeves in a foolish attempt to touch his skin. He tilts his head all the way back, and cracks his weary eyes open to look at you. 

"And what is it I'm doing?" 

"Saying things that make me worry about you. And then expecting me not to." 

"I am not-" 

Right then, before he can speak, your hands return to his now-tensed shoulders; they combat the ache in his chest and the tightness in his throat when they roll his muscles. His chest thrums with a soothing gentleness, rich and saccharine, difficult to swallow down. 

"You are worried about me?" Viktor questions, sighing slightly when your hands work out a particularly old, tightened knot. "I have not seen you in… who knows how many days. I have lost count." 

Your mouth forms a hard line. 

"I- I know," You're answering, hands drifting down smoothly, as if they're carried on waves. They find where his tie is neatly fastened around his collar, grasping the diamond and pulling to loosen it. "I've been trying not to get in your way. Everything is just- Jayce is a counselor now, and you're busy with a thousand different things. I'm not going to interrupt your work with my stupid-" 

"Our work." Viktor's tone is resolute. It holds you, grounds you against the raging winds in your mind that threaten to pull at your pieces. "Hextech was furthered by your contributions. Do not forget that." 

You swallow, but it does little to chase away the dryness in your throat. In a hasty, abrupt motion, your palm grasps Viktor's shoulder, this time twisting his chair to make him face you. He eyes you with surprise for a moment, his tired gaze tender and weak enough to light the shrapnel in your stomach. 

"Viktor." Your head tilts, affectionate. You reach up, and brush away the messy strands of hair that cover his pretty face and tickle his forehead. "This research, this dream of yours, it's-" 

"It is a necessary risk." 

Gaze wide, you freeze up. Viktor exhales sharply, glances away from you to focus on something in the distance instead — messy shelves of discarded machinery, inventions you once worked on together, etched with your signature and his — because the way you're looking at him has an ache prodding at his heart, sharp and thorned.  

"Finalizing this thesis would simply be the beginning," Viktor continues, passionate, gradually starting to talk with his hands. "Think of the lives we could save, of the good we could prosper from this sort of technology. Enough to improve the Undercity for the better, to provide rationale for the potential dangers. I understand you are worried- but this is our life's work we are talking about. If we were to determine the true limits of Hextech, it would make our efforts worth it, in spite of… even if…" 

He stops, trails off. Glances up, and decides he might've said too much. You understand. You have always understood where all of this is going. 

The lives he could change would be worth the price, even if he was to throw away his. 

Tattered threads tear from within you — unspoken, buried deep. You've become well acquainted with the taste of denial. Sharp on your tongue, thick in your throat to meld with the bile. It sits on your lips as words better left unspoken. Eats away at your skin and your flesh and your core, settles in your limbs and at the tips of your useless fingers. Reverberates, until the ringing in your ears begins to sound like him. 

Piltover feels so distant, with the idle noise of the lab filling the room. Miles away, even though you're right in its heart. Nothing has ever been fair. It cast you aside, it was never your home. He was. 

All you've received for ages now are fake sentiments, vague reassurances. Reminders of how terribly futile your ambitions have proven to be. Every sun has to set, every star will burn out — but fuck, you don't want him to burn. 

Your mind is dizzy. Each thought spins, tipped faster and faster. Light pounds from behind your eyelids, and your stomach churns, making you nauseous. The lines blur between Viktor's figure, the floor, and the dull aura of the Hexcore, beginning to overlap everything together. 

You aren't present, or perhaps you're wishing to be anywhere but here. Curled beneath the covers, hiding under your bed like you did when you were a child, running to the furthest, broken edge of the universe so you wouldn't have to imagine him slipping through your fingertips; Viktor draws you back, grasping your chin oh-so gently. He tilts you towards him, puts your focus on him to push the rest of the world into the background. 

"Though, I suppose there is no harm in stopping for the night," Viktor reasons, his tone a soft murmur, devastatingly gentle. "I have missed you. I believe I may have neglected to make myself clear." 

And for a brief reprieve, there isn't anything sweeter. Nothing this fatal. 

His arm braces behind him, elbow resting on the edge of the desk. You follow through when he gently keeps you in place, steady on his direction; you're a compass, and he's Polaris. Your gazes don't separate, magnetized together like a hex crystal to iron. 

For a moment, he forms a small pout, in a way that would have you grinning if the circumstances were different. His expression ripens, becomes soft. Almost guilty. A plea and an apology and some form of a confession, muddled into one dangerous, indecipherable nebula. 

"You sure?" You're muttering, trying to keep your tone upbeat, regardless. "Your project looks like it's itching to fly away." 

"Eh," Viktor shrugs, he allows his thumb to brush over your cheek. "I'm sure it can wait. It understands I have more important things to focus on." 

His touch makes you ache. Guides your sorrow to entwine with his, digs in deep to grasp at your chest with such devastating familiarity. 

It's an excruciating reminder of how much you have craved this. How badly it hurts, to feel Viktor's hand tremble as he touches you, slightly unsure, when you wish he wouldn't be. Exhaustion is wound so deeply into his system, you'd think he was born with it. He brushes his palm from your cheek to your jaw, caressing idly, in an absent, lazy motion. And it frustrates you, because you know you'll soon be lost, wishing you could feel his touch again. 

Every pound of your heart reminds you of everything — of the brushes of fingers, when passing tools and pens at the work table. Hands solidly grabbing one another to steady anxieties, to offer familiar reminders. Nights spent categorizing constellations, while in your eyes, Viktor's radiance burned brighter than any distant galaxy. 

Gentle touches pressed to weary limbs. Tightening machinery, releasing the gears on a brace. An arm offered to help him stand. Instinctually standing beside him, at the side that might need you. Fingertips exploring the notches of a spine, traveling rivers of veins, mapping out star-shaped clusters of freckles. 

Tired moments much like this, but instead of protests and strives against fate, there were lovely brushes of whispers. Twin dips in the same bed, murmurs of, I'm here, you can go back to sleep. Touches that wished for themselves to be something more, something lasting. Though they knew they'd evaporate by morning. 

It's far too late to still rely on daydreams. 

You let the haze die out, tracing the edges of his hard knuckles as an apology before you clumsily push his hand from your cheek. Standing up straight, the lab seeming more cold and quiet and empty than ever, you choose to put distance in between yourself, and your lost love. 

"Sorry. I shouldn't-" Breathe, you've got to remind yourself to breathe. Air catches in your lungs, sharp and dizzy, and you quickly shake your head. "Viktor, I-" 

Gods, Viktor shouldn't have to choose between you and his ambition. He shouldn't need to place his own body in the middle of making a difference, and saving himself. There's still so much you haven't done, haven't said. The life you both dreamed of and fought for is crumbling, he still has so much he was meant to accomplish, and yet — 

A hand grabs your wrist with surprising force, to keep you from taking another step back. 

Viktor's brows pinch. "Do not tell me you're thinking of leaving." 

Oh. Your gaze finally travels up from your feet, and he looks hurt; his voice barely manages to avoid cracking around the edges. His fingers dig into your wrist sharply, desperately. 

Viktor's jaw tightens, his firm grip causing veins to show in his wrist. Your shoulders slump, and you exhale. 

"I'll walk home with you. You shouldn't sleep here, it's bad for your-" 

"No, no you will not," Viktor interrupts, exasperation echoed through his tone, pain and worry laced through the lines of his palms to compel them to shake. "Tell me why you are refusing to stay. It's been weeks without change, why must you run off the moment I attempt to make time for you? I doubt you have any idea how much this torments me." 

Weeks of avoidance, days upon days where he'd watch you disappear too soon. Viktor would turn, he'd say something to the empty air because he expected you to be there, but you would be gone, absent from the lab or the hallways or the dorm you once shared. Bitter sentimentality, the hurt you forgot to take with you, is all that would linger in his bones. 

Just how far are you willing to run — in vain, until your legs might snap — to pretend you won't lose the only thing you have left, your friend, your partner, to imagine you might escape the certainty of his conclusion? 

Your gaze is flighty. It carries raindrops, flutters on soft wings, between him and the intricate, statuette angles of his face. Between the ground and the desk, and the glowing Hexcore. He has rarely seen you so unsettled. When your emotions run high, you hide them from him; unsuccessfully, he might add. Your wrist flexes beneath his palm as he feels your hand clench, and unclench. 

Little by little, you're tugging his heart from between his ribs. Tearing it apart like petals pulled, like the games you used to get lost in when you both were kids; you love him, you love him not —

"I can't stay. I wasn't- I shouldn't have tried to come back to the lab in the first place," You answer, dejected. His grip only tightens on your wrist when you pull. "Viktor, please." 

"Answer me. I need you to say something," Viktor grits out, voice getting louder, his shoulders tensed with frustration. "What is the cause of this- this fracture in between us?" 

Your arm drops. Your bottom lip quivers, and your breath gets caught in your lungs. The expression on your face is more sore than he's ever seen it, painful enough to kill, bordering on bursting into tears. 

And then, your voice quiets. "I don't want to watch you die." 

The Hexcore gives off a low, rumbling sound. The lab becomes quiet enough to hear the individual ticks of machinery gears. 

Viktor's grip loosens on your wrist, only slightly. He doesn't speak, he can't listen to his heart or his head when he's placed between the persistent thrumming of both. You aren't looking at him. Regret dawns on your face, then sadness, then something he can't recognize when you turn your head away. Fatigue curls into his system, and settles amongst everything else: the guilt, the anticipation. The raw, forceful tenderness. 

It's a reminder that you're right. 

The passing of each slow second seems to exist for just the two of you. Dragging on and on. Barely helping him to find any answers. If only there was more time. 

Words could never be enough, burying your emotions like lodging a knife way deep in your chest isn't working. Your partner was made to burn bright, to exist as an act of defiance itself. To dedicate his mind and his body and his bruised hands to progress, no matter the obstacles or limitations, the past grievances or untold emotions. 

So many moments were never adequately spent. Days and weeks across years taunted you, moments spent as friends and colleagues, despite half of you belonging to him. 

You just needed one push, one thrust into the light to stop you from holding back, because you knew you risked ruining everything. But if Viktor continues, if the Hexcore grows more and more dangerous, if the council continues to require more of him, and what you haven't spoken about becomes true — there won't be anything left to ruin.

And as he watches you collapse, firm on the outside but weak on the inside, turning back to him because you have to, not because you want to, Viktor finally understands. 

He knows this body is… wilting. 

Decaying; he can feel every ounce of newfound weakness in his limbs, knows he's a servant to his own existence as it waits for him to waste away. Many from the Undercity are much less fortunate. He is grateful you are stronger than him. 

More pressingly, he is acutely, abruptly aware of how little time he's spent with you — it runs as fierce in his chest as the hourglass-shaped reminders of the short span he has left. You used to be inseparable, you shared the same dreams. Your talks weren't limited to melancholy utterances of, Have you eaten yet? and, Is your leg okay? and, I never see you anymore, will this time be the last? 

How he's chosen to treat himself are small deaths, in a way. Promises to join you later that led to nothing, nights of exhaustion framed by mornings of fading in and out. He's followed his own guide to avoidance, the steps were simply laid out differently. He's grown sick of it, truly. And deep down, or perhaps on the surface, he is so, terribly exhausted. 

Swallowing thickly, you remain frozen in place, waiting for him to give up, for his hand to slip from your wrist. When it does, you continue to linger. Your heart pounds loud in your ears. Little glances at him greet you with his face downcast, his shoulders slumped. 

You sigh — and you decide this can't be it, or perhaps you're just not ready. You draw yourself dangerously close, to trail your knuckles down Viktor's sharp jaw as a weak apology. 

If there's one thing he isn't accustomed to, it's throwing logic to the wind. Viktor tries to think of this like his notes, attempts to categorize and interpret these emotions. He imagines there's diagrams and logs in his own swirly handwriting, outlines that would guide him to precisely what he needs to do. 

None of it works, of course. It's a terribly juvenile line of thinking. And he's rarely one to give into impulsivity, but you make it so difficult to think, to focus. 

His breathing is already quickening and sharpening, creating pockets of light in his weak lungs, even through the reminders of his own mortality's shadow. Nothing is more important than the feeling you cradle in his chest, bright and fate-defying. 

It would not be like him to accept this. To fade out with a hundred contributions unfinished, a thousand words unspoken. Confessions meant to fall from his voice like meteor showers, fears and regrets with no way to form on his tongue. The thought alone leaves him troubled, choked. His jaw tightens in frustration, only relaxing when the ghost of your fingertips guides him to. 

Low light frames you, the features of your face troubled; oh, he can hardly remember the last time he's seen your smile. But he remembers, knows it to be beautiful. The slight softening his gaze undergoes as it flickers across you is utterly familiar — you pointed it out, once. 

Your eyes overfill with warmth, they melt like amber. Your pupils widen like big, lovesick moons. His head can't help but spin; there's so much he never realized, when you did.

His hands like to absently search for something to fiddle with when he needs to think. His fingers have a habit of tapping against something methodically: his desk, the spine of his notebook, his own forehead. The mark above his mouth follows his lips, when they tip into a smile. He's doing it now, surely. Softening in your afterimage. Gaze warm, honeyed, hopeful. 

No, he isn't sure if his fate can be changed; he's treading close, but he isn't dying yet. The Hexcore is unresponsive to every stimulus he's attempted, but his research is far from complete. There are mountains of quandaries he isn't sure he can fix, pitfalls remaining just out of his control. All but one, all but this. This is something he could do, something he can change. 

You almost speak. Almost give some useless, parting words when his tired, gentle eyes drift back to yours, two ships on the same sea. He's inquisitive, hesitant, his brows creased together in thought and with conviction. The mere sight of him — hair a mess, skin pallid, ignites a thousand feelings and worries in your gut; a lighter tossed to a puddle of gasoline. 

It's something Viktor picks up on. 

You look pained. Unsure of yourself, from the way your eyes can't quite meet his own, from how your hand slips away from his cheek, as everything in you threatens to disappear. Weary, as you gaze at him like you've already lost him. 

You've forgotten how to read him, he realizes. Caught up on what you might lose, the both of you have forgotten what you could have. Viktor's heart feels like it might burst, with enough force to make the sun's implosion look weak, and you don't understand, he'd have to show you. 

He takes it as a sign. Grasps the last chance you've extended to him, and runs with it as fast as he can. 

His name dies on your mouth, before you have the chance to speak it. Echoes haunt your soul when his palm finds your cheek, solid, sure; Viktor pulls you in hard, threads of distance easily closed, and he presses his lips to yours with an intensity that feels vividly visceral. 

It won't fix what's already been done. This isn't a promise, falling short between being reassurance and becoming a goodbye. It isn't the way he would want to confess, if fate was kind enough to give him a choice. 

But Gods, logic and reason, worry and mortality are all melting into nothing. Fading and fizzing into the sky, budding and beginning anew in his lungs — because for so long, he has needed this, needed you. As fiercely as dead parchment longs to be burned. 

Your body immediately goes tense in surprise. Your arms awkwardly hover in place, until Viktor's head tilts, following the gentle aria, his palm brushing from your jaw to your cheek to hold you close — as though you're still prone to vanishing, if he were to let go. Like this is the beginning of too many firsts, and even more lasts. This kiss is worthy of savoring. 

So, you do. You let your eyes flutter closed. You shift forwards with a shaky step, practically stumbling into him. 

It's sweeter than you ever could have pictured. The subtle roughness to his chapped lips. The slight tickle of his breath, when you pull apart for long enough to hesitate, but not enough to gain the wisdom to stop. 

Soft kisses draw you further, closer. A hand holds his cheek, a palm braces to his shoulder. Careful to use little force, to avoid any accidental hurt. 

Viktor follows, leans back, has you bending closer as you get caught in his butterfly effect; blue light bathes you, and the Hexcore shifts, utterly radiant. There's a moment of separation, a brief second where your eyes barely get to flutter open. A pause that promises to be your last opportunity for regret. Greedy and urgent, brutally eager, Viktor drags you back in, keeping you caught in his penumbra. Coaxing you to cage him in — to kiss him like you mean it. 

The taste of you is vivid, perfect, intense, rich; you make charged electricity glitter down his spine when your fingers curl into the soft, chestnut tresses of his hair. Grasping, pulling, leaving it even messier than it already was before. 

Your lips part, your breath forms an intoxicating meld with his. And he is only foolishly, stupidly human. Made of flesh and bright dreams, etched with soft skin and fervent desires. Too weak, desperate, and caught in your echo to contemplate anything but the way his own name sounds — the V is a soft vibration, the completion of the consonants makes it sound like reverence — when it's breathed into his mouth. 

Hazily, he feels your palm press, shoving gently to his chest, pushing his back against the desk in a clumsy effort to bring yourself closer. His chair shifts slightly from the movement, rusted wheels grating the tile. Your palm finds its place between his lower back and the desk's firm edge, bracing some of his weight, and acting as a buffer, keeping him from pressing against it. 

Viktor melts underneath you, breathes a soft noise into your mouth that begs you not to stop — as if you could. As if you haven't wanted this in an unquantifiable amount of ways, across an infinitum of discarded daydreams. You're left to steal gasps in between, clinging onto quickened sighs that rival the struggle of keeping your head above water, as wild waves crash over your skull. 

Out of breath, he blindly fumbles to find your shoulder; pushes gently, silently asks you for a moment of reprieve. 

You draw back immediately. You're unable to stop yourself from shuddering when he softly breathes your name. Familiar accent curling around the syllables, giving them life and importance like your name was made for him to say. To whisper, to covet, to plead. 

"Lásko," Viktor coos, as his eyes grow heavy. Glinting, with a spark of zeal that tells you to stop holding back. 

You're well acquainted with the warm, softhearted nickname. You know it to be something Viktor taught you himself, between gentle explorations of the few things you didn't already know about one another, when your late-night curiosity and desire to learn led you to, Oh, and what name would you use for someone special? 

His jaw grits; his next words, murmured in his mother tongue, resemble a sharp, possessive swear. His head tilts with yours when you lean closer — but you shift, falling in to let your lips find his neck. 

The kisses you place there are hurried, desperate; like rays of light, as if you don't have time. Obediently, he stifles a whimper, and allows his head to fall back. It leaves plenty of room for your wandering hands to crinkle and press aside his shirt collar, and you place your lips on the firm, jutting curve of his collarbone. 

You find the twin moles on his neck tendon, blessing a kiss there, near desperate enough to bruise. You follow them like a treasure map, to kiss the perfectly-placed mole above his mouth. Your palms cup his face faintly. Then, you sweetly kiss the mark on his opposite cheek, your lips warm, laced with fervent sparks. 

Viktor shudders, he feels lighting race up his spine and split him open like a scythe. He's been avoiding his own declining reflection for weeks upon months now, but he doesn't need to remember much of himself to still know exactly where you're kissing, like the back of his hand. 

The ghost of your lips just above his mouth, and then to the apple of his cheek send a thick, syrup-sweet realization reeling through him. His moles. It reminds him of fingertips playfully tapping his face. Of soft comments and pretty compliments, portraits of his own image that he'd never forgotten because they were from you. 

When you hear the hitch in his breath, he swears he feels you smile against him. He's certain, once you shift back down to his neck, to repeat the process all over again. Placing messy kisses onto his soft skin, worshiping the intricacies he would've never thought were admirable. Memorizing each placement as though it's deliberate, like making a map of the night sky's constellations. And Viktor swallows, shakes, softens. 

Blindly, you search for where his hand has been kept at your side. You grasp it, and pursue the natural interlacing of fingers: yours fitting perfectly between the gaps of his. 

Trying not to shudder, failing when your breath fans against the right-angle corner of his jaw, he guides his free hand to trace the small of your back. His fingertips are gentle, hesitant. Careful brushes akin to a study, an exploration. 

With a dizzy mind and even more muddled thoughts, he doesn't expect when you support your weight by placing your knee on his stool, between his legs — when you lean in close and fast and hard, crashing your lips against his once more. One kiss isn't enough, so you kiss him again; you let yourself be pulled in on his current, and he forgoes breathing to drink you in instead. 

Your body arches into his touch, curves when his palm presses flat to your back, attempting to feel as much of you as possible. You want to be pliable beneath his warm hands like clay, because at least being molded would leave an imprint. You'd have something to remember what this meant, what his touch felt like. 

Seconds and minutes bleed into one another. You can barely tell where he begins, and you end. Two halves of the same anatomy, you can feel the thrum of his inherent light beneath your breastbone. 

The Hexcore watches. Pulses, hard enough to make pens begin to roll across the desk. To topple a precarious stack of diagrams, which sends a few papers fluttering to the ground, to make the steel marbles of a Newton's cradle clumsily clink together. 

Neither of you notice. The response Viktor's been searching for spikes just beyond his reach. You make him feel weightless, as though the fragility of his own vessel is more of an afterthought, until he could be ripped into fragments and you would be there to put him back together. Viktor's palm holds the back of your neck, his head tilts with yours, and you kiss. Falling into one another, only unfalling to breathe. Your atoms melt into his particles, blossoming a blur between your two shapes. Your heart pounds with his, to a rhythm so exact they could be mistaken for the same singular beat. 

Finally pulling away requires a mountain's worth of strength and effort. You only do so because you've got Viktor's back pressed hard against the desk, and he's practically about to fall off his chair. 

You both needed to breathe. It takes several moments for your head to stop spinning. You can barely focus on anything, but the bruising of your lips and the skip of your heartbeat. Stumbling back, sliding from his chair to offer him more room, you cup his jaw in both palms. Soft and blissfully tender, as though this is what they were made to hold. 

Viktor sighs hard, gasping heavily. His skin is slightly flushed, still warm to the touch. His gaze stays on you, basking in your afterglow. You're used to him flinching away. A slight hesitation always laces through his fingers when you try to grab his hand. His muscles tense on instinct whenever your arm wraps around him, braced to help support his weight. 

But this time, your palms hold his face, your thumbs brush his skin, and he melts into your touch, unburdened. Gaze fluttery, expression relaxed. Giving in at last, after countless ages of starvation. 

The low light of the lab, and the soft glow of the Hexcore's rune matrix — quiet, now — frame his face in outlines of shadow and hues of cerulean. Shades of blue meld with the honeycomb of his eyes, dulling the color. Clouds over a fading sun. 

He hears the slight shake in your breath first, before he feels a tiny droplet hit his cheek; and you're leaning forward, trying to hide. Eyes shut tight, as you rest your forehead against his. 

"Sorry, I-" Viktor murmurs, weak and faint. So quiet, you almost fail to hear. "I know this does not… fix things." 

Oh. He hasn't seen you cry since you were both kids. 

Viktor remembers clumsily trying to comfort you, making a crude somewhat-flower-pinwheel out of scrap metal as a gift, because he thought it wouldn't fix everything, but it might make things a little bit easier. For a time, anyway. 

Reality is often a cold, cruel overseer. Remembering how to breathe again brings sharp pain into his lungs, it returns an ache to his tired shoulders and his strained leg. His vision comes back into focus, his future returns to taunt him but this time, something is different. 

He feels a spark. A newfound wave of ambition. The radiant golden hour, before a bright, final breakthrough. 

"It's fine," You breathe, weak and fragile, with a meager shrug of your shoulders that says you are anything but. "I didn't expect it to." 

Viktor grasps your chin, gently shifting you back to give him space to look at you. His thumb brushes a stray droplet from your cheek. He tuts: a soft, teasing, tch sound. "Ah, but for a time, the world nearly felt miles away. Did it not?" 

His gaze is hopeful, almost nervous. Trying to gauge any slight shift in your reaction. Thankfully, his voice seems to swiftly bring you back to life. You laugh a bit, wiping the remainder of tears away with the back of your hand; there's the smile he's always admired. 

"Like we were melting into each other," You admit, a little shy, tenderly wistful. Your heart unfurls in your chest like a bright, pretty blossom. It's fitting for the both of you to recollect, to try and analyze the intricacies of every situation. "It was…" 

You're pausing, trying to find the right description, as you rest your arms around his shoulders in something of a half-hug. It was lovely? Captivating? Addicting? 

You shake your head. You're glancing away, because even remembering kissing him is enough to make your heart pound, enough to tempt you to pull him in again. Viktor tilts you back towards him, his finger lightly tapping your jaw. 

"Hm- Breathtaking?" He muses, "Better than you could have dreamed?" 

The brief lilt of confidence he embodies, words smooth as they're carried on his accent, pleasantly reminds you of when he was younger. Far too composed, and eager to prove himself. He follows it through, coaxing you forwards with a palm to your side. You're gentle; most of your weight, you support yourself, until Viktor pulls you down, patiently and decidedly guiding you to settle against his lap. 

"You know," You're cooing, head tilted, "That sounds an awful lot like a confession." 

You can see each subtle heave of Viktor's chest, expanding with every long breath he takes in. It's a tight fit. His stool is barely wide enough to accommodate himself, let alone you. His brace presses into the back of your leg just slightly: jutting metal, protruding bolts. The spread of his thighs leaves you with a small amount of space, but still forces your body to press awfully close to his. 

You're in the perfect position to witness every detail of his face. His tired eyes, the curve of his jaw, the slant of his nose. His thick brows pinch slightly, forming a faux pout, and you reach up. You brush your thumb from his temple to his brow, relishing in the instant softening of his expression. 

"Perhaps it is one. Or, actually-" Viktor hums, inquisitive. "It contains the potential to be one, if I decided to elaborate." 

"Oh? Enlighten me." 

A pause. Viktor bites the inside of his cheek as he ruminates, and your fingertips push fluffy strands of hair from his face to tuck behind his ears. 

"For so long, I… ached to be close to you." His tone is calm, temperate. It twists a shiver up your spine, cool and heaven-sent. His palm trails and caresses your face; a lesson in restraint, as he tries to stop himself from pulling you in once more. "It was a pipe dream. I assumed I was… too late." 

"I thought- I was sure you didn't-" Your shoulders grow tense and the bridge of your nose knots up, you twirl a strand of his hair around your finger and pull it away to admire the resounding curl. "Since when?" 

Viktor exhales. "We have been effectively inseparable since the day we met, I am certain you still remember when the Undercity kids would laugh and- and make jabs at my obvious crush. But, you are searching for something specific. In that case, there is one instance." 

This time, you don't have to ask him to elaborate. 

A palm tracing down the column of your neck, idle yet admiring, Viktor takes one more steady, deep breath. "It was the Progress Day after we had finalized the Hexgates. The council's afterparty was… stifling. I was fortunate to have convinced you to attend. You wore such gorgeous attire. Jayce commented, stated I was unable to take my eyes off of you. I denied it. In hindsight, it was more than obvious." 

The party was hardly your usual scene. Viktor was always the one who wound up convincing you to attend every Progress Day. 

He'd mention you should vouch for your contributions, try to mingle. You were fine with dressing up for an hour or two, but all of the drinking and fraternizing — you found the presentations about new technology to be interesting, but everything to happen afterwards was tiring, to put it bluntly. 

The occasion then was more special than most, though. There was a difference in the way Viktor asked you, sounding hopeful and stress-bound. It seemed important to him, and so it was doubly precious to you. 

"I joined you on the balcony, once I was able to shake the flocks of investors." Viktor continues, thinking, thumbing through all of the details, "You'd been saving a cocktail for me all night, if you remember. Something made with rum- apple cider, I believe." 

Viktor recalls overhearing several of your conversations. Your excitement to show off what you invented together was palpable. You made the room shine, he thinks. He watched you go on and on, when you thought he wasn't listening, assuming he was busy with his own consultations. Viktor zoned out of them, truly. Once the day's festivities are over, the rich folk of Piltover are more interested in finances than progress. 

Your words were so kind. Viktor is amazing, have you met him yet? Every sponsor and socialite would know your partner to be intelligent, inventive, incredible. He doesn't compare. It's funny, how Viktor saw the same qualities in you. 

For most of the night, you were separated; Viktor was busy with the swarm of fancy patrons, all of Piltover's finest hoping to get the latest gossip on what the partner to the Man of Progress would come up with next. Luckily, the both of you chose the same hideaway to try and escape the crowd. 

"I had been waiting for such a moment- to speak with you. You offered me your congratulations. Complimented me, on my performance of the short speech you helped me to memorize. And… so clearly, I remember you said, 'I'm so proud, Viktor. But I knew you could do this.'" 

I knew you could. No underestimations, never a doubt in his potential. You believed in him, even when no-one else did. When there weren't eager investors and a fawning council, just you and him, the suffocating smog of the Undercity, and his foolish dreams. Within the gaps in between, your praises sung as loud, unbidden, echoing strums. 

He supposes he's going to have to ask again for your faith, just one more time. 

Viktor's gaze stays focused down, for a moment. Contemplative, emotional. 

"I almost kissed you right then." He glances up to you, finally. "But-" He hums, then sighs, "There were benefactors still lingering just beyond the balcony, some of which already decided to inquire extensively about my personal life. I would have hated for our first kiss to incite such a scene." 

Viktor admires the tender kindling of gentleness on your face. Slightly pained, despite the hints of softness. It's his cue to find your cheek, to hold you close and oh-so softly like he did from the start; the cliff before the waterfall, his first step in to drown with you. 

Nothing will ever return to simplicity. But Viktor refuses to regret this, decides he should face it head on. Every building conflict, these budding emotions, the remnants of how your lips felt on his; tenderly unforgettable, a crucial step that he refuses to forget. 

You can feel the slight tremble to his fingers, the calluses on his palm — 

"Vik-" 

"I need to have your trust." 

Your eyes widen. 

"Viktor," You're starting again, "You already do- you always have. I don't want you to hesitate, you can-" 

"No, no, the Hexcore," Viktor corrects. He takes a quick glance between you, and the shifting runes of his project's surface. Glowing and fluctuating, a marvel even when it is dormant. "There is much I have not yet told the council. Nor Jayce, nor you." 

A newfound flicker of conviction blazes behind his sun-bound eyes. A brightened enthusiasm to solve any puzzle he's presented with, a key twisted into a door that he never thought would open. 

Your gaze is curious, attentive, then clearly conflicted, and he feels his jaw start to tighten. In spite, he continues, speaks with his entire chest, even though his hands tremor at the thought, and his voice is much too soft and broken and he hates the sound it makes when it's breaking — 

"You are the one thing I cannot lose." Viktor holds your face lovingly, captures you in a statue-like state of devotion, as he fights against the gnawing roughness at the back of his throat. "I believe I can solve this, but I need to know that to any end, you will follow. Please." 

It's something he's already sure of, against the faint threads of doubt in his mind. Of course you would, if he was the one to ask. The both of you are knit together as endlessly as the lines that connect the constellations, he just needs to hear you say it. 

You offer him a weakened smile, your touch brushing the curve of his face like fingertips would caress the arch of a flower's petal. "Do what you think is right. I trust you." 

Viktor softens. 

There's bittersweet catharsis in finally admitting the truth, along with an endless chasm threatening to swallow him whole — and for now, for the rest of the night, at least, he wants nothing more than to fall in with you. 

"My love," He murmurs; he draws you close, with the pull of the sea to the moon. He dares to press one more faint kiss to your cheek, despite knowing how infinitely difficult it will be to pull away. "My inspiration," A kiss to the opposite cheek, then. "My little spark." 

The lab remains quiet, dark, save for the low hum, and the glowing orbit of the Hexcore. Viktor leans his head against your chest, relaxes further once you begin gently toying with his hair. And finally, fully, he allows his heavy eyes to close. 

[unfriendlies]

it took him quite some time to really understand what angel was saying, with what little the man had said. but even when it was beginning to click with him, he couldn't tell if he was reading too far into angel's words because of the alcohol in his system or if what he was thinking was correct. angel definitely showed him better, if not more, love than his ex had in a long time. not once did angel ever hurt him, physically or emotionally. at least not on purpose. but he couldn't say that about his ex anymore. angel was clearly the better option for garam, but what if he was only talking in a platonic sense? he couldn't jump the gun and assume the man meant he had feelings for garam. he was so caught in his own thoughts that he barely registered angel's next words, only noticing his hand shooing him away. he moved over with a bit of struggle, only taking the initiative to pull his shirt back down to cover his torso after angel had laid down. "mm," he hummed in response along with giving him a nod of his head. garam turned on his side after a few quiet seconds to lay just as angel was but instead of facing his back towards the other, garam chose to face angel's back. even laying down, the man's shoulders were just so broad, an attribute that garam found attractive. he reached out, the tip of his finger just barely making contact as he trailed his hand down what he thought was the middle of the other's back. he stopped before getting too far, choosing to scoot closer as carefully as he could so he could wrap his arm against the dip of angel's waist. he kept space between their bodies but he couldn't help but let his feet wander, his toes tracing along the other man's heel. "please face me." he whispered, so quietly that you'd think he didn't want angel to hear him at all. garam's ex often turned away from him when they were in bed together, shutting him out after the man had gotten what he'd wanted. though the situation was different, he still couldn't stop feeling like angel was shutting him out as they laid there together. "i know you're mad but—" he stopped himself, knowing he'd start to cry if he continued. so, instead, garam took a hold of the material of angel's shirt at his lower stomach into his fist and moved even closer to the man. his body curled up into a sort of cocoon, as if he still needed protection, as if the motion would hide the fact that he'd started crying again. "please don't be mad at me." he whimpered as he pulled his arm back towards himself, using it to give him further protection as it lifted to cover his face.

As Garam spoke Angel’s body stiffened. His eyebrows stitched together and his fingers curled into fist. He could only imagine how long this had been going on. And he had no idea. He knew something was off. Noticing small things about Garam. How his now ex treated him in front of their friends. “You say that a lot. Whenever you talk about him. I’m used to it. I got used to it. Do you see how fucked up that is Garam?” Angel said with his back still turned to the man. He couldn’t look at Garam that very moment or he would loose it. It was taking all of his strength to keep from storming out of his apartment and killing his ex. To treat someone you claim to care for with such harshness. The raven-haired man fell silent once more as his best friend described what he wanted. His expression changed from anger to added frustration. Everything Garam was saying felt like a slap to the face. “Haven’t I given you that?” the words fell out of Angel’s mouth before he could catch himself. In a moment like this his cheeks would heat up. And he would change the subject. But that’s the thing about liquor. It gives you courage. “Have you not seen the way I-” the words caught in his throat. As he began to speak to turned to look at Garam. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. His eyes fixed on the dark purple markings on Garam’s lower torso. The corner of his mouth twitched. Anger took over as he climbed to his feet abruptly and moved toward the man on his bed. Without thinking he yanked up his shirt. Heat rose around his neck as it showed through its red color. His eyes widened, “Garam…” he said barely above a whisper at the sight of his body. He couldn’t imagine what the rest of his body looked like. His hands trembled in anger that he didn’t see the signs. How much his best friend had to endure in silence. He had never felt so angry. Angel wanted to get his hands on his ex. But he knew going to the police was a better idea. Get the man a restraining order. However, tonight was not the night for that. Not wanting to push Garam too much tonight. Running his fingers through his curls he let out a sigh, “I need sleep. Move over” he said shooing his best friend his with hand. The emotional yo-yo effect he was going through was exhausting. One thing at a time. First they make it through the night. Tomorrow they move the smaller man in. Angel laid next to Garam with his back to him. Not expecting to get much sleep he simply closed his eyes. The anger still boiled inside him but he was careful not to take any of it out on the other man. After a moment the raven-haired man glanced over his shoulder toward Garam, “Do me a favor and keep your word. No more dating guys like him.”

[aihoshiino]

After reading 164, I think you are very correct in saying Akasaka doesn't seem to register Aqua's death as a suicide, narratively speaking. It's shown as a martyr / for the greater good / ultimate selfless act that happened because there's no other way to take down the evil criminal mastermind Kamiki (who never got his hands dirty). It makes me so mad because all the elements are there - his loved ones perceiving it as a tragedy, Akane straight up talking about how he didn't look suicidal - but narratively it's just... not. Having Akane being the only person who sees this as a suicide is so cruel to her character, when her introductory arc to ONK was what caused a lot of controversy re suicide ideology when it came out. It's like Akasaka specifically offered a well-intentioned (although wishy-washy) message of "don't kys, people care about you" to her, just to wack her aching heart with Aqua's cold dead body saying "AKCHUALY suicide is okay when you're not being SELFISH". It's just so bad and I can't even read it as a tragic character arc for Aqua because Akasaka refused to acknowledge it as such.

YEAH.... Like I said it's baffling because Akane does Literally describe it as a suicide - given, as you pointed out, her own history with a suicide attempt I guess maybe the idea is that BECAUSE of Akane's history with suicide, she's uniquely positioned to recognise what Aqua did AS a suicide even if Aqua is not really able to frame it to himself in that way. Which... Yeah that's such a horrendous weight to put on Akane especially.

BUT, again, this would require the narrative to properly recognise Aqua's death as a suicide rather than treating it, as you said, as a noble and necessary act of self sacrifice that he HAD to do. It's acknowledged as being sad and that Aqua giving up on his future is tragic but the story nevertheless frames it all Right and Inevitable - I've ranted enough about the "Aqua was reborn to be Ruby's guard dog" shit enough times, but the result is that Aqua's suicide ends up being framed as this pinnacle of devotion and protection and in paralleling it to Ai's death, implies it is an equivalent act of love to her giving those words to the twins. WHICH IS. UM. I THINK WE SHOULD MOVE ON.

I think part of the problem is that Akasaka had gotten way too into this idea of "Aqua and Kamiki destroy each other" as an ending but for whatever reason was unable or unwilling to adjust it to account for the fact that both Aqua and Kamiki had ended up in places as characters where they just would not actually do that. So, ironically, rather than killing that particular darling, he just forced that square peg through the round hole no matter how much he had to shave off in the process. Idk, maybe he thought an ending WITHOUT Aqua killing Kamiki would feel like a letdown and killing Aqua with him was just a way of avoiding having to write The Consequences and massive change to Aqua's character it would represent.

[dykedvonte]

This was an ask from skull anon I accidently posted early so ignore that here is it actually completed. Crew voice claim first!

Anya - Janine Ditullo. She doesn't really have any big roles but she's Brendan's mom from the show Home Movies. She's snarky in a way I think Anya would be before anything went down.

Curly - Craig T Nelson. Specifically as his role Coach. Think he also has a sort of middle age voice

Daisuke - Greg Cipes but specifically when he's voicing Kevin Eleven as a teen and his voice has that deeper register. I think he just sounds a little punkish.

Jimmy - Steve Buscemi specifically in Parting Glances. I don't think his voice is loud but more shrill? He's a nasally fellow to me whose voice is intimidating because it shouldn't be so when he says stuff it just sound wrong. Like Randall Boggs. He'd be on his kin list. He's scarier when he's quiet.

Swansea - Ed O'Neill just because I think Jay (Modern Family) fits his general demeanor but also Al (Married with Children). Sort of rough, dry and tired but with that sort of comfort only a dad could have.

Now for other general stuff:

Anya knows how to finger quilt, tried to show Daisuke but he just can't get it, secretly smug about it.

Curly is like a gym bro sim. A good distressor for him is either jogging around the Tulpar or like working out like a freak in his room.

Daisuke has a shitty moped he bought himself after a summer of mowing lawns. It was his first purchase with his own real money and he got attached cause his parents were super proud!

He also thinks it makes him look badass even though it sputters every time he starts it.

Swansea likes taking pictures with his family and wife and even the crew but treats it like a whole ordeal. Fusses about people fixing their faces but is always happy with the results no matter how goofy

Jimmy refused to let Anya sleep in medical after crash. He explained it as not wanting to "disturb" Curly...

Swansea once accidently called Daisuke one of his kids names when he got irritated with him. Made the kids day in a way

Curly does not react to any level of sour, likes citrus and calls it sweet and refreshing, war heads are like jolly ranchers to him.

Anya has a very nice singing voice and Daisuke happily jokes and encourages her to get into the indie scene. Did choir as a kid

Jimmy knows a bit of Spanish through osmosis from jobs he's worked. Mostly knows how to talk shit and directions

Tells Curly he's mostly just saying basic stuff but its real vitriolic towards him that he just translates to like general compliments/jokes. He is still just a WHITE man

Anya reads who done it mystery murder books and makes fun of all the obvious twists and how they glaze the detective MC.

Curly lets Jimmy sit in the Captain's seat because when he doesn't Jimmy is noticeably meaner and more scathing to him.

Anya was planning to get a cat after a conversation with Curly about feeling lonely living in her apartment. Was gonna name it Polle as an in joke before everything happened....

Sexuality speed round: Anya is bi no real preference, very open about it. Curly doesn't label himself and kinda just goes with the moment. Daisuke is bi but a larger preference for girls, has a friend that everyone thinks he dating tho. Swansea had experiences in his youth and that's all he'll say on it other than a few comments here or there. Jimmy is straight but in a way where you here him talk about gay people and know he's current experiences... like the other day.

Yeah heres some more I always hold back cause like what if y'all don't want all of them at once? I think they all had family dinner as a crew but it always felt like an awkward thanksgiving with your family from a wide political spectrum... ergo Jimmy always said some shit and make someone storm off from the table.