#not anymore I do not suffer bird killers

[kedreeva]

Keep your FUCKING cats inside your FUCKING houses. Period. Some asshole outdoor cat just killed one of my birds, on MY property, inside of MY barn, inside their own caging. Not one of the peafowl, thank fucking god, but I'm LIVID right now

[fatalism-and-villainy]

I was thinking about the multiple contradictory narratives Bedelia spins about herself in s3 part 2 - the way her public story completely excises her agency in collaborating with Hannibal, while the version of events she presents to Will, in which she gloats about having been “beyond the veil” when he has not, also completely excises her ambivalence and fear towards Hannibal. (Like, she confidently presents a narrative to Will in which she shared the perfect understanding with Hannibal that he craves, and wherein she has embraced the violent impulses in a way that his compassion has impeded him from doing. And yet she spends so much of s3 part 1 positively radiating stress and discomfort. And that contrast is fascinating to me in itself.)

And then I started thinking about the bird metaphor.

Bedelia uses the wounded bird example to frame Will as being held back from being a true killer by his compassion and concern for the weak. But in reality, it represents the appeal that violence holds for both of them. Will’s desire to protect the vulnerable is the source of not only his violent urges, but the pleasure he takes in hurting those who hurt others - this is most obvious in the social worker horse plot line, in which his care for Peter ignites his murderous anger towards Clark Ingram, and also comes through in his enjoyment of killing Randall Tier and his fantasies about killing Hannibal. The fundamental tension in his character arc - whether the righteous anger he feels for the vulnerable will overwhelm his compassion, such that the pleasure of violence swallows up its initial motivation - is reflected in the fact that many of the killers he can identify with do feel a kind of twisted compassion for their victims. Garett Jacob Hobbs, for example, his identification with whom Will struggles with considerably, is said to “love” his victims. For Hannibal himself, violence and love are also incredibly bound up.

Bedelia is different. Her desire to crush the bird tends to manifest as a sort of twisted mercy killing, as with Neal Frank and Sogliato. (Interestingly, her and Will’s violent impulses, at least on a surface level, feel like an extreme and twisted reflection of their professions - Will’s job is to bring justice, and hers is to provide medical care). Hannibal knows this about her, and explicitly sets her up to kill Sogliato (“technically, you killed him”). He knew she would flinch at his suffering and need to squelch it out. And while it’s not stated one way or another, it’s entirely possible (perhaps probable) that he purposely set her up with Neal Frank, because he was curious what she would do.

(In Tome-wan, Hannibal tries to push Will to mercy kill Mason Verger in the same way during the “he fed his face to my dogs” scene, possibly working from his experiences with Bedelia - but of course Will’s not built that way.)

The thing with Bedelia’s mercy killing, though, is that despite her being the one to voice the line about compassion being necessary for cruelty, her motivation seems to be nearly devoid of compassion. Rather, my reading is that she operates more from discomfort, and disgust. She’s repelled by weakness and suffering. When she sees a wounded bird, she wants to get rid of it, crush out its suffering so she doesn’t have to look anymore. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t get genuine pleasure from the violence, but the violence we see from her feels reactive.

And that’s possibly the biggest difference between her and Hannibal, and the source of the gulf between them. Because Hannibal relishes vulnerability. See the way he affectionately rubs his head against Miriam Lass’ as he chokes her unconscious, the way he keeps Gideon alive for an extended period of time so he can experience Hannibal’s work, the way he treats Bedelia herself with care despite their both knowing he’s working up towards eating her. It’s not just about the kill for Hannibal - it’s drawing the victim’s reactions out and enjoying the thrill of power he has over them, and it’s a process that in many cases seems to instill a strange, twisted tenderness in him.

This brings me back to Will and the wounded bird, because his desire to “help” the bird doesn’t just extend towards his penchant for violent punitive justice - it’s also the way he comes to see killing itself as a way of honouring the victims by making them into art. He wants to linger with their vulnerability, spool it out and spin it into something beautiful, and it’s through this that he can connect with Hannibal. But can you imagine Bedelia stopping to turn Chiyoh’s prisoner into a sculpture? Of course not. She can’t linger with her victims after their deaths - she panics after killing Neal Frank, and is sickened by Hannibal’s actions in Antipasto. She can’t see the artistry in death the way Will and Hannibal can. Violence compels her, but pain and suffering are ugly to her. To Will and Hannibal, they’re beautiful.

[abhainnwhump]

IMYM Chapter 16: Candy Corruption: Dream

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Since the coffee date, Dream has been feeling much better.

He pinned it on being in the sunshine. He’s been spending so much time in his room, trying to find him, that he didn’t have any time for himself. The open window wasn’t enough. Dream spent most of his childhood outside, so of course his energy would be greater here.

He practiced his archery in the field close to the Star Sanses base. They set up targets to practice, at least a dozen. Dream loved archery, not just in battle. It gave him positivity and excitement, rushes of adrenaline. The wind blew past his frame and tickled his cheeks. The sun was warm and the breeze was cool, the birds sang and chirped in glee. Dream hid the targets amongst the trees and he fired. He missed one, but he made two bullseyes.

Nightmare still hadn’t attacked since then, and that was still so strange to him. Three months and almost no attacks. Something was wrong. He was sure Nightmare would start attacking again once he murdered Ink. Why else could he still be hiding?

His positivity faded the second he thought of Nightmare. His bow lowered in his hand and Dream clutched his head. He took deep breaths to calm himself. Killer’s words came back to haunt him.

We thought you would save him, but I can’t blame you if you didn’t want to.

If Dream worked harder, found Ink a little sooner, forced him to talk that morning . . .

Dream flipped and fired at a target between the branches. It’s been so long since he’s had a full night of sleep. But he couldn’t rest, not until Nightmare and his team were brought to justice.

He wished Cross was here. He was put on double-guard duty with the rising threat of Nightmare and Ink’s death. Dream didn’t blame Cross, or the commander for putting him on the job. It was for the good of the multiverse. And at least Cross loved his guard work, he would be more upset if he was doing a job he hated.

The guardian shot another arrow. The reason he fired arrow after arrow in the first place wasn’t for practice, but for procrastination. They were going to clean out Ink’s room with Blue today, but they didn’t want to. A fragment of his soul hoped Ink would someday come home. If they kept his room the same, Ink would settle right back in and everything would return to normal. Dream imagined it every day and it became his comfort fantasy.

Even if he knew it would never happen. It couldn’t. They saw his dust and clothes. Ink wasn’t suffering anymore.

Wasn’t he?

Dream sensed an aura. He cupped the side of his skull and listened to someone’s boots walk on the gravel path. He looked over and spotted Blue walking through the trees. Dream snapped his fingers and the positivity arrows vanished.

“I got all the boxes from Core! They’re already in Ink’s room so . . . are you ready to do this?” His voice was gentle. Blue knew Dream procrastinated the task since the funeral, he made excuses all the time. But Dream knew he couldn’t put it off forever, it must be done.

“Yes, I’m ready. Thank you for finding me.” Dream put his bow away. He would clean the targets later. They wouldn’t harm any of the animals.

Blue turned the light on. Nobody had entered Ink’s room since the funeral. When he did, Dream felt as if his throat was tightening a rope around itself, trying to choke him. The feeling persisted, but it was less extreme with Blue by his side, even if he still felt sick. As he said, the corner held dark brown boxes. A black marker rested on top of one of them.

Blue removed the blankets from the bed, shook them out, and folded them. “I’ll do the left side of the room, and you do the right, okay?”

Dream looked around the room until he spotted Ink’s wall of paint and photos. He smiled at it. It was of the three of them in Outertale. They all smiled and hugged each other. Dream dropped it into one of the boxes marked ‘Keep’. Dream made sure the photo was face down, trying to push the sad thoughts out of his head. “Okay.”

Dream and Blue worked until nightfall clearing out Ink’s room. Dream cleaned out Ink’s drawers, removed all his art supplies, and took the decorations off the walls. He put them in specially marked boxes. Blue took care of his clothes, furniture, and went through extra boxes. After the sun set, they both lay back on the mattress and looked around the emptier room.

“Well, we got a lot done today!” Dream chose to focus on the positives. And they did complete a lot of work. Only the furniture and a few harder-to-remove decorations remained. Everything else was either packed in a box or thrown away. An eerie emptiness filled the once-colorful room. Even the stench of paint that always filled the room was now gone, left with only a memory.

“Yeah, we did a lot! It’s quiet in here . . .” Blue looked over at Dream. “Who are you and Core choosing to take Ink’s place-”

“No one now, no one yet.” Dream cut him off. “I’m sorry, I promise I’ll- we’ll find a new Guardian of Creativity. But it needs to be the perfect person. Not anyone can replace Ink. It’s for the sake of the Doodlesphere.” He rubbed his thumbs against his fingers. He looked back around the room. They didn’t want to leave Blue alone in here. But Blue did eventually leave to give Dream some alone time. He thought he needed it.

For reasons he didn’t know, the negativity only seemed to grow the longer they stayed. Dream didn’t understand why. It wasn’t coming from Blue, and they had felt the same since they first entered. The feeling was the same as a Code Purple. Dream had the emotions memorized, even though it hadn’t happened in a long while.

Afraid of Blue getting hurt or kidnapped, Dream didn’t tell him about it. Instead, he simply created a portal and stepped into the negative world. It lead him to Candytale, which surprised and concerned him. Candytale always gave him a headache. It’s more negative than positive, but that was due to the monsters having fake happiness. It was made of in- well, candy. All pink and sweet. The trees were lollipops and the the grass was saltwater taffy. Rock candy constructed the tunnels, like the one he was in now. Dream liked sweet things, so smelling all the chocolates and berries made him happy.

Dream walked down the path with the most negativity until he could a horrid stench. It smelled like a caramel apple that had been sitting and the hot sun and rotting. He looked up and gasped at the black goop down his path. The trees blackened from their brown roots. Tendrils of negativity suffocated the trunks.

Dashing through the cookie crumble dirt, they followed the black goop. He ran faster. Nightmare couldn’t have been far. He grabbed his bow off his back, but could only pull his swords. It was much harder for him to summon his bow if there was too much negaitivity. Patches of dust coated the path, this time not made of candy. Dream began to cough. Oh stars, not again . . .

Stop! Stop!

They almost tripped on a massive rock, but the sweet sound of chirping caught their attention. Dream looked to his left and spotted a yellow Peep bird. Dream stepped away from the rock and held his arm out. The small creature flew down to rest on his ulna.

“What’s wrong?” Dream pet the bird. The sticky sugar marshmallow coating tainted his gloves. The bird blinked its black sugar eyes and bounced on his wrist. It chirped and Dream understood clearly. Danger! Danger! Look behind you! Look out!

“Danger? Where-” Dream’s body went cold with magic and negativity. The bird struggled on their arm, chirping in alarm. Dream shushed the poor animal to keep it from hurting itself. They looked around at their casing of blue magic. He couldn’t move anything except his eye lights, which flashed to look at the person holding him. Half of Dust’s face was covered with a baseball cap and a hood, but his luminous eye lights gave him away. They glowed in the shadows.

Dust gave him a blank yet interested look. “The hell are you doin’ here?”

Dream frowned at Dust. “I felt a Code Purple and sensed your destruction. What are you doing here? Where’s Nightmare?”

Dust kept quiet and pulled Dream toward him. The bird chirped in pain again. Dream summoned his magic under his hand in secret. It stung since you weren’t supposed to move in blue magic, but they were desperate. Dust scoffed. “Helpin’ your brother. He’s going to be real happy to see you-”

A blast of magic to the face cut Dust off and he clutched his face in pain. Dream was done taking this. He stomped up to Dust and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket. “I’m done playing games. Where. Is. He.”

“He-” Dust stared at Dream in shock for a long time. Then he rolled his eye lights. “You are the last person I’d expect to do this.”

“Stop stalling! WHERE IS HE?” Dream had enough of this. His eye lights glowed a brighter gold.

Dust stood up straighter and turned around, gesturing for Dream to follow. Dream turned around to the bird flapping behind them. Dream cupped the Peep between their hands and rested their forehead against it. “Stay safe, little one. Go hide, I’ll keep this AU safe.”

The bird chirped ‘thank you’ and flew into the trees. Dust didn’t look back and walked toward the west. Dream ran to catch up with him.

The Guardian of Positivity stayed close. He looked down and spotted the dark crevices and liquid across the ground. They exhaled and kept following Dust. One hand was kept wrapped around their bow in case he attacked.

Finally, they made it out of the tunnels and walked into a grassy clearing. The bright blue sky and cotton candy clouds were so pretty. But despite the beauty, this spot had more negativity than the entire tunnel did. Looking up, Dream realized why. He narrowed his eye sockets with a scowl. “Nightmare . . . ”

The Lord of Negativity turned around. His shock turned into a twisted smile. “Ah, hello brother. Come to see the scenery too? It’s a lovely evening.”

Dream walked closer to Nightmare. He had some dark magic swirling on the grass at his feet. “What do you want? Where have you been? What are you doing here? Why did you kill Ink? Stop smirking and answer me!”

Nightmare chuckled. “Now, now, one question at a time. I’ll answer them in order. I want what I’ve always wanted, to eradicate all positive feelings. I’ve been working on a special project. I have a new toy, you’ll meet it soon. But for now, I’m practicing some new magic. I think I finally mastered this technique. Would you like to watch?”

Nightmare kneeled down and swirled his finger above the flower. The licorice plant turned darker in color and the grass around it darkened too. Nightmare snapped his fingers and the black sludge shot itself onto a rock ledge. The rock candy sizzled and burned holes into them. The rocks all turned black.

Dream gasped. He’d never seen the corruption spread in real-time, at least not without a master to command. “You’re the one corrupting those AUs!” he exclaimed.

Nightmare gave him a disappointed look. “Wow, you are slow for a guardian, almost slower than Ink was. Of course I was the one corrupting them. Who else could’ve done it?”

“That was a rhetorical statement!” Dream shouted back. He was so angry about the Ink comment, he ignored the rest. “And don’t you dare call Ink slow. He was smarter than you will ever be.”

Nightmare shrugged. “You have no idea . . .” He stood up and brushed his hand off his pant leg. “It doesn’t matter now. Ink is gone. I doubt he even cares what I’m saying about hi-”

Nightmare stepped out of the way as Dream threw one of his swords at him. They couldn’t remember the last time they were this enraged. They would not stand Nightmare speaking about their best friend like this. Dream dashed to grab his sword back. Dust summoned a Gaster Blaster and leaped on it. Nightmare hadn’t moved. Dream ducked Dust’s blast and rolled on the ground. He grabbed the sword and stood up, deflecting a bullet that Dust shot at him.

“Speaking of that new magic I was trying . . .” Nightmare waved his hand as the two fought. “I need a living subject for this new test. Unfortunately, Dust killed everyone who crossed our path, and I’d prefer not to use him. Now that only leaves . . . you.”

“Leaves me for what-?” Dream couldn’t look at Nightmare because he was clashing with Dust. He didn’t see him gather magic in his hand. Swirling and roaring, the magic in his hand grew a brighter teal than his usual power. Too distracted to react, Nightmare shot the beam of malice in Dream’s direction. It seeped into his eye sockets. The cold sensation bit into Dream’s bones and made him scream.

Dream’s eye sockets burst open with a faint teal glow. He didn’t know where he was. It was all darkness. Dream has never been nyctophobic, but this scared him. He stumbled with his words, searching for signs of movement. He was the only source of light and color.

“Think fast!”

Dream spun around to Dust’s voice and stabbed his chest. Wait, where was Dust’s hoodie? And his blood was . . . purple. Dream’s head slowly rose to the skeleton he impaled. He gasped. It wasn’t Dust.

It was the one he loved the most.

“Dream?” Cross asked, confused and betrayed. Dream dropped his swords and tried to tend to his wounds. Cross shoved him aside, still in shock. “What the hell? Don’t touch me! How could you do this? I thought I could trust you! Let me guess, you wanted to take advantage of me like everyone else?”

Dream shook his head in confusion and panic. “No! I swear I thought you were Dust! I’m so sorry. Here, let me heal-”

Cross’s dagger hovered close to his neck. Not enough to hurt, but enough for a taste of what could be. He scowled. “I can’t believe you. I’m done trusting people, for good this time.”

Shoving him aside, Cross stormed off. Dream tried to run after him, but a rustling sound caught his attention. He turned around and the scenery completely shifted. He now stood in a cold dungeon with stone walls, deep under the surface. He assumed it was Nightmare’s. Dream tried to steady himself. This wasn’t real, none of this was real, it couldn’t be. The sound of chains moving made him jump and he crept down the stone hall. His gaze settled on someone curled up in the corner of a cell. It took him a few moments to realize it was Ink.

Ink wasn’t smiling like usual. His bones faded to gray and were covered in injuries. Several of his fingers were cut or missing. Some of the wounds were deep and littered his bones with cracks and chips. Both eye lights dimmed to whiteish gray. As Killer had said, a massive bullet wound took over his skull, dripping black blood. It sizzled when it touched the ground.

Hey, Dream. Ink didn’t speak, but Dream could hear his voice echoing in his skull. When he opened his mouth, he caught a glimpse of the rainbow stub where his tongue used to be. Ink held his arms out, revealing his rotting bones. His left hand was missing two fingers; the right missing three. Like my new look? I call it, “Tortured to death and left to rot because my friends were too stupid to figure out where I was and rescue me.”

Dream felt faint looking at Ink. The shock and guilt he remembered from when Killer first told him about Ink’s fate returned.

Ink kept talking the way he used to, only more cynical. Oh! And thanks for the funeral, I didn’t think anyone cared. They told me they didn’t. The worst part about this is that I still have the damage and I can’t draw anymore! They took my thumbs! Look at this! I’ve tried using my teeth, but it’s not the same. He waved his stubbed fingers. What? Nothing to sta

“I . . . I didn’t do this. Nightmare did. I’m sorry.” Dream blinked fast.

Technically Dust was the one who killed me, but Nightmare kidnapped me, but it was because of you . . . I’mma blame all of you for this, but mostly you since you kicked it off and never found me. Ink pointed at Dream’s hands, making his eye lights follow. Black blood coated his gloves. Dream shuddered. When he looked up again, Ink disappeared, leaving nothing but his chains. Silence lasted for a few seconds before a scream of pain broke from behind him and Dream. He turned around to darkness, and then something grabbed his chest and forced him to the ground. Dream made a sound of pain as the dungeon faded. His head pounded like his soul.

Dream crawled back until his hand grazed the sandy bank of a pond. He turned around and stared at it. It was himself, but . . . not. It was his face, but his circlet with made of pitch-black thorns. He wore a gray hood and cloak with a matching eye patch. Dream shook his head and the reflection did the same. He didn’t understand what was happening.

The hands of reflection grabbed him and pulled him deep into the water. Dream gasped and tried to fight, but his limbs could have been made of lead. His reflection threw him to the ground and the real Dream looked up. His clone’s aura was so much more negative. Bitter, betrayed, heartless, cold. Dream stood up and stared him in the eye. “Who . . . who are you?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You.” The reflection pulled up his fur hood up. “I’m you, but I’ve seen the truth and fixed us. I’m the stronger you.”

“You’re not me at all!” Dream exclaimed. He looked over at his reflection again. It had his face, yes, but nothing else. “Wait, what did you mean ‘seen the truth’? What truth?”

He huffed. “Think about it. What has being kind ever done for us? We were nice to the villagers and they turned on us, and then they killed Nightmare. They walked all over us. We were nice in the Omega Timeline and now nobody takes us seriously. And if you were never the sweet and kind Guardian of Positivity, Ink would still be alive today. He would have never been kidnapped in the first place if it wasn’t for you.” The clone scowled deeper and crossed his arms. “We dedicated our entire life to helping others and we’re at rock bottom. Choosing myself was the best thing we- or let’s be honest, I did. You’re too naive and innocent to see that right now, but you will. Trust me. No matter what you do, you’re going to end up like me, admit it. Nothing will change. We can’t make anything better.” He glared at him. “The sooner you give up, the easier this will be for both of us.”

His fear and confusion melted into the anger that had been building up snapped. He stared at his negative clone. Maybe it was because he refused to believe he could ever fall this low, or his patience was wearing thin. Or he was tired of being scared and the negativity kept eating him. But he wouldn’t stand for this. Dream swung a hit at the clone with a shout and he disappeared into darkness. They grabbed the sides of their head and screamed. The real world and the dark bubble fought for attention. Dream reached out for the light pieces, and the illusion shattered.

Dream awoke to a massive field of damage. He slashed and burned several of the candy trees. He was soaked from head to toe in freezing water. Dream spotted a pond nearby and had his answer. He blushed in embarrassment as he realized he made a fool of himself. But on the bright side, nobody could get hurt. He stared at his hands, no blood. He blinked through his tears and found the laughter came from Dust. Nightmare, meanwhile, was silent but grinning with a closed mouth.

“Interesting,” he muttered. “You produced more negativity than normal and I could feel it enter your subconscious. But you snapped out of it too quickly and I couldn’t get onto your head as I thought. The magic was far too weak. Hm . . . I need to work on that.” Nightmare mumbled something else Dream couldn’t hear.

Dust chuckled a little more until his expression turned firm again. “Huh, hearin’ only one side of those conversations was insane.”

Before Dream thought it through, he stomped up to Dust and punched him in the jaw. Then he swept his leg, forcing him onto the ground before stomping on his back. Dust yelped and cursed. Dream swung a hit at Nightmare too, slapping him clean across the face. Even Dream was surprised by his violent outburst. He stared at his hands but then balled them into fists in front of himself.

“The fuck is your problem?” Dust spat. He pulled his hand away from his bleeding nasal bone.

“My problem?” Dream barely kept his voice steady. “My problem is that murderers and criminals like you keep running free! My problem is that you feel no regret for the people you hurt! I am done letting you push me around! Do you have any idea what it’s like to lose the ones you love and you’re helpless to do anything about it? Ink didn’t deserve to be tortured and killed! My brother didn’t deserve to die so you could take over his body! I thought you could still be redeemed, I was hoping you could. My mistake.”

Dream closed his eye sockets and took a deep breath, trying to let the anger leave him. But it was hard. He had to restrain himself from strangling Nightmare, beating him to the ground. His pacifist nature was too strong for that, but he wanted them to suffer for their crimes.

Dust finally answered with a scoff. “For the record, yeah, I do know what it’s like to lose people. And I happen to feel a lot of regret.” He rubbed his jawbone. It dripped with blood.

Dream stared at him for a long moment and turned to Nightmare. His smug grin grew. He grabbed his swords and ran to him. Nightmare bared his teeth as his tendrils flared. He melted into a pile of darkness and took Dust with him. Dream stabbed the ground where they left. His blade cut through the dirt with ease, but there was no sign of either of the killers.

Once the anger was gone, Dream could properly process what he went through. He knew it was all a hallucination, but he couldn’t help but feel shaken. Cross, Ink, that clone of himself . . . it had to mean something, Dream couldn’t think of what.

Dream shook in place. He quickly made a portal and ran into it. The inky darkness outside didn’t help his emotions. He fell onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, then he squeezed his eye sockets shut to repress tears. He held his upper arms and tried to clear the images from his head. They couldn’t breathe and covered their cough. Dream ripped off their cape and boots and lay down. They didn’t take their wet clothes off and instead covered themself with blankets. He was exhausted, but also too paranoid to get any quality sleep. Their hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He couldn’t have nightmares, so sleep was a safe haven. For now.

================================================

Dream ran out of the base right away in the morning. It was five o’clock and the sun had barely awoke over the horizon. Blue was still asleep. Dream didn’t want to worry him as he left, though he knew he already did. Blue wrote him a note that lay ignored on the counter. He walked up the hill toward Ink’s statue. He stared at the engraving on the pedestal and traced his finger over it. He looked up at Ink’s cocky stone grin.

They touched the stone Broomie’s handle. It was too tall to touch Ink’s cheek like he wanted, but having his hand on the statue was enough. It felt like his spirit was by his side.

“What do they know that I don’t . . . ?” Dream asked the statue. Ink didn’t reply. Usually, statues made them uncomfortable, especially hyper-realistic ones like this. But maybe the thought of Ink being in stone instead of in that twisted castle was better. “I’m sorry. I feel like it should be obvious, but something is missing. I can’t explain it . . . I hope you don’t hate me.”

Dream reached as high as he could and lay his hand on Ink’s chest. He could have touched his face if he stood on the pedestal, but he didn’t want to. He had so much he wanted to say, but couldn’t since it wasn’t Ink to hear. He kept it short and sweet. The Guardian of Positivity pressed his head against Broomie. “I’ll avenge you, Ink, I promise. Even if my soul burns up and I take my last breath, Nightmare will be brought to justice.”

[limitlesses]

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐃𝐘𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍𝐄-𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐃, 𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 -- he was too stubborn for Suguru to push him away now, not with what they just went through together. If their bond hadn't been strong before, Satoru hoped it was stronger now ---- there had to be a bright side to this, their suffering, and Amanai's death... right?

Fate had been pulling at his strings, making him capable of harnessing the Reverse Cursed Technique to self-heal, like his first successful firing of Red slamming into his would-be killer's body, like the creation of his first obscenely destructive Hollow Purple. The price had been Amanai's life and nearly his own, too, though selfishly Satoru found himself capable of swallowing that pill because it also included Suguru's safety guaranteed.

That assassin hadn't wanted to kill Suguru, made a point to avoid doing so, and for that he strangely had Satoru's gratitude. The initial shock of revival whilst in that pool of his own blood had him worried, lurching forward, thinking the worst of it all. For a brief second Satoru, in his blood loss delirium, had thought he wasn't seeing things right when he whipped his head toward where Suguru took Amanai, Six Eyes piercing below into Tengen's domain, and finding him there.

He sought out the threat, void of vengeance, void of all ---- except maybe that fresh kick of adrenaline, the power rushing through his veins so electric he felt drunk, he felt otherworldly, he felt as though he was going to explode -- yet equally so serene, somehow omnipresent but in a way that didn't make his head spin, watching the world through eyes which hovered above like stars in the sky while his body felt miles away, maybe it was still crumpled in a pool of blood at the perimeter of Tengen's barrier.

But he was here now, present enough to cup Suguru's cheek as the man confessed -- and his heart hurt, these feelings were whipping back into his body as though a fluttering flock of birds touching back down after a brief startle. Suguru needed him, so he was here. Ready, gentle -- somehow so gentle, after so much violence, and he tucked Suguru's face into the crook of his shoulder to allow him to cry whilst words that meant everything to him spilled out freely. Suguru was never one to openly discuss his feelings, especially something so raw and fresh -- something so thickly traumatizing to them both... Satoru felt his own eyes prickle briefly, but he fought it down, smiling as Suguru murmured his worst fears against his collarbone.

❝ Hey, shhh... I've got you, I'm here ---- I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not ever -- there's nothing that could change that, nothing that'll stop me... ❞ And he chuckled weakly, yet genuinely, a breathy sound as he nuzzled to touch his lips against Suguru's temple. ❝ Nothing can stop me, Suguru, not anymore. This'll never happen again. I promise. I'll ---- ❞ -- he swallowed hard, a knot tied in his throat over just how heavy Suguru must've felt, getting treated by Shoko whilst believing himself the sole survivor of their mission gone wrong. But... he carded his hands through Suguru's hair, now, then stroked one across the man's back, a touch of nails against skin, soft and slow. ❝ You know I'll always find my way back to you, right? I love you, you're my whole world. ❞

He nudged a kiss to the top of Suguru's head, now, closing his eyes, letting the man continue to shed his tears without making any implication that he needed to hurry up and pull himself together or the like. He didn't think it strange, weak, or demeaning to cry, not when he had just done it himself. If he could crawl into Suguru's mind and see the wallowing self-degradation going on he'd promptly throttle those thoughts by their necks. If Suguru truly hadn't thought less of him for his shed tears, then Satoru certainly wasn't going to start between the two of them in thinking Suguru was weak for doing the exact same as him.

❝ -- I'm stronger, now, Suguru. I can protect us both ---- I will protect us both. Please... you can rely on me, I want you to rely on me. ❞

He knew Suguru could withdraw inward, and he hoped desperately that despite his words rushing out of his mouth, despite the pounding of his heart in his chest and the stinging at his eyes, that he hadn't somehow convinced Suguru that withdrawing was still the best option he had. He wanted to encase the man in Infinity always, keep him for himself, selfish and smitten and snarling at the outside world if it ever grew too close or outstretched a crooked hand to try and hurt him. Never again. The scarring on Suguru's chest would be the last time something ever made him bleed ---- he'd make sure of that.

𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃’𝐕𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐄; that he wouldn’t just let it go, not when Suguru was doing such a terrible job pretending to be okay.  Neither of them were okay right now —-- not after everything that had happened.  But Suguru had been there, earlier, calming him down after a night terror that sent infinity reeling, subsequently throwing Suguru across the moonlit dorm room.  He had been there to wipe away Satoru’s tears, and hold him… to make sure he knew that he was loved, that he wasn’t alone.

For some fucked up reason, Suguru didn’t think himself worthy of the same treatment.  He felt like a failure in every possible way.  And worse than that, he couldn’t stop mourning the death of the young man right in front of him, who was very much still alive.  Suguru didn’t know how to process it all… he was 17 years old, and coping with the realities of the world around them —-- a world that clapped at the sight of a young girl with hopes and dreams now dead in his best friend’s arms.  A world that he was supposed to protect, that was capable of so much cruelty… —-- a world that had taken the only person that ever meant something to him.

He had thought Satoru was dead.  That’s what he had been told, before his rage had taken over.  Before he had been defeated by the same man that had struck Satoru down.

❝ I—... ❞  Suguru felt like he was going to throw up.  Waves of dread and panic washed over him as Satoru reached for his cheek, and ran his thumb across where Suguru had previously swiped away any proof of his current state.  Satoru’s touch alone was enough to break him down —-- those trembling hands against his skin, the way Satoru looked into his eyes with so much love… 

Suguru’s lower lip trembled as his eyes began to well up with tears.  If Satoru could be vulnerable with him, and show him enough trust to let him in… it was only fair for Suguru to extend the same vulnerability, the same trust.

❝ No, I… I don’t think I am, ❞  he finally managed to say, his voice rough around the edges as tears began to slip down his cheeks.  He let Satoru pull him back on top of him, subsequently dropping the towel he had grabbed to help clean up their mess.  Suguru didn’t care about the stickiness across their stomachs, anymore —-- didn’t care about the ruined sheets, or the strands of his hair now sticking to him. His entire state of being was a mess right now.  

Suguru slid a hand underneath Satoru’s upper back as he buried his face in the crook of his neck, his other arm half propping himself up so as not to press the entirety of his weight into him.  His jaw tensed as he tried to stifle his need to sob into Satoru’s loving embrace, still worried that the other would see him as the frail, weak man he felt like underneath it all. Though the fingers threaded through his hair, soothing him, told a different story… one that Suguru was so fucking desperate to hear.

When he felt Satoru’s eyes on him again, and that touch against his cheek, idly tracing the line of his jaw, Suguru let him in —- let Satoru truly see him. ❝ I thought you were dead, Satoru, ❞ he whispered, before moving to press his forehead against his. ❝ I thought I lost you.  Part of me… I still feel it, Satoru.  That you died, and there was nothing I could do.  I can’t—... I can’t stop feeling it. You’re right here, and I’m still mourning you. ❞

At that, the dams finally broke. Suguru couldn’t stop the tears from flowing freely now, or the way his body shook atop Satoru’s. His grip on him tightened as his forehead pressed even harder against him.  ❝ I can’t stop —... I was so fucking afraid that you were gone, and I never got to tell you how much I love you.  How stupidly in love with you I am. ❞

[problematicturtle]

About Claudia:

Yes, she has killed. She, like all vampires, is a killer. That she kept trophies of her kills and recorded their last words just means, in the context of the vampire universe, that she is a little bit extra. It does not mean that she is not capable of love, or of being victimized. And that her fear of Lestat in episode 5 is unjustified, that she is faking it. Faking it to whom, exactly. The dairy is a personal account, meant for herself only. She saw what she saw and felt what she felt, it was not a performance for an audience. Whether what she saw was the “truth” or not, is about perception and memory, not about an attempt to deceive others (what others? The book is hers, I doubt she wanted Daniel to read it years later as an account to exonerate her and vilify Lestat).

As for her manipulation, I see little evidence of that in the five episodes that we have seen. Claudia, caught in perpetual teenaged hood; where emotions are all you have and everything is all-consuming, lost someone she loved by her own hand and flipped out. Killed dozens and then, when caught, left. Found the world a horrible, terrible place.

Bear in mind, this is because she is, outwardly, a tiny Black girl, who is easy prey for just about everyone. That she can defend herself quite well doesn’t mean she’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Like Louis, she can’t escape how people perceive her. She is not allowed the freedom to navigate through the world like Lestat. That she has a ready excuse to the boy that harassed her means she must be used to this kind of treatment.

So then, after going through a traumatic experience, she goes home and asks Lestat for forgiveness; in typical Lestat fashion, he tells her he’s not interested in forgiveness. So she switches gears and asks Louis to come away with her, only to have Lestat attack her, leading to the fight. Bear in mind, this is close after she was assaulted by another vampire; of course she’s afraid, of course she’s terrified. Like Lestat said, she is a mistake who is built like a bird. We look at Lestat’s pain and suffering, at how he’s afraid of being alone, as reasonings behind what he did to Louis; Louis’ neglect, we say, is the reason why he snapped. And yet there’s no offering of the same kind of internal motivation to Claudia beyond “she’s manipulative and not to be trusted, and also a serial killer.”

You can be a serial killer and be a victim as well. You can be afraid, and vulnerable, and be unable to defend yourself against a much stronger party. You can be afforded empathy, and understanding for your situation, the way we afford empathy and understanding to so very many characters who do so very many terrible things. The way we talk about how much we understand Lestat’s motivations, or talk about how he “snapped” after being ignored for seven years. The way we relate to him, and wish he wouldn’t, and can see the man behind the monstrous acts. I want us to see the girl behind the monstrous acts. And acknowledge that in this instance, at this moment, she did nothing wrong.

I’m exhausted and this is exhausting; the character deserves to be humanized, is all I’m gonna say. She’s not a child anymore, but adult women also deserve their humanity. I don’t even say this as a big Claudia fan, I am not particularly invested in her one way or another. But it’s disappointing. The show has been very careful in how it portrays these characters, and deliberately so, and yet.

[thebiscuiteternal]

“I’ll post right after lunch!”

::promptly forgets like a dumbass::

Anyway! Here we go with some more twitter ideas too short for their own posts!

You know what would be painfully ironic? If the Jin/Nie captain that Meng Yao killed had already been destined to die in the war, and he jumped fate’s gun by doing it himself. If he’d just waited, like a week, the asshole wouldn’t have been his problem anymore without being the catalyst for his eventual fallout with both Nie sibs. For bonus points: he discovers this somehow right after Nie Mingjue’s death.

post-Sunshot, pre-Wei Wuxian death sangyao, where a collective night hunt at a conference goes catastrophically wrong and a sadistic asshole of a demon gets awakened. It agrees to let everyone go if Jin Guangyao and Nie Huaisang agree to compete against each other in a game of strategy for its amusement. Loser has to see the person they love the most suffer a potentially fatal disease. Everyone’s expressing sympathy to Nie Mingjue, thinking he’s a goner, but Nie Huaisang pulls out a surprise turnaround at the last moment and wins. And then, to the shock of everyone (including Jin Guangyao) promptly crumples to the ground in a delirious fever.

I think Huaisang deserves to find a nest of weird-looking eggs he’s never seen before, decide to hatch them to find out what kind of bird they are, and wind up with a pack of microraptors who obey only him.

Fem!NHS AU: Meng Yao gets recognized (barely) instead of being tossed down the stairs, but Jin-furen wants him gone, and his father figures the most lucrative way to get rid of him would be to sell him off to another sect in marriage. ... Oh, hey, doesn’t Chifeng-zun have a disgrace of a little sister he can’t seem to get anyone to marry? Win-win for everyone! (but mostly him). MY: If you agree to let me doll you up for the engagement announcement, I’ll never push you to leave your aviary again. NHS: ::sus squint:: MY: Okay, fine, if my father or his wife were to have heart attacks at seeing you actually look like a noble, I wouldn’t be unhappy about it. NHS: Deal.

Modern-day sangyao zombie apocalypse AU where an unearthed artifact is raising the dead and mutating the living left and right and land surveyor!Jin Guangyao is very surprised to find out his flighty hippy art conservationist coworker is actually a pretty competent zombie killer. NHS: (decapitates a zombie by swinging a road sign like a bat) Oh, yeah, Da-ge made me do survivalist training every summer from the time I was eight until I started college. Never thought I’d actually be using any of that, though.

While considering a previous idea I’d had (TGCF-flavored AU where Nie Huaisang was kidnapped and killed before he ever made it to the Cloud Recesses during the Sunshot Campaign and comes back as a Calamity), how fun would it be if all of his “facial expressions” were just interchangeable masks he switched with a wave of his fan, a la Hexadecimal from Reboot?

And again, pretty much everything else is too long to cram in one post... maybe I should do a few more “Things I Will Probably Never Write” posts soon. 

[djarinsbeskar]

PREQUEL ARC: PART 2 - THE HOUK

A/N: Part 2 is here! First and foremost, can I just say thank you so much for the reception Part 1 received and to those who (gasps!) actually want me to tag them for updates??? I don’t know how to react??? I’m so touched??????? It’s so motivating and has reminded me why I love sharing my scribbles!

There’s a greater focus on world/character building in this chapter so if it feels a bit rambling or description heavy, I do apologise! Like I said, I’m trying to build some context to the reader-insert before we get to the smut, and I hope that I’ve kept her general enough that she doesn’t cross the line too much into OC territory and becomes unrelatable. As always, constructive criticism is welcome! My style of writing leaves much to be desired so I would love to know if something doesn’t make sense so I can improve and fix it. But enough of that, on with the show!

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: Language and slight injury detail.

Plot: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

8 ABY, Mynock, Dandoran.

The second time you met him, he had dislocated his shoulder after a nasty clash with a Houk.

Your dealing with the Mandalorian on Klatooine had moved to the back of your mind and you rarely, if ever, thought about it. It was merely another encounter with a rough character that needed some medical attention. You wouldn’t have been able to hazard a guess at how many similar characters you saw in a week while you worked at the clinic. Even more so when you’d left Klatooine after becoming disillusioned that the New Republic were actually trying to make a difference.

You had heard stories from the Core and Mid Rim planets. Stories of the investment and progress being made to rebuild after the tyranny of the Empire, of the billions of credits being poured into the development of new ship building centers on Corellia and large, extravagant residencies for government members on Coruscant. Things, you were sure, that were not actually urgent necessities as they were desires. Especially given that the funds you received from that same government to sustain the clinic thinned before drying up completely a few months after your encounter with the Mandalorian.

…Hemorrhaging more credits than is justified for the benefits we’re seeing in return.

The busybody politician with a colorful title and even more colorful robes waxed poetically, hiding the sentiment of disinterest in ways only a politician could. Half-heartedly trying to distract you by his explanations with empty praise and gratitude for your service during the Rebellion and your humanitarian work now, a true embodiment of what the New Republic stands for. He crowed like the colorful bird he looked like, dressed as he was with fine feathers lining the lapels of his robes.

You bristle at the memory of the hologram’s eyes flickering to look at anything besides you, running down the time you had spent weeks trying to get.

That was when the memory of the Mandalorian surfaced, surprisingly. How the day after you treated him you arrived at the medical center and saw  a familiar pouch of credits sitting innocently behind the check-in desk. When you enquired with the receptionist, she told you it was sitting there once she opened up earlier that morning. The only note left being on one of the datapads behind the desk, the scrawling font reading; to help with your work. You had let out a chuckle to yourself as you checked your schedule, wondering if the brutish male you had treated last night really was as cold as he portrayed himself to be.

The memory had incited a righteous anger that a bounty hunter was more willing to support a voluntary clinic than the government that set it up in the first place was.

I thought the Empire were the ones who put a credit limit on what a life is worth. You had hissed in return, interrupting what you were sure was a well-rehearsed and well used speech, before hanging up. You pressed the heel of your hands into your eyes, taking a shuddering breath as you tried not to be nihilistic in thinking that you had spent nearly half your life thinking you could make a difference, when, you were just serving the Empire in different clothing.

It wasn’t a fair comparison; you knew the New Republic was neither as cruel nor as tyrannical and oppressive as it’s predecessor, but you had been made so dreadfully aware that in places like the Outer Rim, people would always be overlooked by those in power because they simply didn’t offer enough to be worth looking at.

The realization was a raw wound to your soul. You had lost brothers and friends to the fight for liberation, but it didn’t seem as though the grass was much greener on the other side. Maybe elsewhere in the galaxy it was, but where you were needed most, the grass was dehydrated and dying under the relentless sun.

With the clinic penniless, your meagre pension from the Rebellion was not nearly enough to keep it functioning. Add to that the reluctance of the other medics to run the clinic alongside you out of their own pocket and the intergalactic beacon for medical aid that alerted anyone in the parsec of where to go being disengaged, traffic stopped. The native Klatooinians preferred their own healers and very rarely, if ever, sought out medics from the New Republic.

For the first time in your life, your path wasn’t clear. If you even had a path anymore.

That was how you found yourself on Dandoran, flying off a week after the last of the medics left Derelkann to the first planet that was habitable to humans. But by the Maker, it was even rougher than Klatooine. The temperate climate and lush greenery were more comfortable for you, but the city you found yourself in, Mynock, was to say the least, undesirable. Having once been Hutt Space, there were still several illegal operations active that kept the city going and you learned early on what areas to avoid and to always carry a blaster with you. But at least where there was activity, there was work for you.

***

You met Biran Sonter the very day you arrived, asking directions to the nearest medical facility, hoping they could use another medic. He was an elderly Mirialan male with a wealth of history behind him, his facial tattoos creased with deep wrinkles and a kindly smile that reminded you of your grandfather.

You were flabbergasted to learn that during the time of the Galactic Republic, he acted as the royal physician to the palace on Naboo.

As you choked on the tea he had kindly made for you at that revelation, you couldn’t ask him quickly enough how he ended up here? On an Outer Rim backwater skughole of a planet and his tale had been sobering. When the Republic first fell, anyone who did not immediately surrender to the rising Empire was terminated. Biran had, at the time, only heard word of the death of the beloved former Queen Amidala and blamed the Empire vehemently. Escaping on one of the last shuttles from the Mid Rim planet before legions of clones descended, he arrived on Dandoran where no one, not even the Hutts cared enough to notice him. All they knew, was that he was an excellent doctor who charged little for his services and kept to himself. That was good enough for them. While he treated a vast number of criminals ranging from thieves to bounty hunters, he was not wholly merciful. He somehow managed to avoid or talk his way out of treating anyone in the organized crime syndicates or known traffickers and killers. It may have gone against a physician’s code to do ones best to save every life, but he like many, made their own code in the Outer Rim.

You fell into a fast and easy friendship with the Mirialan after that, your similar histories of working in the medical field despite being decades apart giving you plenty to talk about. The practice Biran ran in Mynock was always busy and he was only too grateful when you offered to take the weight off his old shoulders and gradually, his clients began to expect to see you most of the day and Biran for a few hours in the early morning. You were never short on work between cantina brawls, accidents and the downright attacks that took place in Mynock and the next eighteen standard months seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, Klatooine a distant memory, as was the Mandalorian you met there.

The night you saw him again, was no different to any other you spent enjoying a quiet drink before heading back to turn in for the night.

You had been in the process of leaving the cantina, recognizing that the later it grew, the rowdier and aggressive the clientele became. You could handle yourself as well as anyone who made their home in Hutt Space, but you knew better than to be blatantly reckless when you were on your own. It wasn’t like you had the squadron you stayed with throughout the Rebellion for backup as you once did, and your closest ally would probably break in half if you pushed him too hard. So no, you were not staying late with Mynocks newest resident of a Houk warlord and the company he seemed to attract.

The Houk in question was a cruel and belligerent brute, a former local warlord by the name of Gappo Teff. His reputation for inflicting punishment disproportionate to any slight committed against him or the Empire was one of the many echoes of the former imperial rule that was still being felt in the galaxy nearly three years after its collapse.

The stories of the chokehold he held over Sullust would make even a hardened soldier’s stomach churn. How he managed to escape the liberation of the planet without being dragged to the noxious surface of Sullust to suffer for the pain he had caused so many, was a mystery. But there he was, sitting like a king in the cantina you found yourself in, bellowing laughter ricocheting obnoxiously throughout the space, not a care in the world that he was a wanted felon.  

It might have been to do with the fact that he was at least seven and a half foot tall, with a mass that could easily fit three of you side by side across him and still not be seen. It might have been to do with the cold, milky blue of his small eyes, sunk into a skull so large it could probably shatter ribs and rupture organs if one were to be headbutted with it. The last thing anyone wanted was those eyes focusing on them. It could have been the heavy artillery modified blaster he kept laying on his lap; the weapon more of a cannon for those of a more regular stature. Whatever the reason, very few bounty hunters and even fewer New Republic guards came to collect him. He was probably one of the most easily found quarries on all Guild registers and New Republic wanted lists and yet, he languished in Mynock as if the Empire had never fallen and his reign was still assured.

Making your way to the entrance, you came up short as someone walked in, your nose coming abruptly close to a reddish-brown durasteel chest-plate. Taking a step back, your eyes did a double take at the familiar unpainted beskar helmet. Subconsciously, you had stepped to the side, the Mandalorian continuing to walk without a word as if you hadn’t nearly walked into him. Mandalorians were a rare sight these days, so you could be forgiven for staring. Though, you were most likely staring for entirely different reasons compared to everyone else in the cantina.

The armor was the same, if not a bit more worn, as was the dark boiled woolen cape and pulse rifle strapped to his back. But it was the gait; how could someone walk both gracefully and arrogantly, almost cocky in his self-assurance that he was in control wherever he went. It explained why he was so determined not to let his injury be known by his walk the last time you saw him. Because you had seen him before, there was no doubt in your mind that this was the same irritable reek of a Mandalorian you met in Derelkann years ago.

He stood in the middle of the cantina, assessing the place as his helmet scanned the area. If you didn’t know any better, you say he was…

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” You muttered to yourself when the helmet stopped on Teff. When you said bounty hunters didn’t bother to come after him, you should have been more specific. Smart bounty hunters didn’t bother hunting Gappo Teff, which explained why the one you knew of was right there looking for him.

A choice lay before you. Leave now and lock your doors until morning… or wait. For what, you couldn’t be sure. But if the Mandalorian wasn’t killed tonight by Teff, he was going to wish he was with the injuries he would probably sustain.

You let your head fall back on your shoulders as you exhaled. Why were you so soft for lost causes and wayward souls?

The Houks bodyguards left much to be desired, crumbling to the ground before they had even drawn their blasters, smoke rising from the blaster wounds inflicted effortlessly by Din.

The bodyguards weren’t what worried Din. Their boss hardly needed protecting, and he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

The groan and screech of the metal table being shoved away by Teff as he stood to his full height made Din grit his teeth, arms open as he boomed, “Ah Mando, I was wondering when you’d try your luck at me. Your reputation is becoming rather infamous throughout the parsec.”

A guttural, wet laugh left the purple skinned quarry as Din remained silent and kept his blaster aimed. Damn, but the piece of bantha crap was big. He quickly scanned his peripheral, but it seemed the residents of Mynock had more self-interest than to trade blaster fire over one warlord, the barkeep casually making his was into the backroom of the bar to keep out of harms way.

“Why don’t you hang up that Guild work and let me make you a better offer.” Teff boomed, taking a swing of his drink, streams of the yellow fluid running down the sides of him mouth as those frosty eyes stayed trained on the bounty hunter.

Din rolled his eyes behind his helmet; negotiations by the quarry were his least favorite reaction to being caught but he knew better than to think he had captured the colossal male yet. Until Teff was either dead or frozen in carbonite, he was a danger. Luckily, the orders were to bring him in dead or alive. Seems the New Republic were fed up with him still breathing. He couldn’t say he blamed them.

“No?” the Houk pushed when Din didn’t respond, “Too bad, you’d have made an excellent addition to my collection.” And with more speed than Din had anticipated from the large male, he charged.

You had the good sense to leave the cantina as soon as the first blaster shot was fired, pulling the hood of your dusty grey jacket over your head while you made your way back to the practice to gather a few things. Things that would be completely obsolete if he died but you wouldn’t think that far. You were a realist, not a pessimist. The Houk might have had the advantage of height and sheer strength, but the Mandalorian was quicker, possibly smarter, and decked with enough firepower to make a starfighter pilot drool.

So, you put the odds about sixty forty in favor of the Mandalorian. Not that you would ever tell him that.

Teff roared in anger as Din rolled out of the way again, shooting his grappling hook to latch onto the Houks shoulder and yanked hard enough to throw the male off balance. Despite his large size however, Teff was able to slide his foot back to catch himself, putting him in direct line with Din.

He was on his feet in no time as the Houk charged at him, lowering his head so that on contact, Din’s left shoulder was thrown back into the wall of the cantina. His breath left him as the impact winded him, a dull but growing pain throbbing from his shoulder before Teff’s vile breath permeated even his helmet and a large hand wrapped around Din’s throat. He could feel his feet leave the floor and the weight of his body pulling downward made the pressure on his windpipe all the heavier.

“Oh well, at least you tried.” Teff gloated, his head leaning closer as if to peer into the visor and that distraction was all Din needed to lift his hand and engage his flamethrower, engulfing the Houk in flames. Din gasped in a breath when he was dropped, the squeals of pain coming from Teff disconcerting as he staggered around the cantina, desperately looking for something to extinguish the inferno his clothing and more vulnerable tissue had become.

Din waited a few more measured breaths before lifting the blaster and shooting the quarry in the vulnerable side of the neck, satisfied with the resounding bang the body made as it fell to the ground, flames still burning bright until he picked up the half-drunk tankard on Teffs table to douse the fire lest he be completely unrecognizable upon delivery.

Din looked around, the cantina was empty; the silence suddenly deafening as he looked back down at the body.

Now, how to get him back to the Razor Crest.

Din sighed.

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

You held up your hands unsurprised when the Mandalorian spun on the ramp of his ship, blaster raised and aimed right at you. He tilted his head slightly, taking you in and you tried not to fidget under the gaze you could feel raking over you despite not being able to see his eyes. What you could see though, was how limp his left arm was hanging to his side.

“The demon medic from Klatooine.” He muttered, finally placing your face and lowering his blaster slowly while you lowered your arms.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You snorted before nodding to his arm, “And you’ll probably be calling me a lot worse when I tell you that that arm needs tending to.”

He shifted slightly, turning his body so you wouldn’t be able to see. You just crossed your arms across your chest and stared at him pointedly. He held your gaze and was still as a statue. You could play the silence game too if that was how he wanted to do this. It was only a matter of time before one of you broke and you weren’t the one with a dislocated shoulder, so you’d say that the odds were in your favor.

It seemed like time dragged on before, without saying anything, the Mandalorian sighed and turned towards the ship.

You bit down on a smile, but you could still feel it creeping upon your lips as you congratulated yourself on winning. Two nil, you tallied in your head, not bad girl.

The ship… well the ship was a fossil and that was being generous. But it was clean and obviously well taken of, if the tidy hull was anything to go by.

Apart from the charred corpse lying in the middle of course, but those were just details. Easily overlooked. The smell however… that was a different story, but you held back any comments. You still couldn’t fathom how he’d managed to drag a fully grown Houk through the town one-handed, but then you knew that the strength and discipline of the Mandalorians was unrivalled. He could have done it through sheer determination and honestly, you were lucky to have found him at all. But people in Mynock liked to talk, so following the rumors' had let you there relatively easy.

A sigh broke your train of thought, “Let’s get this over with.”

The warrior seemed resigned to his fate as he stepped over the corpse and you followed suit, mind instantly running through the correct procedure and treatment.

“We have to get the bone in the upper arm into the correct position before it slips back into joint, otherwise the force will just break your arm.” You explained as you moved to stand in front of the large warrior when he sat back on one of the many crates pushed against the wall of the ship. You could barely hear the short exhales coming from the modulator and you could only guess that he was holding back speaking, whether in pain or frustration that you had strong-armed him into accepting treatment again.

“But hey, look on the bright side.”

His visor tilted slightly to look at you.

“No droids needed.” You shrugged a shoulder and sent him a grin when he said nothing. When he looked away, you focused your attention back on the problem shoulder; it wasn’t immediately clear that it had been dislocated, the pauldron he wore hiding the jutting ball of the joint that was no doubt pressed uncomfortably against his flesh. What you could see was that his left side was hanging just a bit lower than his right, and the inability to move the arm was a dead giveaway.

“Are you just going to stare at it or actually do what you said you would when you barged onto my ship?” The rasp was closer to you as he turned his head, the rumble of his voice decidedly deeper than you remembered last time. Or perhaps it always had been, and you just hadn’t been paying enough attention, more focused on the very real threat of having a dead body on your hands as the poison spread. You rolled your eyes; or it was all the short and biting commands he only seemed to know how to give as opposed to actually speaking that made you forget the voice. The man could be attractive, if he wasn’t so frustrating.

“I can’t see it properly.” You replied, agitated with him again. He got under your skin too easily, and ruined your cool demeanor.

“You dealt with the problem just fine before.” He snapped back, pain making him cranky.

“You didn’t have a bone out of place last time!” You stopped yourself, sucking in a breath before releasing it to prevent yourself from snapping again.

“At least,” you bartered, “let me remove the pauldron. I can feel around the duraweave to get an idea. I won’t see any more of you than I did last time.”

He didn’t say anything again for a time and honestly, he was the slowest person you’d ever met at receiving emergency medical care. Half the men you treated during the Rebellion would yell until you’d taken care of the worst of their injuries before they even considered if it was what they wanted or not.

“Fine.” Was all he responded, making no move to remove the offending piece so you took that as your cue to feel around the curved metal cautiously, feeling where it attached to his duraweave and releasing it into your hands before placing it down on a separate crate.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” A warning growl echoed in the hull, turning you back to your task with a hum.

It seemed the joint had popped forward, no doubt from caving in as Teff collided with Mando’s shoulder. You leaned forward, your fingers feeling around the area as gently as you could while his breathing came out a little shorter. You sent him an apologetic smile.

“I’m going to have to ask you to stay still, okay? Usually I’d have someone to hold—”

“I can keep myself still, just do it.” He snapped finally, turning to look at you before he looked away again. You said nothing more as you took his gloved hand in yours, turning the forearm over and feeling the hand clench in yours when he hissed.

“Shh, nearly there.” You soothed, moving your hand under his elbow to lift it so it was aligned with Mando’s shoulder. You stood, keeping the arm in place and twisting yourself to stand facing his side.

You were definitely out to get him. There was no other explanation for why he only seemed to be seriously injured in your presence. Din tried to tell himself he was being over-dramatic and irrational, that you hadn’t even been on the same planet when he was injured the first time, but then you opened your mouth and he felt justified in his petulant thoughts.

“On three.” He heard you warn and all he could offer was a single nod; the sooner he got this over with the better.

“One…” You jerked the arm forward and slipped the joint back into place quickly with a sickening crack and searing pain took his breath away before it began to ebb immediately.

“DANK…. FERRICK!” Din yelled as his good arm reached across to grip his left, bending forward as he breathed through the flash of pain. You moved out of his way, waiting for him to look back up at you through the helmet, deep pants making his chest heave. You cocked your head to the side when his eyes found yours, a clear question there.

He groaned as he sat back, leaning his head against the hull, “It… doesn’t hurt as much anymore.” He admitted, thinking that the smile you gave him was somewhat worth the knock to his ego at having to admit such a thing in the first place. And like last time, before he could even worry about the concerning direction that thought had led to, you were fluttering about opening crates and bins as if you owned the place.

“What the hell—” he made to stand indignantly.

“Do you have any spare cloth?” You interrupted, “Your arm needs to be bound for a few days. If you have bacta it might reduce the healing time a bit but honestly, I don’t think dislocations can be rushed despite recent studies. Rushing back to heavily lifting or activity for at least six weeks is a sure way to hurt yourself again.”

You were rambling now as you set a pile of disused yet clean cloth you found on your lap, sitting across from him as he just blinked at this enigma of a woman. Giving him orders in his own ship, were you daft?

Your eyes sharpened and shot to his and he was suddenly glad you couldn’t see behind his mask. His eyes had widened guiltily at the thought that you had read his mind.

“You will do what you’re told, understand Mando?” You warned as your fingers tied a loose sling from strips of cloth you’d pulled apart without even having to look at it, deft fingers looping the material and strengthening it with several more layers woven in for good measure.

“If you insist on getting injured so often, you live with the consequences. And the consequences are doing what you’re fucking told and being happy about it, got it? Sulk if you want, so long as you keep the arm bound and don’t take on any jobs for at least two months.”

He opened his mouth a few times at the audacity, did she have a death wish? He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had spoken to him as if he were no more than a child and it made his blood boil. But just as quickly as the anger arose, it simmered as she muttered while watching her fingers tie off the sling,

“You don’t actually seem like a bad guy, and the galaxy can’t afford to lose anymore… not bad guys.” She seemed unsure of giving out even this level of praise but then again, she only had their first encounter to go by.

He grunted; not sure how to respond. And when Din was uncomfortable, he resorted to silence.

You got to your feet once the sling was suitably strong enough to support the weight of his arm without unravelling or breaking and you indicated to him, “May I?”

He jerked his head up in affirmation and you maneuvered the sling to sit correctly under his elbow and forearm, coaxing him to lift it slightly with a tap before you looped the tied end over his helmet, adjusting the length slightly to fit against him.

“You left Klatooine.” the statement rose from the warrior, his tone quieter than you’d heard him all day. Was he... trying to make conversation? Din told himself that it was merely out of curiosity from seeing you by chance on two totally different planets.

Blinking in surprise, you sat back on the crate in front of him, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back on one of your hands, “New Republic stopped funding the clinic and I realized that they’re all the same when it comes to the Outer Rim.”

He snorted in agreement, honestly, he wasn’t surprised to hear the New Republic had cut their losses on charity. It wasn’t in their nature to funnel money away from the Core planets.

“But it’s not all bad,” you continued, “I work with a doctor here. He’s old now so he should be enjoying his retirement. I’m kept busy and…”

He watched you while he waited for you to finish, surely there was more? But when you just shrugged and sent him a tight smile, he felt an uncomfortable niggle at the back of his neck, a familiarity that made him almost want to smile back even if you couldn’t see it. Almost. But not quite. He was unnerved at the… empathy he had for your situation. He too just… kept busy. It wasn’t towards any end beyond supporting the covert and the foundlings there. But for himself, he just kept working towards some translucent, non-existent goal, one job ended, and another began.

Something in your eyes told him you were doing the exact same thing. It unnerved him to think about.

“Echoy’la…” the word left him without knowing and you blinked,

“Hm?”

He shook his head and stood, grunting a bit at the ache in his shoulder when it jostled a bit, “Nothing. It seems I owe you my thanks again, demon medic.”

“I do have a name you know.” You snorted, letting the previous topic go as it seemed to just make him more awkward and grumpy than he already was. You packed away the medikit and replaced the unused cloth back where you found it.

“Somehow I don’t think it’ll be as fitting.”

“Whatever, sunshine.” You looked over your shoulder at him, the sling looking so out of place as he hooked a thumb in the utility belt he wore. It was amazing that he could still look as intimidating as he did. You gathered your things and started down the ramp leisurely. He followed you silently until he was standing at the entrance to the ship.

“Demon or not… thank you.” He called out as your feet hit the dusty ground of Mynock once again. You looked back over your shoulder and gave a single wave, calling something back to him that did make him smile behind his helmet this time.

As you disappeared into the streets of Mynock, he tested the name you had thrown back to him, rolling the syllables, and testing the vowels as he repeated it to himself.

Pity, he thought. He hated being wrong about anything, but somehow, your name was a much better fit than demon medic.

Not that he would ever admit that to you, of course.

Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel​ @sarahjkl82-blog​

[sortasirius]

“Inherit the Earth” and the Fakeout

Absolutely genius.  Amazing, iconic, legendary, something only our showrunner Andrew Dabb can pull off.

"But Lilly, the episode was so bad!  It was just the brothers, they didn’t look for Cas and Eileen!”

YES.  THAT IS EXACTLY THE POINT.  THIS WAS A FAKE ENDING, THE END OF THE SEASON, NOT OF THE SERIES.

Let’s get into it.

An empty world.  No one left but Sam, Dean, and Jack.

So Dean ran, he somehow managed to pick himself up off the floor of the dungeon and meet up with Sam and Jack.  That jacket was this silent reminder.  Remember what I’ve been saying, Cas has occupied the negative space all season, this is no exception.

Dean can’t look either of them in the face, he’s doing that thing, where his eyes move everywhere BUT where he should look. 

“I couldn’t save anybody.”

Sam couldn’t save the world and Dean couldn’t save the one person that means the world to him.

“Where’s Cas?”

“Dean?”

I think it’s there, in that pause where Dean tries to push down the emotions, continue the fight, not think about the memories he left in the bunker, that Jack realizes what must have happened. Jack is the only one that knows about the deal, he has to know what Cas not being there must mean.

“He saved me.  Billie was coming after us.  Cas summoned the Empty.  It took her...and took him.  Cas is gone.”

This may shock you, but I am GLAD they didn’t talk about Cas, especially with what happens at the end of the episode.  Cas is allowed to just take up unsaid space.  It’s obvious he’s missing with the way they blocked things, obvious he’s missing here.  This whole “oh well they don’t care about Cas because they didn’t talk about him”?  Malarkey.

“Jack I’m sorry.”

Guilt.  Regret.  Pain.  Dean will carry this with him for the rest of his life.  Not only that he lost Cas, but that Sam lost Cas, that Jack lost Cas.

That SHOT, with the distance between Jack and Sam where Cas is SUPPOSED TO BE, and then a zoom out to...THE WORLD.

Okay, as usual, Bucklemming has the subtlety of a sledgehammer lmao.

Jack crying???  Praying to Cas????  Bruh?????

Also it’s just straight-up frightening for everything around my boy to die he is my baby son.

Also not to point out the incredibly obvious, but Dean starts drinking immediately, and continues drinking throughout the whole episode.  Grief arc 2.0 babey.

“We can what, Dean?  There’s no one left to save!  Everybody’s gone!”

“You can’t just give up.”

“What other choice do we have!”

Idk why, but for Sam, who’s the constant, the one who’s always had hope, through everything, through all these years, when he finally says this, when he finally loses his hope?  It hits the hardest.  Sam is the leader, so not only is he grieving the loss of Eileen, he is a general grieving the loss of his soldiers, his friends, the world that he feels the duty to save.

When they go to meet Chuck, I just can’t get that image of Dean, leaning against the car, handprint still on his jacket, staring at the ground out of my head.  It takes him a few seconds to catch up to Sam, like he’s pulled out of thoughts like deep dark water.  Remember friends, it doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful.

Chuck wearing BLACK?  FEAR.

“That’s right, the whole Cain and Abel thing.  Us dead, whatever.  I’ll kill Sam, Sam’ll kill me, we’ll kill each other.  Okay, you pick.  But first?  You gotta put everything back the way it was.  The people, the birds...Cas.  You gotta bring him back.”

Willing to kill his brother.  Willing to die.  Tears in his eyes, begging God to bring Cas back.

And Chuck?  Chuck doesn’t care about their surrender, he knows he’s already got them beaten.  He cares about their pain, he cares about them suffering, because to him?  That’s the entertainment.  He’s not entertained by their found family, by their happiness, by their joy.  He wants them to suffer, all of them.

“Eternal shame.  Suffering.  And loneliness.”

And he leaves them with just that.  No hope, no family, just the three of them, broken, alone.  Jack locked in his bedroom, Sam trying desperately to make life “normal” again.  And Dean.  Dean who drank so much he passed out on the floor.

He doesn’t feel terrific, he feels like shit, because not only is he dealing with the shame of an empty planet, he’s dealing with the guilt of being back in the place where the Empty took Cas.

This whole thing with the dog was just absolutely heartwrenching shit and if I didn’t hate Chuck before, him snapping Miracle right in front of an already fragile Dean would seal that deal.

I just want everyone to know that this is a Jake Abel stan account.

“Daddy’s boy” is a big insult for my boy Dean to use considering his own past with his trash abusive father but I’ll allow it.

I do think it’s interesting, ending of his arc aside, that Michael is willing to help them now.  What changed?  Sure, he ended up trying to help Chuck, running back to his father, but why get back in the game?  I wonder if it has anything to do with the loss of Adam.  It’s an interesting parallel, a man loses his angel while an angel loses his human.

Everything is so DARK in the Bunker now too, even the lighting is loud.

When I tell you I lost my shit when I saw Cas was calling Dean, when I heard Misha’s voice??  I knew it didn’t make any sense but I didn’t care, I would’ve been one step behind Dean as he sprinted towards the door.

Fuck you, Eugenie.

I mean it’s torture not only to Dean, who looks beyond fucking crushed when it’s damn Lucifer at the door, but for us too.  Who the FUCK wanted Lucifer back?  And to tease Cas???  Garbage.

I mean...fam.  Listen, we know who’s writing this episode, this whole Betty thing is just like blatantly unnecessary but again, Eugenie loves Lucifer, gotta distract her with a shiny toy lmao.

It was cool to see Michael and Lucifer onscreen together.  It was a cool dynamic that we rarely got to see.

The whole episode is just twist after twist.  Listen, it’s their last episode so I guess they needed to fit in a season worth of twists in one episode.

Bye Lucifer.  We know Eugenie can’t bring him back.  Blessings to all.

This scene with Adam is the FOURTH scene where Dean is drinking...big yikes to my guy’s liver.

Here’s the thing about Michael.  He’s a mirror for Dean in season 5.  Loyal to an absent father.  He has never changed, but Dean has.  Dean is able to acknowledge now, the trauma that his father put him through, he was able to move past the need for pleasing him at any cost.  Michael and Chuck?  Are John and Dean, if Dean had never been allowed to grow.  And Chuck proves, like John did, that he would always put his wants (in John’s case “the mission”) over his children.

Also not to beat a dead horse but Michael’s death was also peak Eugenie.

Sam getting to punch Chuck in the face?  Thank you, he deserves that.

Obviously I don’t love any scene of my boys getting brutally beaten.  But what I love, what I will always love about them, is what Chuck hates about them:  they won’t ever give up.  They know they won’t win against him, they don’t even land any hits, but that’s not what matters.  What matters is their controller doesn’t control them anymore, that they really are free.  No matter how hard they get hit, the get back up.  It is their choice to stand up to him, no matter the cost.

The moment where Sam and Dean are supporting each other, covered in blood, and they look God in the face, and they laugh.  That is why I will love them unconditionally for the rest of my life.  That is who they are, they will never cow to the villain, whether that’s Azazel or Alastair or Zachariah or Lucifer or Amara or Death or Metatron or Cain or God.  They will always choose to stand up.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because.  You lose.”

Chills.  What a line.

And Chuck is left, small, human, no longer a villain, no longer anything.

Gotta be real, woulda been nice to, idk, not see all this essential plot in a flashback, but I know I can only ask so much of Bucklemming.

For Dean to walk away from killing Chuck, right after he’s called him “the ultimate killer” is quite simply the most beautifully heartwrenching thing I could ever ask for.  Because that’s who Dean was under Chuck, that’s who Chuck wanted him to be.

And he would have before:

But he’s heard some things since then, heard some things about how others see him.  Not as the killer, not as a monster, not as angry and broken or his daddy’s blunt instrument:

I’m not saying that Dean doesn’t kill Chuck for Cas.  He doesn’t kill Chuck because he doesn’t think he has to anymore, he doesn’t kill Chuck because he listened to Cas, he took Cas’ words to heart.  He made the choice not to be the killer.

“See that’s not who I am, that’s not who we are.”

And Chuck is angry, because he thought, after everything, even after losing, that he would still know Dean well enough to know that he would kill him.  But Chuck has never really known Dean, he has never understood where he’s really come from.  Cas understood, Sam and Jack understand, but Chuck never did, and writing off Dean as angry and broken is his biggest mistake, because that’s never been Dean.

“It’s not his power anymore.”

And it’s not just his physical power, it’s his power over the story, over the boys that’s the real power taken from him.

For Jack to be the one to bring everyone back, for him to be the hero of the story?  That’s poetic right there.  Now, I will say, I don’t think this story ends with him as God, because for him, the child, to take on this burden, it doesn’t make a ton of sense to me for his arc, but we shall see next week.  It felt pretty tied up, but there’s one major loose end: and that’s Jack seeing Cas again.

“Just you and me, going wherever the story takes us.  Just us.”

“Finally free.”

This doesn’t feel triumphant to me, it doesn’t feel like relief.  It feels like they’ve settled, like this is the best they’re going to get, so they might as well make the best of it, at least they have each other.

For Cas and Jack to be carved into the table?  I cry.

And for the montage, very similar to “Swan Song” to be set to “Runnin on Empty”?  Sorry but that’s just too sus to be ignored.

They packaged this episode as an ending, because for many, it might be.  The season’s story, the season about fighting Chuck is over.  So, you might be asking (or, well, screaming, judging by my replies lol), what’s left?  And that’s a good question, Chuck has been defeated, so what is left?  What’s left is what’s really mattered all season: the relationships that have been crafted over the years.  Dean and Sam’s unhappiness at the end of the episode, where “just you and me” sounded more of a grudging acceptance than anything else, is one of the clues that has to be looked at.  Why didn’t Sam find Eileen, why didn’t Jack bring back Cas?  Those two characters specifically are the ones we need to watch out for.  As I’ve said over and over again, peace, contentment, satisfaction, those don’t come from Sam and Dean on the open road together anymore.  They have a family, more of a family than they did when they started hunting together all those years ago, and that family is what holds them together.  They need each other, of course, but each other isn’t enough anymore.  Sam needs Eileen, Dean needs Cas.  That is where they will find their peace.

This episode, as many written by Bucklemming was sloppy, rushed, packed full of shit, and had little gems that we can talk about forever, but that was the end of the season, and next week?  Andrew Dabb brings us home, where Dean and Sam will finally be able to choose what they want for themselves, and that, my friends, is Eileen and Cas.

[writerwithfluffysocks]

BB Fic Rec List

Remember to kudos, like, favorite and review! Authors love that love and support for their work!

Most of these fics are rated T or M so if you're underage or that's not your thing then these probably won't be for you. Fics are broken down into categories to make it easier and each states number of chapters, rating and word count. Enjoy!

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CANON FICS

A Dream Within a Dream by BlindAssassinUK (M, 25 chapters, 125k words)

Booth struggles to recover from his brain surgery and with Sweets' assessment that his feelings for Bones aren't real. As if this wasn't enough to keep our favourite FBI agent busy, a serial killer comes to town. Mostly written in tandem with Season 5.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5392047/1/A-Dream-Within-a-Dream

A Lotta Heart by nelliesbones (M, 10 chapters, 18k words)

"Bones, she believes in the system." Except that she didn't. Not completely. Not anymore... This is a story about a woman protecting her family. A story about the man who loves her. Spoilerfree, warm-hearted and M for a reason.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8186135/1/A-Lotta-Heart

An Aggregation of Maladjusted Companions by Jazzyproz (M, 43 chapters, 250k words)

Suffering from a declining solve rate following their returns to DC, Booth and Brennan are forced to attend a team-building convention. Neither of them think they need the workshops or exercises, but it's apparent to everyone around them that if they don't do something, the whole team will soon be falling apart. Can they fix their broken partnership?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11132403/1/An-Aggregation-of-Maladjusted-Companions

An Unexpected Outcome by BB-loverr (M, 5 chapters, 8k)

Before she could do anything Booth had her pinned. He made sure most of his weight was on his elbows so he wasn't crushing her. Someone is after Bones & Booth is protecting her. Set in early season 5

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5590619/1/An-Unexpected-Outcome

Becoming One by nelliesbones (M, 21 chapters, 83k) 

He is handsome, she is beautiful, and somewhere in between… they have made a baby. Warm-hearted and M for a reason. Slightly spoiler-y AN's, the story itself is spoilerfree.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7012130/1/Becoming-One

By Any Means Necessary by Heather Wyatt (M, 45 chapters, 433k, DARKER FIC)

When an overseas trip for Brennan leaves her in terrible danger, Booth does what is necessary to save her - even if what he is forced to do has the potential to drive her away from him forever. Set in season 5, pre-100th; Inspired by the movie "Taken".

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11549096/1/By-Any-Means-Necessary

Can You Save Her, Agent Booth? by Jazzyproz (M, 62 chapters, 464k)

Booth receives a disturbing text in the middle of the night aboout Bones - will he be able to find her in time? Or will he lose her forever? Will this guy really kill her, or is it just a bluff?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7723263/1/Can-You-Save-Her-Agent-Booth

Coitus by willgirl (M, 5 chapters, 4k)

After a date, Brennan finds herself unexpectedly at Booth's door. B&B, Rated M for Smut!

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4126515/1/Coitus

First a Dream by Firstadream (M, 17 chapters, 53k)

"I don't want you to move on..." Post 5x16 story. What should've happened between Booth and Brennan.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5900783/1/First-A-Dream

For You, I’d Bleed Myself Dry by coffeehelps (M, 1 chapter, 11k)

The night that Booth took a bullet for Brennan in front of that karaoke stage was forever ingrained in Brennan's mind. Every year, on the anniversary of that night, Brennan experiences those volatile feelings all over again… and they help her realize just how much Booth means to her.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13382298/1/for-you-i-d-bleed-myself-dry

Learning to Fly by Shelly (T, 3 chapters, 8k)

It was never his intention to hurt her. And, yet, she was sitting on the edge of the tub, his bathrobe consuming her small frame, tears cascading down her cheeks. He didn't know how to fix this. Post "The End in the Beginning."

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5231358/1/Learning-to-Fly

Recklessness and Repercussions by Nothing But Bones (M, 7 chapters, 29k)

Booth overhears one of his colleagues crudely reliving an intimate rendezvous with Brennan, and his ill-conceived reaction threatens to end their partnership on a permanent basis, leaving their emotions running dangerously high.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4605409/1/Recklessness-Repercussions

This Secret Dance by ALottaHeart (M, 14 chapters, 43k)

But this secret dance, it goes on. This. This is for them, between them, and they're not ready to share that with the world. Not yet. They've waited too long. Booth/Brennan. Spoilers for 100th episode.

CASE FICS

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6062651/1/This-Secret-Dance

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Bone of Contention by Mochi-girl (M, 15 chapters, 33k)

During a murder investigation, a man from Brennan's past returns, and spins her relationship with Booth in a new direction.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5558981/1/Bone-of-Contention

Case File 2010c by lexeb (M, 1 chapter, 40k)

Booth and Bones face their worst case to date. Will our duo catch their man? Dark themes and imagery. Note rating. Written as an episode. Most characters appear.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5789374/1/Case-File-2010C

Crimson Catastrophe by Dangereux (M, 5 chapters, 24k)

Booth and Brennan work a case that pushes them both to their limits, and into each other's arms.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5929308/1/Crimson-Catastrophe

Fear and Faith by Some1tookmyname (M, 35 chapters, 59k)

When a suspicious note is discovered in an unexpected place, Booth and Brennan fight against an unknown enemy to protect the life they've built together.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7981371/1/Fear-and-Faith

Getting Clean by blc (M, 1 chapter, 11k)

Brennan feels soiled after catching a serial killer. Booth helps her get clean again. Long Angst/Romance

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4621793/1/Getting-Clean

Hearts in Overdrive by Christi Whitson (M, 22 chapters, 136k)

After stumbling upon the suspicious deaths of two men from Brennan's past, she is determined to learn the truth about how they died. Booth and Brennan deal with the emotional fallout of their discoveries as the events of S3 unfold.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12190876/1/Hearts-in-Overdrive

The Effects of the Fan by gatewatcher (T, 1 chapter, 9k)

Someone is stalking Brennan. Will Booth be able to keep her safe? What will the effects be from his attempt?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12568373/1/The-Effects-of-the-Fan

The Gentleman in the Club by TheModernLeper (M, 11 chapters, 10k)

The team tracks a serial killer to a popular night club. With Brennan as bait, can Booth and the team keep her from becoming his next victim?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4764864/1/The-Gentleman-in-the-Club

The Remains in the Rain by forensicsfan (T, 45 chapters, 70k)

What starts out as a trip to Seattle to promote Brennan's latest book turns into much more as secrets surface in flood waters and Booth and Brennan find that a few of their own secrets surface in the process.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3934573/1/The-Remains-in-the-Rain

The Two in One in the Park by ShaViva (T, 17 chapters, 80k)

Brennan and Booth are called in to investigate the remains of two victims arranged to portray a killer's twisted vision of a romantic forever. As they close in on the culprit they find themselves closing in on each other as well. AU early season 6. B&B

AU FICS

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6054481/1/The-Two-in-One-in-the-Park

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All My Yesterdays by cardiogod (M, 36 chapters, 134k)

Booth has been taught since early childhood that a wise man builds his house on rock, not sand, but it isn't until the ground starts shifting under him that he realizes he never learned how to tell them apart.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7801702/1/All-My-Yesterdays

Burdens Which Allow Us To Fly by Mis Chi Evous (T, 1 chapter, 9k)

An alternate universe, where Brennan's parents are both killed, and Russ is in the Army with Booth. A study in how some things are meant to be.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6290511/1/Burdens-Which-Allow-Us-To-Fly

Desert Storm by Alonzo Anonymouse (M, 12 chapters, 13k)

Operation Desert Storm: Sergeant Seeley Booth was captured and tortured. His first assignment back is to stand guard over an Anthropology professor and his grad students, sent to identify bodies. One of those students is Temperance Brennan.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6032735/1/Desert-Storm

Hostile Takeover by F.H. Blake (M, 22 chapters, 70k)

Booth is a billionaire businessman hell-bent on buying Bones' club, The Lab. Bones is hell-bent on keeping Booth as far away from her club as possible. The two worlds collide one night over too many shots, and Booth and Bones soon realise that enemies don't constantly want to rip each other's clothes off.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12538952/1/Hostile-Takeover

Killing Two Birds by dmnky (M, 34 chapters, 171k)

After six months in Maluku, Brennan is summoned to Afghanistan to identify remains from a military helicopter crash and assist Sgt. Maj. Booth in investigating the cause of it.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7710873/1/Killing-Two-Birds

The Couple in the Alternate Universe by perscribo (M, 12 chapters, 22k)

Booth and Brennan are not who we know them to be. One is on the right side of the law and the other isn't. Their love story under conflicting circumstances.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12583235/1/The-Couple-in-the-Alternate-Universe

His by Athena Alexandria (T, 40 chapters, 99k)

AU. Post The Critic in the Cabernet. Booth struggles with his decision to let Brennan raise their child alone after she uses his sperm to get pregnant.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6660822/1/His

The Opportunity by BtrixMcG (M, 8 chapters, 49k)

AU: Seeley Booth is the CEO of a prominent communications company and one of the most powerful men in the industry. Temperance Brennan is a brilliant young analyst who comes into his employ and gets far more than she bargained for.

COLLEGE/HIGH SCHOOL AU FICS

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6582371/1/The-Opportunity

/

Follow You Down by ButterflyWhisperer (T, 26 chapters, 85k)

The year is 1989 and our favorite group of crime fighters meet 16 years prior to 2005. Temperance Brennan is a lonely foster kid that just moved to D.C while Seeley Booth is battling demons from his past. What happens when this unlikely pair of teenagers & their friends end up trying to solve a murder their favorite teacher was framed for? And will love blossom?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10640406/1/Follow-You-Down

Healing Two Souls by cmol8806 (M, 43 chapters, 146k)

Temperance Brennan is almost eighteen and entering her last foster home after barely surviving her last one. Seeley Booth is just returned from war, with new nightmares. What happens when they meet?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6867582/1/Healing-Two-Souls

Purak: A Less Cheesy Way of Saying You Complete Me by boothaddict77 (T, 35 chapters, 163k)

14-year-old Tempe Brennan, recently abandoned by her parents, moves into a new home with her brother and his friend. Of course, the young man they will be sharing a roof with is none other than Seeley Booth.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7764189/1/Purak-A-Less-Cheesy-Way-of-Saying-You-Complete-Me

White Knight by LordLanceahlot (M, 17 chapters, 52k)

Temperance 'I-don't-know-what-that-means' Brennan. At a fraternity party. Drinking heavily and being mauled by some punk frat boys. Booth scowled at the thought. His freaking forensics tutor. Time to go play white knight.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5785872/1/White-Knight

Beginning of Forever by JulesSC (M, 37 chapters, 301k)

Chicago, 1988. Tempe, 14 year old foster child. Seeley, 16 year old jaded junior. Can these two help each other and change each other's lives?

SMUT HEAVY FICS

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6346762/1/Beginning-of-Forever

/

Any Way She Wants It by sleeplessinatlanta (M, 7 chapters, 33k)

When Booth's prodding makes Brennan snap and reveal the extent of her frustrations, he offers to help her out. He thinks, he can handle it, but nothing is ever that simple.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6343873/1/Any-Way-She-Wants-It

Bad Excuses by Pereybere (M, 4 chapters, 7k)

Brennan and Booth are using work stress as an excuse to get naughty.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4134057/1/Bad-Excuses

Breaking All The Rules Tonight by sleeplessinatlanta (M, 25 chapters, 57k)

Brennan tells Booth she has a sex date and he doesn't take it very well. He's determined to show her why she should be his.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5303079/1/Breaking-all-the-Rules-Tonight

Silent Surrender by sleeplessinatlanta (M, 25 chapters, 27k)

Brennan shows up at Booth's house needing only one thing: him. One silent night could never be enough but it's months later and they still find themselves going crazy at night and pretending during the day. How much longer can they keep silent?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5398682/1/Silent-Surrender

Exercise in Self Restraint by sleeplessinatlanta (M, 8 chapters, 30k)

B&B are in an established relationship and Brennan has a naughty proposal for Booth which involves tons of frustration.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5617523/1/Exercise-in-Self-Restraint

Fighting Words by sleeplessinatlanta (M, 26 chapters, 71k)

Collection of one-shots. Some heated words, an argument, and tons of B/B hotness.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5448139/1/Fighting-Words

Hours by Dispatch22705 (M, 25 chapters, 47k)

A look at 24 different sexy times between Booth and Brennan. One post for every hour.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7506156/1/Hours

Colors by Dispatch22705 (M, 12 chapters, 50k)

12 separate one shots: each one based on a color idea.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5845810/1/Colors

Rooftops and Invitations by Space77 (M, 5 chapters, 17k)

You can’t stop thinking about him, you can’t stop looking at him. So do something about it.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4516879/1/Rooftops-and-Invitations

Talk to Me by SSJL (M, 31 chapters, 118k)

All he wanted was a moment of honesty from her. All she wanted was to be able to give him this.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3458085/1/Talk-to-Me

Morning, Nooner and Night by Dispatch22705 (M, 1 chapter, 9k)

A 'one shot' so to speak, of a few firsts between Booth and Brennan. He made love to her in the morning, had sex with her at noon and broke a few laws with her at night.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7239541/1/Morning-Nooner-and-Night

Only Between Us by sleeplessinatlanta (M, 100 chapters, 142k)

Collection of one-shots, some really short, others longer. Some funny, some angsty, some sweet. But ALL should be steamy/sexy/sweet. ALL revolving around B/B and their smoking hot dynamic.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5329849/1/Only-Between-Us

Alphabet by OrigamiFlower (M, 15 chapters, 22k)

A whole load of one shots of Booth and Brennan dedicated to the Alphabet.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6088489/1/Alphabet

Alphabet Recurrences by Dr Madness (M, 25 chapters, 51k)

The Alphabet means a lot to Booth and Brennan. It captures every single romantic, hot, steamy and dirty moment between them.

ONE-SHOT FICS

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5666368/1/Alphabet-recurrences

/

A Family Business by nelliesbones (M, 14 chapters, 20k)

A story of one-shots and scenes around the beautiful and highly anticipated season seven of Bones.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7449862/1/A-Family-Business

An Epic Before Bed by eitoph (T, 1 chapter, 3k)

She's written this life and she's lived this life, and now she knows which one she prefers. 4.26/6.22/6.23 and how they all fit together.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7037787/1/An-Epic-Before-Bed

Anything by CupcakeBean (M, 1 chapter, 3k)

“I’ve flown across the country, pulled strings, broken the law, risked my career, risked my life, *lost* my life - all for her." Booth and Brennan realize how much they mean to each other and give in to their attraction.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4961754/1/Anything

Don’t Mess With Booth by Aisho9 (T, 1 chapter, 2k)

Caught in the middle of someone else's battle, Brennan is hurt. The perp is in hot water enough, but now he's got a pissed off Booth to deal with, too.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5869658/1/Don-t-Mess-With-The-Booth

Ferocious Love by rhyme time (M, 1 chapter, 1k)

Booth is feeling possessive of his wife.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9789714/1/Ferocious-Love

Lies and Life by Tadpole24 (T, 1 chapter, 1k)

“I’m not this person who can��t tell if it’s reality or fantasy and I’m not this person who shows up on someone’s door step, crying at 3 am. This is something Bren would do, not something Bones would.”

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5693685/1/Lies-and-Life

Pray for George who offends Booth and Brennan by Hannah Taylor1 (M, 1 chapter, 6k)

A cautionary tale for those who would cross Booth and his lady love.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5890044/1/Pray-for-George-who-offends-Booth-and-Brennan

The Finally in the Holding by carol204 (M, 1 chapter, 5k)

Booth appears in Brennan's house on a rainy night with unresolved issues. She's pushed him too far and now they've reached their breaking point.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6630976/1/The-Finally-to-the-Holding

The Standard by RositaLG (M, 1 chapter, 1k)

"Tell me again." He said, his voice strained with anger and his jaw ticking in restraint. "Tell me that you don't need me."

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7421321/1/The-Standard

We Belong Together by Dispatch22705 (M, 1 chapter, 5k)

While Booth is away, Brennan goes to a crime scene. Booth is furious when he finds out. When he calls her on it, it's in a place he wouldn't have expected, but is all so familiar to both of them. Angsty, angry sex but with a resolved B&B ending in bed

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5846725/1/We-Belong-Together

You With Me by mia101 (M, 1 chapter, 3k)

Takes place after Booth's fight in Vegas. Brennan is tending his injuries and recalling how it felt to watch him fight, wondering what it would be like if she were the kind of woman she's been pretending to be.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4224265/1/You-With-Me

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Stay The Night // Malcolm Bright (Prodigal Son)

Summary: He never stays the night.

A/N: My first Prodigal Son fic! I am still getting to grips with Malcolm’s character so forgive me if things seem off! I would love some requests for Prodigal Son so feel free to drop them in my inbox! I am only writing for Malcolm right now. I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: light angst, hurt/comfort, cute

Word Count: 1.7k

He never stayed the night.

He would fasten his shirt; taking care with each button as he kisses you again and again. He would laugh against your mouth – his hands stopping yours from undoing the buttons once again.

He never stayed the night.

It never mattered how many times you told yourself this would be the last time; you found yourself answering his phone call or his text and unlocking your door for him. Knowing he would let himself in; sweet nothings on the tip of his tongue – ready to be whispered lovingly into your ear.

It didn’t matter how many times you pleaded with him. He never stayed the night.

He claims that it’s to protect you, but you wonder if it’s more to protect himself. That he’s so innately terrified that the walls he spent years building are so happy to crumble around you. That he just isn’t ready for that yet.

Doubts fly around your head; distracting you from your work, pulling you away from his arms when he least expects it. Malcolm notices – of course he does, he’s a trained profiler, he would notice the little changes in your behaviour. The distance you so obviously try to put between you; short answers to texts, upset sighs on the phone.

Malcolm starts to spend his days thinking of you: thinking of your smile, your laugh, your kiss. It occupies the better part of his day as he wonders whether he had taken advantage of you, of what the both of you have together. He knows that something has changed between you; that something is wrong, but he cannot work out the cause.

It comes to ahead the evening he enters the tunnels under the city, following a serial killer claiming to know more about the Girl in the Box. He follows the suspect blindly; not thinking of anything else but getting his answers though, for one brief moment, as his ribs are crushed in the turnstile gate, Malcolm’s mind briefly flickers to you. A moment of pain free peace in and amongst it all.

Malcolm’s breathing is slow and heavy when you find him in Gil’s office. His eyes are closed, but he feels your presence – it charges the atmosphere in the room, making him long to touch you, but falter at the idea that he could possibly hurt you.

“I thought they had called my mother,” Malcolm says in greeting; his voice tight as his ribs protest any movement, any breath.

You shake your head, holding up your phone as some semblance of evidence, “Gil rang about a half hour ago, asking me to come to the station and get you of his sight.”

Malcolm laughs, then gasps in pain, “I think Gil is angry with me…”

“Think?” You all but shout, “You think Gil is angry with you? Christ, Malcolm, I’m angry with you.”

Malcolm furrows his brows, confused at your outburst. His eyes wander over your body; the speed of your breaths combined with the flush under your skin and the thin line of your lips suggests your anger, but your eyes…

Your eyes show pain; anger is there, it is simmering away quietly, waiting for fuel to be added to the fire but through it all, pain is the key emotion. He cannot help but wonder how long he has been blind to the pain in your eyes; wonders whether it was visible every time he kissed you goodnight before leaving you once again.

Throwing your hands in the air, you cross your arms over your body, protecting yourself from whatever else is about to happen. Nudging the chair leg with your foot, you sigh, “Come on, I’ll take you back to your flat.”

Malcolm frowns: opening his mouth to begin to protest but decides against it at the last moment. Instead, he slowly pulls himself out the chair, doing his best to hide the grimace that falls across his face at the first hint of pain and follows you out of the door.

The car ride is silent and full to the brim with awkward tension. He doesn’t know what to say; he doesn’t know what to do. He cannot decide whether he should reach across the console and take your hand, offering you some form of comfort despite it being him that is injured.

He doesn’t take your hand. He chickens out at the last moment, unable to stop thinking about the pain in your eyes. Instead, he clenches his hand into a tight fist, willing himself to keep his hands to himself.

Distantly, Malcolm tries to pinpoint the exact moment it went wrong between you both. It wasn’t his job – you were just as dedicated to yours. It wasn’t his talent for profiling; for the keen sense of observation he uses in his everyday life.

It comes to him all at once.

He never stayed the night. He had left you too many times.

Tilting his head back onto the headrest, Malcolm deliberates whether he had left you alone one too many times, whether his time with you was now running out. He can feel the first crack in his heart when the thought crosses his mind; he feels it and he doesn’t like it.

-----

Malcolm’s flat is cold when you enter behind the brunette. His bird twitters away happily at the sight of their owner; you cannot help but smile softly at the sight of Malcolm greeting his beloved pet.

That very smile turns fond as Malcolm turns his attentions to you, gesturing you further into his home. To your heart, it didn’t matter how many times Malcolm had left you in the night, how his side of the bed turned cold before he had closed the door behind him. It didn’t matter because he had so easily managed to capture it for his own gain.

Malcolm takes a seat at his breakfast bar gingerly, willing himself not to jostle his side too much. He watches you with a wide-eyed expression as he tracks your movement; watching you grab a glass and fill it with water.

The glass landing on the counter is the only sound in the room. Malcolm doesn’t dare say anything for fear of pushing you further away; you refuse to say anything for fear of showing your true feelings.

“If you have everything you need, I’ll get going. I’ll call you in the morning to check up on you, Malcolm,” You comment quietly, pushing away from the breakfast counter, ready to leave and not come back unless absolutely necessary.

“What?” The questions falls from his lips before he even thinks it through; he just cannot seem to comprehend that you would leave him.

“I’m going. You’ve got your pain meds and some water, I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” You sigh, tugging your jacket tighter and heading for the door.

“Wait!” Malcolm calls, standing from the breakfast bar with slow, painful movements. It is only in this instant that he regrets ever following that man into the tunnel; it is only now he regrets such an action for the fact that it looks like you’re about to walk out of his life and Malcolm feels as if he won’t see you again.

“Wait,” He repeats, “Please.”

You pause at the door, turning to face him. His eyes are almost wild with unspoken emotions as he outstretches a single hand, as if he could bridge the gap that had grown between the both of you over the last few weeks.

“Yes, Malcolm,” You sigh tiredly. You feel the fight leave you as your limbs suddenly become heavy; the weight of the emotions you have been feeling these past few weeks beginning to press down heavily upon you.

“What happened between us?” He asks timidly, as if afraid of the answer he will find. Malcolm has searched for answers since he was ten years old, watching his father being hauled away by the authorities. Now, however, he finds himself scared of the answer he might find.

“You never stayed the night. You would always kiss me and then leave. Why?” You counter, finally asking the question that has been circling your mind since the pattern emerged. Your voice breaks with barely held in emotions.

“There is a lot involved when it comes to being with me. I didn’t want to put you through all of it,” He replies in reason, closing his eyes at the pain that so clearly sounded in your voice.

“I think I did alright tonight,” You comment airily, gesturing to his bandaged chest.

Malcolm laughs, but doesn’t regret the burst of pain from his ribs. He reaches for your hand again, smiling happily when you don’t pull your hand away. “I think you did alright tonight too,” He murmurs.

“So why would you leave?”

Malcolm averts his gaze, thinking over the words carefully. “Would you believe me if I told you I was scared?” He asks.

“Of what?”

“Of it all,” He confesses, “There is so much that comes with being with me, having to manage everything… I understand how it can become too much for one person so that’s why I would leave every time when all I really wanted to do was spend every waking minute with you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” You demand, curiosity your besetting sin.

“I was scared. I was doing it all to protect you, but I’ve gone about it the wrong way.”

You squeeze his hand, offering him a form of comfort as you work through what Malcolm has told you. He remains silent, happy for now to be stood by you, holding your hand in his.

“Stay the night?” He asks, pulling you gently towards the couch.

You bite your lip, glancing quickly between the door and the hopeful expression on Malcolm’s face.

“I want to make this a regular thing,” He states before clarifying, “Not the injured side of things, but staying with you, sleeping with you. I don’t like leaving you anymore. I don’t want to leave you anymore.”

“Malcolm…” You trail off, thinking of your countless attempts at taking your relationship further, at asking him to stay with you in the futile hope you could help with whatever terrors he suffers with at night.

“Stay the night?” He asks, repeating the same question from moments ago. His voice is hopeful, and his blue eyes shine bright with untold emotion along with the clear trust that burns there.

Smiling softly, you answer, “I’ll stay the night.”

****

Prodigal Son Taglist: @thecaptainsgingersnap​

[beebubb]

I request more info on your au about Isaac killing will in a fit of rage over the death of his S/O. It's just to good of an idea to pass up!

Hi and i'm so glad you liked that idea! I haven't made much of an AU of it much sense it was a pretty recent ask but i do have the storyline of it! I already explained isaac's original plan in the asks before. About him wanting to kill LJ but ends up planning to kill will instead.

Isaac grossman kills william story

Also i include mentions of blood and gore so if someone finds this and doesn't like it. Please ignore.

I feel like it isn't too graphic but i just want to be careful for others

William's kidnapping and his death

Isaac had turned bitter and cold after the loss of his S/O. So he could care less about william, even if he knew he was from his own bloodline.

LJ knew the underworld but he had no idea of isaac's hiding place.

Isaac wasn't just going to kill william instantly. A simple shot to the head or throat slit would be merciful

He wanted LJ to suffer

Isaac isn't an expert with technology but he still managed to control a camara to send a video to LJ, showing where will was tied down to a chair, just helpless

LJ knew will's life was in danger.

He tried contacting him but had no luck. And had no idea of his hiding place.

LJ searched for days but it was pretty much hopeless. He didn't even know if will was ok or even alive

But he had a bit of hope, i mean, isaac had been searching years for william to get him on his side, so, he couldn't just let those years go to waste and kill his own great grandchild right?

Isaac wanted him to keep hoping, so he managed to use will's phone to call LJ

"I'm not asking anything from you, so don't bother asking what i want, i'm sure you know why i'm doing this, but i'll bring william back to you. Let's solve our problems once and for all. Without william being part of it"

LJ was suspicious, it was that easy? Just kidnapp will and then just bring him back? He was obviously skeptical but it was pretty much LJ's only hope

He didn't even have the chance to reply to isaac in the phone call but he could clearly hear will's mumbles, so he knew he was alive

A few hours passed and soon a knock in the apartment door was heard.

LJ immediatly got up and opened the door hoping it was will.

But only a box was there.

It had a horrid smell coming from it. But it was a smell LJ was familiar to.

He immediatly feared for the worst and hesitantly opened the box. Hoping it was just some kind of sick joke.

But as soon as he opened it. There was william.

His body dismembered. His legs, arms, and torso all at the bottom covered with will's once navy blue hoodie and his tan jacket. But at the very top, was his head. With a note next to it saying "this is for ____ (insert S/O's name)"

LJ was horrified at the sight. His eyes just filled with tears.

Even if he was a killer himself and was used to all the blood and gore in his daily life, he never thought that his own friend would be like this

He felt sick to his stomach and had the urge to throw up.

He was angry with isaac but also with himself

He felt guilty for it.

If he had never let his own pride and anger control him and kill isaac's S/O to get back at him, none of this would have happened.

Will would have been alive. At the institution or maybe just getting drinks at the pub. But now, all of that was gone.

Tears started running down. It had been so long sense he did that.

The boy he raised, was dead. His bestfriend was gone and there was no bringing him back.

"O-oh god, will...i'm sorry..."

He looked at will's face covered in his own blood and his eyes still glassy from crying

"I'm sorry i'm sorry!! This is my fault!! I didn't want this to happen!!"

All he could do was cry and apologize. But it didn't matter how many tears he spilled. there was no going back.

Confrontation:

LJ burried will's body that same day he was brought.

Days had already passed and he would sit infront of his grave mourning for will

He just starred at the grave with will's name and death date on it. With flowers that frankie had left for him.

Everything was quiet but soon he heard foot steps behind him, and when he turned around.

It was isaac himself

"Thought i would bring a little something"

Isaac carelessly threw will's bird mask on his grave.

"I don't need it anymore so, thought you would want a little memorial"

LJ was immediatly filled with rage and pushed him

LJ: You got some fucking nerve coming here!! You killed him you bastard!!! You said you were going to bring him back!! You said he wasn't going to be part of the problem!!"

Isaac gave him a small smug grin

Isaac:well he isn't part of it, atleast not anymore

LJ: just shut up!!! Shut the fuck up!! I can't fucking stand you!!

Isaac: oh be quiet. You know why i did this. Don't act dumb! If you should blame anyone, it should be you. None of this would have happened if you didn't kill ____(inserts S/O's name)!

LJ just felt a heavy feeling of guilt in his chest. I mean, isaac was right, if he hadn't killed S/O, nothig would have happened. But still, his fault or not, isaac had no right being at will's grave

Isaac: you should have seen the look on him. Calling for you, crying, and even tried to escape, but his friend never came. What a failure of a guardian

LJ just grew more angry at isaac and soon threw a punch at him.

Isaac managed to dodge it

LJ: I SAID SHUT UP!!! shut up before i break your fucking jaw!! Remember that I killed you first!! And i'll do it again!

Isaac took out a knife, the one he had stolen for his original plan.

LJ recognized it, he knew that if isaac managed to stab him with it, he could definetly die

Isacc: i'd like to see you try..

LJ had a pretty good chance to fight him and wi, he had long snake like arms and could easily grab him,but if somehow, isaac managed to get the upperhand, LJ's life would be finished

Isaac was also aware of the chances of LJ killing him first but, he didn't care, if he could kill LJ, then it would be great. But even if he didn't and even if he got killed first, he could atleast die knowing that LJ was now truly alone, sense he had killed his only friend and companion. And that he had gotten revenge for his S/O

They were enemies before, but now, it was worse than before.

LJ isn't going to let isaac get away. He's going to get revenge for will. Even if it's the last thing he does

It was his job to protect william. He knew he had failed, but now he gave himself a new purpose

Kill isaac

Even if it costs him his own life

Ok that was the storyline! I'll finish it here but if someone has a specific question about something around this, i'll gladly answer! For example, if someone wants to know what it would be like if isaac or LJ won this fight, how would their lives be later on or how they cope, etc i can answer that!

Or maybe just headcanons of how some of the characters coped and were affected by will's death. Just any questions are ok for me!

[dragynkeep]

Top 5 worst male characters and Top 5 worst female characters in RWBY, and brief reasons why?

This is the type of ask that’s gonna get me shit but I have known no hubris in my life so let’s go. These won’t be in the case of being intentionally bad, I’m doing more on personal taste and the quality of their writing. 

Worst Male Characters

1. Adam Taurus

Obviously, Adam is at the top of the list for me. His storyline was butchered from a story of racism and vigilantism to a story about domestic abuse, his brand was cheap shock value with very little substance, he stopped being threatening after the Fall of Beacon and instead became a whiny little bitch, and his voice acting is just bad.

He sounds like he’s gonna call me a slur on Xbox Live.

2. Jacques Schnee

Yeah, the abusive rich man who runs slave mines is bad, but that’s not the main reason he’s on this list. I could accept a character like that if the writers made him good, but they didn’t. Jacques wasn’t intimidating at all. He wasn’t smart at all. The man who conned his father in law and wife into giving him complete control of the most powerful company in Remnant is not the same man we get in the actual show.

He’s whiny, cowardly, and a useless villain who’s entire downfall was treated like a poorly made joke, and now only serves as comic relief in the Jailbirds scenes in V8. 

3. Hazel Rainart

Same issues with Jacques and Adam, but less egregious. Hazel was actually a pretty interesting villain in his earlier volumes, and even after his blunder at the Batlle of Haven, he went back to being kinda good in V6 with his protective behaviour towards Emerald. And then V8 came around and I grew to hate how stupid his reasons for joining Salem were, and the fact that he just beat the shit outta Oscar while whining about his dead sister.

Bro, Idgaf about someone I never met while you’re maiming a 15 year old boy because you wanna be mad at the guy in his head. 

4. Qrow Branwen

It’s the same case with Hazel. I actually liked Qrow up until V6, and even then I cared enough to try and see where his alcoholism arc went since it’s a serious issue that affects not only my family, but my people. I started to dislike him after he punched Oscar and kept being horrible to the boy, all without apologising in the end, but v7 and 8 made me really hate him. 

I don’t care for his edgy attitude, and I don’t care that he got his self-help book boyfriend murdered by a crackhead. Add onto CRWBY butchering a serious topic about alcoholism with him, and he’s just sank right down writing sense.

5. Ghira Belladonna

I never liked Ghira. I think the others are higher than him on this list just on the virtue that I liked them, or the idea of them, and the writing just pulled them down so much.

But I never had that problem with Ghira, so the disappointment doesn’t sting as bad. He’s just an unnecessary character that cheapens Blake since she’s now a princess, a useless father who somehow couldn’t get his own 12 year old daughter back even thought she didn’t even bother to change her own name, and then featured live on a tournament channel that the whole world saw. He was a useless leader, his ideology was stupid and almost got him and others killed, and he was so ungrateful towards Adam for saving his stupid furry ass that I completely sided with Sienna calling him the fuck out.

At least he’s not on my screen anymore, but I know that won’t last forever and I gotta look at his dumb face again.

Worst Female Characters

1. Cinder Fall

God, she is the worst villain and character in this show. She’s so flat, her stans are annoying as fuck, her voice leaves a lot to be desired, and the fact that there’s hardly anything to her for seven years makes it even worse now that we finally got a backstory for her, and it’s one we ALL GUESSED.

Who would’ve thought she’d be a Cinderella who killed her abusive family, I am shooketh. 

2. Blake Belladonna

Blake was my favourite girl in RWBY and I’m mad at CRWBY for what they’ve done to her.

It says a lot that a girl still affected by the abuse and trauma of fighting in a terrorist organisation has more personality and backbone than one who’s supposedly broken free of her traumatic past and moved forward. Blake now is spineless, flat, boring ass cardboard cutout of what she once was, who would rather let her human friends defend her from racists than call them out herself like she did to Weiss in Volume 1. 

She’s spoiled, priviledged, annoying, and Arryn has such a flat voice on top of being a gross ass person that I get annoyed every time she speaks. She’s no longer an oppressed minority fighting for the rights of her people, she’s a princess who would rather go to a club with people she didn’t even like than a rally against the man who caused so much suffering to her people. Even her talk with Nora about not letting yourself be taken over by who you’re with romantically is hypocritical, since that’s exactly what’s happened to her since she’s been paired up with Yang.

She couldn’t even have the spotlight of fighting her own VILLAIN, Yang was the one who broke Adam’s Aura and had the big triumphant moment of throwing his sword in the river while she was too busy fucking rock climbing. 

3. Yang Xiao Long

Yang was my second favourite girl in RWBY and I’m mad at CRWBY for what they’ve done to her.

Yang wasn’t super developed in the earlier volumes. Honestly, I didn’t think much until her talk with Blake about Raven in Burning The Candle, and her dismemberment leading her towards depression and PTSD. Come Volume 4, I was alright with the portrayal of her recovery. I don’t think they gave enough time between her trying on the arm and then being good enough to leave, but in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t bad. 

What was bad was everything after. Yang became a hypocritical, moody bitch who would drag everyone for their bad decisions while ignoring her own. Her PTSD, something VERY personal to me, was ruined and up and vanished by V7 since she’s now killed the man who gave her the disorder so obviously it’s cured! She is always on Ozpin’s case for the birds shit, and then keeping secrets, but then goes and does the exact same thing while giving little resistance to others doing it because they’re family.

Even her argument with Ruby in V8 was tame as fuck. She blamed Ruby for things not going well while ignoring that it was her own dumbass decisions that contributed to it. Ruby didn’t tell Yang to go and spill the beans to Robyn, her stupid cat girlfriend did that, and Yang went along with it while being unrepentant later on when Ironwood was RIGHTFULLY pissed about it.

Add onto v8 then having her worry about how BLAKE thought about her, rather than RUBY, and I just hate her. This ain’t Yang, I want Yang back. 

4. Nora Valkyrie

Nora is just a flat character. Her voice is annoyingly high pitched and screechy, her jokes aren’t funny, and all the things I loved that she got in v4 was later dropped entirely. She had such good moments in V4 that actually made me appreciate her more, and then she just became another hypocrite in v7 who wanted to yell at Ironwood while refusing to look at her own flaws.

On top of her kissing Ren when he was clearly not in the mood to talk, and it made me hate her. It’s not a cute ship moment, it’s a creepy disrespect of someone’s personal space. If it was the other way around, no one would think it was cute.

5. Robyn Hill

Similar to Ghira’s reasons, I never liked Robyn, so she’s low down on the list compared to the others since at one point I loved the others (Minus Cinder but she’s just so bad that she’s #1).

Robyn isn’t a good freedom fighter. She runs in without thinking about things and then proceeds to deny any responsibility of her actions. She won’t accept that maybe her agreeing with the same serial killer that nearly killed her and Fiona, on top of succeeding in murdering some of her supporters and Forest, and starting a fight with Clover in an enclosed space wasn’t a good idea. 

Add onto the fact that she’s really just incompetent. She steals supplies from Ironwood to fix the wall and help Mantle, but after time we see that nothing has been done. 

Christina Vee is wasted on her honestly.

[saskaykun]

Taka’s members’ bond with Sasuke. (For Taka team’s stans, this one’s for you.)

I don't think there's any point in introducing the Taka team again.

But as today's point is to prove the link as a point of complementarity with Sasuke. I'm going to take a look at the personal lives of each of them. 

Ps: sorry for the typos, english is not my mother tongue.

SUIGETSU:

We are going to start with Suigetsu, like Sasuke, Suigetsu had a big brother, pretty strong and skilled because Mangetsu was the only one of the 7 swordsmen of the mist to master the 7 swords of Kiri. Suigetsu's dream was to become as strong as his big brother to enter the 7 swordsmen assassins club, whom he admired a lot, but Mangetsu died rather prematurely while protecting his little brother Suigetsu. Suigetsu trained hard to barely match half of his big brother's sword skills. He also comes from a known clan from the village of Kiri, the clan Hozūki, and owns a Kekkei Genkai, which allows him to liquefy his body from flesh to water. Pretty handy for a swordsman, isn't it?  No blade can pierce his body. That's also why Orochimaru was interested in him and kept him prisoner in his laboratories for so many years. Doesn't that remind you of Sasuke? The story of the big brother to be surpassed in abilities, even though he was so admired by the little one? Sasuke had to kill Itachi because he had to avenge his clan, Suigetsu had to become much better than Mangetsu because he promised him before Mangetsu died, that he would take back the title of "Kijin no Sairai" - "the second coming of the demon" (as far as my translation is concerned), so he got it into his head to collect all the swords from Kiri village, in order to take back his brother's inheritance. It's rather cute when you think about it. Suigetsu, in spite of appearances, is not a deeply evil person even if he spent most of his life training to become an assassin. Of all the times he made fun of Karin for her feelings towards Sasuke and Karin hit him, he never twisted back once. Suigetsu doesn't have a family anymore, like Sasuke, he's the last survivor of his clan. Moreover, I wanted to add that Suigetsu, sometimes appears like a coward but is actually very competent, and he is certainly a better swordsman than Sasuke. At the same age, (at 16 years old) Suigetsu had already done 2 - D rank missions, 33 - C rank missions - 40 - B rank missions, 13 - A rank missions and finally 4 - S rank missions originally reserved for jônin, can he be considered as such?

KARIN:

What do we know about Karin?

At first, not much is said, except that she is a very competent sensory ninja, that Sasuke, with Suigetsu came personally to look for. He chose her, among many other competent ninjas. He acknowledged her as the best in her field. That's a canon fact. 

Another true thing, Sasuke, who came personally to pick her up, confessed that he needed her to reach his goal.

"I need you, Karin", really happened. 

He wasn't forced to do it, on the contrary, Suigetsu, who wasn't a big fan of Karin, spent his time dissuading Sasuke from going to pick her up and take her on the team, but Sasuke insisted.

They saved each other's lives several times. Karin healed him with her "Heal Bite" and he during their fight against Killer Bee, awakened a new power from his Mangekyō Sharingan: Kagutsuchi. He was able to extinguish the flames of the Amaterasu that had touched Karin. His face, scared of losing his teammate, proves how much Sasuke cares about his Taka teammates but especially about Karin. After I will not go on betting that he cares about her, romantically or just friendly because that's not the point and nothing in the manga proves that he did it romantically or kindly, I just want to emphasize this point: he was willing to die, and put Juugo's and Suigetsu's lives in danger in order to save Karin.

We learn a little more about Karin, during the Edotensei scene with Itachi and Sasuke against Kabuto. Kabuto then talks about Taka team members and reveals to Sasuke that Karin is indeed part of the Uzumaki clan, like Naruto, and that's why she has a huge chakra cluster. She regenerates quickly her own wounds but she can help others to regenerate and heal themselves by sharing her chakra, by biting her because it's the fastest way: in fact, the injured person drinks Karin's chakra and regenerates herself/himself in a few moments.

Besides the fact that Karin was used by Sasuke to locate Itachi through her powerful chakra and to warn him of his possible enemies, and of course to heal him in case he would be seriously wounded, she is not an exceptional ninja in combat, she must even very often be saved either by Sasuke or by Suigetsu. Sasuke knew that very well. He was never shocked that Karin might be a weight for them in their adventures. He chose her by himself, nobody forced Karin to be there and decided to protect her.

The scene where Sasuke "sacrifices" Karin to kill Danzō is totally a scene to be taken with extenuating circumstances. Sasuke finally being in front of the person who ruined his life, who ordered the massacre of the Uchiha clan, he couldn't do otherwise, he was forced by all means to kill him. Karin being in his field of action because she wanted to help him, was also pierced by Sasuke's chidori blade. Don't forget though, that he didn't really sacrifice her because she didn't die, since he didn't aim at Karin's vital points.

I still want to thank Sakura for helping Karin with her medical ninjutsu, she is still part of Karin's healing process, without Sakura's intervention, she might have had a hard time healing this time.

I also wanted to point out, on the scene following Karin's famous "sacrifice":

Karin thus finds herself on the ground, dying slowly, Obito then proposes to Sasuke to finish her off, properly because she knows too much about their plan. Sasuke doesn't even take the time to answer him. During this scene, Sasuke takes an exceptional time to load his chidori, giving Team 7 time to arrive on the scene, another proof that deep down he really didn't want to kill her. It is finally on Sakura that Sasuke decides to use his chidori, and not on Karin. Karin then dissuades him... but Sakura is really not far from being killed this time by Sasuke.

This scene is powerful, but it shows the total disinterest of Team 7 in the eyes of Sasuke, at least the disinterest he has in Sakura's life. Sakura being a burden, and considering her as the enemy, had to be eliminated as soon as possible. He was also never afraid to confront Kakashi. The only one for which he has doubts, a certain apprehension that he tries indirectly to hide, remains definitely for Naruto, but again, he does not hesitate to threaten him if Naruto still chases after him.

To finish with Karin, she is part of the Uzumaki clan, one of the oldest clans in the Shinobi world, and derived from the Senju clan, there are not many members of the clan left, at least to our knowledge except Karin, Naruto and Nagato. At the end of the war, only Karin and Naruto remain. She shares this fact with Sasuke. She also had lost her entire family during the previous war, her mother was used for medical purposes, literally having her chakra sucked until her death. She became an orphan at a very young age, left to live on her own, abused by others until she met Orochimaru. She has no one left.When she meets Sasuke, she falls in love with him for his beauty, he is pretty handsome, but as a sensory ninja, she found that he has a beautiful and attractive chakra, she realized right away that Sasuke is not as bad as he pretends to be. She took a close interest in him, and I think the interest was mutual.

JŪGO:

Jūgo, is certainly the only member where we are poorly with information about him.

Jūgo is a deeply kind and loving boy but is possessed by a heavy weight that overwhelms him: the cursed seal. He is the first holder of the cursed seal, it is with his DNA that Orochimaru started his experiments. The poor man, being unable to control his murderous impulses, preferred to die rather than to leave his cell when Sasuke, Suigetsu and Karin came to get him. Sasuke promised to hold him, Jūgo, usually not confident, agrees to come with them because Kimimaro had acknowledged Sasuke. Jūgo, in addition to his incredible physical strength when possessed by the cursed seal, is able to communicate with the birds. Sasuke uses Jūgo through this ability so that his birds can locate the Akatsukis' hideout and that he can create a map from the information transmitted by these birds. Also, Jūgo is an orphan, and since Kimimaro died, he was literally alone in the world. He has no known family, and his affiliation to a particular clan is unknown. Another peculiarity that Sasuke shares with his teammates.

I consider Jūgo as Sasuke/Suigetsu/Karin’s big brother. He took care of them. There also is a scene where he puts Sasuke in his futon after having treated him and bandaged him, because Sasuke had fallen asleep sitting, from exhaustion.

This boy is soooooo cute and gentle. His bipolar side contrasts enormously. His murderous personality with his soft and wise side.

                 Well, Sasuke's plan was perfect and well thought out.

 To answer the question I was asked, "What do they do as Team Taka, besides help Sasuke enter into darkness?"

I, for one, don't hold Team Taka members responsible for Sasuke's entry into the darkness. Far from it. Sasuke was motivated by his hatred for killing Itachi, and after the final battle with his brother, motivated by revenge for those who led to his downfall. Don't get me wrong, I always feel that when it comes to Sasuke, the people who interact with him are responsible for his actions. No, Sasuke most certainly suffers from PTSD, living in unresolved grief since the death of his family, in hatred and constant pain, doesn't need anyone to think for him. He's an intelligent boy, he knows his purpose, he knows he would sacrifice himself to restore honor to those he has lost. His goal was just that. I sincerely think that deep down Sasuke wanted to change the Shinobi world, build new foundations, and achieve peace, so that what he experienced would never happen again, but it was a kind of pipe dream because he really thought he would die in his next confrontation with Naruto. He expected no less.

It really pisses me off that people think that Sasuke is acting according to the actions of others. I don't remember hearing Suigetsu, Karin or Jugo suggest a plan of action to kill someone or do something. He was the leader of this team. The others were acting on his behalf and not the other way around. He was the one who came to find them, he was the one who surrounded himself with these shinobis to help him achieve his goal. You let yourself be influenced by Naruto “talk no jutsu” in Gaiden who dares to tell the Taka team to mind their own business when he himself spent years to mind Sasuke's business, without even understanding the reason for his actions.

Gaiden makes the Taka team look like the villains who helped Sasuke carry out the actions of his hatred, but look closer, they did nothing so exceptional except help him find Itachi and obey Akatsuki's orders to attack Killer B.

It even seems to me that the Taka team were, in the end, the only ones who listened sincerely to Sasuke, to meet his expectations, to try to understand him. 

A non-canon fact unfortunately, in a novel about Sasuke, after Itachi's death, Sasuke makes a kind of pilgrimage to learn more about his brother, during his Akatsuki period, and then meets two brothers, who were preparing drops for Itachi's eyes, and they make him think about him and Itachi when they were kids. ... I'm going to skip over the real story of this novel, although it's very well written for a non-canon novel, and we find Sasuke on his scene, by the sea, where he desperately lets go of all his pain in a torrent of tears, and decides to rename Hebi team into Taka team.

Karin, Suigetsu and Jugo were present during one of the worst moments of Sasuke's life: Itachi's death and thus the mourning of his older brother.

In spite of Itachi's terrible actions and choices to raise Sasuke's power, Sasuke still considers him as his beloved older brother who sacrificed himself for a village that never gave them the chance to live, properly...

Again, as I already said in another post, I truly think that all the people close to Sasuke tried to control his choices and his life, without asking his opinion.

Itachi made it clear that he tried to trace Sasuke's life from his childhood to what he became and finally disappointed to have failed... but what the hell did he expect?

Naruto, who absolutely wants Sasuke to go back to Konoha, but why? He knew very well that the people in Konoha would bully him for his actions, when he was already bullied enough to be an Uchiha in Konoha. So Naruto claims to know what's best for Sasuke. What?!

Sakura... is Sakura.

Kakashi and Jiraya tried to dissuade Sakura and Naruto from desperately pursuing a guy who clearly wanted to get the hell out of this village: Sasuke is not worth it.

Decidedly, Sasuke doesn't get much grace from people. Between those who think he's a sulky, who always makes moods because he has some problems in his life and those who judge him without knowing a second of his existence and his journey, he's really badly surrounded.

The Taka team is the only one that hasn't gone into the details and is following Sasuke, even before he decides to explain to them the reasons for this gathering.

I like their complicity. I like their dynamics. They help each other.

Team Taka is the one that Sasuke chose on his own, Team 7 is the one that was imposed on him. Don't forget that.

At least, I didn’t even use your post, but thank you again @justsasuke​ ! It was kind of you :)

                Ps: I found this pic very cute. They are all awesome. 

[ilkkawhat]

I rewatched the Nigel episode not too long ago with new eyes and it struck me how much he has in “common” with Nick! Catherine and Warrick sorta brush off Nick’s concerns about his dry cleaned clothes and prom date photos, as if he’s just paranoid. He’s not taken seriously which results in being thrown through a window and Warrick feeling guilty and the only person who humored him in small talk is Nigel about cable channels. Nick hates that Nigel is him in some way, deep down. Thoughts?

I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS

(warnings for mentions of abuse and Nick’s trauma and suicide attempts. Also warning for possible mischaracterization of Nick and Nigel because SELF PROJECTION cause I really can’t tell anymore nor do I claim to be any sort of expert on Nick, just a really really big fan of him)

So one quote from another fav show of mine that’s always just kinda stuck out to me is during this episode where SSA Aaron Hotchner is interrogating an unsub with a similar history of abuse as him, where the unsub claims “some people are born killers” and then Hotch says “and some people are born to catch them.” 

I think we all know which one Nick is, but honestly? I think Nigel is that other side of the coin. 

We are never told outright about Nigel’s past so just bear with me here and imagine how his childhood could have shaped who he is as a person. He may have grown up with a family who told him the world was dangerous and filthy, who thought the absolute worst of people and thought they were better than everybody else, which explains why he looks down on people so much. He could have witnessed his parents mistreat each other, perhaps to the point where maybe one of them didn’t fight back and was weak because of it (he goes on that rant about how humans are lifeless puppets and ants and all that). Perhaps he sees how his father controlled his mother, and that’s how he learns to control Jane Galloway--a girl who I’m sure, he would have considered to be more than just his “girlfriend” had their relationship “developed” in Nigel’s eyes.

He could have grown up in a neglectful household so he had to sort of fend for himself and make friends for himself but didn’t have the social skills to do that, so he he kind of became that creepy outcast kid that everybody wanted to avoid, so any, and I mean any positive attention he got, he misconstrued to be a sign of friendship which explains his fucked up idea of what friendship and love is. He gets obsessively attached, possessive--which is something I recently talked about Nick being in another ask--even if the other person doesn’t feel the same way towards them.

Or, he could have had a perfectly normal childhood until the age of nine, when a last minute babysitter turns his world upside down and reveals to him that life is not the land of sunshine and rainbows that all children should believe, that trust is a thing so easily broken just as his innocence is. That the horrors he hears spoken about from his family when they regale tales from the courtroom (though I’m sure the Stokes parents would not do it in such an obvious way, using code words and euphemisms that Nick’s older siblings catch onto and educate Nick on as well) are real and not just made up stories to scare him into eating his vegetables. That he doesn’t deserve the life he could have had, he deserves this trauma and this pain and is sentenced to carry it with him for the rest of his life with absolutely no choice in the matter. 

That his life was ruined a long time ago, so what’s the point in even trying to make it better? Connections were severed, connections to a happy childhood, to a happy home life, to a happy healthy view on the world that he’ll never get back no matter how hard he tries because that happened and he sentences himself to a life of investigating how it could happen to others, too. 

Or watching how it happens to others. 

Or in Nigel’s case, becoming the monster in the closet. The monster under the bed. The monster in the ceiling, watching the suffering through a tiny hole that’s not even noticed to the untrained eye.

Whatever happened, Nigel also seems to hate himself for it. Hate himself so much that he sees Nick and wants to become a whole other person, just as Nick strives to become the person Grissom wants him to be, or Grissom himself. And yet, Nigel also seems to have a bit of an ego, bragging about his achievements and deeds and while Nick is for the most part, modest, he does partake in his own share of bragging though it’s not often and usually only to tease somebody rather than some sort of show of superiority--like when he brags to Warrick during his high points in the Anonymous case they bet on. And I’m not saying Nick 100% hates himself but he definitely has confidence issues, definitely takes his mistakes to heart, it’s why he’s always looking for validation, working harder than he should have to in order to prove himself. 

And though Nigel hates others, too, most notably just...people in general, he still observes them. Still watches the world from a bird’s eye view (Nick loves birds, btw...and I think it’s very fitting that his like, antithesis is named after one) and is good at it, too. He’s good at what he does, so good that he’s able to add extra channels when installing cable and presumably doesn’t get in trouble for it. Good enough to sneak into somebody attic and live there for days...weeks?...months even? Who knows if Jane was his first, and we don’t exactly know how long he was stalking Nick for, I would imagine for more than a week though? 

And Nick’s good at what he does too, as he’s often told. He’s got a great eye for details--he always seems to go above and beyond in his evidence collecting (even with...pizza box sized swatches hehe) and seems to be a great photographer (just as Nigel’s a great videographer) He’s a good listener, too...and so is Nigel, taking the time to get to know somebody, even if he doesn’t let them know himself while he lets them take the spotlight. 

But when the spotlight is on him...that’s when things begin to change. Nick’s a very private person and obviously Nigel is even more so to the point when Nick got closer than anybody to discovering who he really was, he attacked and threw Nick out of a fucking window. Even when Nigel talks about himself it’s usually about how he sees his victims, again we don’t get much of any detail on his backstory, unless...he’s revealing details about himself...through those victims. The reasons of why he chose them. His almost...empathy of them, which we all know Nick goes a little overboard with. He doesn’t tell victims why he understands them so well, he probably feels he doesn’t have to or doesn’t want their pity--which is why he doesn’t talk much about his trauma even though it would probably helped a few times (like with the male sexual assault victim in 10x06 though I feel like there was some subtext there with it all, or if he outright told that vic in 15x09 that he had the same thing happen to him as a child, too) 

Nigel doesn’t seem to want any pity, either. He just wants to be adored. Wants to be loved. 

Nick may not necessarily want the adoration but does want acceptance. Understanding. Wants validation from people he feels qualified to give it to him (Grissom) He wants to be liked, and wants to like everyone...but he doesn’t. His faith in humanity seems to shrink throughout the series, but also with it, does that little bit of ego he starts off with in how he wants to pack heat. Wants to be the man. Wants to be a “good CSI” in Grissom’s eyes and by the end, all he wants is his friends. His family. 

The things Nigel can never have.

But also with the empathy thing--something I picked up on and always sort of thought about for a while is the final showdown scene between Nigel and Nick. How Nick puts on his brave face (and some poorly chosen sass like c’mon buddy is it really a good idea to piss off the stalker with a gun) and does finally kind of flex his strength, “this isn’t the first time I’ve had a gun in my face,” as if to say “what you are doing right now to me is not affecting me in the slighest” but it’s not anger we see in Nigel’s face after that. 

It’s almost...concern. 

He doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. He’s threatening Nick’s life, probably to expect him to beg on his hands and knees like the worthless ant he is just so Nigel can prove to him that he is the one who deserves to be Nick Stokes but here, he’s just watching as Nick throws the worth to his life away, acting as a man with nothing to lose and Nigel hesitates.

And his plan changes.

Nigel had to have known from the minute the psychic entered that the game was over. There were two ways out of this, either in a cop car or a body bag and suddenly he can’t do it. He can’t shoot Nick. He can’t become him anymore, ironically even if Nigel was going to throw his life away to “become Nick” he can’t seem to become a version of Nick who’s willing to just die, too. 

So back against the wall? No way out? No options? Time is at an end? He points the gun to himself. Wants Nick to remember his name. 

And Nick...what did Nick do, when his back was against a Plexiglas wall? With no way out? No options? Time is at an end?

Points the gun to himself. 

Leaves a message on a tape, starts that tape off with “My name is Nick Stokes,” because he wants everybody to remember his name.

And I mentioned in the other ask how I’m sort of touching upon some of this theme of Nick and Nigel being similar in this fic I’m working on, where I currently have this line of “He acts tough, acts with an air of superiority but when the light is shined on him, he shrinks away and the facade is broken, revealing the coward at the other end of the gun.”

Just as Nigel hesitated, couldn’t seem to shoot Nick, showing his true cowardly nature...Nick couldn’t shoot McKeen, who also declared his cowardice. Couldn’t become the man that McKeen is, just as Nigel couldn’t ultimately become Nick. 

And that’s the thing with Nick, is he does have that line that he never crosses, the one that doesn’t make him a killer, and he’s aware of that, and takes pride in it, even if he doesn’t tout it around. He’ll always have that bit of an ego that he’s better than the scumbags he puts away--he probably even thinks he’s better than the 15x09 vic in the way that while he can’t forget his past and didn’t murder his abuser, he didn’t beg for mercy or become vengeful or become a crazed stalker always searching for the connections he lost at a very early age...he just...deals with it. Carries it. Lets it be part of the person it made him to be. Nick Stokes, Crime Stopper. 

But he also knows that if he did have the chance, he wouldn’t hesitate to do it...he just knows how not to get caught...unlike how Nigel did. 

[tomthesoftie]

I love Mob! Tom too much. and I would like to see Reader and Tom as a couple but Tom doesn't know anything about Reader's past because she has lost her memory. and as they are a couple, Reader is Tom's weak point so his enemies try to capture her but she has reflexes to defend herself from before she loses her memory because she was a contract killer, if that's ok with you

at peace

a/n: this was hella darker than i planned, as well as longer... so i didn’t make this fluffy at all, it’s just straight up angst, heavy angst,,, also i wrote this at like 2-4 am so sorry if it gets kind of confusing, i’ll reread it tomorrow... enjoy xx

warnings: heavy angst, wiped memory, major character death, sacrifice

masterlist                     prompt list

You walked into the dark room, senses heightened. A pulsing ringed in your ears as you looked around.

“Hello?” You said, hand gripping on your gun. The sound of someone running didn’t go by you. You snapped your head in the direction it came from. “Who’s there?” Your gun was out of its holster, pointing into the darkness. “Show yourself.”

A figure tried to grab you but you easily dodged their attempt. You punched your target in the gut, causing them to keel over. In their vulnerability, you grabbed their arm and twisted it behind their back. They groaned in pain as you dug your gun into their temple.

“Who do you work for? What was your plan?” You asked, adding more pressure on the gun with each question.

The man grunted and struggled in your grip. He didn’t reply, only kept yelping and mumbling “bitch” or “motherfucker.”

“Answer me!”

“This is our plan,” a deep voice roared behind you.

Then, everything went black.

You shot up in the bed, breath heaving. Sweat was dripping down your forehead. You looked around, but you were still in Tom’s room, snuggled in the blankets of his bed. The space beside you was empty but a dent lingered on the mattress where Tom slept. He had already gone to his office, like always.

What was that dream you just had? Why was it so familiar? And why did it feel so real?

You shrugged off the dream, knowing it couldn’t’ve been real. You haven’t the skill to fight that you had whilst attacking the stranger. You assumed it came from dating Tom and watching action movies. 

You walked out of the mobster’s mansion, into the garden in the backyard. You walked through the vibrant flowers, feeding them with freshwater you’d gotten from the kitchen. Birds chirped happily around you, singing you a welcoming morning song. They’d practically became your friends. You felt like Cinderella, excluding all the labor and step family, whenever you came to the garden. 

You’ve had nothing to do since Tom restricted you from leaving the property. He’d told you someone was coming for you, saying that you were his biggest weakness. He even told you to cut off all communications with friends and family, keeping them off the radar. You couldn’t refuse, besides, you wouldn’t try to anyways.

You skipped and twirled on the dirt trail, humming a quiet tune. You basked in the sunlight and the butterflies fluttered around you. You were nearing the mansion once more. The butterflies and birds had gone away, leaving you in solitude. 

There was silence. It was a familiar silence. Your senses heightened. You could feel that something was off. A deep voice softly spoke to another from behind you. You knew that voice from somewhere, you’ve heard it before. You gripped your metal watering can. Something about your grip felt routine.

You heard the grass rustle and you moved ahead. You knew that if you were closer to the house, you’d be able to get help faster.

Help. Where did all the mobster’s men go? You were the only one outside. There was definitely something wrong.

You felt the warmth a someone’s hand hovering over your shoulder. You gripped it, kicking them in the gut. You turned to see a tall man. Even bent over, he was still taller than you. A wave of fear washed over you, telling you to run but your body moved on its own. You continued to punch the man on the side of his head, hitting a specific point to knock him out. The sound of his head slamming onto the ground didn’t faze you as you prepared to attack the larger, scruffier looking man.

“A failure. Even with your memory wiped he can’t beat you,” the familiar voice said, appearing from the shadows.

The ringing of a gunshot filled your ears. You didn’t flinch or wince. You were still. Something took over you. Memories started flooding back into your mind, one by one. There were images of life before your memory had been taken. Everything fit together perfectly now. You hadn’t met Tom in a coffee shop. He saved you. He saved you from this man standing ahead of you now.

“What do you want from me?” You growled.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you. More precisely, I want to kill you,” he said, pointing the gun at you.

“Was I hired to kill someone that you knew?”

“No, buttercup. You are precious. At least Mr. Tommy thinks you are,” he grinned at you sickly.

“But you wiped my memory before I even knew him,” you stated.

“I didn’t, but he did.”

“What?” You were confused. How did Tom know you before he saved you?

“He watched you everyday for every hour. He found your work inspiring and motivating. Let’s just say he fancied you from the very beginning.”

Without a word, you dashed towards the man, attacking him at every angle. He was able to predict every move and was left completely unharmed when you pulled away.

“Don’t just stand there! Fight back,” you shouted, furious.

He raised his gun, pointing it straight at you. This wasn’t anything new for you. You were trained for these situations.

Building up speed, you ran towards him, swerving so that he couldn’t shoot you. You jumped, climbing to his neck. Your legs wrapped around his neck and elbow knocked his head. He visibly loosened his grip on the gun, and you pounced at the opportunity. 

You stood ahead of the man, safety off, finger ready to pull the trigger.

“I will do it,” you said, a fire burning in your eyes. “You took my memory, my passion away from me. I’m going to avenge myself,” you seethed. He fidgeted, “Hands where I can see them.” His hands shot right up. “I could kill you right now; take back what everything I’ve missed. This can be practice before I go back to the field.”

“Darling?” Your boyfriend’s voice penetrated your glowing red ears. 

You didn’t reply. You were radiating with anger and hatred. You felt powerful, though. The fate of this man’s life was in your hands.

“Y/N/N,” Tom placed a hand on your shoulder, “I can do this.”

You shrugged off his hand, only seeing red. Your breathes were deeper, heaving your chest up and down. Your teeth grinding, you were itching to pull the trigger.

“You deserve to suffer,” you cackled.

The man’s expression was practically begging for you to let him go or make his death fast and painless. 

“Y/N,” Tom spoke up again.

“No! He’s mine to get rid of,” you snapped.

“We need to interrogate him. He’ll give us the answers we need,” the mobster tried.

“What questions? All of them are answered. Aren’t they, Tom?” Your gaze switched to the brunette. “Or are you hiding something from me? Something important?”

The mobster’s men took the burly man captive, leaving you and Tom to sort out your business.

“What d’you mean hiding something from you? I told you the truth about everything.”

“I don’t remember meeting you at a coffee shop,” you glared at him.

“What? Of course we did. How else would I’ve met you? Your memory can’t be trusted, darling. You were wiped, remember?” A stern look rested on his face.

“Oh, how could I forget? But not to worry, it’s back now,” you sneered, “You stalked me?”

“Stalked isn’t the word I’d use, more so observed and protected,” he stated.

You laughed darkly, “I don’t need protecting. I’m a contracted killer, Tom. Get that in your head. Besides, you did a shit job of protecting me, or maybe this was your plan all along. You wanted to take me as your own, so you wiped my memory and told me we were in love.”

“I would never do that, darling. That’s completely absurd,” his brows furrowed, “now please, let’s go back home. We need to pay even closer attention to any intruders.”

You pointed the gun at him, “No. I don’t need your protection. Not anymore, at least.”

“I’d put that down if I were you,” he finally realized you weren’t the same old you anymore; he’d have to put up a fight no matter what.

“What are you gonna do? Shoot me,” you said innocently. You snorted, “Doubt it.”

“I will do it,” he said darkly, the love in his eyes gone.

“Who goes first?” You asked childishly. Before he could reply, you pipped, “Oh, I’ll do it.”

The loud banging of a gunshot rang louder than normal. Time seemed to slow. The birds chirped in a sad tune while the butterflies lined on the branches of your favorite tree. You smiled at them. They replied by gently flapping their wings. You reveled in the sense of peace. You laughed and laughed, remembering your shot, a feeling of victory coursing through your veins.

“Y/N, love!” Tom rushed to your side, clutching your body before it hit the ground. “You’ve gotta stay with me. Fuck, there’s too much blood.”

You smiled lazily at the boy, dropping the gun to the ground. You felt the blood warming your body. Your vision became hazier and everything around you seemed so serene.

“It’s alright, Tommy, no more weaknesses now,” you managed to whisper.

You were numb with love. Everything good in your life rushed into your mind. You felt lighter. Finally, you were freed from your everlasting torture. No one to kill, to run from, to weaken. The birds chirped their welcoming morning song, leading you into the whiteness. You silently thank them, eyes starting to flutter shut.

“I-I lo-love yo--”

Warm. Cold. Peace. Anger. Content. Sad. Two different worlds, two different emotional states. Maybe sacrifice is for the better. 

[fallingallin701]

Breathing

Pairing: Koutarou Bokuto x gn! Reader

Warnings: depressing thoughts, suicidal thoughts, please don’t read if this could trigger you, and know you can always talk to someone and reach out to me if you feel this way

Word count: 2.8k

Author’s note: This is my first Haikyuu! drabble, I hope I did a good job! 

__________________________________________________________________________________

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You had to remind yourself to take each breath in and to let it out. Otherwise, how could you relay on your body to do it, when each inhale made your aching muscles hurt just a bit more? You were scared that, if you were to stop consciously thinking about it, you would just stop.

Most of the days were good. It wasn’t like anything really triggered this. You had a stable, sometimes crazy family, you had friends, you had good grades, you had an amazing boyfriend. A groan ripped from your throat as you remembered Bokuto. Just yesterday, you had waited for him to finish practice, and the two of you went for some ice cream and walked around the city endlessly, the talk and laughter never stopping. Bokuto always had a way to make you smile and laugh. He was like a sun, that’s how you would describe him. Ball of energy and happiness, sometimes just his appearance was enough to brighten the room and lift everybody’s mood.

You were not shy, but certainly not as boisterous and extroverted as he was. People called you friendly, someone they could talk to so easily about their problems, and appreciated your calmness. But you only had a handful of friends, and your ideal Friday night was never going out for a party or doing something crazy, it was cuddling up in a blanket with a good book or a good movie, or perhaps, if inspiration hit you, your laptop, fingers typing furiously as words flew at the speed of million miles per hour in your head, making it hard to catch each one of them, making you shudder and squeal in excitement as an interesting moment arrives.

So why you? Why did someone like Koutarou pick you? You heard people wondering in the hallways, and those questions always swirled in your mind. One night, as you two sat on the roof of his house watching the clear sky, you decided to ask him that.

“You bring me peace,” he said, without an ounce of hesitation, like it is something that was obvious. “With you, I don’t have to pretend, I don’t have to hold back. You accept me, the way I am, and support me with so much passion- you don’t have to jump and yell for me to know that, I see it. You know me, inside and out, and accept me and love me. And that is something I would never give up.” He took your hand, bringing it up to his lips and pressed a kiss to it, before pulling you even closer. “Now, tell me, who gives the constellations their names, I just don’t see it. Can you show me again?”

With him, things felt right, they felt real. He never hesitated to show you or tell you just how much you mean to him. Never. That amount of unwavering stability and certainty was refreshing and something you needed so much. He made it hard not to trust him. He was always there to listen, always there to hear you out and try to help you.

But this, this was something you have yet to show him.

Truth to be told, it was worse before him, when this painful loneliness would swallow you whole and it hurt to move, and to breathe. When the hopelessness would wrap its cold boney hand around your throat and make your heart beat like a scared bird trapped inside a cage. When it all seemed hopeless and worthless, when you felt so exhausted and cold and alone, so worthless and good for nothing.

Everybody had insecurities, but yours have been taking control over you for a big part of your life, so much they would incapacitate you and cage you to the bed to wallow in your tears and fear. On days like these, you were afraid to go to the kitchen, scared of what might happen if you got a hold of a knife, scared of not being able to stop that same fear and hopelessness from doing something you knew you did not want to do.

Depression is a silent killer. It sneaks under your skin, and starts off as a few bad thoughts, which then turn into bad days and then into a whole week. It never helped your parents worked long hours and you were constantly alone at home. You tried to hide it, and even managed to control it for some time, forcing yourself to engage into club activities, going out, anything just to keep your mind busy and occupied. You even got a gym membership and went with Koutarou often, hoping that dealing with your body and making sure you were as healthy as one can be physically would improve your mood.

But then, slowly, everything just stopped bringing joy. You dropped club activities, one by one, stopped going out, started skipping workouts. Your concentration was barely there most of the days, and your grades took a spill down. The fear of failure was there- if there was something you were always good at, it was academics, but now, it seemed you were bad at it too.

A sob tore from your throat as you curled deeper into yourself, shaking despite not being cold. What did he see in you? You were good for nothing. You were hopeless, with no future ahead of you.

In the darkness of the room, your phone lit up. Without even looking, you knew it was Koutarou. It had to be the morning now, and you didn’t show up at school. He would usually wait for you at the gate to kiss you good morning and then walk you to your class, but you didn’t show up. You were thankful for the thick curtains you had, because you couldn’t face a sunny day, not in this mood.

In school, Bokuto’s mind was racing. The first period already started, and you weren’t there. Akaashi had dragged him into his classroom, but Bokuto asked your friends to text him if you showed up. Has he done something? Said something? Last night was so fun, with the two of you eating ice cream and then buying bread to feed the ducks at the pond, and when he left you at home and kissed you good night, you seemed fine. Should he have seen something? Was he missing some signals? The two of you had a very open communication, and never hesitated to speak about problems or let the other one know just how much they loved them. Were you sick? Were you hurt? Did you not love him anymore?

He wanted to run to your house so bad as the day went by, but he couldn’t miss another class, as another tardy or skipped class would end in him not being able to take exams and, consequently, not be able to play volleyball. His worry grew throughout the day, especially since you never even opened all the messages he sent. Your friends said you were probably having a headache so you skipped school, that he shouldn’t worry about it, but he knew you. You were the type of person to come to school with a fever, a headache would not stop you.

By the time it was his practice, he barely could jump, and if he did, he would miss the ball, or spike bad, and yet he could not even go further into a low mood, too worried about you to pout about missed spikes and tosses. It was so hard for anything to get done that Akaashi just suggested that they should end the practice, and the brunette could say with certainty that he had never seen Bokuto bolt out of the gym so fast.

Bokuto knew he had to see you. It was the only thing he knew. He changed quickly and made a quick dash to your house, only stopping by a convenience store to buy some candy, things he knew always cheered you up. Upon arriving at your house, he noticed all the blinds were closed, so he dialed your number again, wondering if you even were in the house. When you didn’t pick up again, he knocked a few times, barely able to stand in one place while he waited for you, but you never came. When ten minutes passed and you still hadn’t opened the door, he looked around, reaching under a plant to grab the spare key, letting himself into your house. He hated doing this, but his gut was telling him something was wrong and his gut was never wrong.

The house was dark, as you hadn’t opened any blinds, which was something he knew you did first thing in the morning. He took off his shoes and dropped his bag, calling your name softly. As he climbed up the stairs, he froze when he heard soft whimpers and sobs. Without thinking, he dashed to your room, expecting to see you hurt. And upon pushing your door open, he saw that you were hurt, but not in the way he immediately assumed.

Your eyes snapped open when the door pushed open, widening once you saw Bokuto there. “B-bo, what are you doing here?” you stuttered, and the heartbroken expression on his face not helping how you felt.

“You didn’t come to school and you weren’t answering anybody’s texts and I got worried something happened,” he said, approaching the bed slowly, kneeling before you and taking your hands. Your flushed, tear-stained face made his heart clench deeply. He had never seen you look like this. He had seen you upset, but this, this was another level.

You took a deep, shaky breath and sniffled. “I-I am sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you,” you said, wiping some tears away with your fist.

“Did something happen, baby?” his voice was soft, barely above a whisper, his brows furrowed slightly as worry flashed through his golden eyes. More tears gathered in your eyes and you whimpered, but you shook your head. You knew you couldn’t explain it, not now.

His heart broke when he saw how sad you were. He wished he could do something to take it all away, make it so he was the one in pain. He could take it, and even if he couldn’t, he would suffer if it meant you were okay.

He squeezed your hands slowly, hoping to bring your attention to him. “What do you need me to do? Do..” he stopped, biting his lip, “do you want me to leave?” He couldn’t leave after seeing you like this, but he would if you needed it.

You shook your head frantically, the thought of him leaving now making another cold wave of loneliness wash over. “No, please don’t leave me,” you sobbed, unable to hold back the tears anymore, “Don’t leave me alone, please.”

Bokuto didn’t need you to tell him another word. He used one hand to loosen his tie and unbutton the first few buttons of his uniform before he crawled into the bed with you, leaning against the headboard and pulling you between his legs, letting you rest against his chest. His strong arms held you tight, rubbing soothing circles in your back as you sobbed. Each one broke his heart a little more, but he stayed strong. You needed him to be strong, so he would be.

He didn’t know how long you two stayed like that. He kept rubbing your back, kissing your hair, forehead, temple, cheek, hand, shoulder, anything he could reach, telling you that he was right here, that he loved you, that he wasn’t leaving you, ever. You cried, and would sometimes calm down, and he even managed to lull you into sleeping, the deep circles beneath your usually sparkling eyes making him feel bad for not running over sooner, volleyball and missed exams be damned.

After some time, he gently tilted your head up, fingers curling under your chin. He smiled softly, kissing your eyes and cheeks and forehead. “Would you feel up to some food, maybe? I promise I will stay here the whole time, but we need to get some food in your tummy,” he said, and though you did not feel like eating, you knew you had worried him enough, so you nodded.

Effortlessly, he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and laying a few kisses along your shoulder as he brought you downstairs, grabbing the food he bought before sitting you down on the kitchen counter and pouring you a glass of water, which you drank thankfully. He didn’t know much in the kitchen, but he knew how to make a mean sandwich, so he did just thank, swearing to himself to make the best one yet.

The two of you ate in silence, you on the kitchen counter and Bokuto between your legs, close enough to soothe you and far away enough so you could eat in peace. Once you ate as much as you could, he pecked your cheek, telling you how proud he was of you, before putting the dishes away and washing them up quickly.

“I love you.”

The words fell from your lips before you could stop them, but seeing him like this, after all of this, your heart warmed.

He stopped in his tracks and turned around, smiling widely.

“I love you more, baby. I am sorry for breaking in,” he said, wiping away his hands and coming up to you.

You shook your head. “No, Bo, it is my fault, I shouldn’t have worried you like this, I just… couldn’t help it,” you said softly and looked down at your knees. Your cheeks warmed when he kissed your forehead.

“You don’t get to apologise, okay?” he asked, bending down a bit to meet your eyes.

You nodded, and bit your lip. A deep sigh. Here we go.

“I am depressed. I didn’t get an official diagnosis, but that is it. It’s a family thing, a lot of women on my dad’s side of the family have it, and on days like these, I find it hard to breathe,” you said, your voice shaky, but your eyes were not tearful. “Everything just becomes too hard, and I feel so hopeless and worthless and alone. It is not that I am ungrateful for what I have, I love you and my friends and family, but everythinig has been getting so hard, and too much. I have been almost failing my classes and I have been missing our workouts and I have no energy for anything.”

Bokuto listened carefully, nodding along.

“Have you talked to your family about this? Do you think that maybe seeing a doctor could help?” he asked carefully, not wanting to cross a line or offend you.

“I haven’t, they are just so busy and I don’t want to bother them,” you admitted and Bokuto nodded.

“I am not the smartest person in the world,” he shushed you when you opened your mouth to speak,” and I don’t know much about depression, but what I do know is that you mean the absolute world to me. You are the brightest star in my life. You are so charming, so sweet, so grounded and the most supportive person I have ever met. If there is anyone in our school who makes it big, it’s you. Do you know how smart you are? How funny you are? How stunningly beautiful you are? Do you know how much of a better person you make me, every day? You are supportive and caring and so damn beautiful, every single thing about you is beautiful, and I hate to see you in pain. Thank you for trusting me with this. Thank you for letting me see you like this. I promise I will stay by your side, okay? We don’t have to talk, I will be here, just holding you. Or we can talk, whatever you want, we can do. A lot of things are uncertain and life is tricky, but I promise to stay by your side, and I will remind you how much I love you every single day, just like you do to me. And when it gets hard to breathe, I will be here, breathing with you,” he smiled softly, his thumb caressing your cheek before he brought you in for a hug, and this time, the tears streaming down your face were those of happiness.

This didn’t make things magically better, and you knew one hell of a dark, taunting road was ahead of you. But with your little sun by your side, holding your hand, it certainly seemed possible.