#loud madness then somber

[toki-toro]

I caved….. mouthwashing playlist

[ruporas]

a conversation about scars

[ID: A Trigun comic. Vash is shirtless with his back to the viewer, showing off his many scars and metal implants. He complains, “Oh, c’mon... The shirt got stuck... Argh.” Wolfwood’s finger pokes him at the base of his neck, and Vash exclaims, “Ack! Wolfwood!?”

Wolfwood, looking down, asks, “Does it ever hurt?” Vash’s eyes go wide with surprise, and he looks down and says, “No-- Sometimes they ache, but nothing unbearable.” Wolfwood kisses the back of his neck and then leans against Vash, silent as Vash cheerfully laughs, “Got it! It’s free, finally!”

Wolfwood still looks sad, and Vash turns back and smiles nervously to ask, “What is it?” Hand over the grate over Vash’s heart, Wolfwood says, “... I was just thinking it would’ve been better had I met you sooner.” He hugs Vash from behind, and the background goes dark.

“If I were with you earlier, I’d been able to stop you from making dumb decisions. And protect you when you do.” Wolfwood’s expression is heavy as he looks down Vash’s back and says, “Then you’d at least have less of these.” He puts his face against Vash’s back, and Vash, mouth tight, thinks, “.. When he puts it like that... It’s so embarrassing somehow...”

Vash moves away and says forcefully, “But-- I don’t want you to protect me. Because then-- you’d get hurt.” Wolfwood angrily replies, “Huh? Are you forgetting-- Scars don’t last on me!” Vash angrily exclaims “Idiot!” and grabs Wolfwood’s collar.

Wolfwood, irate, goes, “Idiot!?” but Vash pulls down Wolfwood’s shirt as he leans their foreheads together. He exclaims, “I meant up here!” Vash looks upset and says, “Just because your body won’t leave anything-- doesn’t mean nothing every happened!”

Wolfwood grits his teeth as Vash continues, “So don’t say that-- I can take care of myself and I... wouldn’t want you to be burdened any-- mh?!” He breaks off with a loud sound of surprise when Wolfwood pulls him forward to kiss him.

Scowling very fiercely, Wolfwood demands, “Don’t call yourself my burden. That’s up to me!” Vash, flushed and scowling back with one hand raised to his mouth, shouts, “That’s what you’re upset about?!” For a second, they stay in the same positions, Vash braced over Wolfwood as they glare at each other, both labeled “upset.”

Then Vash turns somber and says, “These scars don’t bother me at all and I own responsibility for them... And... at least, I can count mines.” Wolfwood looks away as Vash touches his hair and says, “What about you?”

They lie down, Vash on top of Wolfwood as he says sadly, “I’m never going to know how many times you’ve been shot, how many times you had to drink that potion. (You won’t even tell me how it works...).” There’s a close up panel of Wolfwood’s eyes, tired and guilty, and Vash continues, “Don’t focus on me now... Please just protect yourself first.” Wolfwood responds, “You have to consider yourself first too.” Vash says, “This isn’t about me,” and Wolfwood argues, “Yes it is.” Vash says, “Nuh uh.”

There’s a final cartoony panel of them against white space: Vash pouting with annoyance at a ticked Wolfwood. Their next speech bubbles hover in white. Wolfwood aggravatedly shouts, “Listen to your own advice!”, and Vash exclaims, “Ack--! Don’t get mad, Wolfwood!!” “Fin” is written next to a donut and lollipop.

At the very bottom of the page is a cartoony sketch titled “Alt to p.4″. Vash presses their heads together and shouts, “I meant up here!” Wolfwood looks down with confusion at his bare chest. Vash looks down too, sweating. Wolfwood, squinting, says, “My ch--” but Vash cuts him off with a shrieked, “NO!!” End ID]

credits for ID text  

[lizzy019]

𝒢𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒢𝒾𝓇𝓁.

Darrel Curtis x Bratty!Fem!Reader

cw -> arguing, slapping (both sexually and out of anger⚠️), blowjob, squ¡rt¡ng, dirty talk

Word Count -> 1.8K

I could be this man’s brat 😔

You had a strong tendency to speak what was on your mind, whether it be inappropriate, rude, or incredibly stupid. You didn’t have a filter, you didn’t see the need to lie or say things just for the sake of people’s happiness.

However, Darry Curtis was the one who was slowly trying to train you out of that habit. He liked it, no doubt about it, your stubborn attitude was always a pleasant thing to deal with. But.. not when you so rudely told Ponyboy, his younger brother whom he loved so dearly, that his work was bad and he had to redo it.

“You shut the hell up! That’s my little brother, you can’t tell him shit! You’re my girlfriend, not his mother and sure as hell not mine!” He vociferated directly at you, eyes livid.

You couldn’t help but feel disrespected and estranged in your own relationship, but your snobby ego didn’t waver as you spit back something else to rebuttal his words.

“Did you read his work? I’m giving him advice, don’t you want him coming home with an A? Darry, I’m trying to help!” You shrieked just as loud as he did, if not louder.

Thwarted attempts at standing up for himself and his younger brother were causing him to get more internally disrupted than ever before. How could you say such nonsense as if it were so normal?

So out of anger, a hand was raised and forcefully mashed across your face to create an audible “slap” sound. The action had you covering your cheek and looking at him with bewilderment.

Darry slapped you!

Tears began to well up in your eyes, the brattiness you once clung to fading for a moment to let the pain on your face and in your heart begin to take over everything like autopilot to a vehicle in a tough situation.

This had poor Darry conflicted, as he did it instinctively but he also felt you deserved it. Should he console you? Apologize? He was frozen as he watched you scurry off into the kitchen to find a cold compress to reduce the redness and the sting.

Finding a small frozen compress, you gently pressed it to your cheek, trying to find a towel to block the direct contact so your skin wouldn’t freeze instead of your intention of cooling the burning area.

The light tingles had your nerves reacting instantly, soaking up the lovely coolness and easing the pain for the time being as Darry walked in with a pitiful expression of guilt and remorse.

“Sweetie, you know I didn’t mean it. Surely it can’t be that bad, lemme see.” He hummed thoughtfully, tenderly grasping your wrist in his hand and pulling it away from your face to see the red spot and where it had formed.

Darry’s expression grew somber, and he pressed the softest kiss he possibly could to it in hopes of not kissing the physical injury, but to soothe the ache of his previous words and accidental violence.

“Oh sweetie, ‘m sorry. You know that wasn’t on purpose, I was just mad.” He sighed, kicking himself internally for ever being so cruel to you.

His apology was sweet, so you found yourself curling up into his arms and hugging him ever so gently to apologize as well. Your brattiness and ego didn’t let you vocalize it, but you were sorry as well for being a little too rude.

Darry’s lovely, muscular arms kept you encased to his chest, his chin finding comfort in resting upon your head as the hug lasted for a few moments. The soft and tender moment was enough to have you both forgetting the previous argument.

One moment led to the next, Darry had you pinned to the interior side of his door in his bedroom as he mercilessly pushed harsh, open mouthed kisses to your precious pink lips.

Your sweet little moans were only fuelling this carnal desire of his, this desire to force you into submission and to have you in totality was clawing at him from the inside. He had to have you.

Darry’s calloused hands ran up and down your waist from underneath your shirt, the roughened skin of his hands from roofing causing you to give the softest smile from the ticklish sensation. All while his mouth began kissing down your jaw, to your neck’s muscles, and down your collarbone to reach the hem of your shirt.

It was a simple way of suggesting to get your shirt off so he could continue, a playful coaxing technique to get you to listen to him without thinking twice.

Luckily for him, you complied without much thought.

Your shirt came off, the fabric being discarded and designated as a problem to deal with later as your hands traveled back up to hold his lovely, strong shoulders.

Darry took it from there, unclipping your pretty lacey gray bra and chucking it aside to cup your supple breasts in his hands. The pads of his thumbs came in contact with your nipples, running over them so softly to elicit a soft whine from your throat.

The buds hardening at his touch, he attached his mouth to one of them and lightly suckled them, causing a much harder reaction as your hand came up to tug at his hair. The pain didn’t affect him, he was too busy engulfing himself in your smell and indulging in his dirty little fantasies.

It was silly watching you go from a stubborn bratty girl shunned by society, to a proper and prim girl who was desperate for the pleasure this man could provide for you.

You whined in displeasure when Darry pulled away from you, a palm of his rubbing the now obvious bulge in his pants. His lustful gaze was enough to tell you what his next instructions would be.

Knees folded and legs on the cold floor, you gently began unbuttoning his pants’ button and unzipped the zipper, gently wriggling down his boxer briefs to let his erection spring free and into the cool breeze of his own bedroom.

A smirk landed on his lips when you gently pressed a kiss to his leaky tip, the precum he was oozing was enough to act as lube to make your strokes on his hardened length more smooth and evenly paced.

Your mouth attached itself to his cock, beginning to suck just the head as your hand stroked the rest of his length. It had soft moans escaping his throat, resonating deep within his chest as his hand came to push your head down a bit further to meet the thick middle of his shaft.

A spit ring formed where your mouth could take his length, and you could feel yourself gagging every time he tried to hit the back of your throat with his cock. Slowly, you felt yourself getting a bit dizzy from the whole interaction.

“Yes, sweetheart, look at that. Y’feel it? The way my dick’s fuckin’ hitting the back of your throat? Awh, you’re such a good girl.” He panted out, huffing at your sloppy licks and kisses.

Darry pulled out of your mouth with a sigh, gesturing you up to the mattress so he could have you in a more pleasant manner. So you complied like the good girl you were, laid on your back on the mattress for him so prettily.

He followed suit, watching you lay so perfectly for him. It had his heart doing flips.

With gentle fingers, he gently spread your labia apart to gaze earnestly at your quivering, wet cunt. This alone had you a tad embarrassed, but your ego let the embarrassment wash away as you lightly pushed your hips into his hand.

Darry grunted with dissatisfaction, slapping the soft skin above your pussy in an attempt to get you to deter your bratty wishes.

You whined at the slap, a hand coming to cover the stinging and a small frown crossing your pretty pink lips. This had him regretting his reasoning for doing so, but he pushed that thought aside. You deserved it for having no patience.

“You shut the hell up, y’hear? One complaint comin’ from your mouth and I’ll stop everythin’.” Darry snarled, pressing his erection to your core and smirking.

So with a swift jut of his hips, he plunged himself deep into your lovely core and found himself beginning to get dizzy from the buildup of pleasure. But he didn’t stop, he couldn’t! Not when you felt so good and were making such pretty little sounds.

Regardless, you found yourself fighting the urge to push him around, tell him to manhandle you and force you to take his hard cock like the little bratty bitch you were, but he said he’d stop if you did so.

With a soft moan, your hands clutched his shoulders, leaving little crescent shapes underneath them as your hips began to push against his in an attempt to get more pleasure. You wanted hard sex, not this gentle, leisurely kind.

Darry could tell by your movements that you were growing needy, so what did he do? He slowed down instantly, resorting to agonizingly slow thrusts to get you annoyed and even more desperate for him.

“Nuh-uh, no complaining, hm? You either take it or you don’t, simple as that, sweetie.” He hummed out, watching your pout increase with dissatisfaction.

It was cute, tantalizing you like this.

You whined out in discontent, but the lovely tingles in your sweet cunny had begun to betray you as your body spasmed helplessly in joyous pleasure.

“Darry! I’ve been good, please!” You moaned out, hands seizing his strong biceps, begging for a release that only he could provide you with.

This had him smirking almost evilly, Darry was thrilled that you were finally behaving like a proper girl should, not some needy brat. So his pace quickened up, a hand of his scooping the underside of your thigh for leverage as he rammed himself into your leaky pussy.

Moans tumbled from your throat, hands grasping for the sheets and his shoulders, not knowing where would provide more purchase to ease the high climbing of your ecstasy. But of course, he took this as a sign to quicken his pace just enough to have you clenching his cock like a vice and letting out your pretty arousal fluid.

It squirted along his lower abdomen and soaked the sheets beneath you both, and soon enough, Darry found himself nutting in your welcoming womb without hesitation.

A few silent moments passed, Darry huffing out and dizzily crashing his weight against your own.

“See? It’s not that hard to.. to be good, is it?” He panted, smiling lazily up at you as you chuckled a bit to yourself.

“I guess not. But you like when I’m a brat, no?” You asked with the most innocent smile you could give. Which.. wasn’t all that innocent, but he appreciated the effort.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Go to sleep, I have work tomorrow.” He hummed, kissing your cheek and closing his eyes.

[cxtori]

Osamu Dazai ✮ Reckless (Angst Version)

summary: you vent your frustrations to Dazai after the crazy stunt he pulled with Fyodor

genre: angst, kiiinda comfort, cleaning his injuries, Dazai being a protective idiot

wc:835

warnings: n/a, some Dead Apple spoilers

tori’s note: I’m posting a second version of this story that will be more lighthearted/fluffy than this one. I just liked the concept and when I started writing I realized this could go two different ways. So I just wrote both lmao. Here's the fluffy version!

You were frustrated. No, that only begins to describe it. You were pissed, furious, irate. Whatever other powerful words there are to describe extreme anger, you were feeling it. 

You pour some antiseptic onto the cotton pad in your fingers, the fibrous material soaking up the liquid quickly. You raise it to Dazai’s back and press it against the deep wound resting there.

“Ahh,” Dazai hisses. “Jeez, you could be a little more careful.” You can hear the pain in his voice, but you can also hear the teasing tone underneath it. Your face scrunches in annoyance.

“Shut up. I’m still mad at you,” you huff and continue to clean his wound. 

He’d explained what had happened, how he’d been quite literally stabbed in the back with a poison coated dagger. looking at its placement, it’s a miracle the blade didn’t hit his spine. just an inch further to the right and this whole situation could have been very different.

“I can’t believe you left like that. You should have told me,” you say quietly. 

“I couldn’t. It wouldn’t have worked out like this if I did, you know that.”

And you did. But still. He disappeared so suddenly and the next thing you knew he was working with someone who planned to destroy your home? You knew Dazai would never betray you like that, not seriously. But at the same time, seeing him in that light scared you.

You finish cleaning his back and apply antibiotics and bandages, adding to the many that were already wrapped haphazardly around him. 

Once you’re done, you move to stand in front of him and begin to clean the various cuts and scrapes on his front side. You prepare another cotton pad and swipe over the wounds, none of them being severe enough to require much attention.

As you work, Dazai’s eyes are keenly focused on you. He watches as you carefully clean him up, a soft but determined look on your face, though it’s almost entirely hidden by the frustration distorting your features. 

A smile spreads across his lips and he wraps a hand around your free one. You ignore him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of falling for his flirty little tricks. 

You were both aware of the effects he had on you and, though he didn’t use it against you often, he would use it to his advantage. And right now it was in hopes of getting you to not be angry at him.

As your eyes scan over the marks scattering his body, your vision begins to blur. Before you can stop it, there are tears falling from your eyes. Are these angry tears, sad tears or relieved tears? You have no idea. Maybe it’s all of them at once.

“You idiot. Why do you have to be so careless?” You ask, your voice just above a whisper. Dazai looks at you, his smile slowly fading into a thoughtful but somber expression. He knows you aren’t expecting an answer, but he replies anyway.

“Because I care for you.” And that’s really all it boiled down to. He recklessly puts himself in dangerous situations if he knows that’s what it’ll take to protect his home and friends. To protect you. Even so, you hated his methods.

“I was so worried, Osamu,” you say quietly, afraid that your voice will crack too much if you speak normally. Despite your low tone, the pain and fear in it rings loud and clear. Dazai’s hand grips yours tighter.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to act like you’re working alone.” He doesn’t reply, only drops his gaze to where his hand is wrapped carefully around yours. 

You’d had this conversation countless times before. That he is part of a team that is more than capable of handling serious situations. That he doesn’t have to jump head first into danger to solve problems. That he has other’s to lean on. That he has you. 

But no mater how many times you said this, it never changed. And it terrifies you.

“It’s just… what if you had-”

“I didn’t, that’s what matters,” Dazai says, cutting you off. His hand leaves yours to rest on your face instead, his palm cupping your jaw as his thumb strokes over your cheek, wiping away your drying tears. 

“Please, don’t ever do that again.”

“You know I can’t make that promise.”

He was right. He will continue to keep you in the dark if he knows that’s what it takes to keep you safe, even if you both hate it. There was no point in promising that he wouldn’t. 

His hand moves from your face to the back of your neck, tangling his fingers into your hair. He brings your face closer to his, his dark brown eyes looking into yours intently.

“I love you, more than anything,” He whispers and places a kiss to your forehead. “And I only want to protect you.”

And that’s what he’ll continue to do.

©Cxtori 2024 please do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate any of my works. reblogs are appreciated

[swifty-fox]

hi! i love your writing, could i perhaps have a lil drabble about bucky n buck for my birthday? 🫶

yeah why not!

Bucky Egan was known for a lot of things around base. He was known for his loud laugh and tall stature, his habit of singing when he drank gin and was known for how if one were within arms reach they were liable to be velcroed in at some point with a large hand around a shoulder or a rousing clap to the chest. He was known for his rabid passion in the heat of battle and his level-headed orders. He flew like a devil and laughed at the flames. His boys knew him for his kindness. His optimism, his peerless dedication to being the best.

If he was bragging he would agree, if one caught him in a moment of somberness he would steadfastly claim best only second to Gale.

Most of all, Major John Egan was known for always finding some amount of fun. So when he shakes Gale awake at the crack of dawn, face lined with glee and bundled up in cold weather gear, it takes little convincing to tumble Gale from bed, grumbling and tired.

They'd lost two crews three days ago, more to bad weather conditions than enemy numbers and there was still an anxious hope lingering about the base that maybe they'd return. It was late September and a cold seemed to have settled over the countryside with uncharacteristic vengeance, bringing with it frequent icy rain weather.

"The hell are we doing Bucky?" Gale asks roughly, accepting the black-coffee-two-sugars shoved into his hands and gulping from it until he feels a little more human. He stops upon exiting the barracks and seeing several round sleds piled on the ground. A few of the boys were mingling around; DeMarco, Brady, Everett, Hambone, Douglass, Crank and the two little ones Murphy and Bosser. Even Jack was there, sullen and glaring but there all the same so nobody much held it against him.

"Sledding!" John says cheerfully.

Gale stares at him, then the ground void of any snow, then at Jack, as if he had any better understanding of this scheme. Jack glares right back, but he was here so that meant there was some reason to John's madness.

"It's October, Buck," John insists, grinning in obvious delight at Gale's confusion, "Would be prime sledding conditions back home by now."

"We are not," Gale says slowly, as if John had forgotten, "Back home. We are in England and there is no snow."

John wobbles his head in begrudging agreement, as if Gale has argued something complex rather than simple facts of geography "No," he says slowly, as if explaining a concept to the exceptionally dimwitted.

Gale wants to hit him, or perhaps kiss him if he felt brave enough to imagine. John stomps his foot on the saturated ground, splattering mud across the boots of several guys around them who all make various faces of disgust. "But we got mud."

"How'd you rope Kidd into this?" He asks because he might cup John's face in adoration or something equally mad instead.

"Fuck you, Gale." Jack says.

"Jack's smart enough to know a good idea when he hears one. That's why they went and promoted him to Air Exec." His eyes twinkle in the morning gloom, breath smelling like whiskey and coffee.

"Fuck you, Egan." Jack says.

"Your spare uniform is still at the laundress," Gale argues, back straight and stiff enough to ignore how he sounds like a scolding wife.

John simply smiles wider, tilting his head, "C'mon, Buck, live a little. have a little fun."

They need a little fun, Buck, they're breaking, his eyes say. We need a little fun.

And Buck, because they had agreed when they started this whole affair of being gods and leaders that they would always be able to check each other's limits, sighs the sigh of those long-suffering and nods his head towards the distant hills, "After you, Major."

Their boys cheer, clapping each other and then the Buckies on their backs and John takes point while Gale heads up the rear, sled rope clasped in hand. He feels silly and childish, rope too thin in his adult hands, the width made for smaller fingers and chubbier palms. But around him their boys are also being silly and childish, bumping and jostling each other like puppies; stomping in mud puddles to soil each other's clothes and hollering jabs and jives and teasings at too high volume. Gale loves them tremendously, shakes with fear for them. They slip and slide up the hill, helping each other up or shoving each other down depending on the mood.

John goes first, whooping loud enough it carries over the base, too big for the child-sized sled but making it work all the same. He comes back to the top, mud-splattered and grinning. As if that were the cue the rest of their boys follow, whooping and cheering and fighting to take turns. When Gale goes he keeps his cry of joy bitten behind his teeth but when he stands at the bottom of the hill, soaked and shivering, he's grinning so hard it stinks his cheeks. It's not anywhere close to flying but that also means its nowhere near dying and that more than makes up for it.

They trudge up and down the hill all morning, until the last stubborn grass patches had also been reduced to great furrows of foot-sucking mud that made ever step back up the hill a battle, until they were more muck than skin and their clothes were the same color as their limbs. Until their teeth were chattering and their lips turned blue. In the distance Gale could see Colonel Harding watching, identifiable by his straight shoulders and puffing cigar.

Briefly, he worries theyre all about to be reamed out, but Harding merely nods and disappears back into the control tower. Good to his boys, that one.

They go until Hambone, rangier than the rest of them, can't string two words together for how he shakes and Gale orders them all hot showers and hotter chow.

"That means you too, Major," He tells Bucky, who looked like a wildman, only his blue eyes and a few pink patches of cheek visible through the grime.

John wraps an arm around Gale's equally filthy shoulder, twists his wrist to shake Gale gently by the chin and presses their temples together as they stumble down the hill.

Gale is infinitely grateful he's become too used to John's particular brand of affection, else this might just stop his heart.

"Told you, Buck. Told you. Prime sledding conditions."

-this sledding trip is the one referenced in Kingdom for a Kiss chapter 6

[spikesbunny]

♥︎ THE GHOST OF YOU ♥︎

+ warnings: mentions of death of a character, wlw relationship

+ ft: ghost!beidou x pirate!fem reader

+ wc: 0.9k

+ for @edgeray's halloween event <3

+ note: this is kinda angsty, but i couldn't help it y'all. dead captain beidou gets to your feelings for reallll.

men dni!!

the sea was silent.

it had felt that way since she died. her hearty laugh was gone, the slaps against your back whenever she got a bit too excited and drunk.

and most importantly, her in general. her chapped lips against yours, her firm hands running across your body, embracing you when the storms were heavy.

she had been your captain, but she was also your love. she was your everything.

and that damn pirate had to kill her.

after that, you had taken your leave from her crew. you couldn't stay, it hurt too much to see the jolly roger the two of you had designed as children. those days had been rough, the two of you working for whatever scraps, but you were happy.

you didn't know how you could even be out on the sea right now. everything about it brought her flooding into your mind, from the smell of the salty sea, so the feeling of sand on your feet when landing on a shore. it all still stung.

you lay in your empty bed on the small ship, tossing and turning endlessly. a small wind had picked up, lanterns banging against wood disturbing that former silence. it helped, just a bit, to take your mind off her. but it would never fully soothe the pain.

a wailing sound soon joined the mix. it sounded like some lost soul, crying out for whoever.

fortunately for you, you didn't believe in ghost stories. davy jones, dead crewmates coming back to find you, it was all pirate bullshit meant to scare away youngins, right?

then why did it sound like your name being wailed? as if you were being summoned.

you open the door from your chambers, stepping out onto the deck. oddly, everything went silent again. you shake your head, thinking you must have had bad booze, or the food had gone bad.

as you turn to walk back to your room, a cold hand touches your shoulder. quickly, you turn around, hand on the holster of your gun.

and there she stood.

your lover, in all her glory. black hair cascading down those broad shoulders, the red satin covering one eye still clinging to her face. the scars, running down her body, decorating her tanned thighs and arms.

"i-it can't be" is all you can whisper, all you can mutter. there's no way its her.

and there it is. that laugh, the one from deep within her belly, the one you'd kill a man for. "i told ya, sweetheart, not even death could take me from you."

you reach out, slowly taking her calloused hand into yours. it was cool, and a shiver traveled down her spine. "h-how is this possible?"

"i told ya! those ghost stories were real." she chuckles again, bringing you closer to her cold, translucent body, hugging you tightly. "why'd ya abandon our ship though?" beidou ask.

"i-i couldn't bare it, my love. you were everywhere, it made me sick, it made me mad... besides, didn't we start out on this very tiny ship?" you ask, letting her cup your cheek.

"we did, didn't we?" beidou admires the ship she stands on with you. "i-i didn't think i'd ever see ya again," she quietly confess, a change in her usually loud and proud demeanor.

"i didn't either." you confess back.

the two of you stand in silence, holding each other dearly, not daring to speak again. finally, you open your mouth, a single question racking your mind:

"can you stay?"

beidou meets your eyes, a somber look creeping across her face. "'m afraid not, my little seal. but i promise to visit from time to time, mkay?"

her promise fills your heart with a tiny bit of hope, knowing that she wasn't gone forever, just not always by your side. "i'm gonna hold ya to that, beidou."

"i know ya will." she whispers, kissing your lips softly. her forehead presses against yours, and you suddenly forget everything: your anger, your hatred, your despise of that man. all that mattered was her, right now, in your arms.

"can ya stay the night?" you whisper, scared of what her answer might be.

"yes, my love, i can. and i will." beidou kisses your lips again, the tender action pulling at your broken heartstrings.

you wish she could stay forever, be by your side all over again. but this would do.

and so, you guide her back to the tiny bed, the one you two shared when you first began your trip as pirates. she holds you close the entire time, letting you tell her about your adventures, stealing a kiss every now and again.

finally, sleep washes over you, as you fall asleep in your lovers arms, your dreams finally sweet again.

but as you wake up, beidou is gone, all but a note that says 'i will return' in her messy handwriting. you hold dearly onto the letter, letting the tears stream down your cheeks.

you know she'll be back, but for now, and when she does, you'll find some way to keep her forever. for now, her little visits would have to suffice.

©2024 roronoaism - please do not repost or translate my works on other media sites ♡

[canadiannationalfox]

Murder Drones - Tessa x J Drabble - Admission of Love

The sun glistened in through the stained glass window of the hexagonal room at the back of the Elliott manor, the sounds of Tessa humming a melody and the soft whirr of J's internal fan came from the room. Louisa and James were away on a trip to a manufacturing plant in New Zealand, so that meant Tessa and her drones had complete domain over the manor. Cyn, V and N however, had busied themselves with watching some movies about dogs and sports down in the library, so Tessa and J were spending the afternoon together.

J sat on the window sill bench, enjoying the breeze from the open smaller windows while watching the birds in the trees. She felt the gentle tug of Tessa's hands running through her soft silver hair. Tessa stood behind J, playing with her first and favourite girl drone's wig. She stopped humming the melody to a song about being set free and eternal rest and dreams before she asked to J, "It's lovely up here, isn't it?"

J calmly responded as she relaxed her shoulders, "It reminds me of when you were little, Tessa." She smiled as she watched some blue jays hopping along the branches and trilling their songs while her favourite human styled her hair back up into her signature ponytails. "Whether I was reading you fairytales, or we were having tea parties or pretend sword fights or you letting me try on some of your dresses, it was always magical."

Tessa assessed silently before she reached to the table beside her and picked up the rechargeable curling iron she stole from her mom now that it had warmed up. She rolled the ponytails around the heated cylinder of the styling too carefully to not burn herself. "And you can't forget times like these."

J laughed a little, remembering out-loud, "Though the last time you tried to use the curling iron, you scared me to death. I'm so so glad it was just a minor burn."

"It was alright, you were there to make it all better, J," she reassured lovingly, letting the freshly formed curl slide from the clasp, it bounced slightly as it came to its resting place at the left side of J's head. Tessa wound the next section of hair on the curling iron as she asked in a sweet little voice, "Jay bird? Do... do you like spending time with me?" her tone became somber, "Or, is it just because Father and I built you to be my assistant." As soon as she let the second wide curled ponytail free of the curling iron, Tessa was slightly startled by J turning her head a little more than 90 degrees to look at her.

J insisted firmly, her tone severe but loving, "Tessa, I love every second I'm next to you." She turned her whole-self to face Tessa, took the curling iron out of Tessa's hands and continued to explain, "And all the wonderful memories make working for the company worth it. So don't you ever dare think for a second that I don't love you..." She stared in shock at what she said before trying to backtrack sheepishly as she turned off the curling iron and set it back down, "I mean... Don't think for a second that I don't like spending time with you."

Tessa's tears were replaced now with a dorky grin. "You said you love me, Jaybird."

The LED blush indicators showed on the worker drone maid's face.

Tessa kissed J on the forehead gently and reassured as she cupped the noble robot's right auditory sensor, "I love you too, so much..." She pulled the robot girl into a tight hug, she whispered to J, "I know Father and I built you as a way to keep me busy, and life hasn't always been easy, but when we have time together, J. It's so wonderful, I wouldn't trade it for anything."

J chimed in as she hugged back, trying not to be mad upon mentioning her least favourite coworker, "Not even, N? Your other favourite?"

Tessa responded warmly, "He may make me happy too, but you make me feel safe and at home."

Those words made the silver-haired drone feel so happy.

The two hugged for a little while before they broke their hug.

Tessa giggled as she looked at J's curls, "Oop! Forgot to fluff up your ponytails, Jaybird," she picked up the hairbrush and invited cheerily, "Let's finish making you look exactly how you like to look."

J smiled and turned back around, closing her LED eyes happily as she felt the warm sun on her face and also Tessa's gentle efforts at gliding the hairbrush through her curls to fluff them up. She liked now the words she had said by accident earlier, now saying them again but intentionally, her often harsh voice soft as a nightingale's song, "I love you, Tessa, my beautiful princess."

Tessa responded, her precious Aussie voice also soft and full of love, "I love you too, my wonderful Jay bird."

To Be Continued

[bunji-enthusiast]

Ban, King and Escanor with a daughter who is being bullied by her peers, please? <3

They certainly have diverse reactions… how interesting hehe, hope I wrote this the way you asked for, feel free to correct me!

Ban

The moment he finds out that his child's being bullied, he gets pissed off real quick. He won't let his own daughter take that shit, especially by people who were supposedly her friends. Ban knows all too well this feeling in similarity.

How he found out though?

She couldn't hide it any longer; the despondent energy, his daughter's ability to interact with others, being incredibly closed off. Nothing of that sort get's past Ban, he is incredibly observant and well intuitive better than other people would realize.

"Sweetheart, you can't just hide this shit from me." Truth be told he would've done the very same thing, Ban just wished she actually had told him sooner.

Ban was straight in front of her being, crouched down against the ground to gain eye-level with her.

Immediately her eyes flitted to the ground in shame and embarrassment, and she really didn't want to look eye to eye with the very man who actually raised her. She thought she could handle this on her own without needing to ask her dad for help, and it seemed it didn't turned out the way she wanted it too.

"I'm sorry.." She said in a somber tone, really she were apologetic—

"The hell you being sorry for little lady?" He interjected, "You were being bullied, that ain't your fault."

Suddenly it felt as if a huge ton of weight had been lifted from her shoulders just from those words alone, she wasn’t sure of what she expected to hear, but this was more then enough to take the anxiety away from the endless thoughts that had run rampant throughout her mind. "You... aren't mad?" She said wordlessly, looking back up at him and seeing that snarky grin so full of warmth.

"No, but I am pretty pissed 'bout the fact that your 'friends'," He begins, indicating with both hands, fingers and all-an air quote about the word friends. "Did this to ya'."

"Wait where are you going?"

He had already jumped up and started walking away, "I'm just gonna talk to em for you, alright? Stay here young lady." Ban sang, flashing her a reassuring genuine smile.

His daughter was left dumbfounded, "Ok-okay?"

King

“Are you sure?”

The question was left hanging in the air, his own child. King certainly didn’t expect this, though he wished his daughter could’ve trusted in telling him sooner.

“It’s the truth,” She responded, despondent and devoid of all hope. That was the last thing he wanted to hear from her, to see one of his very own children so demoralized from speaking the way she usually does. How tragic, “I’m sorry dad.”

King’s daughter was being bullied by people she put her trust in, and shared one or two—perhaps even more conversations with these very people. Now her supposed peers had been bullying her, and he didn’t even evidently identify it at all until she told him.

He felt ashamed of himself as a father, this isn’t what he wanted for her at all.

“Please don’t apologize, it isn’t your fault at all dear.” King simply said, encroaching her shoulder with his hand and patting it once. She bit her lip, casting her eyes away from King.

“I can handle it for you,” King continued, moving his hand from her shoulder to the crown of her head. Fluffy hair stretched across her head, bestowed a beauty that continually reminded King of a miracle he had for a daughter, “you shouldn’t have to worry about being perceived as otherwise for being the victim in these situations.”

She let out a quiet huff as King messed up her hair, albeit somewhat on accident but King liked the happier expressions instead of the sad ones. However he’d never admit that out loud, he can sincerely appreciate his family from a distance.

Tentatively, she strayed her gaze from whatever she had her eyes set upon—returning in line with her father, “Are you really serious?”

“As I can be.” He replied in a heartbeat, giving way to a lightness for his daughter. So she smiled, though it wasn’t there, it was definitely progress. King was glad he could cheer her up, even if it was only a little bit.

A moment had passed, a split-second maybe before his daughter spoke up once again. “Could we maybe… go to that one clearing you showed me a few years ago?”

As content as King could be, a sigh left him as he smiles.

“Of course, anything you like.”

Escanor

Now this hardly was something he expected to deal with, and nonetheless he was patient. He needed to be there for his daughter, she needed his help.

Though, he felt ashamed of himself when he had finally found out his own child was being bullied.

By her own peers no less!

How upsetting, it was certainly not okay with them to behave that way toward his daughter. But his means of dealing with the situation would be—different, most likely. At most he will absolutely have a stern talk with the parents of her peers, as he would not stand for this.

Escanor had his means, but he was also a father above all else.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asked softly, not wanting to rush his daughter into talking. Escanor wanted to try and take this at her own pace, and it seemed it was working okay.

A few minutes of silence passes, which worries the man.

She crosses her arms, trying to make herself feel smaller and perhaps more comfortable, “I’m fine, okay?” She said, speaking with a hint of finality.

Escanor knew she clearly did not want to speak of this.

“You are not as camouflaged as you think you are.” Escanor responded, keeping his tone level. He had the patience of a better man, and he was the pinnacle of the human race, nothing less and nothing more. A talk with his daughter would not anger him, she was human too, but this was certainly going to take some time.

Her eyes flitted to his for a moment, as if she truly were a deer in head-lights for a split moment. So she sighs, crumbling further in her seat out of defeat, “Your so pushy sometimes Dad.”

“Better to be pushy then potentially not know of whatever danger my own daughter is in.” Escanor remarked with a light chuckle, a smile curling beneath the orange-red mustache.

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

The Question

For @bellygunnr. I asked him for a prompt, he delivered, and it devolved into this. This questions can destroy friend groups so tread carefully. Here's 1700 words of Roland making Miller's life hard ft guest appearances by some of our Fireteam Crimson.

-

Miller was enjoying a cup of coffee in one of the messes when Roland popped up. Key word: was.

Fresh coffee too, barely scorched to the bottom of the carafe, with liquid (!) not powder creamer. And then Roland had to come ruin his morning.

"Spartan Miller, Fancy meeting you here!" Roland says with a flourish of his avatar. He's grinning like he's already pulled one over on Miller. His mood and coffee sour instantly and he swallows with a grimace.

Miller takes a full second to debate how to respond. He opts to save himself the trouble and cut through the mind games. "Morning, Roland."

The words are drawled over the rim of the mug, his one shield between them, as Miller leans on the counter and waits. He's punished for his patience as Roland smiles at him. He doesn't like the smile.

"I heard something that certain crew members were talking about-" Oh no. "-something of a philosophical debate, and I wanted your opinion on it."

"Uh huh..." He takes his time. Roland's grin does not falter. Miller doesn't like that. If he's not so impatient to hurry him along then he's already decided on the outcome. He's just here to fuck with him and it is too early for that. "This isn't another body part conversation, is it?"

"Spartan, I would not be so gauche as to ask about that at breakfast."

Miller sighs and shifts his footing. "Then what?"

"Do you consider milk a snack?"

What?

"What?"

"I want to know your thoughts. I've been privy to some heated debates around the snack status of milk. Some even went as far to say it could be a meal, in certain situations."

"What?!" Miller's voice goes up and he grumbles. Pinching the bridge of his nose. "Are you hanging around marines? This is the kind of stuff that marines argue about."

"There were some others involved. Some people with more credentials weighed in and lines were drawn." Roland is eerily somber as he delivers that line, but it's gone in a flash as he perks up to say, "That's why I want to hear your thoughts!"

"Is milk a snack?" He echoes. This was not where he thought the line of questioning would go.

"Could it be considered one?"

He's vaguely aware of his face doing something. He's mad at himself that his arms are crossed and he's invested so quickly. Who was arguing this? Milk's a drink. Who is spending their free time arguing about this? And the more important question; What does Roland want? What does he get out of this?

Miller eats his five food groups plus the extra ones they made up for the IVs. Milk is not a snack, it's a drink. Right? Roland knows this. He has to know this. The care and feeding of humans probably came with his instruction manual of the ship. Miller's heard him remind people to eat and drink when he's feeling particularly snippy and points out bad habits to (try to) win arguments. Roland's just messing with him. Unless that's what he wants Miller to think so then Miller would say it's a snack and then Roland would call him an idiot for thinking that. There's no safe answer here, but the best option Miller has is to say that no, of course not. Milk isn't a snack, and it's illogical to consider otherwise.

"You've been quiet for a bit, didn't know this was such a tough question."

He feels his eye twitch, but he doesn't rise to the bait. Miller sniffs, it’s a loud and abrupt noise, and puts his mug in the dish return. "Milk's not a snack, Roland." He says with the deep calm of the utmost paranoid.

Roland raises his chin and tilts his head to the side, looking at Miller with a face full of polite indifference. It's almost funny seeing him try to look down his nose at him from a holotank a meter off the ground. "Oh really?"

Cold sweat collects on the back of his neck. Miller had not avoided the mind games.

"Why not?" Roland mirrors him, arms crossed head tilting back to eye him.

"It's not!" He blusters and then remembers himself. "You asked what I thought and I told you."

"Yeah, but why?" Roland turns his hand to check his nails. "I heard some pretty compelling arguments."

Miller's eye twitches again. The door to the mess opens and shuts without him bothering to look at who's entered.

"From who?!"

"People."

"’Snack’ means food. Milk is not a food, it's a drink."

"It's a thick drink. Could be a snack in a pinch."

"What are you even saying?"

"Milk snack."

"It's too early for this. Are other drinks snacks?"

"I don't know, are they?"

"Are you mad at me? Did I do something recently? To deserve this?"

"Hey now, are you mad at me? You're looking upset there, Spartan. Heart rate is up too."

"Roland! You-! You're the one seeking me out to ask me if milk is a snack!"

"Do you draw the line at milkshakes? Oh, or maybe an egg cream?"

"You're making that last one up."

"I am not! It’s a real thing, look it up."

"Anyway, you're trying to distract me. Milk is not a snack."

"Well, that's your opinion. What do you think, Captain Lasky?" Roland smirks, barely dragging his avatar's eyes from Miller's as awareness hits him like a grenade. 

There’s a second before the captain responds, enough time for Miller to glance over and take in Lasky in his front row seat to the Roland and Miller show. The Captain. Of the whole ship. Sitting there watching Miller’s sanity erode in real time.

"Oh, I'm good. You two have fun." Captain Lasky smiles at them and raises his own mug of coffee as he goes back to his datapad.

"Sir." Miller nods robotically. The cold sweat is back. So is the unpleasant flush of heat on his face.

"Spartan." The Captain nods back. He even smiles. Is that sympathy or pity in his eyes?

"He came in about halfway through our discussion." Roland stage-whispers to him. It is definitely loud enough for Lasky to hear because he grins into his mug. "I would have warned you but you seemed so intent on this topic."

"Roland."

"Yes, Miller? Something you care to share?"

"No..." He doesn't deflate, but the fight's gone out of him. There's no winning.

"Captain." Miller nods and leaves the room. He's dreading Ops now. There's no way Roland lets this lie.

-

"Hello Crimson, Roland here!"

Miller doesn't mute in time and hot mics an exasperated groan straight into Crimson's TEAMCOM.

"Spartan Miller! I know today's mission is a lot of standing around and waiting for things to happen, but a bit of decorum, please! What would Commander Palmer say?"

"Clear the line and let the Spartans work, Roland."

"That is a very good impression of her, have you been working on that?"

Miller ignores him and tells Crimson their mission. It is in fact a “standing around and waiting for things” mission. Four Spartans from Fireteam Crimson are guarding Site Req//7848-2328 codenamed “The Refuge” because it’d been the site of enough problems already and Commander Palmer wanted it covered while Infinity Science packed their bags.

“So we’re babysitting again?” Crimson 4 asks. Crimson 2 elbows him hard enough his shields flicker. Miller watches this unfold from Crimson 3’s helmet feed and sighs. It’s not his day today.

“You’re guarding the scientists and marines who are finishing up doing science stuff in the area.” Miller explains. “Before anything else bad happens.”

“And we drew the short straws.” Crimson 4 says to himself.

“Gunny, your mic’s on.” Crimson 2 chides.

“Oh I know.”

“You know-” Roland interjects.

“No.”

He ignores Miller. “-there’s a question going around and no one can agree on the answer. Miller here didn’t like me asking him, but I bet Crimson could tell me their thoughts.”

Crimson 2, 4, and 5 exchange glances. Crimson 3 continues napping from a spot in the nearby greenery, seemingly asleep until he flashes green. 

“Is milk a snack?” Roland asks and silence falls on the team of highly-trained, combat-hardened super-soldiers. 

Miller groans and hides his face in his hands. “Roland, we can't keep doing this.”

“What kind of milk?”

“I like making Pilk!”

“It could b- Gunny, what the fuck is Pilk?!”

“‘Cause it could be a snack, depending on the animal or nut it comes from.”

“Sometimes in the old country, all I had for dinner was milk.” Crimson 5 nods sagely, his accent clipping his words through the mic.

Oh you know, pilk!”

“That doesn’t explain anything!”

“What is happening?”

“Research, Miller. Isn’t it obvious?”

“Miller, what’s your opinion?” Crimson 4 chimes in.

“It’s not- it’s not a snack.” He sounds absolutely despondent. This mission was supposed to be simple, but now thanks to Roland, it’s gone completely off the rails.

“Really? Too good for milk snack?”

“It’s a drink!”

“It could be a snack. Glass of milk between meals?”

“Are you guys okay?”

“I don’t know, our mission handler is acting weird. Too high and mighty for milk snack.”

“Yesss! Join me! Rhodes, when we get back, can we make pilk?”

“I still don’t know what that is.”

“Milk and soda!”

“Sounds almost like an egg cream.”

“Aha!” Roland cheers and his avatar does a little fist pump in the Op center.

“There’s no way egg creams are real!” Miller explodes. Dalton looks at him from his station with his usual level of concern. He likes to let Miller know he’s here, but he’s not intervening.

“Focus Crimson, you have a mission.” Miller tries to regain control but it’s long gone.

“We are on mission. Stand around watching the trees and radar. Don’t let anyone touch Forerunner buttons and become the science. Listen to Roland ruin Miller’s day. Standard operating procedure so far.”

Miller doesn’t know how to respond to that.

Roland does.

“I don’t ruin his day! I brighten it and yours with my charm and valuable tactical advice!”

“Shoot the door gunner, Crimson. Touch the button, Crimson. Ooh a big locked door, let me open that for you, Crimson.”

Miller blinks in surprise as Roland is, for once, speechless.

The silence is broken by Crimson.

“Do you think Murphy considers milk a snack?”

“I don’t want to spend our trip home arguing.”

“I bet he would like pilk.”

“You’re not listening, are you?”

“No <3”

[strawberryshortcake1495]

The Story of Jasmine

(I can’t afford the fast-pass chapters so I’m not sure if her backstory has already been revealed, but as I said, this is all just my own interpretation and shouldn’t be taken as canon.)

Jasmine used to be such a happy girl. She was the eldest child in her family, having two younger siblings named Amara and Colton (aged 7 and 4). She was only 12 years old when she and her family went on a vacation to Savannah. They visited the Sorrel Weed House and Jasmine explored each crook and cranny of the house, drawn in by its history of being haunted. That’s when she saw a phantom from the corner of her eye but chose to ignore it. By the time her family left, it was nighttime, and they were making their way home when a large phantom blocked their way. In a frenzy, they quickly drove off into the forest and stayed at a cabin for the night. The next day, the phantom was gone but that wouldn’t be Jasmine’s last encounter with those ugly creatures. She and her siblings started seeing phantoms everywhere but they’d always disappear before they could really catch them. Amara told their parents and then they started seeing the phantoms too. This went on for like 3 weeks. Jasmine’s mother thought they were going crazy and started spiraling into madness. Jasmine’s father thought that the hotel they were staying at was haunted as well and that the only way to escape the phantoms was to just go home. So one fateful night, they packed their bags and started driving all the way back home. Jasmine kept checking her phone as they kept driving. 7PM. 8PM. 9PM. 10PM. 11PM. As the clock struck midnight, the skies turned red and there was a loud roar in the distance. Then the giant phantom centipede manifested and started chasing the family. Jasmine’s father was driving at speeds that shouldn’t be possible and Jasmine herself was hugging her siblings and trying to comfort them while crying her eyes out. Suddenly, they began to swerve off the road. The last thing Jasmine saw was a tree getting closer and closer and closer.

When she gained consciousness, the first thing she felt was something wet and mushy. Someone wet and mushy. As Jasmine’s vision cleared and she looked around, she realized something horrific. Her entire family was dead. She was laying in a bed of corpses. Distraught, Jasmine scrambled out of the broken car and began crawling into the forest. Her leg was twisted in a not-so-fun way. The only thing she could really see was the sky, which had returned to a somber dark blue with stars that illuminated the forest. Jasmine fell limp and closed her eyes, ready to die.

She awoke in a strange place with white walls. A man was standing near her bed. It was Maverick. Jasmine tried to leave but Maverick kept her put, and explained that she was sick. Infected with the virus. Maverick told her if she stayed, she could be able to help other infected people like her so they wouldn’t end up like her family. Jasmine stayed in that place for 6 miserable years until she turned 18 and started working professionally under the Paper Cranes.

Jasmine is presumed to be Patient Zero. A child who was gaslighted into believing she was crazy.

[lilacmingi]

ALICE IN WONDERLAND AU ♤ PART 4: TAEHYUNG

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Mad Hatter!Taehyung x fem reader

Word count: 2,432

Your journey led you to a small, broken gate that had an old sign hanging from it reading: Tea party this way! Both you and Yoongi came to a stop as you read the sign.

Yoongi kicked the gate open abruptly and walked through, all the while keeping an indifferent expression. Making your way down a small, sloping hill you were able to get a look at your new surroundings. The area looked abandoned, a rotting windmill being the only thing left standing.

There was a small, dirt path that you followed Yoongi down. From that point, you could see a huge table sitting out in the middle of nowhere, the windmill standing just beyond the setup. Tea cups, broken glass, and an assortment of small desserts littered the tabletop. Mismatched chairs were set around it, every single one unoccupied.

Seated at the head of the table was a man dressed in a fancy, vivid purple robe made of silk. Underneath was an equally as vibrant hot pink shirt which was unbuttoned to show off the many gold necklaces adorning his neck. Sitting atop his head was a crazy-looking top hat that was wider at the crown and slanted ever so slightly. Wrapped around the band of the hat was a silky ribbon of the same hot pink as his shirt, a slip of paper tucked into it with the number 10/6 on it. He was laughing joyously, clinking his teacup with what appeared to be a dormouse in a red coat.

This must be the Hatter. You mused.

He was handsome. So handsome, in fact, that he didn't seem real. Though everyone you had met so far was like that.

Yoongi cleared his throat to announce your presence, the man looking up from his spot at the table, his eyes widening in recognition.

"Y/n." He whispered to himself. He jumped up from his seat and hurried straight across the table, knocking everything over as he did so.

"Y/n! It's you!" He exclaimed cheerfully.

Leaping off the table, he eagerly approached, grabbing the sides of your face and planting a firm kiss to your lips, pulling away with a loud smooch sound.

His bizarre and very abrupt display of affection caught you off guard. The Hatter grinned widely, not phased at all by what he had just done. It seemed as if he wasn't even aware that his actions were anything but normal.

Your eyes were blown wide in shock. Being kissed right on the mouth was not what you expected when you envisioned your meeting with the Hatter.

"It is you, isn't it?" He asked squishing your cheeks between his lace glove-clad hands.

"Yes." You had said, but it came out as "Yesh."

"I knew it!" He grinned showing off a unique boxy smile before wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

Just as you were about to ask him to loosen his grip (because he was squeezing the life out of you), he let go and moved to hug Yoongi.

"Oh, Yoongi!" He gushed enthusiastically. "Thank you so much for bringing her to me! Though I sent Jungkook to bring her so I must say I'm a little surprised." He murmured. "Oh well. Y/n is back and that's all that matters!"

"She doesn't remember." Yoongi spoke flatly, breaking the news right away.

The crazy man's cheerful attitude disappeared immediately, his face going somber.

"She doesn't?" He asked, his chipper tone now disheartened.

Yoongi shook his head.

"You don't remember who I am?" The man turned to you, his brown irises searching your face desperately.

"Jungkook said people call you Hatter, but that's all I know."

He frowned when you said that. You didn't know his name.

"I'm sorry." You apologized. "I wish I could remember."

Hatter's bottom lip jutted out in disappointment. "Well, never mind that. There's no time to be sad, we have a tea party to attend!" His cheerful attitude was back in the blink of an eye. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Taehyung." He took a bow, removing his hat.

You took notice of his uniquely-colored hair which sported a pale pink color that resembled cotton candy.

"Nice to meet you... again."

"Turn that frown upside down, dear Y/n! Your memories are sure to return at some point. In the meantime, why don't you rest your weary bones? I'm sure you're tired from your journey. Have a seat." He took hold of your hand and pulled you towards the table, guiding you to the chair situated to the left of his.

"Yoongi, my friend. Join us!" Taehyung waved him over.

"I don't know. I'm pretty tired."

"Don't be a party pooper. C'mon! We've got all kinds of tea. I also picked some mandarins earlier today." Taehyung gestured to a 3-tier cupcake stand which had the citrus fruit displayed on it instead of sweet treats.

Yoongi's ears perked up at the mention of mandarin oranges, his eyes brightening.

"I suppose it wouldn't kill me to stay for a little while."

"That's the spirit!" Taehyung clasped his hands together.

Yoongi flopped down in a nearby chair and kicked his legs up on the table. Taehyung was quick to pour him up a hot cup of tea and serve it along with an orange. Yoongi wasted no time snatching up the citrus and peeling it.

"Y/n, would you like some tea?" Taehyung offered.

"Sure. I'll have a cup."

Taehyung grabbed a chipped teacup off the table and poured some steaming tea into it, offering it to you with a smile. You thanked him, your eyes momentarily scanning the cluttered tabletop. The sound of something lightly scooting along the wood of the table grabbed your attention. The dormouse you saw earlier was pushing a glass container with sugar cubes inside towards you.

"Oh! Um. Thank you."

Lifting the lid, you plucked a couple cubes from the container and dropped them into your tea, stirring them around with a small spoon. The dormouse then scampered off, scrambling into an empty overturned teapot.

Lifting the cup to your lips, you took a sip. The tea was warm and tasted wonderful.

You hummed softly at the flavor, not bothering to question how it was brewed in the middle of nowhere. With everything you'd experienced this far, you wouldn't question anything about this place.

"Where is Jungkook?" Taehyung asked. "I sent him to bring you here."

"Oh." A frown etched into your features. "The bandersnatch attacked us. Jungkook and Jimin stayed behind to fight it."

"Jimin too? Are they alright?"

"I don't know."

"I told her they're strong and don't back down easily." Yoongi mentioned.

"That's true." Nodded Taehyung.

"If that's the case, then I hope I see them again." You murmured, going to take a sip of tea.

"Oh my!"

Taehyung's sudden exclamation had you lowering your cup. "What?"

"If the bandersnatch was after you, then that means..." His sentence went unfinished as a horrified look flashed across his features, his eyes glazed over and distant. "That means..."

Leaning forward, you waited for him to finish what he was saying, but he only stopped and reached into his pocket, pulling out a watch.

"It's time for tea!" He announced cheerily.

"What?"

He didn't even finish what he was saying.

"Here have some more!" Taehyung insisted, pouring more of the warm beverage into both yours and Yoongi's cups.

"He gets like this." Yoongi informed you from across the table, pointing to his head and doing a twisting gesture. "I told you he's off his rocker."

"Off my rocker?" Taehyung echoed Yoongi's words, seeming to tune into what was being said about him. "Are you saying I'm mad?"

"Of course you are."

"I'm just eccentric and have odd habits is all." Taehyung huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'll say." Yoongi rolled his eyes.

"And what's so wrong about being eccentric? Hm? There's nothing wrong with it. Not at all."

"What were you saying, Taehyung?" You inquired, cutting his tangent short.

"Oh yes! If the bandersnatch was after you then that means the Red King wants you."

"Me?"

"That's what I just said, silly goose." Taehyung tittered, ruffling your hair.

Using your fingers to comb through your hair, you attempted to smooth out the strands wether they were messed up or not.

"Anyway, a while back the Red King sent some of his goons to spy on you and see how you grew up. He wanted to kidnap you and keep you for himself. Luckily, I caught wind of the plan and decided to send Jungkook to get you and bring you to me. That way you'd be safe." He puffed out his chest proudly.

"Yeah she'll be safe alright." Yoongi rolled his eyes.

"She will! I'm totally capable of it! I'll keep my Y/n safe." He turned to you with a smile.

"Your Y/n?" Yoongi's questioned, sitting up.

"Yeah."

"She's not yours."

"She's not yours either."

"I kissed her." Yoongi grinned smugly.

"So did I."

"Mine was a real kiss. Go on, ask her."

Taehyung turned to you, raising his brows in silent question, waiting for you to respond.

Yoongi stared, prompting you to respond.

"It happened so suddenly and it was over before I knew what he had done."

That was a tiny lie. The kiss was sudden and short, but once your brain caught up with what had happened, you did let yourself enjoy the moment, albeit short-lived.

"But you liked it." Yoongi smirked resting his elbows on the table while leaning towards you.

Thankfully, you weren't given the opportunity to respond as Taehyung cut in.

"Well, I kissed you too."

"You bombarded her." Yoongi responded for you. "At least there was some buildup for mine. You just ran up and slammed your lips to hers. She didn't even know it was coming."

He was right. Though it wasn't totally unpleasant it was unorthodox.

"Oh." It's as if Taehyung realized for the first time that what he had done wasn't considered normal. "I guess I got ahead of myself."

"Well, it doesn't matter because I kissed her first."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means she's mine." Yoongi hissed.

"What if she doesn't want to be yours?"

"What if she doesn't want to be yours?" Yoongi turned the question on Taehyung.

"I want her though."

"Everyone wants her!" Yoongi raised his voice. "Why do you think The Red King is after her? He likes her! So does The White King! Jungkook, Jimin, Namjoon, you, me! We all want her!"

You sat frozen in shock as Yoongi and Taehyung bickered and shouted at each other, arguing over... you.

This is madness.

"Hey. Guys, please stop. I'm feeling really overwhelmed."

They didn't hear you, too engrossed in their own petty argument. Standing up from your chair, you cleared your throat.

"Guys." You raised your voice a little in hopes to gain their attention.

They continued to argue.

This has to be a dream because this? This is absolutely ridiculous. The way these two were fighting over you of all people was so not realistic. Forget what Jungkook and Jimin said. This isn't real. It can't be.

"Guys!" You exploded, yelling at the top of your lungs. "Cut it out already!"

They both froze right where they were. Taehyung had gotten up from his seat and was gripping the collar of Yoongi's shirt while the cat hybrid had one of his hands clenched in a fist, ready to strike the Hatter in the jaw.

"Please just stop." You begged through an exasperated sigh. "I'm overwhelmed by all of this already and the arguing isn't helping. So please quit fighting."

"Sorry Y/n." They mumbled collectively.

You dropped back down into your chair, reaching forward to take a sip of tea, letting the warm liquid calm you a bit.

Taehyung was the first to speak. "We shouldn't have gotten so heated, especially over you."

"He's right." Yoongi agreed.

"Thanks you two." Your finger traced absentmindedly over the swirls on the teacup in your hands.

Silence hung in the air for a few moments before you broke it by speaking.

"Tae?"

The Hatter's eyes widened, even Yoongi had a surprised expression on his face.

"You called me Tae."

"I... did." Your brows furrowed.

Where did that come from? How odd. The nickname slipped out like it was second nature, as if that was something you referred to him as all the time.

The expression on Taehyung's face melted into one of nostalgia. "That's what you called me when you came to Wonderland all those years ago."

"I did?"

"Yes." He nodded vigorously. "If you remember the nickname you gave me, then you must remember everything else, right?"

"That would make sense. Yes." You nodded.

"Maybe you'll get your memory back after all." Yoongi cracked a small smile.

For the first time since stepping foot in this place called Wonderland, you felt hope that your memories would return.

The sound of marching feet echoed in the distance, the disturbance causing you to scan the area for the source of the noise. Yoongi and Taehyung both looked alert.

"Oh no." Yoongi mumbled.

"What? Who is that?"

"It's The Red King's knights. I'd guess they somehow found out you're here in Wonderland." Taehyung's face paled. "Y/n, you need make yourself scarce right away."

"Where do I go?"

"I don't know. Away from here."

"What about you?"

"Someone's gotta distract them." He winked. "Don't you worry. Tae has got this all under control." He tipped his hat.

"I wish you luck. You too, Yoongi."

"Oh, I'll be fine. I can disappear whenever I want. It's him you should be worried about." He gestured to Taehyung.

"Go somewhere safe, Y/n. I'll look for you." Taehyung assured, ignoring Yoongi's slight jab at him.

With a single nod, you took off, darting away from the tea party set up in the middle of nowhere. As you ran, you heard faint voices behind you in the distance.

"So, Taehyung. It's been a while, hasn't it? We heard Y/n is back." A man's voice spoke, his tone obnoxiously arrogant.

"She is? Since when? I'm actually kind of offended no one thought to inform me." He sighed dramatically. "I'm always out of the loop."

You let out a light chuckle and shook shook your head as you fled. That Taehyung sure is something. Even in the face of danger he managed to put on a completely clueless demeanor. He may be mad, but he's clever.

➯ Part 5: Namjoon

Masterlist ᝰ

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143 @lizzymizzy-blogg @minhanbyeol @dinossaurz

[thepepsislvt]

Yandere!Bartolomeo x GN Reader

Based off of the song My Bloody Valentine by Good Charlotte

I also paid like $2 to have an ai cover of Bartolomeo singing it so enjoy (or not I’m the target audience anw)

Warnings: Violence, Unhealthy relationship, 18+, not nsfw but just very possessive Barto

Tags: @tulipps-maehem @daddychoso

Oh my love, please dont cry

I’ll wash my bloody hands and we’ll start a new life

Bartolomeo had just finish showering when he received your call

You were crying on the other line and he knew exactly why. He pretended to be greatly distressed and worried. Bartolomeo was grinning widely even with the fake pain in his voice.

He knew you needed his comfort so he started grabbing his essentials to stay the night with you.

When he left his apartment it was storming. The rain was falling and thunder was loud. Bartolomeo knew that you were also scared of thunderstorms and you tend to get clingy during those times. He smiled darkly to himself as he made his way to his car for the second time that night.

on his way to your place he always drove past your partners place. This time it was different with all the police cars with their flashing lights and the crime scene tape.

He drove slowly by the house just to look like any other passer byer who was slightly curious and snoopy.

Barto truly thinks that what he did was right. In his eyes it was. He would finally have you. He doesn't know wrong from right.

Once Bartolomeo made it to your apartment he had to put on a fake somber face.

When you opened the door with your tear stained face a part of Barto’s heart broke. He knew he was the cause of this. But in the long run it would be worth it.

He held you so lovingly like hes done before. Whenever you got into a fight with your partner or something happened in your life that was heartbreaking, he was always there to hold you and let you cry on his shoulder.

You had the news playing on in the background and after the local sports he finally saw the work of his own hands on the news.

“A Lover Died” he thought to himself.

He say you starting to cry even more so he turned your tv off even though he wanted to see what the pigs thought happened.

He had a flash of him ripping out your partner’s throat with his bare teeth. He had to rub his face with his hand to prevent you from seeing the dark smile on his face.

Once you had finally stopped crying and the rain subsided, he whispered to you

“Can I tell you a secret?”

With your full attention on him, his heart started pounding with joy and excitement to tell you what he had did. He almost was too exited to say it but he knew he had to if he wanted to start his new life with you.

“They dropped you off and I followed them home” He started with his big smile forming on his face, revealing his sharp teeth that you always thought were harmless until now. You now know they can cause harm especially with the blood shining in the light of your living room.

“Then I stood out their bedroom window”

you knew exactly where he was going with this now and he knew that. You sit up from your position of laying on his chest and now realize there was blood all over his clothes. You were too much in a state of fear and shock you couldn't move anymore. Your brain was yelling at you to run but you physically couldnt. It was fight or flight mode and god knows how much you cant fight. Not him. not your Seven foot best friend.

“Standing them, they begged me not to do what I knew I had to do, ‘cause I'm so in love with you”

This wasnt love. This was Madness. He was so sickly in love with you that he had killed your partner to be with you instead. You didnt realize you were crying again. Your best friend had turned your whole world upside down.

“I thought you’d be happy, he was an asshole to you. I hated seeing you come to my apartment from his only to be in tears and covered in bruises so I had to do something about it. For you and for us”

“You thought? you killed someone! what part of you was thinking? do you not know anything?” you shouted at him, finally gathering the courage to speak

“Well I don’t know much at all, but All I know is that I love you tonight” He reached up to wipe the tears from your face to which you flinched. He held your face still with his other hand and continued his actions “And everynight, always and forever”

You were trapped, you knew now that once you called him it was over.

“oh my love, please dont cry, its going to he okay, you’ve got me now. I’m the one who you should of loved from the start but you were blinded by their charm. Now we can start again and this time do it right”

[chubby-aphrodite]

what are some of your favorite words in that giant list of them you keep?

[referring to this list I keep]

Y'know what, since the document is five pages long so far, how about a word or two from each page?

Page 1:

Hibernal - of, relating to, appearing in, or belonging to winter

Estival - of, relating to, appearing in, or belonging to summer

I also have "vernal" and "autumnal" in there, but I looked these up one day because I wanted to know if summer and winter had equivalent adjectives... and they do!

Page 2:

Thysiastery - a sacrificial altar

This is one I learned from the Phrontistery, a website that catalogues really weird words of all sorts of categories. This one is also just fun to say.

Page 3:

Zaftig - plump or full-figured

A word with an etymology in Yiddish that's a positive way to refer to someone being fat. Other words I've found like this are "Rubenesque" (lit. "in the manner of Peter Paul Rubens" who was known for painting voluptuous, full-figured women) and "callipygian" (which is specifically an adjective meaning "pretty butt").

Page 4:

Sciamachy - a fake fight for practice; or, an argument with an imaginary opponent

I like this word because it is quite literally the single-word form of the phrase "making up a guy to get mad at." It is genuinely so funny to me to it's a word.

Page 5:

Oh man, there's more words on page 5 that I remember exactly where I learned them because it's the most recent page.

For instance, I went on a lookup-spree where I learned the adjectival forms of all the planets (and major dwarf planet) of the solar system, because I knew "mercurial" and "venereal" were words, but I wanted to see if the other planets had adjectives that meant "of the planet [whatever]" and also something else. Like mercurial means prone to change and venereal means related to sex or sexual diseases, but also "of/like Mercury" and "of/like Venus." There's also martial, which is about war and fighting but also "of/like Mars."

So there's:

Jovial - cheerful and gregarious; or, of/like/related to Jupiter (also called Jove)

Saturnine - gloomy, moody, or generally somber; or, of/like/related to Saturn

Uranian - I shit you not this one is an old-timey word for gay mean, while also meaning of/like/related to Uranus.

Neptunian - of or related to water or the sea in general; or, of/like/related to Neptune

Plutonic/Plutonian - having the characteristics of the underworld (dark, gloomy, mournful, etc.); or, of/like/related to Pluto or plutonium

I love sets of adjectives that go together.

(Also, the qualifications for what makes a word "fun" enough to go on my list is vague. It can be fun to say out loud, obscure, simply new to me in a way that sticks out, meaning something interesting, part of a set, really anything! It's my list and I've been going at it since 2018.)

[the-berf]

Dates held no importance to Carmy. His birthday? Just another random day in the year. Holiday season? You mean ball-bustingly busy season. Which was why Carmy taking a day off out of the blue didn't have anyone asking questions. Mostly, the crew were relieved that he was actually taking time away from The Bear. It had been too long since he'd taken a break, near enough working himself into an early grave.

The day started off as usual, except there was no Carmy. Things were a bit more relaxed without his ever watchful presence. There were more cock-ups and laughter but customers were still happy when they came in. Unusually, Richie was rather somber, mouth ticked down in a thin pressed line. It was only when Ebra squeezed his shoulder in a quiet moment and they shared a sad look that the others began to question what was going on. Nobody needed to be a genius to figure it out.

While Carmy didn't care much about celebrating days, over the course of the last year he'd grown to regret not going to Mikey's funeral. It wasn't something to celebrate but it was closure he didn't have. Though, if given the chance, he still wouldn't have gone on the day. Facing his family was bad enough, but when it was something as emotional as his brother's funeral, Carmy couldn't do it.

The kitchen was filled with stories of Mikey. He had been the one to bring them all together, had given them all a chance. Even if he wasn't there to see through the fruit of his hard work, most of the crew was there because of him. In a way it was easier not having Carmy there, he wasn't part of their stories. But at the same time they all missed him, wished they could share the memories they had of his brother. Collectively, they agreed that after service they'd go to the cemetery, pay their respects.

It was late by the time The Bear was locked up. Tired from another long but satisfying service, the crew filtered into cars to get lifts. Nobody expected the text from Natalie.

[Has anyone seen Carmy today?]

Unlike expectation, Carmy hadn't taken the day to spend time with his family. When Nat had tried to visit him, needing her brother on the anniversary of their other brother's death, he was nowhere to be found. In an attempt to be respectful of his space, Nat had left him be. But fear had clawed its way through her chest, especially when she realised Carmy had taken the day off.

After some frantic messages, most of the crew was left at the cemetery while Richie and Nat left, heading towards a certain bridge with dread.

The night was late enough for there to be little in the way of traffic and pedestrians, which made it all that much more to spot Carmy. He was leaning against the railing, looking out over the water and fidgeting with something in his hand. Nat had a hand over he mouth but her gasp was still loud in the car.

Heedless of traffic rules, they pulled over and were stumbling out of the car in a mad rush.

"Carm?" Nat called, along with Richie's not so subtle yell of "Yo! Cousin!" at least had Carmy turn his head to look at them. His eyes were puffy and red rimmed but it wasn't exactly a surprise.

The smile sent their way was wobbly and small, as was the hoarse "hey". At least Carmy was talking to them and turned towards them as the approached. Clutched in his hand was a small bunch of spaghetti.

"This is where he did it, isn't it?"

As Nat hugged him tight, Richie ruffled his hair. "Don't scare us like that, moron."

Puzzled, Carmy looked between the two. "How did I scare you?"

"Think, idiot." Now that the fear was gone, anger was the next emotion Richie could muster. "You take the day off, go to where Mikey offed himself, nobody hears from you. What did you think we'd assume?"

"I just-" Carmy shrugged and sniffed. "I- The Bear was as much his as mine. He should have been there."

"Instead you weren't there either," Nat chastised.

"Couldn't face it. Not today. I haven't even been to his grave."

An arm wrapped around his shoulders, Richie steered Carmy towards the car. On Carmy's other side, Nat had a hand on his elbow.

"We'll go now. Everyone else is gathered there already."

Not resisting, Carmy let himself be ushered into the car. The drive was silent save for the noise of the spaghetti shifting in Carmy's grip. None of the pieces broke though.

At the cemetery, Carmy got out, a little lost and wide eyed. Syd was the first to beckon him over, giving him a tight hug. Together, they walked to the small grave, one among the many.

"He always made spaghetti," Carmy rumbled as a few questioning looks were sent to the pasta in his hand. He laid it like a bunch of flowers on the grave. The middle had slightly softened where he'd been gripping it in a sweaty palm for so long.

"That he did," Marcus agreed easily. "It was pretty damn good too."

"Except the time he tried to spice it up." Tina picked up the thread with a smile. All too soon, stories of Mikey were filling the air, even if he wasn't there in person, his memory was still a big part of them all.

[pooonnyboooyyy]

Y’all the saddest damn stEx Greasedinah story just popped into my head and now I have to tell yall because I can’t be crying on my own.

So y’all know how at during the downhill final Electra electrocutes Pearl by accident? Well in this AU the lighting gets accidentally get redirected and hits a spectating Dinah and the consequences are a lot more severe. This is from Rusty’s pov.

The sound of lightning crashing stopped us all in our tracks, even Greaseball stopped, and then we heard a scream and very loud scream and whoever screamed seemed to be in horrible pain. Greaseball perks up, I think he knows who screamed, “Dinah” he whispers and within a second disconnects from Pearl and speeds of the track. “Dinah’s hurt” Dustin whispers to me, we quickly exit the track, helping Pearl up on the way. The three of us pushed our way through the crowd to see a depressing scene. Dinah was lying, limp on the ground, barely conscious in Ashley’s arms with Buffy beside her, Greaseball is trying to get Ashley to give her to him, she was refusing until Memphis Belle rolled over and whispered something into Ashley’s ear. Ashley handed over Dinah’s limp body to Greaseball, “Gr..easeba..ll?” Mutters Dinah, Greaseball shushed her “it’s okay Dinah, you need to conserve your strength Di” he whispered. “Can we get a repair truck please!?” Yells Ashley, Wrench rolls forward. I can’t believe it! Electra’s own repair truck was helping somebody else out! She’s kneels next to them, putting her hand on Dinah’s head. Pearl burrows her head into my shoulder, “how is she?” Greaseball asks. Wrench shakes her head, “Electra is very powerful, a hit of electricity from him is a death sentence. I’m sorry” Wrench sighs as she stands up. “What!?” Yells Greaseball, a uproar begins, Ashley and Buffy start to cry as Belle hugs them, I can feel Pearl crying into my shoulder. The rest of the freight all look at Poppa, I guess they’re waiting to hear what Poppa say, Poppa looks down in silence. Greaseball is still yelling at Wrench saying that he’s going to kill her boss until Dinah gets his attention. “Greaseball, it’s…ok” she whispers and suddenly the hole yard went silent. “Dinah! I’m so..I’m so..S.sorry. You deserve so much better” Greaseball cries. This is shocking, not only to see Greaseball apologize but to see him cry. And suddenly I don’t see the macho man and the lovesick waitress but I see the young train who would do anything in the world to have the pretty but sassy coach to be his partner, he didn’t win until Dinah became his partner. “I’m so…I’m so h-happy” Dinah gives him a weak smile, “and why’s that, Miss America?” He smiles back at her, I guess in a attempt to keep her calm. “Because you.. you’re finally being your…yourself. K..kind and ge..gen. Gentle. No..nobody ever gets to see you like that, ex…except ma..maybe me” she musters out. Greaseball smiles down at her, “I love you, Dinah, no coach could ever replace you” he kisses her forehead. “I..I l..love you too” she tries to say another word but before she can she starts violently convulsing, we can see the electricity surging through her. This doesn’t stop Greaseball who still is holding her to his chest while she shakes like a mad woman. One last large electrical current powers through her before she stops, her body goes limp again, her lights turn off and she’s gone. Greaseball starts to cry even harder than before, “THIS IS CONTROL THIS IS-” “SHUT IT!” We all yell. The rest of the night was a somber, endless affair. Greaseball refused to let go of her, the coaches were inconsolable and Pearl refused to even look up from my arm. It wasn’t till the early hours of the next day that Poppa finally convinced Greaseball to let go of her, he would never race again saying that his drive for competition died with her.

[honeyhobi]

Spider Socorro + curse of obedience?? <3

Put That Guy In A Situation™️ Ask Game

Crossposted on AO3

28. Curse of Obedience + Spider Socorro

A/N: This is short but I hope you like it anyway! Content warnings for child neglect.

At first everyone thinks Spider is just a really good kid. He never has to be told to do anything more than once.

“Spider, finish all your vegetables,” the McCoskers order him at dinner, and he does without complaint.

“Spider, stop running in the labs!” Max calls after him, and he skids to a stop so fast he almost trips over his feet.

“Don’t climb in the link beds!”

“Quit crying!”

“Stay away from Grace’s amino tank.”

The commands are endless, and Spider obeys each and every one. It's a gift to have such a well behaved child, everyone tells the McCoskers. They must be such good parents.

Except one night, when Mary is putting Spider to bed, he fights her. He kicks the blankets away, whines and cries to be allowed to stay up a little longer, struggles against her hands when they push him down onto the bed.

“For fuck's sake, Spider, just go to sleep!” Mary yells.

And, miraculously, Spider does. He goes limp on the bed, his eyes close, and his breathing evens out. It should be more concerning, but Mary is just so exhausted and grateful that she only shuts the lights off and leaves the bedroom.

The next morning comes around, and Spider sleeps right through it. The McCoskers go to work, and when they come back, Spider stubbornly stays curled up in his bed. He ignores them when they call his name, doesn’t even stir when Mary opens his bedroom door and asks if he's mad at her.

“The silent treatment, huh?” Mary says. No response. Spider snores away in his bed even as eclipse draws near. Or, he pretends to.

She comes over to his bedside and shakes him by the shoulder. “Come on. You can't stay in bed all day, you know.”

Still, Spider does not wake. His eyes remain stubbornly closed, face slack with sleep, until Mary orders with concern creeping into her tone, “Spider, wake up.”

And he does.

Spider's eyes blink open instantaneously, and he sits up and looks at Mary without a single inkling of sleepiness.

“Is it morning?” He asks her.

And he says it so innocently, so genuinely curious and not at all like a normal fussy five year old would after pulling a prank on somebody. It’s a ridiculous thought Mary has next, but she says it out loud anyway.

“Spider, do ten jumping jacks.”

She expects him to ask why. Maybe argue a little that he's only just woken up, that it's too early to exercise. But he doesn’t. Instead he gets out of bed and does ten jumping jacks. And Mary feels cold all over.

She calls Norm. They run brain scans and draw blood. When Spider whines fearfully Norm tells him not to be scared. Spider stops whining.

When the tests come up with nothing, when no machines tell the scientists anything about what could possibly be happening, they call Jake Sully. Jake Sully comes to Hell's Gate with the Omaticaya's Tsahìk on his tail. Everyone knows that something serious has happened when they see Mo'at's regal figure duck in through the airlock of the labs.

“There are stories,” Mo'at tells them, “passed down from generations about a child with a gift that allows him to do anything he is told to do. Stxeli lek.”

“The gift of obedience,” Jake says, his expression somber.

“Yes. It is said that this child has great skills, and can do many great things.”

Mary lets out a nervous little laugh. “That’s good, then, right? He won't ever be a hassle.”

Mo'at's grim face shuts her right up.

“This gift is very rare. Very powerful. The stories serve as a warning not to misuse the child's power. Many see this gift as a curse. The child could hurt himself, or hurt others.”

For the first time during the entire meeting, Nash speaks up. He shrugs and says, “Sounds like a gift to me. Maybe we can order him not to become a genocidal maniac like his father.”

Norm glares at him and objects, “Spider would never hurt anybody!”

They all turn at once to look at the boy in question through a small window that looks into an observation room. It used to be to interrogate enemies back when Hell's Hate was RDA property. Now it's been transformed into a classroom for Spider, equipped with soft mats to sit on and educational toys to play with. When Jake visits with his two children, it doubles as a playroom for all of them. Now, they all watch as Jake's daughter sits on the floor and braids Spider's hair with clumsy fingers while he chatters away. The room is soundproof, so they can't hear what he’s saying. But whatever it is makes Kiri laugh.

Mo'at hums in consideration. “Perhaps not. But if someone wished it so, he would not have a choice.”